Little m Long a

Then you’re not ready to leave!

So I drank the Kool-Aid.  It tasted a bit like lactic acid.

And bile.

Yeah… I started a workout program this past Monday.  It’s really more of a ritualistic penitential rite shrouded with self loathing and torture.  At least that’s my initial take on the whole thing.  I’m not quite sure what led me to believe I was in any way shape or form ready to tackle a fitness regimen but then, logic and reasoning have never been one of my strong suits.  As proof I can only allude to a story involving small mouth bass, my best friend, a canoe and a cow in the middle of a river.  It wasn’t pretty.

Needless to say neither, is the image if me plodding through a series of exercises.

I’m five days in and as near as I can tell haven’t lost a pound.  I’m sore pretty much all over, smell, I’ve cut my coffee to 1 cup a day, I’d really like some Peanut M&M’s, and  I have been drinking so much water than I can’t sleep for having to pee all night long.  Other than that things seem to be going pretty well.

So why am I doing it?

Let’s just say I’ve got 5 really good reasons.

My father passed away when I was only two years old.  I have no recollection of the man.  Good or bad, that is what it is.  And while my grandfather was a great man and I loved him dearly we never did the things that a father and son typically do.  He never threw me a ball or taught me to ride a bike.  We never took trips to the park or just hung out.  When I turned 12 he passed as well.

That kind of shit stays with a guy.

My kids have collectively reached the ages where I suppose I would be remembered, unlike me and my father.  But that’s not the point.  I don’t want them to remember me.  I want them to grow up knowing me.  That won’t happen unless I am willing to make changes personally.  Changes that will enable me to be an active participant in their lives.  Not an idle bystander.

So yeah, I drank the Kool-Aid.  It sucks.  But in the end I know it will be worth it — not for me.

For them.

Circumstance and obligation often time conspire to rob precious moments.  Traditions become “remember when” and “used to”.  Or worse, “why don’t we?”  The confusion is only compounded when the “whys” are from a child.  Several years ago Maura and I worked out a pretty cool birthday tradition for the kids.  We called it the Day of Fun and in lieu of showering the kids with gifts on their birthdays we would set aside a day just for the birthday kid to spend with Mom and Dad.  You don’t realize how important some things are until they’re gone.

We skipped a year of the Day of Fun simply because life seemed to have gotten in the way.  The kids had wonderful birthday parties and received plenty of gifts but they never stopped asking, “What about our Day of Fun?”  It was that important and and Maura and I kind of lost sight of that.  The kids didn’t care about the stuff.

They wanted us.

Ask and ye shall receive, kid.  (Unless you’re asking for like a motorcycle, or a gun, or a tattoo.)  Ask for anything within reason, kid and ye shall receive.  We get to determine what is within reason — it’s a parental prerogative.  It’s a word, kid look it up.

Zander and Zella kicked things off this year with what I can only say is a day that set the bar pretty high in terms of funness.  (Funness is probably not a word but it works here.  See the other comment about prerogative.  It’s my story so I get to choose the words.)

We started the day with breakfast and a toast to good times ahead.

Then a quick stop for some supplies.  And of course a photo op.

The Dynamic Duo prepares to reek havoc on the children’s section of the book store.  It never ceases to amaze me at just how excited my kids get about books and reading.  (Clearly a trait passed to them by Maura.)

It’s a bit hard for me to take sometimes when I realize that all of my kids are now readers.  Zander still struggles  with some words and tends to guess more than read but the progress he’s made from August at the start of Kindergarden until now is truly amazing.  I still get a bit choked up when Zella, in the living case study of how girls advance slightly faster than boys educationally, will take the time to help her brother sound out the more difficult words.  Or get frustrated when he messes up and just hit him.  Because she’s caring like that.

Next stop of the Freight Train o’ Fun was to the ice skating rink.  Zella had been begging to go for a year.  She may have been rethinking that request.

It took them both about thirty minutes to get halfway comfortable on the ice but they had an absolute blast.  I’m not saying they’re heading to the Olympics or anything, but it was fun.

Next stop — “Builder Bear”.  For some reason, Zander won’t say Build A Bear.  Or except.  He prefers to say becept.

Of course, we had to stop and play on the stairs for a while because when you’re 6 even a stairwell is an adventure.

Also logical limitations on imagination are pointless.  It’s perfectly natural for a stuffed wolf to be wearing a football uniform and riding a motorcycle.  And why wouldn’t a green bear with patchwork paws be wearing an Obi Wan outfit?

A bite for lunch and then we were off to one of our favorite metro parks.  The day was perfect for a stroll.

These two could have fun anywhere!

In a nutshell, the Day of Fun was exactly as billed — FUN!!!  And this this I know.  Maura and I have resolved to do everything in our power to keep this tradition alive because it really does mean so much to the kids.  And truth be told it’s an awful lot of fun for us as well.

There are sticky notes covering my desk.  They all have numbers on them.  Figures really.  Mostly.  And without any solid frame of reference, I have no idea what they mean.  One contains a listing of dates.  Just dates.  Nothing else.  I have an inkling that I was supposed to have entered them on a calendar.  But without a corresponding event, the date is just a date and if memory serves, a calendar already contains dates.  It’s the very basis of the thing.

My head swirls, dizzied by chaos passing itself as order in my life.

I need bread because the dog still has antibiotics.  Shit like that makes total sense to me.

I’m pondering/planning a family vacation this summer.  Actually, we’ve got plans.  I’m augmenting them with awesomeness.  But then, aren’t planned plans always awesome?  I need a feasibility study.  But I have no idea what a feasibility study is.  Or how to use one.  My problem with planning ahead is that I tend to mentally check out in anticipation of the awesomeness that is travel with my family.  We’re not going anywhere until July.  I have a feeling that checking out now will be frowned upon.

The school just called me.  Zoë has a sore throat.  I knew that when I sent her in this morning.  Buck up kid, I’ve got laundry to fold.

I ate a kangaroo this weekend.  It was delicious.

I bought a new flash for my camera which I’m still learning how to use.

That’s dangling.

But not.

Somehow, I thought this was going to be more difficult.