Saturday, December 29, 2012

So This Is Christmas

It's a bit tough to write a Christmas wrap-up post on the blog, because I'm always depressed after Christmas is over.  I love the month of December - Christmas lights, Christmas music everywhere I go, Christmas decorations at the office, making my "manly pickles" and even Christmas shopping.  It's all over so quickly on December 26.  Boom!  Lights out.  No more Christmas.

This December has been different for me, though.  Difficult at times, frankly.  Early in the month, I wrecked my low back carrying the stroller upstairs in the middle of the night because Joe wouldn't sleep in his crib.  A day or two later, I was in excruciating pain, unlike anything I've felt since my freshman year of college (28 years ago), the last time my back went out.  When we took the boys to Cheekwood to see Santa Claus, I almost passed out as I stood and waited in line for the photographs taken with them in his lap.  My low back locked up and my knees buckled and I barely avoided collapsing on the floor in pain.  Jude's brother, James, and his wife drove me home.

I've not been able to run the entire month, which has sent me spiraling into a tailspin of depression.  Not being able to run and not knowing when I'll be able to run again negatively affects my life on so many levels.  I'm less patient at home and at work, I don't feel good about myself, I'm irritable, I don't sleep well and I have no energy.  It's hard for me to put into words how devastating it is for me not to be able to run.  I know it's hard for Jude (or anyone else) to understand how difficult it is for me not being able to run.

To add insult to injury, the boys have been sick, off an on, for most of the month.  Jude took them to the doctor Christmas Eve, because they had terrible coughs (especially J.P.).  Then, I got a stomach virus or a touch of stomach flu two days before Christmas.  I felt awful, really awful, Christmas Eve, and not much better on Christmas day.  Now, after Christmas, we all have colds.  J.P. and Joe have runny noses and I'm congested.  It's a Christmas infirmary at our house.

Enough bitching and moaning.  To the good stuff and, thankfully, there was lot of good stuff.

J.P. is at the perfect age for Santa Claus.  He was "all in" for Elf on the Shelf and he was definitely all in for Santa Claus.  One night after dinner, Jude and J.P. worked on a Christmas list together, so he could show it to Santa Claus at the Nashville Symphony's Christmas program.  The twist, though, was that they drew (and colored) what he wanted from Santa, as opposed to writing out an actual list.  And, yes, he did show it to Santa Claus, too.

Christmas Eve, J.P. was so excited he couldn't stand it.  Christmas morning, Jude made him stay in bed until almost 7 a.m.  I went downstairs first, got the video camera ready, and filmed Jude, J.P. and Joey as they came down and into the living room.  J.P. immediately noticed Santa Claus had taken some of the pasta he left out for the reindeer.  He also noticed Santa had eaten the reindeer cupcakes he had left for him.  Then, it was on to the gifts Santa had left for him.

The big ticket items was a new bicycle.  A neon green, 24-inch Cannondale bicycle, to be precise.  It needs training wheels (on order) and a kickstand, but then he'll be ready to ride.  The Titans' football helmet and the Spiderman mask were huge hits.  As usual, it was like sensory overload, as he went from toy to toy, squealing with delight at each new discovery.




For Joe, Christmas morning was a little more subdued.  As was the case with J.P. on his first Christmas, Joe was more interested in playing with wrapping paper and bows than toys.  It was funny, though, when we realized he couldn't take his eyes off J.P. when he was wearing his Spiderman mask.  It was like he was hypnotized.



Jude's mom and dad came over mid-morning and we opened up Christmas presents with them, as has become our tradition.  After naps in the afternoon, we drove down to my mom's house in Brentwood to celebrate Christmas with my family.  There, it was controlled chaos, as everyone opened up their presents simultaneously.  We didn't stay long, as the boys were tired and I didn't feel well, but it was good to see everyone.




This week, the week between Christmas and New Year's Day, has been laid back.  We're off work Monday and Tuesday, then it's off the races for 2013.  Time to do it all over again.



 

Santa at the Nashville Symphony

This year, like last, we attended a Christmas program for children at the Nashville Symphony.  It's pretty cool, because the Symphony hosts a "petting zoo" for children before the program.  The children have an opportunity to "pet" the instruments, which J.P. enjoys.

Santa Claus also makes an appearance before and after the program.  We arrived a little early and were in the front of the line, waiting on Santa.  Although he was a little late, our patience paid off and when he arrived, J.P. and Joe were in his lap within minutes.



Santa and the boys at the Nashville Symphony.

Elf on the Shelf

This year, Elf on the Shelf appeared at our house on Elliott Avenue for the first time.  J.P. was enthralled by the magic involved, what the Elf appearing each morning in a different spot than he had been in the night before when J.P. went to bed.  The second or third night of December, he named him "Teddy the Elf," although I think he changed the name once of twice prior to Christmas.

Several mornings, Jude overheard J.P. talking to "Teddy" when he found where he had landed to rest after his late night sojourn to the North Pole to see Santa Claus.  "Did you have a nice trip, Teddy?" J.P. asked.  "Did you see Santa Claus?"

A couple of nights (when Jude and I were very tired and sleepy), "Teddy" decided to stay in the same place two days in a row.  Although it took some explaining from us, Jude and I were able to convince J.P. that sometimes "Teddy" likes one place in the house so much he decides to return and rest there after his trip to the North Pole, two nights in a row.


"Teddy" the Elf and J.P. (2011).  Actually, that might be one of the best photos I've ever taken of J.P.  Definitely top 5.

Thursday, December 20, 2012

All Good Things

It's a rainy, really rainy Thursday, a few days before Christmas, and I just dropped J.P. off at Children's House for school.  Today is the last day of the semester and school closes at 11 a.m. today for Christmas.  I ducked in Bongo Java for a quick cup of coffee and toast.

As J.P. hopped out of my truck at Children's House this morning, happy as can be (talking about how excited he is to be going to "Vandy Camp" tomorrow), my heart skipped a beat or two.  I felt more than a little sad as I was struck with the realization that, in all likelihood, he just has one more semester at Children's House in Classroom B.  This fall, it's off to kindergarten.

It feels like we're just getting into the swing of things - play dates with classmates, getting to know other parents, my participation as a board member at at Children's House, etc. - and, suddenly, J.P. will be off to school somewhere else.  How can that be?

I think having a child caused you to spend a lot of time looking backwards in time, in a constant state of amazement at how quickly time has passed.  At least, that's the way it works for me.  Memories.  All kinds of memories of when J.P. was younger.  Hell, of when I was younger.  I suspect that tendency to look backwards will become more pronounced over time, as the road behind us inevitably lengthens over the passage of years.

Just the other day, or so it seems, Jude and I dropped J.P. off at Children's House together, for the first time and as we pulled away, Jude looked at me and smiled at the tears in my eyes.  Yesterday, or so it seems, I dropped him off to start his second year at Children's House.  He was wearing shorts and it was hot.  Today, he was bundled and it was cold and rainy and we're days away from my favorite holiday of the year - Christmas.  Again, how can that be?

Children's House has been such a blessing for our family.  A true gift to us, that our son has had a place to go the last two years, every day, where he's been able to learn, explore, grow and develop in a safe and nurturing environment.  It's been such a relief for Jude and me to know that in the middle of our busy, sometime crazy lives, J.P. is at Children's House, a place where he is loved and has learned to love.

A attorney friend of mine, Greg Smith, had this to say 2 + years ago, when Jude and I were trying to decide if J.P. was ready to go to school at Children's House five days a week (he was) - "The only bad thing about Children's House is that your children have to leave.  I wish my boys could have stayed there forever."

Greg, I couldn't agree more, my friend.  I wish J.P. could stay at Children's House forever.


The playground at Children's House, on a late fall morning after I dropped J.P. off.

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Rocking Around the Christmas Tree

Tonight, after dinner, we decorated the Christmas tree.  My favorite month of the year is December and my favorite holiday, by far, is Christmas, so it stands to reason that I love decorating the Christmas tree.  Over the years, we've accumulated of all shapes and sizes, the majority of which have sentimental value of some sort to me (I am, of course, the kind of nostalgia).

JP was berside himself with excitement.  When I pulled up in front of the house after work, I could see him in the large, glass, oval window of our front door, literally jumping up and down with anticipation.  

After we finished decorating the Christmas tree, we turned the lights off in the den so we could look at it.  With Joey beside me on the floor, I began playing "DJ," cueing up ramdom songs on my cell phone w/Spotify and the Jawbone Bluetooth speaker.  JP and Jude danced together in front of the Christmas, spinning around and laughing uncontrollably, as I played the "Spin Doctors" and "Cowboy Mouth," among others.  

My enduring memory - another "snapshot moment" - will be of the two of them dancing and laughing together in the dark in front of our beautiful Christmas tree, their faces illuminated only by the white lights on the tree.  

Sunday, December 2, 2012

Hide and Seek at Santa's Trees

This morning, after church, Jude, JP, Joey and I went to Santa's Trees on 12th Avenue near our house to pick out a Christmas tree.  In years past, we've gotten our tree at Home Depot because it's much cheaper than your average Christmas tree lot.  However, I hurt my back a week or so ago carrying the stroller upstairs in the middle of the night (that's another story) and since Santa's Trees will deliver and set your tree up, we decided it was the way to go.

Picking out our Christmas was fine but after we did that, the real fun began.  We divided into two teams - JP and Jude vs. Joey and me - and played hide and seek amongst the Christmas trees.  As Joey and I were paying for our Christmas tree and arranging delivery, JP and Jude hid in the trees.  Joey and I looked for them and, finally, found them crouched down toward the side of the lot.  JP laughed when we found them.

Next, Joey and I hid, while JP and Jude counted to 25.  I could hear them looking for us and when JP saw us, I ran further into the Christmas trees, carrying Joey in my arms.  Joey was laughing as we ran between the trees.  JP was squealing and laughing - the kind of spontaneous, innocent and unplanned laughter that you only hear from an child.  Finally, they caught us and we all laughed together, out of breath.

We played a couple more rounds of hide and seek, then went home, happy.

Just another reason why December is my favorite month of the year.

Saturday, November 24, 2012

Friends


One of the coolest things about having the Baines clan in town is watching J.P. and Finn together.  They're just a few months apart in age and really enjoy playing with each other.  Here, they're sitting on the wall in our front yard before the Leaf Party last weekend.

Uncle Carley and Joe.

Monday, November 19, 2012

Leaf Party X

(10:30 p.m. - sitting on the front porch after a 3-mile night run, glass of wine in hand, listening to Paul Burch on Spotify)

Another fall, another Leaf Party has come and gone.  Leaf Party X was our best so far, Jude and I agree.  Saturday was absolutely gorgeous, with the temperature in the mid-50's (we'd been a little bit nervous about the weather, given that we hosted the party a couple of weeks later than normal) on a beautiful fall day in Nashville.

"Hurricane Baines" rolled in Friday night, although it was quickly downgraded to a tropical storm when Wolf and Scout stayed with friends in Franklin.  We had pizza from Mello Mushroom, hung out for a while, then turned in for the night like the old folks we seem to have become.  I laugh as I write this, because there was a time when I would have two coolers of beer iced down - one with Miller Lite (mine) and one with Bud Light (Troy's) - when the Baines arrived for the Leaf Party Weekend and Troy and I would stay up late, late, late on Friday night.  Not anymore, though.

Saturday morning, Duane Pierce (J.P.'s gardening mentor and friend), arrived early to finish up the yard for us before the party.  He blew the leaves in the front hard from our stately old maple tree into the shape of a heart, which was pretty cool.  And, as usual, we busied ourselves with various tasks to get ready for the party - going to the grocery store for last minute supplies, icing down the beverages, cleaning up the yard, straightening up the house, etc.  Everyone pitched in to help, even J.P. and Finn.


Soon enough, our guests began to arrive and the party was on full force.  We had our biggest crowd ever.  In the front yard, the kids laughed and screamed as they jumped in the leaves, make leaf piles, buried each other in the leaves and threw leaves on each other.  In the back yard, some of the older kids played soccer.  And, or course, kids ran in and out of the house to get food, juice boxes or use the bathroom.  As always, three hours just flew by and before I knew it, people were leaving so they could put their kids down for naps.

As the party wound down and most people left, our good friends, Ann Marie, Rob and Ayden Elliott stayed and talked with Jude, Troy, Cyndi and me.  I brought "the jawbone" out and turned on some music and the parents had a beer and talked quietly while we watched our children playing in the leaves in our front yard.  If there are a few enduring memories I have of this wonderful house when we finally leave it to another family, one of them will be Leaf Party X's "after party," when I stood on my front porch with my friends, my dear friends, laughing and talking while our young children played together on a breathtakingly beautiful fall afternoon.  I felt so content, so full of pride as I watched J.P. playing and looked at Jude holding Joey, talking to our friends, that a part of me wished I could freeze that moment in time, like a snapshot.



During the party, I had been tickled when Scout Baines sidled up to me and a little sheepishly asked, "can we still go on our 'secret walk' after the party, Uncle Phil?"  I smiled and said, "you bet."  The "secret walk" is a tradition I started years ago with Wolf and Scout and, every year, I fear they will have outgrown it.  While everyone else naps, we go for a walk, play follow the leader then, on the way home, pretend like we're spies.  For at least one more year, they wanted to go no the "secret walk."  And we did.

Saturday night, Troy and I went to the Vandy-Tennessee at Dudley Field.  For the first time in 30 years, Vandy beat Tennessee in Nashville.  I was as unhappy as Troy was happy.  Ironically, I was in at Dudley Field with my mom the last time Vandy beat the Vols in Nashville (I was 16 years old).  I helped tear down the goal posts to celebrate.  Um, not this time.

Sunday morning, Cyndi and I went for an awesome 4-mile run and met the rest of the gang at Bongo Java for breakfast.  Then, it was back home so the Baines could pack up and hit the road, which they did all too soon.  As we watched them drive away, we all felt the inevitable Sunday morning Leaf Party   hangover, J.P. especially.  With tears in his eyes, he looked up at us as we sat on the steps near the street and said, "I wish Finn could stay 3 more days."  I looked at him, smiled, and said, "I do too, buddy.  I do, too."  Then I put my arm around him and we followed Jude and Joey up the steps and into the house.

Thursday, October 18, 2012

Vegas Summit 2012

I'm sitting on my front porch, laptop in my lap, savoring a perfect fall night in Nashville.  It's almost (but not quite) chilly, with the temperature in the mid-50's.  Joe and I just returned from a walk to Cha Chah on Belmont Boulevard, where I had a glass of wine while he slept.  Good times in the 'hood.  

I'm listening to Shelby Lynn, "Live at McCabe's," on Spotify.  

Friday - Monday afternoon, Jude and I were in Las Vegas for the annual Foodbrothers' Summit.  It's a trip we take every fall, but it was the first time we had both been away from the boys.  I felt conflicted, because it was so, so nice to be away for a few days, on our own, with no responsibilities.  I felt guilty, actually.  On the other hand, I missed the boys so badly while we were away.  I couldn't wait to get back home to see them.  Jude felt the same way.  

We stayed at the Wynn, as usual.  It's Jude's favorite hotel/casino in Las Vegas.  It's nice to return there year after year.  We ate at a couple of nice restaurants (Sinatra's, for instance) and spend quality time with the Foodbrothers' gang (always the highlight of our trip).  The gang watched college football (and gambled on college football) all day Saturday, as is our custom.  I had a good day Sunday, betting on NFL games.  

We got back to Nashville on Monday, just after lunch.  After spending a little time with Joey (and Jude's parents) at home, we drove to Children's House to pick up J.P.  We parked in front and let ourselves into the playground through the gate.  When J.P. saw us, he grinned and ran across the playground to Jude, laughing with unbridled joy.  He jumped into her arms and hugged her, still laughing.  I'm not sure I've ever seen him that happy.  She set him down and he ran to me and leaped into my arms, still smiling and laughing.  I'm not sure I've ever been that happy and content.  

I was overwhelmed with my good fortune to have the family I have.  Jude and I are so blessed to have these boys.  It's amazing, how lucky we are.    

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Time Traveler

I've always been fascinated with the idea of time travel.

I don't care about being able to make myself invisible or being able to fly.  Being able to travel in time, though, that would be awesome.  

Well, you know what?  It is awesome.  I just never realized how easy it would be.  The key, apparently, is to have a son (J.P.), wait four years or so, then have another son (Joe).  It's as simple as that, or so it seems.

Lately, when I'm with Joe (7 1/2 months), I often find myself transported back in time four years, to when J.P. was the same age.  It's a random thing and I have absolutely no control over it.  It just happens organically.

Tonight, after dinner, Jude was helping J.P. take a shower in our downstairs bathroom while I fed Joe.  I was sitting in one of J.P.'s small, wooden white chairs - a Pottery Barn special - hunched over, back aching, trying (unsuccessfully) to persuade Joe, reclined in the bouncy chair, to open his mouth and eat a tiny spoonful of Gerber's turkey baby food.  He was royally pissed at me - bawling, red-faced, squirming - the whole nine yards.  He didn't want Gerber's turkey.  He didn't want Gerber's organic green peas (which was coming next).  He wanted Gerber's rice cereal.

As I looked down at him, baby turkey and baby organic green peas smeared all over his face and hands, it hit me like a bolt of lightning.  It was 2008 and I was staring right into J.P.'s eyes again.  It was  surreal.

The same thing happened on Saturday afternoon, when I strolled with Joe down to Belmont Boulevard.    We stopped in at Chago's Cantina, so I could feed him.  I wasn't sure how I was going to manage it, other than just to feed him while reclining in the stroller.  What the hell, I thought, I'll just stick him in a high chair . . . for the first time ever!  So I did, he ate all of his lunch and he loved it.  And I loved it, too.

As I alternated between feeding him and taking photos of him with my iPhone, I was hit by the time travel lightning bolt yet again.  Suddenly it was 2008 and J.P. and I were in Tabouli's (the predecessor to La Fiesta/Chago's Cantina) together and I was feeding him lunch on a Saturday, laughing at him sitting in the high chair like a big boy.  Again, surreal.

And, so, that's how I travel in time.  And it is pretty damn awesome.

        

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

One of Those Nights

Tonight was one of those nights where I found myself feeling so happy to live where I live - in the city.  Never a dull moment and always something to do.  A near perfect night, really.

After dinner and bed for J.P., Joe and I strolled down to Belmont Boulevard.  For the second time in the past week, we stopped in at Cha Chah, a restaurant next door to Chago's Cantina.  I rolled the stroller into the bar, moved a couple of bar stools, and sat down.  We had the bar to ourselves.  I read a book on my Kindle Fire, drank a glass of wine and talked to the bartender and a server about music, books and iPhone apps.  

Then, Joe and I strolled home on a beautiful, early fall night.

My 'hood is my home and has been for the last ten years.  Initially, after Jude and got married and I moved into our house on Elliott Avenue, I thought, "what in the hell have you gotten yourself into."  Now, I can't imagine not living where I live, in the city.  So much to do, so many places to walk to, so many friends I've made and so many walks I've gone on with J.P. first, and now, Joe.  I realize I don't live in a big city, but this city - Nashville - at least where I live, is a part of me and always will be.    

Thursday, September 20, 2012

The Great Pumpkin Vine

(at Bongo Java w/Sleeping Joe, drinking a "mood elevator" and listening to Neil Young - "Live at Massey Hall (1971))

I've been dying to write about the magic pumpkin vine growing wild (and I mean really, really wild) in our front yard but, until now, haven't found the time.  It's been one of the highlights of my summer.  I suppose it's appropriate to write about it tonight, since tomorrow is the first day of fall.

The first week of July, as we were gearing for our week of vacation at Santa Rosa Beach, Fl, I noticed a vine of some sort growing in our front yard, along the sidewalk near our front porch.  I didn't think too much of it and, frankly, I was glad to have anything growing in the front yard at that point.  Almost all of our grass had died due to the lack of rain and the hot, hot weather.

Upon closer examination, I realized it looked an awful lot like a pumpkin vine, which was weird, because Jude had planted some pumpkin seeds in the garden (but not in our front yard, obviously) back in the spring.  I decided to let it grow and told Duane, who mows our grass, to mow around it while we were gone on vacation.  He left it alone and when we returned to town, it was clear we were dealing with a runaway pumpkin vine.  At that point - in mid-July - the vine was about 3 or 4 feet long.



One of the cool things (and there are many cool things about it, actually) about the pumpkin vine, then and now, is that we had and have no idea where it came from.  The theory we like the most is that a bird picked up some pumpkin seeds after Jude planted them in the garden and dropped 1 or 2 in the front yard.  Or, perhaps, Jude and J.P. dropped a pumpkin seed in the front yard while they were walking to the garden.  On the other hand, maybe the pumpkin vine is magic and it decided on it's own to grow in our front yard this summer.  Maybe it will grow in someone else's yard next summer.



Anyway, the pumpkin vine continued to grow.  And grow and grow and grow.  Almost by the day, as the summer marched inexorably on, we could see it had grown substantially bigger than the day before.  Soon it was 10 - 15 feet long and bright yellow blooms appeared up and down the vine.  The blooms themselves are very cool - they open up wide in the morning and bees fly lazily from one bloom to the other.  By midday, the blooms close completely, not to open again until the next morning.

By mid-August, it was readily apparent the pumpkin vine has a life of its own.  It had grown in a straight line along the sidewalk, parallel to the front of our house, all the way to the garden.  When it reached the garden, it made a 90 degree turn and grew toward the street.  Then, it started shooting vines off toward the sidewalk again.  Now, the pumpkin vine measures probably 30 feet in one direction, 40 feet in another direction and it's covered, conservatively 20% of our front yard.  Friends that stop by the house marvel at it.



We even have a couple of pumpkins that are growing, one that's actually decent in size with a fully formed stem, which is cool.  J.P. and put some straw down underneath one of the baby pumpkins to prevent it (hopefully) from rotting from sitting in the dew in the mornings.

This evening, as J.P and I played "landscape company" in the front yard and Joey watched us from his bouncy seat on the sidewalk, I noticed for the first time that some of the large, normally deep green leaves near the origin of the vine were turning yellow.  I looked closer and saw that the original vine - which has been a green so deep it's almost black and very, very thick - was starting to wither away.  I'm  pretty sure the entire vine, and the pumpkins, are going to die, slowly.  That makes me sad.

The summer - Joey's 1st summer - is ending - dying, if you will, never to return.  The same could be said of the magic pumpkin vine.  I've so enjoyed looking at it each day, before and after work.  It's been great to talk about it to J.P. and to look for pumpkins.  It's been fun just to wonder how the pumpkin vine got there and how it grew so rapidly.

I keep thinking the pumpkin vine is a metaphor for something else.  Something bigger.  Something that came into my life unexpectedly, brought me great pleasure, then left too soon.  I don't think I can go that deep tonight, though.  It's almost 9:45 p.m. and time to head back home on a beautiful night - the last night of the summer of 2012 - with Joey sleeping peacefully in the City Elite stroller.

Maybe that's what the pumpkin vine represents - all of these summer nights I've spent with my youngest son, strolling around the neighborhood as he slept.  Winter will be here soon and, also soon, Joey will be too big for me to stroll him around at night.  He'll be sleeping in his bed and I'll be back to watching TV or reading, and these summer nights spent with him will fade away until their just a distant memory.

Or maybe it's just a pumpkin vine.



Monday, September 17, 2012

The Electric Horseman




Rita Andra, Joey's godmother (and Jude's cousin), and Joey petting a horse at Uncle Tom's Farm.

The Godfather




David Walker (a.k.a. the Godfather) with Joey at Tom White's Farm.


Laura McCutcheon with J.P. and Joey at Tom White's Pig Roast on Saturday evening.  J.P. loves going to "Uncle Tom's Farm."

Monday, September 10, 2012

Cement Mixer

I love the way J.P. makes me see things - the most ordinary things - in an entirely new light.

This morning, when J.P. and I were about to come downstairs for breakfast, we heard what sounded like a truck engine running outside, in front of our house.  We walked out front, into the front yard, and saw a cement mixer parked in front of our next door neighbor's house.  Metro (Nashville) is repairing sidewalks in our neighborhood and today they were working on our street.

J.P. and I watched the men pour the cement, then carefully smooth it out in the sections of the sidewalk they were repairing.  J.P. was fascinated.  He couldn't take his eyes off the men working.  Finally, he looked at me and said, "Daddy, when I grow up, I'm going to fix sidewalks."  I smiled and enjoyed the rest of our morning together.



Monday, September 3, 2012

Hostage Situation

Friday afternoon, I drove Jude, J.P. and Joey to the airport, so they could fly to Jacksonville, FL, to spend Labor Day weekend with the Baines' family.  In the past, Jude has made a late summer trip there by herself (or later, with J.P.).  This time around, I decided to stay home to try and get caught up at work.  So, there we were Friday about 5:30 p.m., standing together in the security line, as I prepared to usher the 3 of them through, so I could drive back to Urban Grub in 12South and meet my friend, Mike Matteson, to watch the Tennessee-N.C. State football game together.  It looked like I would arrive at my barstool just before kickoff.

In other words, while Jude flew to Jacksonville with a 4 1/2 year old and a 6 month old, I would be sitting at the bar with one of my best friends, having a cold beer and cheering on my beloved Vols in their season opener.  Seems about right, doesn't it?

When we reached the front of the security line, Jude realized she didn't have an infant boarding pass for Joey.  Ever the helpful husband, I offered to walk back to the Southwest Airlines ticket counter and get the boarding pass we needed for Joey.  As I was talking to the lady at the ticket counter, one of the supervisors from the security checkpoint walked up beside me.  Trying to be helpful (I guess), he said to the lady at the ticket counter, "just print him a non-passenger boarding pass."

Time stood still, as I stared at the man incredulously.  "What?" I said.  "I didn't know you could do that."  This, of course, was "code" for "I am trying to get out of this airport, so I can have a beer with my buddy and watch my football team play."

"Sure they can," he replied.  As the lady printed, then handed me a non-passenger boarding pass, the man grinned at me stupidly (or, perhaps, cleverly).  "I've got my own kids," he said.  "You can take your kids to their gate."  For a brief moment, I seriously thought about throat punching him.  "Oh, okay.  Good idea." I stammered.

I walked back to the front of the security line, head down, muttering profanities to myself.  When I saw Jude and the boys, I forced a smile and, through gritted teeth, said "Guess what?  I can go through security with you and take you to the gate."  Jude looked relieved and J.P. squealed with delight.  I smiled, just a little.

We quickly got through the security checkpoint, then waited in another line to send Jude's carry-on luggage through the x-ray machine.  We took off our shoes, emptied our pockets, broke down the stroller and walked through the scanner.  Next, it was on to find a cup of hot water, so we could give Joey a bottle (Starbucks did the trick).  As Joey drank his milk and J.P. played in the Southwest Airlines play area, I peaked at my watch every couple of minutes, sighing as kickoff came and went.

I texted by buddy, Mike, advising him that I had blundered into a "hostage situation."  I was kidding, of course.  Sort of.

Finally, departure time neared and I walked Jude, J.P. and Joey to their gate.  We said our goodbyes and my impatience aside, I was touched when J.P. told me how much he was going to miss me.  Suddenly, I could have cared less about the Tennessee game, season opener or not.  I walked through the airport to my truck, already missing my family and looking forward to their return on Monday morning.



 


Sunday, August 19, 2012

Cumberland Park

Late this afternoon, after J.P. got up from his nap and Joey and I returned from our walk to Bongo Java,  we drove over to Cumberland Park on the East Bank of the Cumberland River, next to LP Field.  Jude and J.P. had been there a couple of times since it opened, but it was my first visit.

The park is a great place for children on hot summer days, as there are fountains built into the ground of the water play area, as well as water sparing from the ceiling of an overhang.  J.P. absolutely loves it there and he had a blast playing in the water.  I think I had more fun watching him.


This is the kind of photo that will break your heart.  It's perfect.  Man, I love this guy.



The Boys (and Girls) are Back in Town Again

(Sunday afternoon at Bongo Java, Joe sleeping in the stroller beside me.  Listening to Boston - "Third Stage" (1986) on Spotify)

Summer in our 'hood is officially over, as yesterday was move-in day for the kids at Belmont University.  I couldn't help but chuckle as Joe and I strolled across Belmont's campus.  Cars were lined up nose to tail, as parents waited to drop their children (and their stuff, lots and lots of stuff) off at one of the dorms.  Campus police officers were everywhere, along with student volunteers, directing traffic, answering questions and generally trying to appear helpful.  It's a ritual that repeats itself every August.

Even funnier were the looks on the parents' and kids' faces, as they walked around campus together.  The parents appeared to be a little anxious, a little sad and very confused (lost).  The kids appeared to be anxious, too - anxious to have their parents leave campus and go home as quickly as possible.  Later, in groups, the kids talked a little louder than normal, filled with the false bravado all freshmen use to mask their insecurities and fears at living away from home for the first time.

I was reminded of September 1984, when my mother and our next door neighbor, Warren Gilley, drove me (and my stuff, lots and lots of stuff) to Knoxville, Tennessee, so I could begin my freshman year of college.  Mr. Gilley, who died a few years ago, was like a second father to me.  My mother told me she cried all the way back to Cookeville, after they dropped me off at Reese Hall and drove back to Nashville.

My roommate and close friend from high school, Mike Corley, had already arrived and moved his stuff into our room on the ground floor (west) - RWO.  I vividly remember unpacking my gear, sitting down on my single bed and looking over at him, sitting on his single bed.  Channeling "Revenge of the Nerds," I said, "well, Gilbert, we're here."  Mike immediately responded with the "nerd laugh," just like  in the movie.  We laughed together in our dorm room, the first of many, many times we would laugh together in our dorm room during our freshman year of college.

That night, a bunch of my friends from home went out together.  While I don't remember the entire night, I do remember walking to Buddy's Bar-B-Q on the east end of the Strip, where we had dinner and drank pitchers of beers.  Who was there?  I remember Mike Corley, Rip Pewett and Mike Matteson, for sure. I suspect Bart Pemberton and Jeff Jackovich were there, too.  We ate, drank beer and laughed a lot, glorying in the our independence and secure in the knowledge that college and everything that goes with it was right there in front of us.  All we had to do was go get it.

And we did.  We got every bit of it over the next 4-5 years.  We got girls, parties, hangovers, football games, road trips, lifelong friends, classes, fraternities, intramural sports, cafeteria food, fast food, music, bars, broken hearts, fights and laughter (lots of laughter).  We made enough memories to last a lifetime.

I hope the Belmont freshmen get all that and more the next 4 years.  I really do.

Saturday, August 18, 2012

Nocturnal Ramblings

(Sitting on my front porch in my camping chair, drinking an ice cold beer and listening to Billy Bragg & Wilco - Mermaid Avenue:  The Complete Sessions)

Almost every night after Jude and I get J.P. into bed, around 8:30 p.m., I put Joey in the City Elite (stroller) and we hit the streets.  Usually he is fast asleep as I turn the corner and head up the hill on Acklen Avenue.  Ear buds in, as we walk I listen to a podcast or two on my iPhone through "Stitcher," another one of my favorite apps.  

Many nights, we walk to Bongo Java and I order a "mood elevator," chatting briefly with whomever is working that night.  I sit down inside, drink my coffee and read a book on my Kindle Fire as Joey sleeps in the stroller.  

Other nights, especially if I've had to work late and missed dinner, we walk to Chago's Cantina.  There,  I eat a late dinner and have a beer or two while I read.  

Some nights, we walk my 3-mile neighborhood running route.  Conservatively, I've probably run that route 350-400 times in the decade Jude and I have lived in our house.  It's nice to walk it with Joey while he sleeps.

These nocturnal ramblings are something special, to me, that Joey and I do together.  They're made more special because I know they won't last much longer.  Soon, summer will be over and it will get cooler at night, too cool for Joey to be out in the City Elite with me.  Or, when Jude stops breast feeding (which will be soon, I think), he won't eat at 10:15 p.m., like he does now.  He'll go to bed earlier.  Either way, I'll be on my own again after dinner and bedtime, which makes me feel a bit sad and nostalgic already.


My nocturnal ramblings with Joey are the best, most relaxing and stress free part of my day.  It's when I clear my head and, really, just unwind.  It's my time to think or my time not to think.  Most of all, it's my time to be alone with Joey. 

  

Sunday, August 12, 2012

Change

(Sitting at Bongo Java on a Sunday afternoon, listening to a Wilco mix on Spotify while Joey sleeps peacefully in his stroller beside me)

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about change, not only in my life, but in general.

I'm not sure I was prepared for how much my life would change after Joey was born.  Going from one child to two children has been a big adjustment, bigger than I thought it would be.  Several of my close friends have two children, and I've accused them of removing that chapter from "the manual" before giving it to me while Jude was pregnant with Joey.

Probably the biggest adjustment for me has been the lack of time to do much of anything that doesn't involve taking care of the boys, directly or indirectly.  It's hard to find time to run (which absolutely kills me), blog, go out to eat or to a movie with Jude, grab a beer with a buddy or work a little extra to get caught up.  Consequently, I constantly feel like I'm juggling responsibilities, rushing out of the office in the evenings, stopping by the grocery store, then rushing home, etc.

I am not complaining, not by a long shot.  I couldn't be more blessed than I am to have two healthy boys and an accomplished, intelligent wife who also happens to be the best mother on the planet.  I would be lost without Jude and I can't imagine life without our boys.  Having watched my mother raise three children on her own after losing my father at such a young age, I know how fortunate I am to be married to a woman like Jude.  In other words, I know if something happened to me, she would be able to raise our boys.  That's incredibly important to me.

Still, I often feel like I'm treading water, just trying to keep from drowning, as I adjust to life with two children.  The quiet moments, the down time - few and far between indeed.

As a result, I think I appreciate the stolen moments more.  The many, many walks with Joey in his stroller (I swear, I'm going to bronze the City Elite when Joey gets too big for it), especially at night after J.P. is in bed and while Jude catches a quick nap or unwinds before she feeds him one last time for the day.  A glass of wine, sitting on my front porch, after everyone is in bed, listening to the late night sounds of the city.  A quick lunch or a beer with Matteson or Hal.  A three mile run in the neighborhood, followed by a walk home through Belmont's campus.

And so it goes.  




Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Joe


I'm going to quit my job and become a professional iPhone photographer.

Highway to (Travel) Hell

Traveling with infants and toddlers is kind of like women having babies.  Stick with me here, because it's true.  

Women who have a baby soon forget how brutally difficult child birth can be, as a result of which they're willing to get pregnant and have another baby or two.  Similarly, when you take a vacation with infants and toddlers, you forget how terrible it is to travel in a car with them.  By the next year, you're ready for another vacation and another car trip.

I think it's some form of selective amnesia.

Last Saturday, Jude, J.P., Joey and I traveled home from Santa Rosa Beach, Florida, in Jude's Honda Pilot.  Aside from the trip home from the Orange Bowl in Miami, Florida, 15 years ago or so - when I traveled with 3 horribly broken fingers on a charter plane that was 12 hours late - our trip back to Nashville was the worst travel experience of my life.  And I'm not even exaggerating.  

What should have been a 6 1/2 hour trip home took 10 1/2 hours.  I clocked it.  And I felt like crying.

Within an hour of departing Santa Rosa Beach and winding our way toward Montgomery, Alabama, on a series of 2-lane highways, J.P. was whining and crying, literally crying, about the trip home taking too long.  Then, he began vomiting.  Again and again and again.  

At one point, with Jude sitting in the back seat between J.P. and Joey, I passed a tupperware container back to J.P., so he could vomit in it.  I hear his window roll down then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the container sailing down the highway.  J.P. started screaming and asked me to turn around and drive back to get it.  I refused.  More crying.  Finally, he explained he was trying to "dry" the container, which apparently had a few drops of water in it, when he rolled down the window.  Makes sense, right?

We stopped in some tiny, tiny town on the Florida-Alabama border to look for a store that would give us a cup of hot water to warm Joey's bottle of breast milk.  No luck.  We ended up parking at the City Hall/Public Library building, which was closed.  While I sat in a rocking chair on the front porch and gave Joey his bottle - in 95 degree weather - Jude and J.P. walked up the road in search of a bathroom.

From there, J.P. cried all the way to Montgomery, where we stopped in a Chick-fil-A.  For the play area, of course.  I fed Joey (or tried to, as he wasn't hungry), ate part of a disgusting chicken salad sandwich and watched J.P. in the play area.  After almost an hour, I suggested to J.P. that he go to the bathroom, so we could leave.  In response to what seemed like a perfectly reasonable request from me, he threw a fit and began yelling, at the top of his lungs, "I want to go the McDonald's play area."  In Chick-fil-A, with customers and employees staring at us.  

Back in the car, whenever J.P. calmed down momentarily, Joey started crying inconsolably.  Jude tried to comfort him while she ducked down and used the breast pump.  It got so bad, at my suggestion Jude removed Joey from his car seat and held him as we drove, state and federal laws on securing infants in car seats be damned.  At that point, I would have let Joey drive if it would have made him stop crying.  No sooner did Joey calm down, then J.P. started crying again.  It was "hell in a Honda."  I plugged my ear buds back into my iPhone and listened to another podcast.

In Huntsville, 1 1/2 hours away from Nashville, J.P. insisted we stop at another Chick-fil-A.  Play area time again.  At this point, I was catatonic.  I had the "thousand yard travel stare."  Finally, we left Huntsville and drove up I-65, headed home.  Suddenly, J.P. began vomiting again, mostly dry heaves because there was nothing left for him to throw up.  Lovely.  

I've never, ever been so glad to arrive home from a trip.  Next year we're flying.  Or not going.


Friday, July 13, 2012

Santa Rosa Beach 2012

It's Friday night - the last night of our vacation in Santa Rosa Beach, Florida.  J.P. is sleeping upstairs and Joey is sleeping in the stroller beside me in our beach house ("Slice of Paradise").  Jude is down the street, visiting with her Tulane friends for a few minutes before she goes to bed.  Yet again, a week at the beach has passed by too quickly.

Things I'll remember from this trip to the beach, our first with J.P. and Joey, in no particular order -


  • When we left our house and drove south on I-65, we hadn't even reached the Old Hickory Blvd. (Brentwood) exit before J.P. said, "how much longer until we get there?"  I'm not even kidding.
  • J.P. loved the bunk bed in his room at our rental house.  He especially loved taking his afternoon nap on the top bunk the last couple days of our visit.
  • Each morning, I ran early, then J.P. and I walked up the street to one of the swimming pools in our complex for a swim.  We had the pool to ourselves and swam for about an hour, just the two of us.  That was probably my favorite part of the trip.
  • J.P. loved the ocean, more so than on any other trip we've taken with him to the beach.  He spend a good deal of time in the water.  
  • One morning after it had rained, we went to the beach.  Jude and J.P. found several shells.  J.P. walked up and down our section of the beach, showing his bucket of shells to everyone he ran into.  
  • I enjoyed feeding Joey his bottle at the beach, underneath the umbrella we'd rented for the week, watching Jude and J.P. play in the ocean.
  • Each morning, we carried so much gear to the beach - bouncy seat, blanket, beach towels, kick board, assorted buckets/shovels, snacks, bottled water, sun screen, camera, etc.  Okay, so that's not really a fond memory.
  • We rented bicycles and a trailer for J.P.  Jude didn't ride hers the entire week and J.P. and I took my bicycle out twice for short trips.  He and did ride up to "Local Catch" for lunch, after which we rode home in a thunderstorm.
  • We spent lots of quality time with Jude's Tulane friends and their children.  Jude and I got a kick out of watching J.P. play with the big boys (Ben Russell, Trent Williams and Nate and Andrew Fitzpatrick).  
  • We had a crazy dinner for 20 at Elmo's on 30A, after an hour wait.  
  • Joey and I drove over to Grayton Beach every afternoon for a quiet interlude, while Jude and J.P. napped at our rental house.  We found a quaint coffee house - Grayt Coffee House - and spend a couple of afternoons there.
  • Once again, I ran on the trails around Draper Lake.  I discovered some new trails on the other side of 30A, across from Draper Lake (single track, mostly sand), in a new development ("Pelican").  One morning, toward the end of a 5 mile run, I tripped over a small tree stump or root and did a complete face plant on the downhill portion of one of the trails in the Draper Lake development.  Fortunately, the trail consisted of sand, pine needles and twigs, so I was uninjured other than scratching up my chest and stomach.
Those are just the high points.  It's been a good week, although there isn't a lot of vacationing to be done with a 4 year old and 4 month old.  We're looking at a long drive tomorrow, but it will be nice to get home.

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Grayt Coffee House

It's a lazy Florida afternoon and I'm sitting in a quaint coffee house in Grayton Beach, Florida, drinking a version of a "mood elevator" (Bongo Java) that's not half bad.  Joey is sleeping in his stroller beside me, taking his afternoon nap.  The mood is captured quite nicely by an acoustic remake of "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" playing quietly in the background.  Ah, the 1980's.

It's interesting, but Grayt Coffee House doubles as a real estate office and, apparently, some type of ticket office for tours (a lady just walked in and purchased a pair of tickets to some event or other).  The only other customer is sleeping in a leather chair in the back, dark sunglasses on and sporting a "ZZ Top" beard that runs down the front of his chest.  

Early this morning, as I finished my four mile run on some trails I've discovered over the years around Draper Lake, I listened to a podcast of "This American Life," the theme of which was "fatherhood."  The host of the show - Ira Glass - is a genius and an amazing talent, as I've said before.  I recognized the last act of the podcast and, sure enough, when it was over, Ira Glass mentioned it had originally aired on the program in 2005.

As I sat in front of our rental house and stretched, I became a bit nostalgic, thinking about all that had happened in my life since I first heard the radio story referenced above, most likely as I was running on the trails in Shelby Bottoms.  I was 38 or 39 years old then.  Now, I've got two boys and it's strange, but I can't remember much of my life before they arrived in it.

"ZZ Top beard guy" just left, saying goodbye to the barista.  Jack Johnson is playing in the background now, actually the perfect soundtrack to an afternoon at the beach.

Jude's Tulane crowd began arriving last night for a 20-year Tulane reunion of sorts.  Jim and Colleen from Boston, Jeff and Ellen from California, Jackie and Scott Russell from Washington D.C. (and kids, of course, eight counting J.P. and Joey).  We're expecting Cindy (and kids) from Seattle, Kevin from New York City and maybe, just maybe Terry (and one kid) from Chicago.  It's an impressive turnout, actually.  These are good, good people, as I've discovered over the nearly 15 years Jude and I have been together.

The first 10 years or so after they graduated from Tulane, Jude and her friends had an annual reunion trip.  They met in places like Lake Tahoe, the Outer Banks and Montreal.  As everyone began to have the children, the annual reunions petered out and the gatherings were more sporadic - a trip to Chicago, a trip to Washington D.C, our wedding.  It's cool to see them all together again, with their children.

Joey is awake now and letting me hear about it.  Time to sign off.



Monday, June 18, 2012

Strolling Down Memory Lane


An alternative title for this post would be "Taking it to the Streets," because that's what Joey and I have doing lately in the City Elite (Baby Jogger) stroller.  Walking, walking and more walking in the neighborhood, made more special for me because I realize how soon it will be that he's too big for the stroller and I'll have to park it once and for all.

As he and I make tracks all over the neighborhood, I'm reminded so poignantly of the many, many strolls J.P. and I took together the first 2 + years of his life, until he got too big for the stroller.  Every day, Joey and I are re-tracing the walks J.P. and I took a lifetime ago to Bongo Java, La Fiesta (a.k.a. Chago's Cantina), Belmont U, Mafioza's, Kim and Hal's house and around and around our block.  Those were such special, one-on-one times I shared with J.P. and now, this time around, I'm sharing them with Joey.

I feel so lucky to return to that sacred, peaceful and uncomplicated place, as I stroll through the neighborhood with my son.  It's hard to describe, but I feel so content, so happy, when I gaze down at Joey as we walk, asleep in the City Elite.  It's such a controlled environment - one I can control - and I feel like he's safe, like I can keep him safe.  And, my God, that feeling is so very fleeting, so hard to hold onto before it slips through my fingers and is gone, leaving me helplessly grasping for it.  Soon enough, as with J.P., there will be school, play dates and birthday parties.

But for now, for an all too brief interlude of time, there are Saturday afternoon walks to Mafioza's, where I drink a couple of beers and read the New Yorker while Joey sleeps contentedly in the City Elite (though I might point out that 3 years ago I was reading the actual magazine and now I'm reading the magazine on my iPad).  There are nighttime walks (like tonight, after we put J.P. to bed) to Bongo Java, after which I enjoy a "Mood Elevator" as we take in the sights on Belmont Boulevard as we walk home.  There are other nighttime walks around an ever expanding block near our house, as I listen to random selections of music via the Spotify App on my iPhone (3 years ago, I was listening to downloaded music on my iPod).

In some ways - in many ways, actually, I wish these times could last forever.



  

Sunday, June 17, 2012

Singing in the Rain



Friday night, after dinner, J.P. and I drove down to Chago's Cantina on Belmont Boulevard to see our friend, Meghan, who used to work at Bongo Java before she graduated from Belmont U. I had seen her earlier in the day, when she told me she was picking up a few shifts waiting on tables this summer before she resumes her teaching job this fall.

It was raining hard as we parked on Belmont Boulevard, a few doors down from the restaurant. Laughing, we ran hand-in-hand up the sidewalk and ducked into Chago's. We stopped to say hello to Chad - the owner - who always takes good care of us when we heat there. When J.P. saw Meghan, he ran up to her from behind and said, "hey!" She turned, saw him and beamed as she picked him up in a bear hug.

As hard as it is for us when our longtime friends from Bongo Java move on, it's such a treat to see them again. To a person, they mean so much to J.P. (and to me, too, because they've been such a part of his life every weekend and many nights after dinner, when we stop in to say hello). We said our goodbyes, then walked out the door, only to find it was raining even harder. I noticed water rushing down beside the curb of Belmont Boulevard, as it tends to do when it rains. There were puddles everywhere. A light bulb went off in my head and I said, "J.P., come on, let's go!"

We ran straight to the first puddle and splashed through it. J.P. squealed in delight. Next, we ran over to the curb, between the parked cars and the sidewalk, and started running through the rushing water. We ran to the corner, in front of the Circle K, then turned around and retraced our steps, running right back up the side of the street, laughing together with every step. I glanced to my left and saw people waiting to be seated at Cha Cha, Chago's and P.M. (3 restaurants on Belmont Boulevard) pointing and laughing right along with us. It was almost like I could read their minds, as each one reflected on a memory of a rainy day when he or she had spashed through puddles with a parent or a child.

I had flashbacks of playing with my sister in the water-filled ditch in front of my mother's house after a hard summer rain.

When we finally got back into my truck to head home, soaked from head to toe, J.P. couldn't stop talking about how much fun we'd had. And I can't stop thinking the same thing, even now.


Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Catching Up

It's a breathtakingly beautiful mid-June morning and I'm sitting on the front deck at Bongo Java, eating a quick breakfast, having just droppped J.P. off at Children's House.  I had a cancellation on my calendar this morning, so I thought I'd steal a few minutes to to get caught up.

I have my earbuds in and Spotify open on my laptop (hands down, one of the best tech innovations of past 5 years for music fans like me).  I'm listening to the Byrds and, for some reason, it's the perfect soundtrack for my morning.  Belmont Boulevard is bustling with activity - pedestrians hurrying to class, appointments or just out for a walk; trucks stopped to deliver food to the restaurant; and cars parked up an down the Boulevard.  Bongo Java is hopping, due to a couple of camps ongoing at Belmont U and orientation for incoming freshman and their parents (I guess August and the start of school isn't really that far away).  Sarah and Chuck are working behind the bar inside, along with a couple of newbies, as well.  Fudgecake, the cat, ambled over to greet me as I sat down, then continued on his way to patrol the sidewalk in front of Bongo Java and the businesses on both sides. 

I'm under attack from a squirrel who is dropping pieces of walnuts all around me, stationed high above in one of the large trees that shades the front deck.  And here comes Fudgecake again, back on the deck to greet people, his morning rounds completed.

In other words, it's a perfect morning and all is right in my world. 

I haven't posted much lately, for a variety of reasons, really.  I've been busy, for one.  Also, from a practical standpoint, it's been difficult to type with a brace on my left hand that only really allowed me to use my index finger on that hand.  I've been a bit down, too, to be honest, due to my hand injury.  I've felt a little sorry for myself, I guess.  Fortunately, though, the broken bone is healing quickly and I'm able to take the brace off from time to time.  Better still, I can type, though not as fast as I normally can.  I can see the light at the end of the tunnel now and I know I'm going to be fine.  My goal, unstated but rather obvious, is to recover enough to play in my softball team's tournament in late July/early August.  I want to be there to defend our title and I want to prove - to others and myself - that an injury like this isn't going to be the end of softball for me.  I'm not ready to give it up.  Not yet, anyway.   

I'm rambling, but it's good to ramble every once in a while. 

Saturday, June 2, 2012

Another Bad Break

A week ago Monday, my softball team (in the Nashville Bar Association league) had its first softball game of the 2012 season, again Bass, Berry & Sims.  We were up 16-10 in the 6th inning, when I covered home plate as one of Bass's players tried to score from third base on an infield hit.  Chris Vlahos made the throw to me from first base and I turned as I caught the ball and tried to sweep my glove across the runner's back as he went by me.  The throw was good enough that I actually got my glove in front of the runner.  Rather than slide or give himself up, he ran through my hand, knocking the ball out of my glove in the process.  The force off the collision bent my gloved hand back and I felt (and heard) a snap, then excruciating pain.

Instantly, I knew my left hand was broken. X-rays at the Baptist Hospital emergency room (where I spent 4 + hours) revealed a spiral fracture of the mid-metacarpal.  I wasn't surprised, but I was very disappointed.  The doctor put a cast on my left hand, extending almost to my elbow.  I drove home and got ready for bed, my left hand throbbing painfully.

As I tried to fall asleep with my hand propped up on pillows, I had a flash back to 15 years ago, when I broke three fingers on my left hand at the Orange Bowl in Miami, Fl.  My prevailing thought was "really, it's 15 years later, you're 45 years old and you're back in this place again?"  I was despondent, as I thought about all the things I wouldn't be able to do and contemplated surgery and months of wearing a cast, followed by occupational therapy 3-4 times/week.

On Wednesday I saw Jane Siegel, M.D., the orthopedic surgeon/hand specialist who performed surgery to repair my broken fingers 15 years ago.  She quickly allayed my fears by assuring me that this injury wasn't nearly as serious as the broken fingers.  She also suggested surgery might not be necessary.  She fitted me for a removable splint, which was huge because it allowed me to take a shower without wearing a plastic bag on my left arm.  I saw Dr. Siegel a week later and she told me as far as surgery goes, the risks of complications outweighed the reward (straightening my middle finger).

So, that's where I am now.  A broken left hand, wearing a splint constantly and unable to pick up my 3 month old son without help.  Oh, and I can't change diapers, either.

This too shall pass, I keep telling myself.  I'll be okay.

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

The Last Supper

Maternity leave over, Jude goes back to work tomorrow.  I'm sick about it.  Sad, nostalgic and just plain sick. 

I find myself asking, once again, how can it be that time has slipped by me so quickly.  Just a few days ago, it seems, we brought Joey home from Baptist Hospital.  And now, quick as a whistle, three months has come and gone and it's time for Jude to return to work.  Three months of my youngest son spending one-on-one time with his mommy, breast feeding day and night, growing like a weed, learning to smile and learning new sounds to make when he gazes into our eyes.  Three months, for me, of reassurance, knowing Joey was with his mommy. 

Tomorrow, Alison, our new nanny, will take care of our Joey while we're at work and J.P. is at school.  Alison's great and it will be fine, I know, but I find myself transported back in time to when J.P. was three months old and we were leaving him with Carley for the first time.  I felt a little nervous, a little guilty and kind of sad.  That's exactly the way I feel - again - now.  And I know it's natural.  I especially kow it's natural, having been through it before, but I still feel that way.

Tonight, for our last supper, so to speak, the four of us - my family - went to Burger Up on 12th Avenue for dinner.  The weather was perfect and we sat outside on the patio.  We saw some friends there, a reminder of how much I love living where I live.  Dinner was fantastic. J.P. was in a great mood and Joey slept.  At one point,  I stole a quiet moment to look around the table and marvel at my family and how God has blessed me with Jude, J.P. and Joey.  It's more than I deserve, for sure.  PJ3.

While we ate, J.P. flirted through the window of Las Paletas with the girl working inside.  After dinner, we bought some popsicles from her and ate them on the bench outisde, facing 12th Avenue.  Jude and I watched traffic go by, as J.P. ran up and down the sidewalk in front of us, a strawberry popsicle dangling in his hand.  A perfect spring evening with my family. 

Monday, May 14, 2012

Tomato Farmers



Saturday morning, after I ran 5 miles on the trails at Shelby Bottoms, I stopped by the Farmer's Market and bought several tomato plants, strawberry plants, a green pepper plant and a couple of seeless watermelon plants.  It's been a couple of years since I've planted anything in our garden and I thought it would be a fun project for J.P. and I to work on together.

Late yesterday afternoon, J.P. and I took advantage of a break in what had been a weekend of rain to plant some of our tomato plants.  Almost as soon as we started, thought, it began raining again, first a fine mist then a flat out downpour.  Oblivious to the rain or almost completely so, he and kept right on working in the garden.  I dug holes with a shovel and he broke up the larger dirt clods with his kid-size hoe from Home Depot.  I'd given him my Predators' hat to wear in the rain and it was hilarious to watch him so hard at work in the dirt and mud. 

While we worked, he told me he was pretending we were firemen planting a garden at the firehouse.  Vivid imangition, indeedl, which is one of the may things I love about J.P.

As we finished planting the last tomato plant, our guests (Jude's parents, my mother, Alice Walker, Jude's grandmother, Margaret McCutcheon) started arriving for our Mother's Day cookout.  I'm sure J.P. and I were a sight to behold we stood there with our shovels and hoes in a driving rain, covered in mud from  head to toe.  In fact, when my mom arrived, she loooked at us like we were crazy.

It was one of those things I'll always remember, though.  J.P. and I gardening together, side by side, in the rain, laughing and having a good time while we worked.  

  

Sunday, May 13, 2012

The Weight

Levon Helm died about 3 weeks ago.  His death affected me - not profoundly - but if affected me.  He was the drummer for the Band, which made some of the most influential music of the late 1960s and early 1970s (at least in my book).  I'm a big fan of the Band in general and Levon Helm in particular.  A few years ago, Jude surprised me with tickets to see Levon Helm and his Midnight Ramble at the Ryman Auditorium.  Especially now, I'm really glad I had the chance to see him play live.

Last Sunday, J.P. and I were leaving Bongo Java before church and I put the Band's "Songs from Big Pink" in my truck's cd player.  J.P. fussed for a minute or two, while I tried to find the song I wanted to play for him.  As soon as "the Weight" started playing, J.P. got quiet, which is typically does when he likes a song.  As the song played, I glanced at him a couple of times in the rear view mirror and he was sitting still, looking contemplatively out the window.  When the song ended, he snapped out of his reverie and said, "play that song again, Daddy."  And I did.  Actually, at his request, I played it three or four more times.

When we got to where we were going and I turned my truck off, J.P. looked at me earnestly and said, "I like that song, Daddy!  I like the Weight!"  I held his hand as we walked inside, thinking to myself that somewhere Levon Helm was smiling.   



 

Thursday, May 10, 2012

Stomp Rocket



J.P. with the "Stomp Rocket" on the soccer field at Belmont U.