Stopping to Smell the Roses

It goes without saying - in this the era of #hashtags, iPhones and Wifi - that it's difficult (for me, anyway) to take a few minutes to power down into neutral and simply relax.  To a certain extent, I guess that's what I do when I go for a run.  Still, between family responsibilities, buying a new house and work, it's Go! Go! Go!, all of the time.  At least, that's what it feels like to me.


Thursday morning before work, I was rushing around the house, trying to get ready for an 8 a.m. board meeting at Children's House.  I had been in trial until almost 7 p.m. Wednesday evening, so I was mentally exhausted anyway.  Jude already had left to take J.P. to school and I was trying to keep Joe entertained while I shaved and got dressed.  I decided to let him play with J.P.'s iPad so I could keep him occupied for about 10 minutes. 


As I was getting dressed, lost in thought about what I had to get done that day and where I had to be, I heard a voice say, "Daddy?"  I looked down and there was Joe, staring innocently up at me.  "Daddy, I need to go potty." he said.   I smiled at him, powered down, and said, "sure, Joe, let's do that."  And we did.

Lucky Seven

I'm sitting at "J.P.'s table" in the back room at Bongo Java on Good Friday, gazing out the window with a view of the back alley and houses behind Belmont Boulevard.  The Belmont students are gone for Easter weekend, so it's unusually quiet this morning.  I like it that way, at least for a while.  They'll be back soon enough and Bongo Java will be abuzz with activity every morning as the students begin the push to the end of spring semester and final exams.


The cycle of (college) life.  It's reassuring and somehow comforting for a person, like me, who doesn't look too fondly upon change.


This morning (and lately), I've been listening to James McMurtry's new album - "Complicated Game."  Although I'm far from an unbiased observer, I think it's his best in years.  So many well written songs.  Today I'm listening to Copper Canteen.  I don't know why, but I think music in general sounds better played through ear buds/headphones.  Just music, no noise.

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J.P. turned seven years old last Saturday.  It's hard for me to fathom that seven years have come and gone.  The thing that has surprised me the most about being a parent, I think, is how quickly time passes.  It's like I'm a passenger on some kind of high speed bullet train headed toward my final destination with life unfolding outside the windows before my very eyes.  The train stops occasionally, but for the most part, it just keeps running faster and faster.  It's an exhilarating and scary feeling.

J.P.'s growing up and maturing so quickly.  He's getting taller and leaner.  When I check on him at night before I go to bed, he looks like a teenager laying in bed, legs and arms tangled with the covers.  Gone almost with a trace are the whiny days (not gone totally, because Joe has taken up temporary residence in "Whiny Town.")  He and I talk about sports, watch sports and play sports.  He reads to Jude or me - books from school - every night or every morning.  When Joe throws a fit, he just looks at Jude and me, a half smile on his face, and nods knowingly.

Friday evening, we had a party for J.P., for family only, at Richland Place, the assisting living facility where "Great" (Jude's grandmother, Rita White) has been staying for the past few weeks.  J.P. wanted to order pizzas from Domino's for some reason, so that's what we did.  One hour and twenty minutes after I placed the order, the pizzas arrive.  This, after the person who took my order over the telephone informed me that "we haven't had a 30 minute delivery guarantee since 1993."  Truer words have never been spoken.  That notwithstanding, we had a great time, especially since the boys had plenty of room to run around after eating cupcakes.

Saturday, J.P. had a baseball game.  Later, we went to Chago's Cantina for dinner, after we couldn't get into Taqueria del Sol, his first choice.  And we watched a lot of NCAA tourney basketball.

Sunday was close to a perfect day.  Rather than have a traditional birthday party, J.P. had told us he wanted to have breakfast at Bongo Java with 4-5 of his friends, which is exactly what we did.  E.J., our friend and the manager at Bongo Java, reserved the upstairs alcove ("my office") for us and we decorated it before the boys arrived.  We ordered lots of food for J.P., Calhoun, Cecil, Aiden and J.D., all friends from school.  We sat in the back room, underneath the alcove, where could hear the  boys while giving them some space.

After breakfast, we walked across the street to soccer field (actually just green space now) at Belmont U.  For an hour and half or so, the boys played in the new fountain, played football and threw the Frisbee.  Finally, we settled into a spirited kickball game, dads (and Jon Meade) against the boys.  It was cool to watch the boys interact with each other and to spend some time with Jeff and Giles, Calhoun's and Cecil's fathers.  And, as always, Jon Meade, was the best.  He's naturally gifted when it comes to interacting with children and literally one of the best people I know.

That afternoon, Jude, Joe, J.P. and I went the Predators-Flames game to top off a perfect birthday weekend.

As I've told J.P. a few times lately, if God had asked me seven plus years ago to describe for Him what I was looking for in my firstborn son, I would have described J.P. 

J.P, as you turn seven, and continue to grow and develop into the young man you're going to become, know that your dad is proud of you and loves your more than life itself. 

Happy birthday, son.