Recently, on our first ever trip to the Wilson County Fair, I made one of my bottom 5 worst parenting decisions. That's saying a lot, for me.
We arrived at the fair in Lebanon shortly after it opened on Saturday morning, about 10:15 a.m. Most of the rides weren't running yet, so Jude, J.P., Joe and I wandered aimlessly around the midway. We hit what passed for the Wilson County Fair's version of the "Euroslide," always a favorite of the boys at the State Fair. There's not much to it, really. A tall slide (a long walk up), burlap mats and fast slide down. J.P. raced Joe and me down several times, with Joe riding in my lap. Good stuff.
So far, so good, until I decided it would be a good idea for J.P. and me to to shoot some live zombies with paint ball funs. Now, mind you, I'd never shot a paint ball gun or a zombie, for that matter. Still, the concept seemed sound. Paint ball guns, paint balls, live zombies. What could go wrong?
As we walked over to the setup (2 trailers pulled together longways) with tents of some sort off the open sides, J.P. and I joked about who would be more scared. That question was quickly answered after we picked up our paint balls and walked inside the trailer. It was dark, there were folding chairs for us to sit in and paint ball guns chained to a wire in front of us. There were disembodied legs, arms and hand hanging in the air. The lights went out, music started playing - loudly - and strobe lights flashed. Then, zombies darted across the grassy, tented area.
J.P. was terrified, near tears as he huddled behind me. I, of course, shot zombies with a vengeance, or tried to, anyway. After my "ammunition" was spent, we started to walk out of the trailer. One of the zombies reached through the half window and grabbed J.P. as he screamed.
Father of the year? Not anytime soon.
Monday, August 24, 2015
Wednesday, August 12, 2015
Weekend at Joe's Place
Last weekend, Jude and J.P. traveled to Charlotte, NC, for the christening of Jude's niece, Caroline. That left Joe and me "home alone."
I was excited about spending the weekend with Joe, in large part because he's stuck in a bit of a "mommy phase." For example, he wants Jude to do things for him that I can do, like pouring his milk, helping him down off his stool after breakfast, getting him out of the car, etc. Truthfully, it gets annoying, although I know - based on my experience with J.P. - that it will change with time, about the time Joe turns 4 years old and I start coaching him in various sports.
I was a little apprehensive about how Joe would behave once he realized Jude was gone for the weekend. Of course, I shouldn't have been, because he was perfectly fine hanging out with me and we had a blast. From my vantage point, it was a landmark weekend for the two of us, because we really got to spend time together, one-on-one. It's difficult to find that kind of one-on-one time when you have two boys, both of whom need and demand attention and supervision, and an exceptional mother like Jude. Joe did great with me, and it was amazing to spend time with him, just the two of us.
Friday early evening, we went to Martin's BBQ for dinner. Although we arrived early, it was a bit crowded, so Joe and I grabbed a table near the front of the restaurant, where people queue up to wait to order food. By design, we sat directly in front of a television showing the Dodgers-Pirates game. As always, Joe was really, really into the game. After every pitch, he looked at me earnestly and asked, "was that a strike?" If the Dodgers were in the field and I answered in the affirmative, he yelled "Yes!" and pumped his fists. If the Dodgers got a hit, he clapped and cheered, loudly. The people in line nodded our way and laughed at his enthusiasm. My three year old, the diehard sports fan. Craziness.
After dinner, we went to Bongo Java, where Joe played football with Megan, one of young ladies who works there. She loves him and it was a joy to watch them playing together on a slow night at the coffee shop which, of course, is my second home and my second office.
That night, I put Joe down to bed, but not before reminding him that once he laid down, there was no getting up until 7 a.m. the next morning. No water, no going potty one more time, no fixing his blanket to cover his feet. We covered all of that before he got into bed. And you know what? He went to sleep immediately and at 7 a.m. on the dot Saturday morning, I heard a pitter patter of little feet, then Joe peeped in our bedroom. A perfect night!
Joe and I watched "Sid the Science Kid" (which I absolutely love), then drove to East Nashville for Tomatofest. We strolled up and down the streets near "Five Points," then went to the Cumberland Water Park. Joe had a great time playing in the water at the park. Such a great time, in fact, that he punched me when I insisted it was time to go. Well, you can't win them all.
Saturday afternoon, I strolled him down to Mafiozza's while he napped. I had a couple of beers and talked to my guy, Doc, at the bar. It was cool, because it had been a while since I had talked to Doc and it was a repeat of some afternoons J.P. and I spent there when he was Joe's age. Then, it as back home, where we met my mom, who had driven up from Brentwood. We went to dinner at Burger Up, which went well. Saturday night, Joe went to bed again with no fussing and slept the entire night without a problem.
Sunday morning, Joe and I went to Bongo Java for breakfast, where we ran into Ms. Hagan, J.P.'s kindergarten teach at USN last year. It was great to see her and we made plans to meet her again when J.P. could be there. Then, it was off to Kroger, church and home for lunch. Joe napped in his bed and Jude and J.P. got home that evening.
It was such a meaningful, special weekend with Joe. We laughed - a lot - played games and just enjoyed each other's company. In short, we figured it out, which is a lot of what parenting boils down to, it seems to me.
I was excited about spending the weekend with Joe, in large part because he's stuck in a bit of a "mommy phase." For example, he wants Jude to do things for him that I can do, like pouring his milk, helping him down off his stool after breakfast, getting him out of the car, etc. Truthfully, it gets annoying, although I know - based on my experience with J.P. - that it will change with time, about the time Joe turns 4 years old and I start coaching him in various sports.
I was a little apprehensive about how Joe would behave once he realized Jude was gone for the weekend. Of course, I shouldn't have been, because he was perfectly fine hanging out with me and we had a blast. From my vantage point, it was a landmark weekend for the two of us, because we really got to spend time together, one-on-one. It's difficult to find that kind of one-on-one time when you have two boys, both of whom need and demand attention and supervision, and an exceptional mother like Jude. Joe did great with me, and it was amazing to spend time with him, just the two of us.
Friday early evening, we went to Martin's BBQ for dinner. Although we arrived early, it was a bit crowded, so Joe and I grabbed a table near the front of the restaurant, where people queue up to wait to order food. By design, we sat directly in front of a television showing the Dodgers-Pirates game. As always, Joe was really, really into the game. After every pitch, he looked at me earnestly and asked, "was that a strike?" If the Dodgers were in the field and I answered in the affirmative, he yelled "Yes!" and pumped his fists. If the Dodgers got a hit, he clapped and cheered, loudly. The people in line nodded our way and laughed at his enthusiasm. My three year old, the diehard sports fan. Craziness.
After dinner, we went to Bongo Java, where Joe played football with Megan, one of young ladies who works there. She loves him and it was a joy to watch them playing together on a slow night at the coffee shop which, of course, is my second home and my second office.
That night, I put Joe down to bed, but not before reminding him that once he laid down, there was no getting up until 7 a.m. the next morning. No water, no going potty one more time, no fixing his blanket to cover his feet. We covered all of that before he got into bed. And you know what? He went to sleep immediately and at 7 a.m. on the dot Saturday morning, I heard a pitter patter of little feet, then Joe peeped in our bedroom. A perfect night!
Joe and I watched "Sid the Science Kid" (which I absolutely love), then drove to East Nashville for Tomatofest. We strolled up and down the streets near "Five Points," then went to the Cumberland Water Park. Joe had a great time playing in the water at the park. Such a great time, in fact, that he punched me when I insisted it was time to go. Well, you can't win them all.
Saturday afternoon, I strolled him down to Mafiozza's while he napped. I had a couple of beers and talked to my guy, Doc, at the bar. It was cool, because it had been a while since I had talked to Doc and it was a repeat of some afternoons J.P. and I spent there when he was Joe's age. Then, it as back home, where we met my mom, who had driven up from Brentwood. We went to dinner at Burger Up, which went well. Saturday night, Joe went to bed again with no fussing and slept the entire night without a problem.
Sunday morning, Joe and I went to Bongo Java for breakfast, where we ran into Ms. Hagan, J.P.'s kindergarten teach at USN last year. It was great to see her and we made plans to meet her again when J.P. could be there. Then, it was off to Kroger, church and home for lunch. Joe napped in his bed and Jude and J.P. got home that evening.
It was such a meaningful, special weekend with Joe. We laughed - a lot - played games and just enjoyed each other's company. In short, we figured it out, which is a lot of what parenting boils down to, it seems to me.
Friday, August 7, 2015
Great
Jude's grandmother, Rita White, whom my boys called "Great," died last night. She had been in hospice care for a couple of weeks and although it was time, I think, it's still sad to those of us who loved her and were loved by her.
Classy. Kind. Caring. Smart. Funny. Spiritual. Generous. Wise. Strong. And, to the end, as Jude's dad, Jim, said yesterday - Scrappy. Man, was she scrappy.
Jude and I had struggled with what to tell J.P. and Joe about Great and how she was doing. Reluctantly, we decided we didn't want J.P. worrying about her every day and night, which would have been the case if we told him she was in hospice care. Instead, we told him she was in the hospital. The right decision? I hope so.
The first or second night she was admitted to hospice care, Great and Jim called us at home. She talked to each of the boys, who were completely oblivious to the fact that it might be the last time they would talk to her. Jude and I fought back tears as J.P. paced around the living room, carrying the cellular telephone with him, describing in detail for Great his day at Zoo Camp. She listened patiently and asked questions, as she always does, or did. My heart broke a little bit toward the end of the call, when she told the boys "to always be good boys" and that she loved them. She was telling them goodbye.
Fortunately, Jude and J.P. were able to stop by and see Great before we left for the beach. That was a relief to Jude, I know, and something I think J.P. will appreciate as he gets older. Last night, on the way home from work, Jude stopped by to see Great. I think God had a hand in that, as we later learned Great died about 15 minutes after Jude left.
Last night, at bedtime, Jude told the boys Great had died. J.P. took it really hard, as we knew he would. He yelled "what!?!" with a confused look on his face, then dissolved into tears as Jude hugged him. There's no blueprint for helping your child through the death of someone he loves, especially the first time it happens. We tried to comfort him as best we could and let him know that it's okay to be sad. We also let him know that if he had questions or wanted to talk about it, we are here for him. He tends to internalize things, but I hope he will open up to us about Great's death in the coming days and weeks.
When J.P. was born, I kidded Great and told her I had arranged for nicknames for all of the ladies on Jude's side of the family. Jane (Jude's mother) would be "Big Momma" and Rita (who was called Grandmother up to that point) would be called "Great Big Momma." I kept up with that for a bit, until finally, Great looked at me somewhat sternly and said, you will not teach J.P. to call me "Great Big Momma." Message received and soon thereafter, the nickname "Great" was born, which she seemed to enjoy.
As a father, part of what I loved the most about Great was watching her interact with J.P. and Joe. There was no invisible wall of reserve or decorum between them, as there sometimes is between grandparents and grandchildren. From day one, she hugged them, kissed them and doted on them. And they loved her with all of their little, growing hearts. It was a joy to see.
On a personal note, Great accepted me into the family without reservation, from the first time I met her at her house in Bellevue on Easter weekend 17 or 18 years ago. I'll never forget that, because I think in some ways she set and example for others to follows. Over the years, we kidded each other and I grew to love our interactions, as she quickly responded to something I said in jest, with an ever present twinkle in her eye and a sly smile on her face.
As I told J.P. last night, if ever there was a life well lived - a full life - it was Great's life. She raised five amazing children, served as a role model to grandchildren (and their spouses) and great grandchildren and in her quiet way, I think, reminded all of us of the importance of family.
Classy. Kind. Caring. Smart. Funny. Spiritual. Generous. Wise. Strong. And, to the end, as Jude's dad, Jim, said yesterday - Scrappy. Man, was she scrappy.
Jude and I had struggled with what to tell J.P. and Joe about Great and how she was doing. Reluctantly, we decided we didn't want J.P. worrying about her every day and night, which would have been the case if we told him she was in hospice care. Instead, we told him she was in the hospital. The right decision? I hope so.
The first or second night she was admitted to hospice care, Great and Jim called us at home. She talked to each of the boys, who were completely oblivious to the fact that it might be the last time they would talk to her. Jude and I fought back tears as J.P. paced around the living room, carrying the cellular telephone with him, describing in detail for Great his day at Zoo Camp. She listened patiently and asked questions, as she always does, or did. My heart broke a little bit toward the end of the call, when she told the boys "to always be good boys" and that she loved them. She was telling them goodbye.
Fortunately, Jude and J.P. were able to stop by and see Great before we left for the beach. That was a relief to Jude, I know, and something I think J.P. will appreciate as he gets older. Last night, on the way home from work, Jude stopped by to see Great. I think God had a hand in that, as we later learned Great died about 15 minutes after Jude left.
Last night, at bedtime, Jude told the boys Great had died. J.P. took it really hard, as we knew he would. He yelled "what!?!" with a confused look on his face, then dissolved into tears as Jude hugged him. There's no blueprint for helping your child through the death of someone he loves, especially the first time it happens. We tried to comfort him as best we could and let him know that it's okay to be sad. We also let him know that if he had questions or wanted to talk about it, we are here for him. He tends to internalize things, but I hope he will open up to us about Great's death in the coming days and weeks.
When J.P. was born, I kidded Great and told her I had arranged for nicknames for all of the ladies on Jude's side of the family. Jane (Jude's mother) would be "Big Momma" and Rita (who was called Grandmother up to that point) would be called "Great Big Momma." I kept up with that for a bit, until finally, Great looked at me somewhat sternly and said, you will not teach J.P. to call me "Great Big Momma." Message received and soon thereafter, the nickname "Great" was born, which she seemed to enjoy.
As a father, part of what I loved the most about Great was watching her interact with J.P. and Joe. There was no invisible wall of reserve or decorum between them, as there sometimes is between grandparents and grandchildren. From day one, she hugged them, kissed them and doted on them. And they loved her with all of their little, growing hearts. It was a joy to see.
On a personal note, Great accepted me into the family without reservation, from the first time I met her at her house in Bellevue on Easter weekend 17 or 18 years ago. I'll never forget that, because I think in some ways she set and example for others to follows. Over the years, we kidded each other and I grew to love our interactions, as she quickly responded to something I said in jest, with an ever present twinkle in her eye and a sly smile on her face.
As I told J.P. last night, if ever there was a life well lived - a full life - it was Great's life. She raised five amazing children, served as a role model to grandchildren (and their spouses) and great grandchildren and in her quiet way, I think, reminded all of us of the importance of family.
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