Small Wonders...

I have no idea how many times in my adult life that I’ve walked out the door, straight to the car, turned the key and sped up the road….to work or to the grocery store or anywhere else. We all do, and it’s no big deal, right?

Well with a kid just shy of 20 months old that journey to the car is a big deal. Everything in the world is a big deal.

Birds become amazing creatures that have wings and soar through the sky. Planes too, only bigger and make humming noises as they push through the clouds. A cat crossing the street is and event. Flowers, leaves…..Rocks! Everything is so cool!

It’s humbling to see the world through my son’s eyes. Just the other day I watched him watch the crows pecking and cawing in the front yard. He was completely captivated by something that normally I would just walk past without even registering. But for him, such wonder! I held him up to the window, his eyes wide and enrapt with the crows. When they finally moved on he started waving, whispering “Bye Bye” as they flew to the next yard. Made my day.

A simple trip out to the yard is like a jaunt through a theme park. There’s so much to discover. The other day we played with twigs and sticks for nearly twenty minutes. Then it was the ants, quite the show they put on. Caterpillars, worms, even stinkbugs are all characters in this great wide open show called the world. Oh, and he really really like butterflies. Those get the brightest smiles.

He likes walks down the street. Those aren’t quite as fun for me, but that’s because I become a secret service agent--scanning the road ahead for cars, stray dogs, maybe even an errant tumbleweed. Who knows what may be lurking?

He points to cars, he loves the trucks. He squeals and mimics and just takes it all in. He never wants to go back inside. And he never ceases to surprise me with all the new words he knows. But he's not the only one learning, he's teaching me to relearn all of the things that as a "grown up" I take for granted. Like walking in a puddle at the end of a street, or blowing the seeds off of a dandelion. The curl of grass under my bare feet, mud on my toes. Hearing the birds sing their songs.

So maybe that’s why the posts here are less frequent, because we’re just having too much fun...

Road Weary and Dog Tired...

We made it.  The dogs made it.  My wife made it.  The kid made—wait….okay, yep the kid made it too.

First off, I’d like to thank everyone for not robbing me.  Because it’s not very smart to post online about being out of town while you’re out of town.  But I figured the small group of people who read this are good people.  And I put my lights on a timer, just in case.

Bruce

1,670 miles.  And I will never do that again.  At least not with both the kid and the pets.  Someone's staying put next time, a dog, a dad, perhaps a kid. Because it was just a little too much.  Our visit was great, as always my in-laws were more than accommodating and we had a great time.  I’m very fortunate to have such great people in my life.  But getting there and getting home was not all that great.  Even splitting our trip into two days did little to put me at ease.  For example…

This morning, after a full day of driving in Pennsylvania bottlenecked construction hell, and then tossing into a turbulent night’s sleep with a very off schedule and out of routine baby, I stepped out to start packing the car. In my grogginess, Mason, our husky, (see here, here, and here), squeezed his pinhead right past me out into the hallway. When I turned to grab him, Bruce—once thought to be our good dog—bulled his way out and the stampede was underway.  I had to give them credit—the plan they’d sprung was perfectly executed.  When the door slammed shut I was left with two dogs making a getaway, no leash and no key.  The last thing I remember thinking as I watched Mason take the corner towards the lobby where guests were sitting down to breakfast was, I’ll have to blog about this.

It ended up being way less drama than I anticipated.  I mean, sure some old people dropped their wheat bran toast and gawped, but luckily I was able to round them up without further incident.  All this before 7am.

Mason

Outside, the rain was heavy, which was good because it washed my car clean of the sludge from up north.  But it wasn’t good weather for putting your entire little family at risk.  With white knuckles and tight necks, we slogged our way down I81, weaving in and out of truckers.  By the time we stopped at Sheets in Virginia, the weather had cleared but the damage was done.  My shoulders drooped, my hair was matted, I was toppled over from the constant worrying that yes, this is it, that truck was coming over into our lane and taking us out.  And because Simon hadn’t had his nails trimmed all week and had clawed my face earlier that morning, I had cuts and nicks on my forehead giving me that just- binged-on-meth glow. 

And the car was in worse shape.  The seats reeked of wet dogs and dirty diapers.  There was the drool from Mason’s neurotic meltdowns.  I had to laugh though, as my wife got up to use the bathroom and her pants were covered in dog hair.  I’m really surprised people didn’t offer us money.

But now we’re back.  And there’s nothing like pulling into your driveway after a long trip.  I have to get back into that car tomorrow and drive to work, a sickening thought.  I know that truck driving is not in my future.  There are few things worse than sitting for hours at a time.  But my family is home and safe and now there’s nothing to worry about….except….what’s that smell?

Road Warriors...

I tried not to think to much about my Christmas vacation leading up to it actually happening, thus minimizing the doomsday scenarios that flash through my mind when I worry about stuff, like say, being in the car for 13 hours...with a baby...and two dogs. 

But the other day, as we were leaving for New York, I was overcome with joy at my good fortune.  I’d managed to get the trunk packed and was watching my wife exit the house.  She shut the door, cocked her head like she does when mentally checking down her list(s), and walked towards the car.  We were actually leaving.  I rubbed my hands together, buckled up, shifted into reverse and backed out of the driveway.  I even reset the trip odometer like the old man I am. 

"Wait!"

Screech.  

We sat in the car, idling just in front of our home.  The odometer doesn’t measured feet but I estimated 37.

“I forgot my sunglasses.”

I eased back into the driveway and my wife hopped out, ran to her car.  (well, sauntered actually), and then proceeded to set off the alarm.  After that, she reentered the house and I took the opportunity to lecture my son on the virtues of bachelorhood.  Then we set off again, this time driving exactly 2.6 miles before having to turn around.  We’d forgotten a very important gift.  I cannot begin to type the severity of the curse words that echoed in my head at that moment.

Okay, inching along.  We completed the first leg of our journey without any more serious hiccups.  We stopped for a roadside picnic--due to the two dogs.  My memory seared moment came as we packed up to get back on the road somewhere in WVa.  While waiting to pull out into traffic, my wife told me to stop, where she hopped out of the car and I watched from my rearview mirror as she, still holding her own breast milk in one hand,scoured the trunk for bottle nipples as traffic zipped past. Deep breaths.

Seven hours after leaving the house, we arrived at our hotel.

Now I’m sure Wilkes Barre, Pennsylvania, has its moments.  I’m sure that there are days when the sun shines and the grass burst a shimmering green as the birds whistle an especially sweet tune.

This was not one of those days.  The mist and fog only lent to the miserable experience of our stay, right from the time we pulled right up to our curbside door. My first thought as my wife checked in as I waited in the car with my road weary son and howling dogs, was that I hoped I had change for the vibrating bed.

I’m not a snob.  Trust me.  But when it comes to my family—especially my son who’s not even a year old, I get a little uptight.  Throw in two stressed dogs and by the time we walked into the room—which was eerily similar to the rooms my friends and I used to rent out when we were teenagers for a place to drink and party—I was a little bit on edge.

We tried to make the best out of it, even though the door wouldn't seem to close quite right (perhaps to being kicked in by the police), and the foot traffic and passing cars kept the dogs on edge.  It was a restless night, and the worst was yet to come as the weather reports did us no favors, showing rolling clips of apocalyptic ice storm threatening to bring the entire North to a standstill. 

But I’d all but made up my mind to drive north as far as allowable to get another room—far away from our current room awash with the orange glow of the gas station sign outside, and reassess our situation.

Day two brought rain.  It brought fog.  It brought ice, sleet, snow and everything else it could throw at us.  But we made it.  I ate a tray full of Christmas cookies for lunch (we all made sacrifices), with my wife in the back seat and feeding our child.  

People passed and pointed, no doubt laughing at the man who forced his wife in the back while his dog sat shotgun.  Whatever.  We arrived at our destination cold and tired but in one piece.

So now we're here and tonight the temperatures are supposed to be somewhere around five degrees.  But there's fudge and cookies and lots of snow, not to mention good people and Christmas cheer.  Oh yeah, and while walking my dogs I found this Santa, so that made the whole trip worthwhile...

                                

Merry Christmas!