August 2008 Archives

Kids can adapt, but parents find it harder to get used to the idea when it's the first day of school. By the time we get used to the idea, he'll be in college.

See a couple more photos here.

About a year ago, I was starting to recover from my 100-mile bicycle ride during the Hotter N' Hell Hundred. I lucked out last year because it wasn't nearly as hot as it is this time around (lower 90s vs. near 100). I had thought about making a repeat trek this year, but quitting my job kind of made it hard to spend money on the charity rides that are so good for training. And the trip to Wichita Falls would've cost a few nights motel stay and food. So I'll blame our budget woes for my lack of enthusiasm for doing it again.

Yet I missed it today. I wished I was part of the nearly 10,000 or so riders who hit the streets, sweating like pigs, struggling with the distance, drinking trash-can Gatorade and eating pickles to avoid leg cramps. It made me realize I need to start training for next year's ride, like, today! Maybe with my goal set out a year in advance, I'll finish even faster and in better spirits next time (leg cramps were starting to hit). Learned a lot, including:

• The need to carry more of my own liquid refreshment on my bike. After a few rest stops, where I'd fill up at least one of my bottles, the changes in drink flavors get a little gross. Try going from mango to raspberry to lemonade. I dare you!

• Taking a light, portable lunch with me. The only things available along the way (unless I stopped at a restaurant) are things like bananas, oranges and cookies. Being on the bike for about 8 hours means I'd need at least one real meal to tide me over.

• Pickle juice! Gross as it sounds, it helps fight leg cramps by helping your body absorb the other liquids you consume more efficiently. There's a product, Pickle Juice Sport, that tastes more like a sports drink and boasts the same benefits. I need to see if my tummy can handle it, and if it actually works.

• A more comfortable seat! I'd love a new bicycle, but my finances don't appear to warrant such a purchase. I've been considering painting or having my bike painted, and adding new saddle, handlebar tape, fenders, etc. Will need to see if a spruce up on an old bike would be worth it, and how much it would cost.

• Ride with a buddy! I rode solo last year, which was actually fine. It's probably what I'll end up doing next year, too. But it would be more fun to share the experience. The Petite Filet said she might want to ride a few shorter rides with me, but said "no way" to the 100 miler.

Enough of this ... I need to go for a short ride tonight!

Today is a little day of rest around Casa del T-bone, as me and the Cutlet have worn ourselves out every morning at area playgrounds. He is really getting the hang of his bike, and I'm pretty sure that in a matter of weeks his training wheels will be gone and he'll be flying along the bike paths even faster. Yikes!

In other news, I started a photography blog in coordination with my photo biz. Check it out at www.toddovermanphotography.blogspot.com. Yahoo (my business site's host) offers a Movable Type blog, but I can't get all the functions to work properly, so I gave up for now. Blogger sure has come a long way since I hopped onto it in March 2003 with my first T-bone venture (since deleted from the ether). I never thought I'd have more than one blog going at a time, so we'll have to see if this one goes back to dying a slow death. I know there hasn't been much compelling stuff to read here, but I swing by to give it a little CPR now and then out of habit.

Then again, I used to have only one e-mail address. Now I've got my old Hotmail account, a Yahoo account, a photo business account and one for my part-time public relations work. Even with all that, I can still remember my parent's old phone number from 20 years ago. It's all good!

Actually, it's an old light that I decided to try using in a new way. Being broke is sometimes the mother (or at least chatty neighbor) of innovation.

The Cutlet is staying home with me these two weeks before he starts kindergarten. We balanced his need for continuity at preschool with the fact that he's ready to move on, and saving a little money is a nice side effect. I'm still working part-time from home, which is no big deal with today's modern technology. I'm electronically leashed and available via Blackberry and laptop, a blessing and a curse, and can do all functions of my current job just about anywhere I've got Internet and a place to perch.

I mentioned earlier that even with part-time employment that I rarely had time to do home-improvement projects, cook anything new, clean the house or get decent exercise. Three out of four ain't bad, is it?

While I didn't finish much around the house, I did mop the kitchen, vacuum the living room, grill barbecue chicken and for the first time corn on the cob (juicy and delicious!) and I took a nearly 2-hour bicycle ride, logging 22.5 miles. Now, if I can continue that streak as well as finish the Neverending Bathroom Project That Has Lasted Almost Seven Years. And market the photo business on the side.

The Cutlet's teacher at preschool left her job for a better one, and that has meant the most fun he's had has been watching movies nearly all day. Not sure I want to spend what we're spending to have him watch movies; we could triple our home movie collection for that amount. So at issue is either pulling him out of preschool for the next two weeks before he starts kindergarten or leaving them there, giving me the freedom to work.

Pros
• If he's at home with me, we'll spend tons (maybe too much) time together.
• The obvious and welcome money savings could translate into bank-account breathing room as well as more new school clothes for the Cutlet.
• We could go out and have a blast like we did the early part of last week.

Cons
• If he's at home with me, it will be difficult to show my possible future employers that I'm working hard and can be counted on (out of sight may mean out of mind). Besides one staff meeting a week, however, most of my work can be done off-site. It would just be harder to find the time to work from home, too.
• The Cutlet's favorite food is pizza, which is good once a week but not so good for my waistline more than that!

What would you do?

A child is born, and the big people in its life are the heroes. They work hard in those early weeks and months to ensure comfort and reassure that the helpless little bundle is safe, fed, clean, warm and feels loved. A parent's duties never really change that much, but the attitudes sure do.

As the child grows, the leash is let out a bit. There is more independence to roam, romp and play. The parent worries less about the small stuff, because it's clear by then that the baby may have looked breakable but is quite stalwart against minor mishaps. The child starts school and is in the trust of others. He has a mind of his own and his own ideas about what he wants to do at that moment and the next. The leash is let loose a bit more.

With two boys, one who will turn 6 later this year, and the other who will turn 2, we parents are still the heroes. I mean, we are heroes who have to spank and mete discipline on moody bottoms. Yet when happiness and fun prevails and we're all in "play" mode, we're still seen as pretty cool. I have no illusions that this will continue. In fact, I know there will come a day when the Petite Filet and I are the absolutely uncoolest people on the planet. We're bracing for that, but being a hero isn't in a parent's core duties.

While under our care, they should feel safe, be fed, get clean, remain warm and always feel loved. That will hold true when some trampy girl has broken their hearts, when they wear shoes as big or bigger than mine, when they're shaving every day, when they stink more than a sty full of sloppy pigs. We must provide and love them when they seem unlovable. It's what we're here for.

To the rest of the world, those who are parents themselves and those who aren't, the whole process is not that cool. I mean it's awesome, but it's not cool. The difference is that while it's among the best blessings in the world to raise a child, there is nothing remotely hip about it. No matter what social class, education level, walk of life a person is, the coolness is effectively sucked out of them forever. This is true, too, because nobody is half as cool as they think they are. Most of us are now operating in a coolness deficit and are kidding ourselves that we have any cool to draw upon.

The lack of coolness highlights a few important points:

• Good parents live for their children. The best parents find a little time to live for themselves, too. Besides, if we are to even feel sort of cool, we need to spend special time with our significant others, dressed in something other than baby puke, doing the things we want to do. Regular dates are essential (and rare). Strive for them!

• Don't ever worry about what other people think about you. That includes parents or in-laws who know everything. They've been operating in a coolness deficit for years.

• As mentioned earlier in my little Parenthood series, if you must own cars, pick ones that are most practical for your family. If that means your car is "cool," that's not a problem. But don't sacrifice cool for usefulness. Fewer companies build minivans nowadays, which is a shame. The sliding doors alone make them worth five times their weight in gold. In reality, it's cool to embrace your parental uncoolness. Our garage holds a minivan and a station wagon. Do the math! We're lame. But to me, the father who insisted on keeping his Mustang GT and hauls his two little kids around looks foolish and selfish (he may be neither, we're talking appearances here).

• Men: don't be afraid to carry the diaper bag. Chances are you'll get to help pick out something that's closer to a tackle box than the goofy bags of yore. However, it will do well for your manhood to just pick out the fuzzy one with the big brown teddy bears on it.

• Everyone: diapers really aren't that bad. I've heard tales of gagging over a little poo, especially if it is an interesting color or toxic aroma. But this time in a child's life is designed so that you can say annoying things in earshot of their friends or girl/boyfriends: "I used to change your diapers! You get in this house right now!"

• Everyone: potty training is da bomb. But new parents aren't always told that even if your wee one wees on his or her own, when it's time to poo you might still have to wipe a poopy bottom. Such an episode while dining out as a family will spoil your appetite sometimes. Bonus: it's a diet aid!

• The only thing that approaches cool when you are a parent is making as much time for your children as possible. Like mentioned, all of it is awesome. Even the supposed bad times, like when Junior is throwing a fit at Wal-Mart because he is desert-thirsty and might die if he doesn't get something sugary to drink right now or he's going to roll around on the floor in front of everybody and continue to yell. *whew* Like a thunderstorm, it will pass. And the clouds will part. And the sun will shine again.

• There are babies in the world who are not planned by their parents. But they had nothing to do with the act that conceived them. They deserve to feel safe, be fed, get clean, remain warm and always feel loved.

Isn't that what we all want?

Yes, that's my desk at home. No, I don't always have all three computers churning away at the same time. Usually it's just two.

Like any working parent knows, it's really hard to strike a balance. I'm failing miserably, and right now my office job is only two days a week. Well, I am technically on call all the time and painfully connected via Blackberry and laptop. Think of it as having an electronic umbilical cord, but momma only feeds me for 20 hours a week. And I end up working three days if you string all my projects completed at home together.

I should be using the other three days in the week to:

• Grow my photography business through a whirlwind of targeted and brilliant marketing.
• Spend more time with each of the boys individually, have a Cutlet Day and a Riblet Day just to have nothing but fun. Well, Riblet Day would also include diapers.
• Finish the long and growing list of home-improvement projects that I used to put off because "I had a full-time job."
• Clean the house like there's no tomorrow. The thing is, there is a tomorrow and the house will be just as dirty then.
• Learn to play guitar.
• Learn how to be a better cook.
• Get into excellent physical shape so that my soon-to-be 35-year-old carcass will once again feel and look a tad more like I was turning 25.
• Earnest study of the Bible.
• Relax.
• Keep looking for a full-time job in case the part-time's morph into full-time never materializes.
• Write one of the 12 novels rattling around in my head. Yeah, right.

I do some of these things, and shirk others. It's hard to be motivated when I do have some "free" time to be doing these things. When I'm swamped with everything else, it would be better to use my time more wisely. Instead, I procrastinate.

But looking at life overall, I do spend quite a bit of time with both boys, together and individually. We play. We talk. We throw things in the house when the Petite Filet is in another room. We laugh. We romp. We wish it wasn't 200 degrees outside, where we'd do all of it in a more natural setting (brown grass is natural).

The arching point is, don't put off until tomorrow what you should be doing today. Projectwise, I need to get it in gear. But I need to find new ways to enjoy my children, and my wife, because at least two out of three people will eventually grow up, move out and move on. Now is the best time. It won't last forever.

At 18 months old, we bought the Cutlet a "big boy" bed and moved him into it directly from his crib. At nearly 20 months old, the Riblet is still in his crib. We've talked about bringing down the race-car toddler bed that's upstairs for him to test drive, but we just haven't gotten around to it. Rather than wanting to keep our youngest and final child small, I think it's more of wanting to keep our youngest and final child in bed when he needs to be there.

The Riblet has always been a lot better about laying down and going to sleep once he's gently plopped down in his crib. That gives us some hope. But it may only because he's resigned to sleeping because he's "trapped." I wonder if given essentially free reign of the house in a bed if he'd order 20 pizzas, take one of the cars out for a spin or decide to redecorate the inside of the refrigerator.

Eventually, we'll have to redecorate the Riblet's room, too. When we were expecting him, we took our former guest room and gave it to the Cutlet. That left his old room as the nursery, with jungle animals on the wall and whatnot. We like painting and decorating, but it will be sad when that chapter in our lives is over in such a tangible way. No more cute little giraffe watching over the Riblet anymore. Instead, battling Ninja Turtles? Sports figures? Airplanes? No theme at all?

We just know that the Riblet is growing up, too. There's not much baby left in him, and the crib won't be along forever. I have no doubt it won't be the last crib that graces our house, probably that mythical house in the future. I'll be looking down into the crib and forget how many years have passed as I watch a grandchild sleep. Now that will be freaky!

The Cutlet will start kindergarten on Aug. 25 and will turn 6 in December. It's an odd age (aren't most of them?) because we notice him maturing in many ways, yet he still insists on wearing his early childhood like a gigantic rainbow-colored, blinking clown hat perched firmly on his young noggin. In other words, he's got a lot of growing up left to do. That's a good thing, because growing up too fast carries its own burdens. We just wish he wouldn't have a fit every time he gets a little fatigued.

Last week, we used up his last "vacation" week at preschool. He was home with me the first three days, and then on Thursday he, the Riblet and Petite Filet boarded a plane to see Gma and Gpa for a few days. Here's how me and the Cutlet filled our three days together:

Monday
• Went to a playground and played for more than an hour. He was definitely "all boy" then, climbing on every climbable surface like he did when he was a fearless little toddler. It was great to see. And he wanted me to climb every surface, which I dutifully did. Was only slightly sore the next day!
• Went home, got his bicycle, and rode around at a park near our house for more than an hour. He's still got training wheels (something we'll remedy when the weather cools), but still managed to take a few tumbles. He got up and without hesitation started riding again.
• Went home to chill out for a little bit.
• Then when to Inedible Pizza Incredible Pizza, a megafunland that features all-you-can-manage pizza and other victuals, arcade games, a bowling alley, go-karts and more! We made the usual rounds, ate the usual stuff and had a blast.

Tuesday
• Most of the day was spent recovering from Monday.

Wednesday
• My mom brought over the Cutlet's 9-year-old cousin. We ate at Chili's (my nephew's choice) and then went to Leapin' Lizards, a local indoor bouncehousepalooza (must everything still be a palooza these days?). The two of them bounced around on every bounceable surface until they were ready to collapse. My mom and I were about ready to collapse just following them around. If you go somewhere like this, you'll be confronted with a long list of rules for liability reasons. Just remember the two most important: no running and don't puke on any of the equipment. Mission accomplished!
• Help the PF pack, collect a few toys for the kids to take and relax a little.

There was a time when the Cutlet was absolutely fearless about doing dangerous and boyish things. Then he became timid, a temporary condition replaced now by copious doses of crazy. Seeing him do so many boy things at the lake last month restored much of our confidence that he won't turn out to be a wet noodle when he grows up. It's a true joy to behold. While he has his shy moments ... as do most adults ... he is breaking out of his shell. School will help him grow up a little. Might be tough in the beginning, but the transition from preschool won't be that bad.

I guess I'd better clean up the house before this afternoon, when I get to bring them all home again. A thorough scrub isn't worth it, as the debris-filled tornado that is my family will make themselves all too much at home with all their dirty laundry.

For those of us whose lives require the use of an automobile to go forth in our daily lives, it's a blessing and a curse. Mobility on your own terms (within the speed limit) is a privilege. The curse is the short-term cost (gasoline) and the long-term costs (car payments, maintenance, new tires). More than ever, it's becoming tantamount to be driving the car that best suits our needs and lifestyles.

Nothing changes a couple's lifestyle more than having a child. For many, that also means it's time to trade in the Single Person Car or the Young Married Couple Car. What are those, you might ask? Aha! I have examples from my own life.

When we bought our house, it had mostly wall-to-wall carpet, broken by the occasional ugly, beige swath of 1960s-era asbestos tile. Our lives would have been much simpler had, upon ripping up the said fuzzy flooring, forgotten hardwood emerged. It didn't. We were left with more asbestos tile and a concrete slab. But I installed the fake-wood laminate stuff, and now we've got the look of hardwood with less maintenance. That was six years ago.

Almost that long ago, we were blessed with the first son who would create the pitter-patter of little feet running up and down the hallway. A cliche? Sure. But it's cloaked in a cocoon of awesome. That goes double for the second contributor of pitter-patter added nearly two years ago. And both of them being boys, there's the thunderous crash of toys downstairs and upstairs; the thunder from above will only grow louder once the little one is allowed to venture into the playroom over the garage.

The house is never clean, but if a house were to have emotions, ours would be happy. That's one thing we hope to pack with us wherever we live next. It's only a matter of time before the pitter-patter becomes the earnest sneaker-clad plodding of an elementary-school student (a matter of weeks). And then there are the thick hiking boots of adolescence schlepping through the house foraging for edibles. Then they'll leave. Then what? Silence?

Surely the silence will be paired with a cleaner house, as every surface two feet off the floor is covered in fingerprints. Parenthood is never having clean windows in your car, either. Particularly flanking the back seat, but somehow the Cutlet has managed to coat every window in the Petite Filet's family hauler with "evidence" of his presence. It was hard to do, but I finally cleaned his particular window in the car ... the one with the smiling stick-figure drawn onto the glass in crayon. It had been there for about eight months. More a frenzy of wanting to get the car clean onceandforall (ha!) than a loss of sentiment, the photos of the little cartoon didn't turn out.

Nobody has to take an exam and pass it before spawning a member of the next generation. Sadly, among the most important duties of the human race is possible through brief interludes that may or may not mean something. And then a few months later there's another person to love, care for and raise up. Some see the process as a miracle of science. Others' hearts are stirred with an existing or new belief, that something greater and bigger than ourselves is at play in the universe, even in control. Shame on any person who becomes a parent and isn't changed in some way, even while those changes are not universal across parenthood (or humanity). Whatever you believe, believe earnestly in something. You owe that to your children.

As for that clean, silent house we might live in someday, I hope it will be in a place where the boys will want to return. Often. Don't just write, drive back home! Bring that special girl you met. Your wife. And your little children. We'll have genuine hardwood floors in that house, and they will be pining for the pitter-patter, as the polished panes of glass will yearn for little sticky fingers to decorate them.

Time passes so quickly, even though a day is still 24 hours, that sometimes you wish there was an emergency brake with which to stop the world and bask in the good things.