Flogging Daddy

Yesterday, I successfully avoided starting my car (no, I didn't drive the Rover and didn't drive wifey's car instead). Well, ok, this isn't entirely true, I did start my car to pull it back into the garage when the day was through.

Anyway, this isn't about not using dead dinosaurs. Because I did run my gas grill for about 2 hours making a beer can chicken.

Not about gasoline...not about gasoline.

Yesterday, Hope began making plans for lunch and supper in the morning. I took one look at her pregger belly and said, "why don't I handle getting/prepping/cooking food."

Emiko immediately took to this as it was a chance for her to head to the store with me. The two of us agreed that we would take our bicycle and trailer to our local grocery store.

The ride down was easy. Shopping left me very nervous as I had left a very rare titanium Yeti ARC locked in the parking lot for all to see. Not to mention the trailer....

But this story is about the ride home. Emi was quite content in her trailer as we left the store with a chunk of Babybel cheese in her hand. She was a talking up a storm as we climbed the first hill on the way home.

As we crossed Easley, she asked me to sing her the same song we sing when we turn onto 60th in our car.

"We're almost to Emi's house
We're almost to Emi's house
We're almost to Emi's house
We're almost there.

We're almost to Emi's house
We're almost to Emi's house
We're almost to Emi's house
We're almost there."

And then she will tell me which names to substitute in. Daddy. Mommy. Gibson. Jeffy. Baby Bear. Etc etc etc.

So I sang to her. In between each line, I'd take a breath and try to willfully slow my heart beat.

And then.

Emi began to yell, "faster faster faster" from her trailer. Right as I got passed by some schmo on a full suspension Trek. Who proceeded to blow up about 50 yards out in front of me. He must have heard me singing to Emi and decided, "I'll put the hammer down and pass this goofy Dad/daughter." But he couldn't hold the speed and I upped my output while still singing to Emi. I was still closing the gap when I turned into my neighbourhood.

When we got home, Hope looked at me and asked why I was so worked.

I replied, "no reason..." and collapsed on the couch.

A minute

Growing up, Dad always cycled through my brother's bedrooms, giving us each a minute where he would like down with us as we fell asleep. Each one of us would lie stock still in hopes that Dad would fall asleep and that our "minnie" would stretch longer than 60 seconds. It was our final moments of the day that we always shared with Dad which would lead us to sleep and dreams.

Last night, Emiko had her first true "minnie" with Dad. As we prepped for bed, she set up a little nest on the floor with her stuffed animals (Joshua the Giraffe, bear and pup-pup) and we lay down to cuddle for a moment. While she lay there talking, I gradually dozed off until I realized I was snoring and slowly worked my way back to lucidity. She was still sitting by my side talking to herself and a quick glance at my watch quickly told me that about 15 minutes had past.

Her first "minnie."

I love this kiddo!

7/8/09 - 37 Years

It's funny, anniversary dates have not meant much to me in the past. Perhaps since, for the longest time, I did not have one. I was aware that family, friends and colleagues would celebrate the yearly occurrence but the significance of these dates was quite ethereal to me. It almost seemed to me like just another year to be viewed with the same irrelevance which I regard my birthday.

But as I grow, I learn.

It is not simply another year. An anniversary is the celebration of life together. Love shared. Hardships overcome. Joy seen from a pair of eyes that also see as one.

Days often seem to fly by and intermingle with the next. It is not often that we slow down and take pause to reflect on the life we lead as individuals, as pairs and as groups. And it is oh so important to remember to not let life pass us by but to relish each of the days life grants to us.

I spent a few days at home in the past week visiting with family. I saw my childhood house as a place that does not only harbor old memories for my parents. They have continued to add new memories to the house. Rock walls. A patio. Bee hives. Running water.

And I now look at my parents with greater awe. The life they continue to create and nurture with each other. The guidance they can offer to me as a new parent who aspires to follow their lead. I realize what an accomplishment it is to spend 37 years together and to continue to be happy, in love and never tired of each others company.

Happy anniversary Mom and Dad!

A difficult weekend

I've had some tough weekends. The one that comes to mind most recently was when my appendix burst. All the fun and shenanigans associated with that operation (not to mention the sales meeting I was helping run) were pretty painful and dreary.

But this weekend tops the bill.

Diagnosed with the flu on Friday, I was told in no uncertain terms by our pediatrician that passing it along to Emiko could be deadly.

That's an eye opener.

Now tie it in with the fact that Hopey had her Master's class all weekend long. Who in the hell is going to look after the kid? Gibson?

I've been sequestered in my room, subjected to the harangue of my father and brother (who rolled into town on Thursday night) and tortured by the sound of her cries. This has easily been the most painful place I've ever had to be: listening to her grief throughout each day and not being able to go to her side. Not being able to walk over and make her laugh. Finding tears of my own forming when I could hear how unhappy she was. I've worn a little surgical mask (courtesy of Cheryl) every time I've left my prison. I've washed my hands religiously (even before going to the bathroom). But I've kept my distance from her at all times.

Through all of this, I've been blessed with my father and brother's presence. Cheryl came over on Friday night to help them out since they had arrived with no expectation of being put on babysitting trial. Let's just say they passed with flying colors.

Dad has been a trooper throughout. He has fed her, changed diapers and held her through her squalling. He has been so endearing to her that, on Saturday night after Hopey got home, Emi held her arms out to him so he could pick her up! This has made me smile, cry and laugh all at the same time (though I try not to laugh because it makes me cough like I'm losing a lung).

Jeffy to has been a huge help. He's looked after Gibson, helped around the house and, here's the big one, even changed a diaper! He swore he was never, ever going to change a diaper...at least not until he had to change one for his own child. But Emi found a way to convince him!

A huge thanks to all for what they have done for my family this weekend. I really don't know what we would have done if they had so fortuitously been here in Colorado.

I've also learned something by this forced and necessary exile. I've learned a little something about fatherhood. Each time Emi cried, I wanted to rush to her side. But I learned that my father hasn't forgotten what it takes to comfort a teary child. He still has it. I realized that my standing over him wearing a mask could possibly just make him nervous as I would have tried to offer hints or suggestions while he held a frantic baby. I realized that he would figure it out on his own; she's not that different from any other child that came before or will come after.

And I can see how applicable this is for Emi in the days and years to come when she is learning something new that I think is just second nature. She will figure it out. I won't need to stand over her because she will eventually get it the same way the rest of us did. I remember how my father taught me that too.

My Dad is a hockey deity in central Maine. Everyone knew who he was when I was growing up. He played, he coached, he taught power skating and he ran the rink. When I played, he stood in the far corner of the stands and watched. Just watched. When he met me in the lobby, we'd walk to the car and I'd put my gear in the back before we began our 45 minute drive home. And he never once offered to speak first about the game. He always waited until I asked. He let me figure it out on my own and he knew that if I wanted his help, I would ask.

And so, while this has been the most difficult and painful weekend I have in memory, I plan to cherish it for all that I have learned and look back upon it happily for years to come.

Here's to you, Dad!

These days, it's the little things that begin to matter so much

Yesterday marked the first game I have officiated where the Canadian Anthem was played before the puck dropped. I was working the Air Force v. University of Alberta game yesterday evening and I was a little giddy when I stepped on the ice for the puck drop. As O Canada played, I thought of all the times the old man must have listened to the anthem as he took the ice and it made me happy to know that I have been able to follow in his footsteps, albeit in a slightly different roll. And I was a little bummed that he wasn't here in Colorado and able to come watch the game I was working.

I do know that he will be happy to hear I didn't screw up any calls. (His words of advice before games? "Seth, don't fuck it up.")