Be Very Afraid
While on our way to church my youngest son asked, "What would happen if a zombie pushed someone into a bush?"
Either I'm the coolest parent ever, or I'm doing something horribly wrong.
Third Time's a Charm
Bekah sent me to get her a McDonald's breakfast this morning. The conversation I had with the drive through order taker is as follows:
McD's girl: "Welcome to McDonald's please order whenever you're ready."
Me: "I'd like an Egg McMuffin meal with a large Dr Pepper."
McD's girl: "So that's a large Dr Pepper and two breakfast burritos."
Me: "No... Not burritos. An Egg McMuffin meal."
McD's girl: "I'm sorry. So I have two Egg McMuffin meals and a large Dr Pepper."
Me: "No! One Egg McMuffin meal with a large Dr Pepper."
McD's girl: "Oh..."
Tangible Security
We had a security system installed this weekend, which is nice as it will give us a discount in our homeowner's insurance. Bekah will also appreciate a little peace of mind when I'm away for a business trip or a youth event.
But no piece of technology is perfect, which we discovered Tuesday night when a false alarm was tripped. No one was home at the time so we didn't yet know it was false. The police were dispatched to our property, got the keys from Bekah, and entered our home with guns drawn. JJ and Zu got to see the action first hand. Unfortunately, Christian and I were at karate practice and missed the adventure.
Intangible Security
Our kids have struggled with emotional insecurity. Zu has attachment issues. Christian has Aspergers. JJ is, well, he's Bamm-Bamm. We've coped and managed and done our best to help our kids thrive. Despite our efforts, we had a child or two (and sometimes three) climb into our bed during the wee hours of most mornings. Zu would usually be awake when I left for work at 5:40am, and she would sometimes be joined by at least one of her brothers.
But there is something to be said for having your own space.
Since moving into the new house, all three kids have slept through the night. Not once have they crawled into bed with Bekah and me. And they have still been asleep every morning when I left for work.
Silence
It gets very quiet in our new house. We've made the deliberate decision to forgo cable TV services so we've eliminated that source of background noise. We're no longer living in generational housing, so there's no sounds of the in-laws floating up from the basement.
Nothing. Just silence. It is going to take a while to get used to that.
Fortunate Son
Me: "Christian, after dinner, what are you supposed to do?"
Christian: "Go take a shower."
Me: "Good, thank you."
Christian: "Dad, I got a fortune today."
Me: "From a fortune cookie?"
Christian: "Yes. It said I would have my best thought while in the shower this week."
When he got out of the shower, he told me that the fortune was true because he had the most amazing thought ever.
6.28.2012
6.21.2012
And so begins a new adventure
This is the first blog post written in our new house.
This is my first post published as a homeowner.
And this is the first time that I've written for this blog while soaking in a bath tub.
Why am I taking a bath? Because I spent the hottest part of the day moving furniture, appliances, and big heavy boxes. I got slimed by the washing machine's discharge hose. Twice. I am a sweaty dirty stinky boy.
Why am I not taking a shower? We remembered to buy a new shower curtain. However, we didn't think about getting a curtain rod. There is no curtain rod in our shower.
Did I mention that it's a cold bath? No? Looks like we'll be checking the functionality of our hot water heater tomorrow.
But now I'm going to put my phone down. It's time to get so fresh and so clean. Then to rest my muscles before I go back to work tomorrow morning.
This is my first post published as a homeowner.
And this is the first time that I've written for this blog while soaking in a bath tub.
Why am I taking a bath? Because I spent the hottest part of the day moving furniture, appliances, and big heavy boxes. I got slimed by the washing machine's discharge hose. Twice. I am a sweaty dirty stinky boy.
Why am I not taking a shower? We remembered to buy a new shower curtain. However, we didn't think about getting a curtain rod. There is no curtain rod in our shower.
Did I mention that it's a cold bath? No? Looks like we'll be checking the functionality of our hot water heater tomorrow.
But now I'm going to put my phone down. It's time to get so fresh and so clean. Then to rest my muscles before I go back to work tomorrow morning.
6.13.2012
How I found them
This is how I found JJ when I got out of bed this morning.
Sleeping prostrate across his momma. We call this sleeping position The Neck Warmer.
This is how I found Christian when I left my bedroom.
He read himself to sleep while stealing light from the hallway. We call this sleeping position The Reader.
This is how I found Zu when I got out to the living room.
Sometime during the night, she stripped off her footie pajamas and replaced them with Bekah's North Idaho College sweatshirt. She then relocated to the chair and a half. We call this sleeping position The Switch Up.
6.11.2012
6.07.2012
Be Brave
Those are two words I periodically see peppered in Carlos Whittaker's twitter feed: Be Brave.
Simple message really. A quirky command. Vaguely inspirational. Challenging but non-confrontational. However...
It's. Not. Easy.
I am not a brave man.
But then I saw a picture from People of the Second Chance. They frequently post over-stylized photography superimposed with uplifting or motivational missives on their facebook page - one of which (metaphorically speaking) reached out and slapped me. It has been renting space in my head since then.
Over a photo of a man walking toward the sunset through a field of grain is the quote: "I will be brave with my story so others can be brave with theirs."
I get the concept of bravery. Baz Luhrmann released a song during my senior year of high school that contained the advice, "Do one thing everyday that scares you." It makes sense that we should not be afraid of trying new things or facing our fear of heights or public speaking or clowns.
But being brave with my story? That's an entirely different idea. Not that I object to telling my tale. I like to talk and I have the tendency to over-share. I'm a story teller. I'm sentimental and nostalgic.
But I'm not brave. And I don't see much courage in telling my story.
Realistically, I think my history is dull. I had a boring childhood. Just a poor boy from a poor family. (bonus points if after reading that last sentence, a voice in your head sang, "Spare him his life from this monstrosity.")
This might just be my self deprecating sense of ego, but I've never considered my self to be special. Even if there is a glimmer of importance in my self-esteem - by no means would I ever consider my life to have been exciting.
Yet I couldn't get that one line out of my head. "Be brave with my story so others can be brave with theirs."
Now I've been given the opportunity to do just that, an invitation to be brave with my story. I'm at a loss though. I don't want to say the wrong thing. I don't want to offend.
I want to be brave. But it's not easy.
If the words of loswit and POTSC weren't enough to motivate me, I got one more kick in the gut this evening. While doing housework, I opened up iTunes and selected a playlist of songs that would be my soundtrack if my mundane life were ever to be turned into a movie. A half hour into the music, the song The Show Goes On by Lupe Fiasco came on and the third verse gave me just the catalyst I needed.
No matter what you been through, no matter what you into
No matter what you see when you look outside your window
Brown grass or green grass, picket fence or barbed wire
Never ever put them down you just lift your arms higher
Raise em till’ your arms tired - let em’ know you’re there
That you struggling and survivin’ that you gonna persevere
I'm here. I've struggled, I've survived, and I'm sure I'll struggle and survive some more.
So I can be brave. I mean, what's the worst that could happen?
Simple message really. A quirky command. Vaguely inspirational. Challenging but non-confrontational. However...
It's. Not. Easy.
I am not a brave man.
But then I saw a picture from People of the Second Chance. They frequently post over-stylized photography superimposed with uplifting or motivational missives on their facebook page - one of which (metaphorically speaking) reached out and slapped me. It has been renting space in my head since then.
Over a photo of a man walking toward the sunset through a field of grain is the quote: "I will be brave with my story so others can be brave with theirs."
I get the concept of bravery. Baz Luhrmann released a song during my senior year of high school that contained the advice, "Do one thing everyday that scares you." It makes sense that we should not be afraid of trying new things or facing our fear of heights or public speaking or clowns.
But being brave with my story? That's an entirely different idea. Not that I object to telling my tale. I like to talk and I have the tendency to over-share. I'm a story teller. I'm sentimental and nostalgic.
But I'm not brave. And I don't see much courage in telling my story.
Realistically, I think my history is dull. I had a boring childhood. Just a poor boy from a poor family. (bonus points if after reading that last sentence, a voice in your head sang, "Spare him his life from this monstrosity.")
This might just be my self deprecating sense of ego, but I've never considered my self to be special. Even if there is a glimmer of importance in my self-esteem - by no means would I ever consider my life to have been exciting.
Yet I couldn't get that one line out of my head. "Be brave with my story so others can be brave with theirs."
Now I've been given the opportunity to do just that, an invitation to be brave with my story. I'm at a loss though. I don't want to say the wrong thing. I don't want to offend.
I want to be brave. But it's not easy.
If the words of loswit and POTSC weren't enough to motivate me, I got one more kick in the gut this evening. While doing housework, I opened up iTunes and selected a playlist of songs that would be my soundtrack if my mundane life were ever to be turned into a movie. A half hour into the music, the song The Show Goes On by Lupe Fiasco came on and the third verse gave me just the catalyst I needed.
No matter what you been through, no matter what you into
No matter what you see when you look outside your window
Brown grass or green grass, picket fence or barbed wire
Never ever put them down you just lift your arms higher
Raise em till’ your arms tired - let em’ know you’re there
That you struggling and survivin’ that you gonna persevere
I'm here. I've struggled, I've survived, and I'm sure I'll struggle and survive some more.
So I can be brave. I mean, what's the worst that could happen?
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