Guys Night

A fair amount of time has passed without comment by me here. We visited the State Fair (much fun), and spent a long weekend at Wisconsin Dells with three other couples and their combined six children (much chaotic fun). Otherwise, I have been working excessively and have generally found that working a lot is not at all conducive to blogging. Frankly, I don't know how some of these more prolific parenting bloggers do it.

Anyway, tonight was my first night home alone with the boys in some time. We of course took advantage of the opportunity to do all the guy things we like to do when Deanna is not around. I brought home fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn fritters, cole slaw and kidney bean salad (the latter two of which proved to be unpopular with the kids), had a rock and roll dance party featuring AC/DC (although I haven't put on "Back in Black" by choice in ages, it is the first thing that popped into my head when Owen demanded some rock and roll - a testament to its classicness, I suppose), played ring toss with a frozen teething ring and a broom stick, had the 31st installment of the "Great Baby Race" - a semi-regular bedtime race between the twins up the stairs, with Hayden leading the series 21 to 9 - tonight was judged a tie), had a spirited wrestling match on our bed, and read books about cars. We also pretended to watch TV. We are not fans of kids watching TV except as a special treat, yet Owen, oddly, has taken to pretending to watch, laughing uproariously at the hilarious antics of made up shows - tonight it was "The Pirate and the Car" and "Stritterman and the Two Dads" - playing out on the blank screen. It reminds me of how kids who aren't allowed to play with toy guns simply pretend they are playing with toy guns using sticks or whatever. Anyway, there was minimal crying and no trips to the emergency room - a good night!

Summer, Part II

Last summer, my mother, I'm sure in all sincerity, wondered aloud to me whether I was having my best summer ever. I can see how she might say that, since after years of struggling to have kids, we had been blessed once with Owen and then blessed twice more with the birth of Cooper and Hayden in May 2006. Although I am thankful and appreciative every day for those little guys and the joy they have brought to our lives, that appreciation is separate from the everyday unrelenting grind that was last summer with a toddler and two newborns in the house. In short, last summer, with its sleep deprivation and constant feed and caring of two fragile, slightly premature newborns was, in the final summation, probably in my bottom ten summers ever.

Best summer ever, by the way, is, and probably will always be, reserved for the summer of 1983; a summer of firsts and lasts, fueled by hormones, beer, recreational drugs, sun, a newfound sense of freedom, close friendships, and the pure joy of being alive. First girlfriend, first real kiss (and more!), first summer with a driver's license, playing my first concerts with my first rock band, last summer without a steady job (just my lawn mowing business where my hours were dictated by myself and the weather). A intensely happy blur of fireworks, concerts, new friends, parties, movies, cruising around in cars, staying out late, etc. I recall how sad me and my friends were over labor day weekend, as we all realized a truly special time was coming to an end. Happily, I made an audio record of this particular summer, ranging from the sweetly mundane (me and my sister washing dishes) to the classic (me and my friends being kicked out of the local pizza parlor for not having a table).

This summer has been a vast improvement over last, due in no small part to more regular sleep and the increased mobility of the kids, freeing us to wander further afield, eat out, etc. (although Cooper's annoying habit of screeching in a very loud and obnoxious manner when he doesn't get his way - predictably unpopular with those unfortunate enough to be dining in the vicinity - has tempered our desire to frequent restaurants of late). It has also had its handful of moments that create the sort of indelible imprint in your memory (see, e.g. my awesome surprise party!) that enable you to look back, even years later, and say that was a damn fine summer. What has been especially cool though, is enjoying the season through the eyes of the kids. Owen's excitement over vacation and just about everything else is infectious. And the twins, despite not talking yet, have clearly had a ball wire to wire this season. From the second their shoes and socks came off in spring and they cackled with glee as their toes felt the grass beneath their feet for the first time, they have been a joy to spend time with. So, while adult summers, necessarily and probably thankfully, pass by on a more limited emotional plain than those of my youth, watching the kids delight in their own firsts as they have turned into little people with big personalities and an appetite for life has somehow been extremely satisfying. Parenthood, as it turns out, has its own unique rewards.

The Eye of the Beholder

"Aren't these NASCAR underwear classy, Daddy???" Owen, bent over at the waist and talking to me sincerely through his legs so that I can best see the glory of his NASCAR underwear, a blurry red, white, blue, black and orange mess of cars, flames, and checkered flags. I am not sure what his definition of classy is, but rarely are NASCAR and classy used in the same sentence. Toss in the word underwear, and we may just have a sentence that has never been uttered before by anyone.