RedPlanet Live!

Owen is "Star of the Week" in his kindergarten class this week. Among the dubious benefits afforded to the Star of the Week is the chance to have your parents come into the class and embarrass themselves. While I could take the easy way out and simply read Owen's favorite book to the class (a charming little tome called "Watch Out for Jabba the Hutt!"), I have decided to immerse myself fully in the opportunity to embarrass myself by playing the Star Wars theme on the trombone. While I was pretty good in my high school heyday, I then took a 15-year hiatus. I took it up again for a couple of years some time ago when I joined an all-lawyers big band, which practiced every Monday night in the courtroom of a saxophone-playing federal judge in Chicago. We would play formally at our own concerts a couple of times a year, play at lunch outside in Daley plaza, and, increasingly, play at charity dance events and the like. Despite being made up of people who worked full time in the legal profession, they were, for the most part, pretty damn good. I was, however, less good. They got increasingly serious and played more and more about the time Owen was born and I decided to hang it up again. So, six more years on, tomorrow marks my auspicious return to public performing.

Nothing eases any concerns about performing after a six year layoff, however, like playing a song beloved by kindergarten boys who, I would guess, have no idea what a trombone is supposed to sound like. It reminds me of the easing in done by my first high school rock band. At the time we were called "Andromeda," later to be changed to "Circus" and then, alarmingly, "Drauma" - yes, with a "u", for reasons I can thankfully no longer recall. I played electric bass and occasionally sang (although I was never able to do both at the same time, a fact that a year later made me expendable and got me and my rock star attitude booted out of a different band, "The Wave," mere weeks before they went on to win my high school's Battle of the Bands). Anyway, Andromeda's first paying gig was playing a Christmas party for kids with mental disabilities. At the time, we knew about 9 songs, 5 or so of which were Judas Priest songs. Although it sounds like an unlikely recipe for success, I don't believe I have ever played for a more appreciative audience in my life. No matter how much a song sucked, they loved it, clamoring for more. Even after I blew out the speakers on our borrowed sound system with my trademark scream at the end of REO Speedwagon's "Ridin the Storm Out", they were loving us as we soldiered on with some acoustic Christmas carols that I am sure were almost unrecognizable.

So, here's hoping the kindergarten kids like my little performance tomorrow even half as much as the kids back then. Tomorrow's possible encore, in case you are wondering, is "Colors of the Wind" from Pocahontas, not Judas Priests' "Heading Out to the Highway." Signs of the time, I suppose.

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.

You Have to Start Somewhere

I am sure the first entry is the hardest, so rather than spend forever debating how to define this blog, I think I will keep it short and sweet. My general goal is merely to periodically chronicle the goings on and general chaos related to raising three boys (Owen - 4, Cooper and Hayden - 1 year old (in two weeks!) twins) with my wife Deanna. Maybe give and get a little parenting philosphy and advice along the way. Discuss other subjects of interest to me from time to time. Allow near and far-flung friends to more easily keep up with the doings in our little corner of the world, since it has been less than easy to keep in touch since those aged four and under grew to outnumber the adults in our house last year. Who knows, maybe this will evolve into something else entirely over time, but that is the working plan for now.

I guess, based on the above, that this could be termed a "daddy-blog." And what better time to start this blog than now, I say, since parenting blogs and daddy-blogs in particular have recently been declared passe by various national media outlets. As I have always been slightly behind the curve technologically, starting my blog now makes perfect sense to me.

That is probably enough to get things started for now. Lets get this show on the road!