Cheeseburger In Paradise

Several weeks ago my daughters and I loaded up in the car on our way to the library. It was a beautiful summerish autumn day. The warm sun, crystal clear blue sky and boating activity on the river put me in a Jimmy Buffet type mood. I slipped into the CD player the Meet Me in Margaritaville album. When it got to The Volcano song, old Jimmy had found himself two new fans. The girls said "play it again Daddy". We heard that song three times in a row on our way to the library. Fortunately it's a fairly short trip. Since then we have enjoyed that song many, many times on the way to many different places. After hearing The Volcano song over and over and over again, I decided to give disc one of the album a try. Cheeseburger in Paradise became an instant hit with my two little girls.

This morning just as we were pulling into Riley's school, she said to me "Daddy, play Cheeseburger and French Fries in Par-dise". I told her it was too late, that we had already arrived at school and needed to go inside. Then came the tears. "I want to hear Cheeseburger and French Fries in Par-dise" she said. Needless to say, we sat in the parking lot and listened to the song. Her world was good again.

Jimmy, if you're reading this, just know you can still make the young girls cry. Add two more devoted Parotheads to the count.

Weather Report

A few days ago our fine city awoke to significant fog rolling in off the St. Johns River. I noticed that my daughter Riley was unusually quiet on our way to school. Normally she is singing or chattering on about something. This day she seemed either tired or contemplative. As we were getting out of the car and walking toward school, she said to me, "Daddy, the clouds are falling to the ground". I love listening to my children. What a fantastic way to start the day.

New Hamster, Vermont and God's House

My girls make me laugh almost every day. Either they use words inappropriately, make words up, mimic my vocabulary (not always a good thing) and mannerisms, etc. This is especially true when my older daughter "instructs" my younger daughter. When Riley (two years) tries to comply with Kinsey's (five years) directives you never know what the result may be. First of all the direction is usually less than clear and is directed to an individual who's cognitive ability is less than fully developed.

The other day Kinsey was very authoritatively expressing to Riley how it's such a long path to Grandma's house (20 hours by car). "You know Riley, it takes a long time to drive to New Hamster" (also known as New Hampshire). Riley just takes it all in as though she completely understands. Her actions were very similar to mine in High School chemistry class. Nodding and acting as though you understand. You indicate through your body langauage that you simply have nothing else to add or question given the thoroughness and mastery of the subject by the instructor. The plan works until you're the one picked out of the crowd and asked a question. So then Kinsey says to Riley, "Riley do you know where New Hamster is?" Riley shakes her head revealing that her earlier body language, previously indicating understanding was nothing but a sham. Soooo.. then Kinsey continues with a tone dripping with an heir of superiority, "Riley, New Hamster is in Vermont". As if to say, you should know such simple facts. I feel obligated to correct my daughter on both counts.

Baby... New Hamster is actually pronounced New Hampshire and Vermont is a State just like New Hampshire and it is right next to it on the map. My daughter thinks about this for a few minutes. Then she asks me..."Daddy, is Grandma's house passed God's House?" I know how I answered, but would love to hear how some of you would have responded. It would be fun to see what various people think. Drop me a line and give me your thoughts. Take care!

Small Things

Remember your first piece of bubble gum? I have often watched my children experience things completely new to them. Frequently, when watching my children, I find myself accessing my childhood memory bank and wondering. I wonder if the pleasure I remember upon first trying new things and the memory I have of it will be similar to my childrens' memories 30 years from now. Some childhood items I recall with particular fondness and happy memories are;

1) My first pony ride - excitement and exhilaration
2) My first Ginger Ale - fresh taste with bubbles
3) Maple Syrup - Sweet nectar and unbelievably delicious
4) Wrestling with my grandmothers dog - great friend
5) Fresh smell of cut grass - Clean and invigorating
6) First visit to Fenway Park - Heaven on earth
7) Glass of grape juice - Sweet, slightly tart, made my taste buds come alive
8) Petting a cow - Soft eyes, coarse stiff hair
9) Driving a go cart - Feeling of freedom,independence
10) Camping in a tent - Looking at the stars, amazement

As an adult, I tend to take the small things in life for granted. However, when I try to view those same things through my childrens eyes coupled with my childhood memories, those small things again become magical and wonderful and the world becomes such a fun place to be. Thank God for the perspective of our children.

Domestic Chores

As a work from home Dad the bulk of the household chores have become my responsibility. I'm not quite sure how it happened but I can guarantee you that my wife knows. That girl is crafty and somehow outflanked me while I was looking the other way. I feel like Ross Perot's old running mate, Admiral Stockdale when he said with a confused look on his face "who am I and what am I doing here?". The Viet Congs infamous Charlie couldn't carry my wife's (uh.. now mine) laundry basket. Let's just put it on the record, and this hurts, she is smarter than me.

Accepting my defeat, I plod on with my assigned chores. There's something to be said for a gracious loser. In my own way I've made the defeat a victory. Now I get to pick the laundry detergent (Mountain Fresh Spring Air Flower Lilac Scent Bloom) and I get to choose the fabric softener too. Yeah, get some of that. Meals?, what I want to cook. No more questioning whether the milk purchased had the latest spoil date stamped on the top or whether it came from the bottom of the grocery store milk cooler. I'm in control of that now. So am I really the loser? You be the judge.

However, taking on the role of domestic maven has provided it's challenges. There are these little tasks that have sub-components that need to be done if you want to accomplish the task properly. Remembering all the while, if it's done improperly my wife knows.

Today was laundry day at my house. I have two little girls ages two and five. That fact alone increases the time required for this chore by two hours. How could that be you might ask. I certainly would have asked that question prior to my defeat. Little girls have lots and lots of little clothing things. Each little clothing thing must be folded. What about little girl underwear. The size difference between 2T and 5T is almost indistinguishable to the naked eye. So then you hunt down the size tag to see which child's pile get this particular pair of little girl panties. I don't know who the Einstein is who manufactures and selects the tag location for small girls underwear, but they need to do a load of laundry and then rethink the whole the damn thing. The tag is about an eigth of the size of the paper fortune in a fortune cookie. Upon washing, the tag rolls up like a caterpillar at being touched. So you get a pair of needlenose pliers to hold the tag taut enough to find the identifying number. Then the printed number is the size of a mustard seed. I had to break out my litle girls pirate telecope to read the thing. I'm still not sure I got them all right. But time was a wasting and I had other chores to do. What would my wife say if I didn't have her dinner ready when she got home? Listen, I've already acknowledged the fact that she can outsmart me. What am I going to look like when she asks me what's for dinner and I timidly break out some weak leftovers? She's going to start asking questions. I'm going to then start stammering about little girls panty tags? She'd probably Baker Act me.

In the kitchen I can hold my own and cooking is fun for me. I've got the skills of Hop Sing on Bonanza with the temperment of Gordon Ramsay. Not only is my cooking critiqued every night, but so are the ingredients I choose to use. Last night was Fajita night. I'm chopping up the onions and green bell peppers. It's all just starting to saute' and filling the air with an aroma I found to be pleasent. My five year old pulls herself away from Dragon Tales long enough to wander in the kitchen. She innocently makes the statement, "that smells nasty". Trying to supress a Gordon Ramsayesque response, I do my best Rachel Ray, "You're goin' to love it". She wasn't convinced. So when it came time to eat, I pulled a trick out of my wife's playbook. Disguising the chicken, peppers and onions by wrapping them in the tortilla so the filling couldn't be seen. She took one bite and had found her bliss. Expressing my disbelief at how much she liked it she said "don't know what else to say Daddy. How can I thank you?" Now, tell me... did I get outflanked?

Redneck Cheerleader

Alicia and I consider each birthday our children celebrate to be an occassion of thankfulness for the lives that we have been entrusted with. Our usual tradition has been to have a birthday celebration with our childrens friends and our friends. Sometimes the announced hour of the birthday party's ending comes and goes and we find our friends still here.

After the festivities of the last birthday party had concluded, we began a social gathering for the remaining adults. The gifts that had been bestowed upon my daughter that day were still out and our friends decided they wanted to see them. Grown ups like to have fun too. So the bubble machines were blowing bubbles and the horns were being tooted aloud. Then we noticed this fella over in the corner of the yard checking out the princess dresses and cheerleading outfits.

As the old cliche' states, sometimes a picture is worth a thousand words.

It struck us! We could use this guy as "after birthday party hours" entertainment. We bought him a princess outfit, a cowgirl suit, court jester uniform, Whinne the pooh shorts and a bikini. If you would like to hire him for your party, please e-mail me. So far revenue earned from this venture is... uuhh.. zero. But you've got to start somewhere. He's a real go getter and will work hard for tips. Call me.

Summer Time Memories

When I was a kid growing up in southern Vermont my summers were filled with weeding gardens, bailing hay and cutting firewood. Excluding the occassional tomato fight that would breakout in the two acre garden, it was pretty much a non-event. It was however my life. Oh.... how my childrens' summers are so dramatically different.

Kinsey, my five year old goes to summer camp that has every activity that I could only dream of as a kid. Her days are filled with Chuck E Cheese, science fairs, movies (at a real theatre), pony rides, swimming pools, baseball games, roller skating, bowling, steamboat cruises, bouncy houses, ice skating, minitaure golf, water parks, Build A Bear, Ollie Koala's, semi-pro baseball games, etc..... The somewhat disappointing aspect of all this is that some days she comes home and has found her day boring. I'm thinking, weed a garden in 90 degree heat for five hours straight and then talk to me about boring. Her experience of "boring" is no where close to mine. Of course, with that said, my experience of boring is, I'm sure, not what my parents experience was. Laboring for five hours in the hot sun was childs play compared to my Dad's summertime experiences. He would say " you still had a good five hours to play". He really thought we as children were living on easy street.

It's a bit odd and amusing to me. When I look back now on those days of drudgery cutting wood, mowing lawns and weeding gardens those memories now (thirty five years later) verge on Rockwellesque. It was pure Americana that I lived and breathed every day. Reflecting back on those summertime childhood memories, I feel only joy and peace. It was a simple, pure way of life.

In our constantly changing world, I believe that my daughters will look back on their summer vacation in a similar way. It's not so much the activity of each day. It's the unconditional love expressed that makes it so wonderful. I knew that no matter what the day held, as "boring" as the chore that day might be, at the end of the day I could go to our house, have a hearty meal with my family and bask in the warmth of love and enjoy the security of home. That was the one thing that made every day so completely wonderful. Who needs Disney when you have that?

At the end of this month, Alicia and I will take our daughters Kinsey and Riley on a weeks long vacation to Daytona Beach. I'm looking forward to every day, every minute of our family experience. But I know that the real joy of childhood is not in an upscale resort (although that is loads of fun). The real joy of childhod is knowing that you are loved, that you will always have an unyielding proponent for you no matter what. I had that, my children have that. We are so, so , so fortunate. Have a great summer vacation.