MY DAD COULDN'T BREATHE
19/02/16 22:11
“What do you mean he can’t breathe?” I asked my sister. “Dad had to go to the hospital but is okay now. But he’s too tired to have the whole family come visit. It’s just too much,” she said as she choked back tears.
Understandable. Conor is 4 years old and exhausts both my wife and me. Imagine what he could do to an 84-year old man with compromised lungs after smoking his whole life.
I bit the bullet. Bought the ticket. And flew from Boston to Austin. My sister and I packed up her car and headed for San Benito.
We gossiped. Griped. Laughed. And wondered. What would life be like if we lived closer. Before you know it, 7 hours had passed. We had arrived.
“Dad, you look great!” I said, since he looked completely normal. “Well, I can breathe again,” Dad said with his usual dry humor.
I called the family to let them know all was okay with Grandpa Texas. We used Facetime so Conor could see him. Conor says, “Hi grandpa Texas. I heard your lungs weren’t feeling well. Are you okay?”
“Sure, I’m okay,” he said as he lifted his arms up in a sign of victory. Conor says, “Good, then dad you can come back home tonight.” I sure do love my boy.
Three more days of comfort, laughs and memories to store away. Good Mexican food. And a few prayers that this wouldn’t be the last time I’d see my dad alive.
“Sister Ko, you sure you don’t want me to drive?” “Nah, I’ve got this bro,” my sister said as we left the immigration checkpoint in our rear view mirror. Seven hours blew by and we were back in Austin.
Next day, back in Boston. How does it all go so fast? “Hey Conor. Hey Val, I’m back.” We hugged and we were one again. And now, it’s our turn to breathe easier.
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CHRISTMAS IN AUSTIN
25/12/15 22:47
2015 is almost over. We are dizzy from recent events. “I know, let’s go to Texas and see the family and try and relax,” I suggested.
Our 4-year old was on-board. My wife was, too. My family in Texas thought it was a fantastic idea. And Jetblue thought so, too.
My family caught us like a safety net below a trapeze artist. It felt good to be scooped up just before our faces hit the proverbial floor.
My Mom fed us lunch. My sister fed us dinner. Our exhaustion began to dissipate. We were loved. And it felt good.
Conor hugged on his grandmom. My sister hugged on my wife. And I hugged anyone that would hug me. Whew.
We visited the old haunts. Sister Ko introduced us to the new haunts. And Conor was loud enough to scare all the haunts.
Santa was good with his presents to Conor. And my wife and I were just happy to lean on each other instead of trading presents.
After filling our coffers with enough love to sustain us a couple of weeks or months, it was time to say goodbye.
My mom and I had a few quiet moments to share our truest feelings. And made a pact to be closer. That’s what love is.
My sister has always believed in me and I guess at this point, she’ll never stop. What a tremendous gift from a sister to her brother.
And my wife? Well, she signed up for all this and she keeps coming back for more. That’s love.
Merry Christmas, ya’ll.
CONOR GETS BITTEN BY OUR OWN PET DOG
12/12/15 22:41
I heard our 4-year old come down the stairs. Our little tornado. What I didn’t see was that he stopped to hug our 12-year old dog.
What I didn’t see was that the dog was on the couch, a big ‘no-no.’ I didn’t see Conor reach out to hug him. I didn’t see the bite occur.
I was only 10 feet away. Preparing dinner. Digging in the fridge. Opening a beer. It all happened in a blink of an eye.
The scream was deafening. The blood was everywhere. My son ran to me as I ran to him. I had failed as a dad.
My 4-year old cried to me, “I’m okay, daddy. I’m okay.” I hugged him and pretended that it was all okay. But it wasn’t.
My wife was right there, too. We both missed what was happening. She was grabbing towels to clean the mess. What the hell happened?
She called our neighbor, the nurse. The neighbor ran over. Looked. And said, “Take him to the doctor.” Crap.
25 stitches and 8 hours later, we were on our way home. The next day the dog was at the kennel. 10 days later, the dog was on the one farm where dogs can run to their hearts content with no rules. Forever.
Conor still says he wants his dog back. Other times he says he doesn’t want to be a pet owner anymore. I don’t know what I want.
Conor still hugs dogs. And occasionally asks for a new puppy. I still cringe when he hugs dogs. But I bite my lip. Kids are resilient. Parents, not so much.
COOL HAND CONOR GETS A TIMEOUT
11/06/13 16:20
At 20 months old, Conor's just now at the age where we think he can understand right from wrong and can benefit from discipline. So we're now instilling the old 'timeout' rule. In his resistance to eating what he doesn't like, his rebellious act of choice is to throw food. We give him one chance to correct the behavior on his own.Then he gets a 30 second timeout in his playpen in the next room.
In true Conor fashion, he catches on fast. He cries the whole time and waits for us to come back. Tonight, after the third timeout for throwing his hotdog pieces, I asked him if he knew why he was in a timeout. He didn't respond so I reminded him. Then just as I had commented during the last two timeouts, he said with enthusiasm, 'Okay, let's go back into the room', meaning the dining room.
He's a great kid and takes his punishment well. But just as this picture suggests, it's bound to get more difficult as he gets older and gets an attitude. Time will tell!
MY COUSIN WHIT GOT MARRIED TODAY
16/09/12 15:07
Weddings are such a great excuse to get together and see family you never get to see except at weddings and funerals. This was a chance for Conor to meet his uncles, aunts and cousins. I know he won't remember them next time he sees them but it's a good attempt at starting a tradition of meeting on a semi-regular basis so that he has some roots when he grows up. Conor got to meet his great Uncle John who's a lawyer and likes to duck hunt. And his great uncle Whit who's a pharmacist and likes to bullshit. I wonder which of those traits Conor will get?
HOW MANY BABY CLOTHES IS TOO MANY
29/07/12 16:05
My wife and I have worked out a deal; I take Conor to daycare and she picks him up. This enables her to get to work early so she can leave early. That means I get to feed and dress him on Tuesdays and Thursdays. It seems every time I dress Conor for daycare, I can’t find clothes for him. I mean, I know where they’re located but there’s just nothing except clothes that are too small for him. Everything else has food or worse on them. I always say to Conor, ‘Tonight is laundry night.” Question is, “How many clothes do we need so that we’re not doing laundry all the time but we’re also not buying too much stuff?" I mean he outgrows an outfit about every two months. My wife would never let me count the clothes in her closet but she’s never said anything about our 9-month old son so I dug into his closet and counted the following;
1. 9 onesies (never heard of this word until my son was born)
2. 5 shirts
3. 5 short pants ( just bought two of those yesterday)
4. 3 long pants
5. 1 pajama (I forgot to buy 2 more yesterday. He’s outgrown the other 6 that still take up space in his closet)
7. 7 jackets (we live in New England these days)
8. 4 hats (he won’t wear any of them
9. 3 bandanas ( I forgot about them until I wrote this which means he never wears them.)
10. 5 pairs of socks he never wears because he doesn't walk yet and it's summertime
10. 1 pair of sunglasses that he also never wears
This doesn’t sound too extravagant for a 9 month old but it doesn’t sound too bare bones either. After all, a 9-month old can get into a mess pretty fast since he’s on the crawl, eats like a horse, and what goes in must come out. And that can sneak past a pamper on any given poo.
I’ll keep an eye on the intake and outtake of clothes because on one hand, we cant do laundry every evening with two working parents. But at the same time, too many clothes piling up doesn’t seem like a good answer either.
By the way, I’m way over the “Mommy’s little rocker” shirts and “I’m a rock star” baby clothes. Can we please move on to something more original. In that regard, I’ve discovered that 77Kids and Crazy 8 seem to have cool stuff this year.
Links about how much clothing we need:
http://www.keeperofthehome.org/2011/08/an-experiment-just-how-many clothes-do-kids-need-anyways.html
http://moneysavingmom.com/2010/10/my-minimalist-wardrobe-vlog.html
http://www.livingonadime.com/how-many-clothes-do-i-need/
http://www.ehow.com/baby-clothes/
- See more at: http://dadsdecoded.com/blog/index_files/archive-jul-2012.html#sthash.8lIKzwos.dpuf
32-YEAR OLD INTERVIEWS HIM SELF AT THE AGE OF 12
10/07/12 16:07
Young filmmaker/parking attendant, Jeremiah McDonald showed an uncanny vision when he videotaped himself 20 years ago talking to his future self. Digging that VHS tape up all these years later, Jeremiah set off to interview his 12-year old self. The results are stunning as we see what 20 years of living will undoubtedly do to a person. Innocence turns to sarcasm. Dreams fade like a Poloroid picture. Love of pop culture hangs on like a cat to a ball of string. And there's absolutely no way to tell what technology will come along in the future to change our life. Think about it, when Jeremiah created this videotape of himself talking to himself in the future, there was no such thing as the internet. Jeremiah had no way of imagining that he could share this idea with the world. The experiment was simply a kid having fun, obsessed with time travel and an imagination that led him to act out his fantasy. And while no scientist has cracked the code on time travel yet, someone did crack the code on how to connect the past with the future and allow that connection to be witnessed by millions of people all over the world. As of today, four days after the video was uploaded to YouTube, 5,790,459 people have viewed this interaction between a 32-year old and himself at 12.
HAPPY FATHER'S DAY
17/06/12 16:16
My son gave me his feet for my first Father's Day. I have to admit I welled up a little. I feel so lucky to have him in our lives. We spent the day hanging out while mom went to a baby shower. We went to Home Depot and bought manly stuff. Then we came home and worked on the boat until it was dinner time. Then we played a little more until at last, he conked out. Not a bad Father's Day at all.
IF THE APPLE DOESN'T FALL FAR FROM THE TREE, I'M IN TROUBLE
08/06/12 16:18
This is a video created by CFP/E-SHOTS for the YoungDirectorsAward 2012 Festival. As I work on a music video with Conor, this hits pretty close to home. As soon as he's able to talk, I imagine he'll be as opinionated as this little twerp.
AFTER TWO WEEKS OF RADIO SILENCE WITH A WORKING LOBSTER BOAT
07/06/12 08:29
After 2 weeks of radio silence, I emerge with the beginnings of a refurbished wooden lobster boat. Today, Valerie, Conor and I tested the new boat on the ocean. Okay, I took it out first to make sure everything was working properly. After a few tweaks, we all headed out together. If you can't see Conor, he's the one behind the life vest and under the hat. It was super sunny and if you haven't noticed from other pictures, he's Irish white. So sunburn is not an option.
GERMANY TO IRELAND - BATTLE OF THE BEERS
16/05/12 09:29
Left Germany this morning after a week of great sightseeing, company, food and of course, great beer. Each town has its own breweries and the local restaurants serve the local beer. So after 5 days of local PIls, Helles and Dunkels, we left Germany for Ireland. By 1pm I couldn’t stand to wait any longer and when my wife’s father asked me if I wanted a Guinness, I think I answered a little too fast, “Yes.” My son was just as mesmerized at the black gold as I was. We admired its iconic black color and white foam for about 30 seconds then opted for a taste. I don’t which beer I like better. And really, do I have to choose? No, when in Germany do as the Germans. And when in Ireland, do as the Irish. They’re both delicious. And so I leave the toast of, “Prost” in Germany and switch to “Slainte” now that I’m in Ireland. Both mean, “To good health!”
SPENDING THE WEEKEND WITH MY SON ALONE
26/03/12 10:12
CONOR MEETS KAWLIGA IN AUSTIN FOR THE FIRST TIME
14/03/12 19:43
One of my dads's favorite songs when I was growing up was, "Kawliga" by Hank Williams, Sr. It was a song about an old wooden Indian who just stood in front of the tobacco store and never knew love. It was a song of a beautiful Indian maiden who came to the store but because Kawliga was wooden, he could do nothing about another man who came to take the Indian maiden for his own. It was a sad song that would lead a man to drinkin' like all good country songs do. As my son and I passed by the tobacco store on West 7th street in Austin, I felt compelled to take our picture. My wife didn't understand the significance but obliged us just the same.
THERE'S SOMETHING SPECIAL ABOUT BROTHERS
09/03/12 00:38
My brother and I don't see much of each other these days, maybe once a year as I live in Boston and he lives in Austin. As Conor turns 5 months old tomorrow, it was good for Michael to finally meet his only nephew. Michael was the first person i told that my wife was pregnant fourteen months ago and i still remember how a tear came to his eye. He was so excited to finally be an uncle and he was glad that I would finally get to understand the joys of being a dad that he felt as a father of four. We probably won't see each other again for 6 months to a year. And those two hours in Mondola's Restaraunt in Austin, Texas will be the only reminder of getting to see my nephews, Michael and Ethen, his his only glimpse of his nephew Conor until we meet again. It's far from ideal but as the world gets smaller, I somehow manage to drift farther from the town i once called home. Still, my brother and I always manage to find something that we still have in common and we hang onto those moments until it's time to say goodbye. This time, it was a conversation of both being dads and how good it feels.
WE'RE ABOUT TO FLY WITH OUR FOUR-MONTH OLD
07/03/12 10:22
Tomorrow, the Kolander family flies from Boston to Austin for this year's SxSW 2012 Interactive Conference. It's the first time since we've had Conor that we've attempted to fly. We skipped a holiday flight to Ireland in December because Conor was barely two months old and hadn't had all his vaccinations. Now, there's no excuse.
We're nervous. We remember being the kid-free adults cringing as the mother would walk down the aisle juggling a diaper bag, a screaming kid and hand-held luggage to shove into the overhead bin. I would always hope they would stop before they got all the way to my seat and sit down next to some other poor sap. But now, I'm the guy with the 4 month old, who at any given moment can explode into sobs of discomfort, annoyance or hunger. The question is, will I be able to intercept the audible pangs before they become the equivalent of fingers on a chalkboard for a plane full of business travelers.
This has led me do a little research on how to entertain kids on a plane to keep them in check. First of all, I didn't find any fool-proof method so that was a disappointment. But I did remember that before Conor was born I was searching website for kid tidbits and I found an article about traveling with a child. And that there's a baby hammock available that you attach to the tray table in front of you and the other half is attached to you. And the baby fits inside the hammock so you can see the baby at all times without him being draped across you for the entire flight. Well, I purchased that contraption before Conor was ever born and I pulled it out of the drawer last night. People swear by these things so I plan on trying it Thursday.
As my research continued, I really begin to see the advantage of buying Conor his own seat so I can use my infant car seat for him. We did not do this and I now have a call into my wife to see if it's still possible. (I would do it myself but don't have the flight information at my fingertips.) Many airlines offer a 50% discount for infants so this would help with the cost.
Other Tips I found that may help;
1. Relax, travel used to be fun! Let's just pretend it still us. If you are uptight the baby will definitely sense it and start to also get uptight.
2. Buy a seat for the baby to guarantee that you can use your infant safety seat on the plane — securing the child in one will make the trip easier for you and safer the your baby (typical 50% domestic discount but baby then gets full baggage allowance so easier to check in more stuff)
3. Have a bottle available for take-off/landing to keep the baby swallowing — helps lessen pressure in the ears. (Swallowing/sucking during landing is more important than during take-off as landing is harder on the ears.)
4. Pack at least 50% more diapers than you think you'll need, and extra wipes — air travel has a way of clearing out little guts
5. Get to the airport early — allow at least an extra 45 to 60 minutes for last minutes feeds and diaper changes pre-boarding, and getting through security is a time-consuming nuisance, especially with a baby.
6. Remember that despite what a few FT members think, infants screaming on planes is neither criminal or fatal. We'd all prefer to minimize it, but sometimes it is just gonna happen. And when it does, probably most parents on the plane are more in sympathy with you than angry (and secretly glad it's not their baby this time)!
Found at; http://www.flyertalk.com/forum/archive/t-406377.html
Here's a link to the Flyebaby report; http://airplaneflyingwithkids.blogspot.com/2010_11_01_archive.html
http://www.babycenter.com/0_flying-with-small-children-checklist-of-questions-to-ask-you_1460940.bc
WE'RE GOING TO NEED A BIGGER NIPPLE
06/03/12 22:35
We arrived home this evening to our seasoned babysitter feeding our little boy on the sofa. They both looked very much at home and comfortable. It only took a couple of minutes for the babysitter to let us know we were going to need a bigger nipple for our baby bottles. She announced that at almost 5 months old, Conor is sucking so hard to get the milk out of the bottle that he's wearing himself out and falling asleep before he gets the proper amount of milk. She then looked into her crystal ball and told us if he was getting the proper amount of milk that he probably wouldn't wake up in the middle of the night but instead could well sleep a full 10 hours without waking up. Valerie and I looked at each other and knew as soon as we got the babysitter out of the house that we were headed to Babies R' Us to get some bigger nipples. We'll soon find out if we get to sleep through the night. I'm starting to count sheep as I write this.
To find out how to buy bottles and nipples, click here.
POO WILL SOMEHOW BRING THEM TOGETHER
04/03/12 11:16
Yesterday, i was taking care of Conor while mom was out having lunch with a friend. I was trying to clean up my website which had bogged down because of content. I was mulit-tasking because I still had to watch the 4 month old while I boiled his bottles for the barrage of eating that was sure to take place throughout the day.
If you’ve been following this blog, you know we also have a 7-year old dog that has taken well to Conor. We keep tabs on them all the time so there’s never any chance of incidents. But I doubt if that would ever happen. Just the same, I was watching as El Dog would walk by Conor in his bouncy chair now and again and lick Conor’s toes, hands or face on a drive-by. At some point I noticed El Dog was spending more time licking Conor’s toes than the other drive-by’s. I watched for a few seconds and decided to get a closer look. Turns out El Dog wasn’t licking Conor’s feet but instead, had found a little diaper leak and was interested in more than toes. I pushed the disgusting mutt aside and whisked Conor up for a diaper change.
Why is it that one man’s disgust is another dog’s delicacy?
TIME FOR A SECOND OPINION ON DOG VS. BABY
01/10/11 22:34
Early on in my wife’s pregnancy, I wrote an article on how dogs and newborns get along (click here.) As the final week approaches until our first child’s arrival, we decided to get one last opinion on whether our dog can handle a newborn and whether or not we needed to beware of anything. So, after finding a trainer that specializes in training police dogs as well as public canines, we decided to have our dog evaluated by a respected trainer.
We arrived in the quaint and upscale neighborhood of Brookline Village as the sun was setting. I easily found a parking place and fed the meter its quarters. It ate them like a hungry dog at dinner time. Then myself, Val and El Dog marched across the street to the training center. There were dogs milling about and El Dog was extremely alert as the strange dogs passed by.
As we entered the facility, we were told to go downstairs where our trainer, Francis, was waiting. We pointed out that our dog wasn’t perfectly socialized and may cause a stir. The trainers said, “Great, you’re at the right place. Go downstairs where the dog will get socialized.” So we headed into the basement via the creaky, narrow staircase.
When we got downstairs, there was a class going on and there were 6 dogs in a perfect down stay as a clown of an instructor was skipping around, making a loud racket, juggling tennis balls and letting them fall where they may. The exercise was to teach the dogs to remain in a down position even with the highest distractions around them. It was teaching them self control. It was working. Only one dog popped up to play with the tennis balls. The others were bored and looked at their owners to see if they might be able to play. The owners did not give them permission. It was impressive to watch.
Meanwhile, our dog was excited as hell and wanted to run into the room and grab tennis balls and wreak havoc. El Dog looked at me and I shook my head,” no.” He begrudgingly succumbed and stopped pulling on the leash. Then Francis, our instructor, came over to evaluate El Dog. He pet El Dog and El Dog sniffed him and decided that Francis was okay. Francis asked Val how far along she was and when she said 9 months, he suggested we get started training immediately. We all laughed. Seems everyone has a joke about a pregnant lady ready to give birth.
It’s important that the dog know his place and be happy in that place within the pack. When the baby arrives, we want the dog to be happy there’s a baby in the house, not disappointed with the baby. And he said that it’s easy to do. He asked us if we had a baby doll that could stand in for the real baby that was on its way. We told him we had one. He said, “Do you have the baby powder and diaper cream and other stuff that you can put on the baby doll?” We told him that we did. He said, “Great, put it on the baby doll and pretend that baby is your baby. Walk around the house and gush over it like you will your real baby when it arrives. When the dog comes over to check it out, it gets treats. Then when it decides the baby is no big deal and that it can lay down, the dog gets a treat for that, too. It’s good to be around the baby and its good to leave it alone. That's the message.
Valerie had lots more questions. “What if the dog thinks the baby is an animal and wants to eat it? The trainer looked at Val like she had three heads. “Why do you think the dog would want to eat your baby?,” he asked. “Well, you hear about those things in the news,” Val said matter-of-factly. The trainer agreed that these things happen now and again but that it’s rarely the fault of the dog. It’s almost always something the owners did with the dog that eventually ratchets up the dog to do something drastic.Val pointed out that our dog wasn’t exactly social around other dogs and would this cause El Dog to act differently than most dogs? The trainer said, “Well, do you mind if I take El Dog and work with him for a minute?” ”Go ahead,” I said, “but I need to know that you’re not going to do something drastic with my dog like pick him up off the floor by his leash or anything like that because that’s not okay with me.” He said that’s not how he trains dogs but that it was a fair question. So I gave him El Dog and he put a pinch collar on him and took him out into the room with the other dogs and had him stand there while the other dogs were in a down-stay. El Dog just stood there and watched the other dogs. At one point, he decided he wanted to smell the doberman closest to him and the trainer gave him a stern pop of the leash and El Dog no longer was interested in sniffing the doberman. After about 3 minutes in the middle of the room with the other dogs, Francis came back with El Dog and said, “I’ve seen enough to tell me what I need to know.” Val and I both leaned forward and said, “Well, what did you see?”
Francis said, “Your dog’s not even on my radar.” We leaned closer. Francis continued, “If your dog was aggressive beyond a healthy dose of canine aggressiveness, He would have lunged, at those dogs. As soon as I gave him a correction, he backed down and said, “Francis, you’re the boss.” He allowed me to be the protector. Your dog is good, trained and smart. He just needs to be fine-tuned. He said that many Pitt-mixes have a dose of aggression but that’s it’s natural and they simply need to know how to control it and channel it through play, exercise and self-discipline.
After an hour of talking to Francis, we felt comfortable that he was the trainer for us as we learn how to fine-tune our abilities to train El Dog and continue to socialize him with other dogs so that he’s a pleasure to take on walks with our newborn no matter who we come across on the streets.
As we begin to wrap up our conversation, a few people with German shepards began to arrive and a trainer came in dressed all in quilted leather from head to toe. I recognized this from videos; shutzhund. This is a very specialized training for advanced dogs. As part of the training, the dogs are taught to attack on command. We found ourselves in the middle of a class of attack german shepards. El Dog was on full alert. The first dog marched around the room with his owner looking every 1/2 second at his owner as they walked. This dog was amazingly attentive and alert. He looked like he was having fun. Then the owner took him off his leash and gave a command to attack the trainer. Suddenly, the dog went from alert and smiling, to growling, barking and biting. It was a treat to watch a dog channel his aggression appropriately and only on command. El Dog was at full attention, he head was straight up and cocked to the side, trying to figure out what was going on and his tail was wagging.
We agreed that it would be amazing if he could control himself in the midst of such aggression nearby. We said our goodbyes and headed upstairs and out the back door into the dark alley. As we exited onto the safety of the Brookline Village sidewalks and onto the perfect village storefronts, it was like stepping out of a movie and back into reality. We looked at each other and begin to laugh, “What just happened back there?” It was surreal. In a dark basement in snobby Brookline Village, was a team of African American dog trainers teaching police dogs how to attack criminals and young professionals how to control their dogs on the quiet streets of provincial Boston. And after an hour in the underbelly of Boston, we had been regurgitated back into the safe, quiet, picture-perfect streets of one of the most prestigious neighborhoods of Boston.
We took El Dog back to the car, locked the doors and dipped into a chic Italian restaurant called, Pomadero, and I sipped a red wine and had spaghetti while Val had Carbonara and settled for water. After all, she still can’t drink for three more days. Or until our first child enters the world and rides El Dog, our pit-mix, into the sunset.
EVERYONE LIKES A PREGNANT WOMAN
10/09/11 22:38
With only 2 1/2 weeks until our first child arrives, Valerie and I decided we’d better make the most of our last ‘quiet’ days and take a little trip. Not too far in case Bean decided to show up early, but far enough to feel like we were getting away. We decided on Gloucester, MA - 45 minutes north of home.
My wife cleverly packed her snacks and a water in case she got hunger cravings on the journey. It keeps her from turning into Cruella Deville. We even packed our hospital suitcases in case she began her contractions while on our outing. We would simply divert our day out and end up at the hospital. And with those two safety nets in place, off we went.
But it wasn’t hard for the rest of the world to recognize we’re having a baby. After arriving in Gloucester, we parked the car and found an outdoor cafe on the water and had lunch. The service was dismal and the food was about the same but we were outside, it was sunny, we were happily pregnant and away for the day. All who passed us looked at Val’s stretched tummy, shaped very much like a basketball. Okay, exactly like a basketball. They would look at her tummy then up at her as if to say, “shouldn’t you be at the hospital delivery room instead of walking the streets of an artsy beach community?” Little did they know the baby still had more growing to do.
After lunch we decided to take a walk and we heard a band playing in the distance, so we followed the sounds of the rasta beats. We came upon a small crowd of people sitting on the side of the street listening. Val wanted to watch the band so she slowly lowered herself to sit on the curb. Meanwhile, I was watching a 10-year old kid riding his unicycle up and down the street. I went over to ask him how long he had been riding it. I had always wanted to have a unicyle but my parents wouldn’t get me one. He said he had taught himself a year ago. His dad was standing next to his son and enthusiastically told me his son had gotten it for Christmas last year and had woken up early in the morning for three days straight and had gone outside in his pajamas to practice, and within those three days had figured it out. The dad asked me if I were new to the neighborhood and I told him we were just visiting. He said, “Is your wife the pregnant woman?” I proudly proclaimed she is. He then introduced me to his middle aged friends and suddenly I was a new member in a friendly clique. Everyone was asking me questions, laughing, and giving me advice on being a dad. Then Ken, the first guy I met went over to my wife to see if she would rather sit in a chair. My wife said that she was fine but he decided it wasn’t fine. He went home and got a chair for her to sit in which she gladly accepted. Then after about 15 minutes, he asked me if I wanted a cold beer. I declined the offer but when he asked a second time, my weakness showed and he went home to get me one. As he returned with the beer, I noticed he came out of a four-story home on the corner lot. The foundation was made of beautiful stone and the house itself was made of Cape Cod shingles. In other words, this dude was loaded. I also noticed that Richard was coming out of the house behind us and it dawned on me that we had stumbled onto some rich families that didn’t know we drive a Honda Element and buy our furniture at Jordon’s Furniture Outlet.
Then the ladies started coming over to Val and asking her about the baby. One lady asked if she could touch Val’s belly and she gushed about she had not felt a pregnant belly since her own 21 years ago. Then Ken’s dad who was in his 70s came up to us and began to tell us his life story which was an amusing one. The whole event was just so surreal. Two strangers come to town, say a nice word to a ten-year old boy and suddenly the town is welcoming us into its protective community. They offer us to use of the bathroom in their mansion should we need to, they give us beers and they make sure Val is comfortable as we sit outside and get to know each other.
After about 2 hours of sitting in a spot we meant to only sit for 5 minutes, we bid our new friends goodbye. We shook everyone’s hand and Ken’s dad added a nice touch by kissing Val’s hand. They insisted that we come back after the baby is born and be sure to knock on their doors if they’re not out.
SURVIVING HURRICANE IRENE WITH THE FAMILY
28/08/11 18:21
This weekend, I recognized another first for me as a dad; instead of running around Boston taking pictures of Hurricane Irene and the potential devastation, I prepared my own home for the possible damage to protect my wife and unborn child. I left the daring adventures for the dare devils.
We live right on the ocean so when the winds bear down, there is nothing to slow them down. I’m the house that slows the wind down as it enters Massachusetts. So I started by moving all the furniture from the front of the house into the backside of the house in case the windows blew out from the 80mph winds that were expected.
Then my wife and I lined the window sills and wooden floors with towels to absorb the rain that may find its way in. I went to the store and stored up three days worth of food and ice in case the electricity went out; which it just did one hour ago. I bought an extra ice chest to store the food (and beer.)
I removed all the musical instruments from the window areas and safely stored them in the upstairs bathroom. I charged all the phones, ipads, computers and weather radio.
Val and I decided to sleep downstairs in the back bedroom with smaller windows for extra safety. I took my Navajo flute and played to Valerie and our unborn child until both fell fast asleep last night. I woke up about every two hours to check the house and weather and to make sure that everyone was safe.
This morning I woke up with the sun at 6am and saw that the seas were rough and the boats outside the window were being tossed on the ocean like Tommy the Tugboat about a drunken night out with the boys. But they held on to their moorings for dear life.
After making the family a breakfast of pancakes, I grabbed my camera and went out to survey the damage to the neighborhood. Two 150-year old trees decided to call it quits as they fell to their knees across Crabtree Road and yanked down the powerlines with it. Other powerlines had blown over in the massive winds and were dangling like puppets as the other powerlines prevented them from falling to their death on the causeway into Wallaston Beach.
After seeing the damage, I decided I’d better get back to the house in case more trees stranded me from returning, leaving my pregnant wife alone in the house. As we only have 4 weeks left until the baby’s born, I didn’t want to chance that she might go into early labor while I’m out taking photos and assessing the damage.
I decided to drive by Orchard Beach to make sure our dinghy had held tight to its mooring and was pleased to see “Diddly I” bouncing furiously on its mooring. Kind of reminded me of our little Bean tossing inside of my wife these days. That little guy is ready to come out. And in no time, he’ll be in this world.
Hurricane Irene has been downgraded to a tropical storm now and while the wind is still blowing, it appears we dodged a bullet here. And I can return all the furniture to its places, the musical instruments can leave the bathtub, and our family can go back to its usual activities. However unusual they may be these days as we prepare for the coming of Bean, our first son.
MY BROTHER IS GOING TO BE AN UNCLE
16/03/11 09:35
My brother is a former United States Marine. He’s a father of four and is one year younger than me. I had flown into Austin for an interactive conference and was trying desperately to see him before I flew out. Hell, I had some news to tell him. For years he kept asking, ‘When am I going to be an uncle? It would have been a pain in the ass to hear anyone else asking that question except from my bother, Michael. Finally, my wife and I met him at Whataburger for lunch. He showed us a picture of a sick red leather couch he just bought. I matched it by whipping out the dang sonogram of his nephew (or niece, not sure yet). He looked at us like we had just told him we’d won the lottery. His eyes got a little watery and I would have sworn he liked the sonogram better than his brand new sofa. I offered to help him get the sofa into the house if he’d help me get the baby out. That’s where he drew the line.