Find Your Bliss

Dear J-

I woke up early enough but managed to hit the snooze button just right (or somehow reflexively used it just enough) to make me a whole hour later where I desperately tried to get out the door fast enough but not before gettting caught by figgy who told me she had to go potty and change her pajamas this made me just late enough to discard any serious notion of riding the bike (which.needs repair again, anyhow — broken spoke) and so of course I kicked me feet a little in a tantrumy protest instead for a few minutes. The pint is that uultimately if I just got up when the alarm sounds I’d have no problem with additional wrinkles to the schedule and that’s my goal (along with getting enough sleep for once) for now.

Years of bad sleeping habits have meant that I’m wholly reliant on naps in the vanpool and elaborate preparations (making lunch the night before, laying things out so I don’t have to fumble in the dark for clothes and wallet) in order to broadcast the responsible punctual adult image. It feels like a sham, though; I catch myself saying “when I grow up …” at least four times a day and I suppose at this age, thirty-six and change, it’s time to put that away. I tell myself that the lessons are not always the ones I overtly sit down and teach figgy and Calcifer, but that they’re sponges who watch what you do and how it’s done and then strive to do it to the best of their abilities. The unspoken lessons by example are the ones I have to watch most.

Someimes I wonder what life would be like without kids but not often; that’s always been in the back of my mind ever since I was twelve or so and heard that my cousin was on the way; hard to believe that she’s twenty-four now and off to grad school; hard to reconcile the adult with the child I remember and I suspect that part of me will always think of figgy and Calcifer as the same too. I wonder what we used to do with all the time we had, I wonder if the these lessons are sticking, I wonder what we’d do without us. It takes me a minute to get calm again but the exercise is worth it: I’ll find peace.

Mike

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Evolved Schedule

Dear J-

Apologies for yesterday; I don’t mean to drag you into the middle of any financial drama. For almost a year now theVet has been theMom full-time, as the clinic she was working in has acquired a new veterinarian and there’s been nothing more than a couple of days fill-in work here and there since before Calcifer arrived. That’s okay. I understand it may make me sound like some sort of horrible chauvinist but I keep telling her it’s okay not to work as long as she has the patience for it. It’s okay to not work and still put Calcifer in daycare a couple of days a week to take care of cleaning and errands. We can handle it. Schedules evolve and adapt as we need them.

Just before figgy was born theVet was gainfully unemployed and she went back to work part-time when figgy was three months old, Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. I was able to shift my schedule to work Sunday through Thursday so that we only had one day to fill with day care, although that gradually gave way to more days as she got older and was able to drink from a sippy cup. And now we’re in the situation of having two kids in daycare and coordinating that hasn’t always been the simplest logistical issue, especially as they’re in different daycare sites. On the other hand our schedule has the opportunity to evolve some more.

If it means picking up extra hours at work to pay for it so be it. The notion of what we need versus what we make is odd: no matter what you earn, there always seems to be more that needs to be paid. Expenses track income pretty tightly. So instead of buying a whole bunch of books from Amazon and running out of places to put them I’ve been going to the library. We have more than enough to make us comfortable, and indeed, our Internet became more valuable than our TV so we let the paid subscription lapse, along with the newspaper and most of the magazines. We are not the envy of the world but we don’t need to be. We have each other as a family and whatever maximizes that happiness works best for me.

Mike

Car Talk

Dear J-

I remember when my parents traded in their old Cougar in 1980. It was eleven years old at that point and pretty tired, 351 Windsor backed up by an automatic transmission somehow making it through the gas crises of the 70s but finally falling victim to the desire for more cargo space. It was supplanted by an Oldsmobile Cutlass wagon whose rear windows didn’t roll down: that was considered either unsafe for children or lazy on the part of the designers. On the other hand the cargo space was measured to make sure that my brother and I could lie down side-by-side to sleep so safety may not have been the paramount concern.

I imagine my dad had a bit of an obsession since going to Yellowstone the year before with his uncle. We rode in the Cougar crammed full and riding on a plywood board converting the back seat into a seatbelt-less playpen while my grand-uncle drove his kids majestically in a new Olds Ninety-Eight wagon complete with nausea rear-facing 3rd-row seat (unfolded to my amazement and constant wonder) and power windows, heck, power-everything. The Cougar left us stranded once in Spokane (outside of R&R in fact) and that must have sealed its fate. Hubcaps missing and headlight covers somewhat askew (we never killed any cats but they were always tempted by warm spaces under the hood) we rolled into Barton Oldsmobile looking for our next ride.

The first Camry followed in quick succession and later cars for the family we imported from China: a Citation for my uncle and aunt, an Escort for my cousin, a cargo van for the store which we spent hours insulating and upgrading in the driveway — I was young enough to not have much homework and fascinated by tools and the promise of change too, at the conjunction of child and sullen pre-teen that velcros themselves to the nearest parental adult and believes they can do no wrong. I think about my fourteen-year-old Subaru and wonder if I should get something new when it still runs fine and economically and wonder if figgy would miss it like I do the Cougar sometimes.

Mike

Mid Week

Dear J-

When I worked for Worldcom (in those days MCI Worldcom; does anyone remember Microwave Communications International today?) our presence in Sacramento was split into three distinct locations: White Rock in Rancho Cordova, our office at Creekside Oaks, and the terminal close to West Sac. What struck me was the families you’d see — husbands and wives, sisters and brothers — working around those three places, the casual way you’d let slip that so-and-so was your husband out at the terminal or that your new manager was his sister coming from the tech center. Not unusual and actually encouraged — they offered a recruitment bonus to employees who got employees on board and who better than your unemployed, lazy brother who might otherwise be a productive member of society?

There’s the same feeling where I am now in that there is what seems like some long-running soap opera of whole families being forged out of long hours at work and after work. You have to remember that we have a large contingent of 20+ year veterans of original construction on site and given that you spend nearly half your waking life at work it’s only natural to assume that you’d be getting to know those folks. People come and go but you end up seeing the same faces over and over again, whether separated by weeks or years, it seems once you’re part of the family it feels like the Family — in the Mob sense. Together they comprise a good chunk of the last twelve years of my life — my entire working life — and I’m sure that’s shaped me in ways I can’t begin to suspect.

If I had gone to work for smaller companies or myself I’m sure I wouldn’t be where I am today — the uncertainty would be killing me and the security of the big company has been quite helpful though stifling. I wouldn’t have learned the lessons of loyalty and family I saw — I see — in my waking life. If I stayed the course in academia I would see the world differently just based on the people you come to meet — schools are generally filled with bright young students and I’ve not seen that everywhere I’ve gone, for good and bad (academic engineering demands you understand why the solution works, while practical engineering emphasizes repeatability and effort). It has been as great an education as I could find everywhere and I’m grateful to have had the chances I have had.

Mike

Kid Center

Dear J-

Sometimes I think in a morbid mode and wonder what would happen to the kids if we disappeared tomorrow. The whole point of this trip to San Jose was to see my brother, back in the States after just short of two years in Taiwan, and we’ve had a good couple of days now to see he’s essentially the same devoted dad, happy to escape the regular grind of life but clearly missing them, having taken every opportunity possible to hold Calcifer and take the burden off of us. I think we’re set between my brother and theVet’s sister, and that makes us incredibly lucky. After today when figgy has been just about as trying as possible (between the extra sadness of hunger, the lack of sleep, and the lack of a same-age playmate to boss around [can’t wait for another visit from Baby J]) and they haven’t been scared off (I think) I think we’re doing all right.

Case in point: we ate two lunches today. The first one was at the Happy Hollow Zoo to revive her flagging spirits (she passed up a chance to ride on the carousel, and she never misses a chance to ride on the carousel — she will even badger us (as she did later that afternoon) to ride on the quarter-driven three-animal carousels in malls and grocery stores) and the second turned into a dessert buffet for her. After I went off to get her some watermelon and returned with a plate full of the most expensive buffet food I could find (nigiri sushi: total net cost to the restarant maybe $5) she plowed through that and her aunt, my brother’s wife, took pity on me and accompanied her to get a plate of coordinated pink jello and cakes.

The longer you spend immersed in your own family it seems like you know too much and too little all at once: the smallest things set you off without warning and the escalation proceeds unabated, unchecked. It’s not the current situation that’s driving you mad, it’s the thousand other things that have piled up over hours and days and all of a sudden it’s not about the situation, it’s the history spilling out. Sometimes the shared experiences keep you from really understanding each other. It takes time and distance to appreciate what you’ve always had.

Mike

Road Work

Dear J-

Although I typically spend much of the year in shorts and therefore am never at a loss for what to wear* theVet sometimes despairs of my choices with a kind of resigned sigh because compared with me she actually cares about such things as coordinating colors and matching, say, belt to shoes. Although I’m now a hopeless case and my appearance should not be considered an indictment of her efforts, she does freely edit what I’ve chosen for figgy (I suspect she actually buys clothes that are unable to be mis-coordinated — they can all match) because I don’t seem to have been born with a keen sense of color.

My favorite part of the trip north is passing through the San Luis Reservoir on California Highway 152. After coming out of the Grapevine you go through a hundred plus miles of flat flat flat land; once you hop off Interstate 5 onto CA-152 you go through hills and water that puts me in mind of the Europe I know from movies and pictures: lush peaks kissing a cloud-filled sky, winding road to delight and thrill in equal measures. I sometimes wonder if I should take this section to drive myself, as reward for slogging through the long dry straight, or turn it over as I get a chance to take pictures instead. One glance over at theVet is enough to tell me I made the right choice (no matter the choice — we have made both choices at different times).

We make for decent traveling companions when not stressed out by schedule or angry kids (they are at the moment asleep and therefore perfect), pointing out sights and spouting off obscure trivia in playful banter. The longer we spend tracing the routes laid out by the wise traffic planners I’m convinced I’m the luckiest guy in the world, surrounded by people I love and who love me enough to point out what I could be doing better and incredibly happy to do those thousand small courtesies that seem to come more naturally now than ever. The settings change and the pictures too: I could have sworn that college was five years away, not fifteen, but the feelings are constant.

Mike

* The sartorial program is absurdly simple:
If (going to work today)
  Then (khakis and polo shirt) and (stuff I didn’t wear yesterday)
Elseif (penguins show up outside)
  Then (jeans and t-shirt)
Else (shorts and t-shirt) and (sniff shirt to ensure acceptable)

Real Connections

Dear J-

I’m hoping that the early drizzle isn’t indicative of what we can expect this week. Actually, scratch that — the longer we’ve been without some rain means the more pollen’s been in the air and I’ve about had it with that stuff all over everything. Playoff seasons are in swing and that means that if it wasn’t for the annual spring misery induced by various pollens I’d be ecstatic over the steady flow of news from all corners. The primary advantage of the smartphone is getting information pushed down the pipe* my way although it does lead to the kind of distracted-dad syndrome that everyone notices but me.

I want to be the best father which often means being just like my dad, and one of the lessons I learned is that your time is better spent with the kids keeping them engaged instead of pursuing your own needs at the moment. And it’s tempting with facebook on your hip or emails that you just gotta send off to attend to those needs first, the worries of the ever-connected seem to come first, win place AND show. Last night I was convinced the stupid phone wasn’t working so I called in to tech support to ask what was wrong — I learned that the network had gone down instead and I was cut off everywhere I couldn’t get a Wi-Fi signal. So naturally I panicked beyond reason and took out a short temper on the short people around me, this after the day before plunking a movie in and going off to do something else**.

I know what I need to do at any given moment but that doesn’t stop me from turtling in and doing something selfish instead, and then whining like an overpriveleged idiot when I get caught at it. The tools of distraction aren’t meant to be replacements for human interaction but that’s just what we end up using them for sometimes. The way the weekends slide by so quickly you’d think I’d take every opportunity to be there for them but my mind must think of myself as the lone wolf at 19, convinced of the glory and struggle alone and treading water far from home. In truth home is where you make it, and where you choose to be with the people you want to be around. So does that mean hanging up and unplugging?

Mike

* The internet is a series of tubes, after all. And instead of firng up a browser for WHL news I can subscribe to a Kamloops journalist’s blog (Taking Note with Gregg Drinnan, some of the best writing anywhere) to read articles on, say, the mess with the soon-to-be ex-Chiliwack Bruins in addition to scores and recaps. I’ve built my own newspaper and it already feels like 2025.

** Rule of thumb: if the movie doesn’t have a princess, whatever you are trying to distract figgy from is far more irresistibly attractive than the show.

Organizing the Chaos

Dear J-

One of the other nice things about this trip is that, because I traveled on a Sunday, I get tomorrow off. Thus instead of having to brave the traditional Sunday tourist crowds at the places we haunt we could choose to do so tomorrow instead if we want. Today we went to IKEA instead of the usual Zoo or Sea World so I spent part of the afternoon assembling flat-packed furniture while my little figgy assistant ran back and forth grabbing fasteners and pieces on command.

It’s remarkable where she has come from — we used to have to wait for her to nap before attempting to put things together so she wouldn’t get mashed by the odd slab of wood — to today when she was a willing participant in organizing her room, dumping all the toys that had lived on the floor for weeks into appropriately-sized bins and bringing them over as the frame took shape. It all made for a fast hour and a much improved room.

Life is sometimes about taking advantage of the opportunities that come your way. I spend a week away from home and get an extra day back from last week. And right now I can’t think of a better way to spend it than amidst our own domestic splendor.

Mike

T-Day Visit

Dear J-

My folks are visiting tonight as part of the parade of faces for Calcifer to enjoy; he has given them the same steady regard he has given everyone else so far, gazing past or through them but starting to bring the world into focus.  When he does gain some focus on them I wonder if he’ll see them (or us) as I do:  well-meaning, even-handed, occasionally exasperating, and tinged with a bit of guilt.

I am a disappointing son in several different ways, preferring to hold my family at arms-length and providing contact in sporadic, as-needed fashion.  I was also a demanding one growing up:  things needed to be my way, now, and in no uncertain terms, lest they receive the dreaded sulking lip.  Even today I’m not the most steady personality, blowing up at the slightest provocation in inconsistent fashion — it’s like living with a bomb, which has the rest of the family counseling patience.

At times I wonder why anyone would choose to live with me, which is the real source of my holiday blues:  reflections on the person I am, not who I want to be.  But of course there’s nothing worse than self-pity, unless it’s despair that self-pity is all you can muster for a full day with more to look forward to tomorrow:  what plans, what frustrations lie to be conquered (and which should just be ignored — work being first amongst those).  Instead of ruminating on the regrets of today, think about what you can do to make tomorrow better.

Mike

Cold Shoulder

Dear J-

The weather has turned cold (for San Diego, which means that shorts are now uncomfortable) and so naturally when theVet’s family comes visiting today we end up barbecuing in the brief period between storms.  There’s nothing quite like Korean short ribs (galbi) on charcoal — we could have cooked inside, but the weather and timing matched up quite nicely with the opportunity presented.  Afterwards we took the two older kids out on a brief walk, cut short by the rain starting up again and curtailing any hope of going out.

At one point we’ve got all three kids clustered on the floor, Calcifer wrapped up as newborns are like a burrito:  inert, quiescent, and calmly taking us all in by turns.  He’s a watcher, which is how I’ve lived my life, observing and acting, which has led to some impressively prescient moments, but also a lot of frustrating indecision and ineffective inaction.  Of course, we are talking about a three-day-old person, so let’s not jump to hasty conclusions.

figgy continues to demonstrate (at great length and volume) how much we need her and what she provides to the family, often keeping us simultaneously entertained and frustrated.  I’d forgotten that she hadn’t had a nap today and found myself incredulously regarding a seeming demon of activity, running around at warp speed all day, fueled by a few bites of pasta and a sliver of beef and wired to be wild with her cousin, bouncing around the house until sleep overtook her like a sledgehammer.  Life is great, and I know I’ll regret saying it, but two hasn’t been impossibly difficult.

Mike