Leaps and boundaries

We attended a retirement celebration for my uncle at the local Moose Lodge. While the bar didn't have much to offer the younger guests, the attached reception hall saw some use.

Without a care

She tried and tried again to get the bubbles to appear. I love moments like this when she doesn't even know I'm near her, watching her, releasing the shutter behind her. I watched for probably 10 minutes while she dipped the bubble wand into the soapy mixture and remained content in the simply persisting.

Going places

We dropped Miles off at the airport yesterday, where he flew off to another 'first' adventure: Vacation Bible School.

This was exciting for me, not only because I know he'll have a great time and meet some new friends, but because had the great pleasure in helping to produce and record the music to be used in the vacation bible school program this year. Miles has been listening to the music at home for several weeks, so I'm guessing he'll know it as well as anyone else!

The return of bare feet

Gone is the frosted ground. Now is the time for dirt between our toes and sand in the bathtub.

Day thirty-eight

I'm well into my second month away from work and just starting week 5 with the kids. I can hardly tell you where October went, but I can tell you that it was wonderful.

The kids made a candy-killing at Halloween, zig-zagging the streets of our neighborhood, running door to door to Trick-or-Treat their way to sugared chocolate bliss. Miles and Margo proudly donned their costumes several times before October 31, showing them off to visitors and grandparents whenever they could. On the evening of Halloween, Miles knew the drill well, having rehearsed his lines many times. Margo trailed along slowly and prospered just fine on cuteness, without having to say a word. I'm curious to know how many seasons our home-made candy bags will last. I'm sure they'll hold up just fine to time, but will be forgotten and passed over once the allure of fake plastic pumpkin buckets draws them in. And should plastic pumpkins fail to attract them, surely adolescence will render grocery bag trick-or-treat containers grossly out of style.

Autumn in Minnesota has been very kind to us this year, and I am thankful to have gotten to enjoy much of it. The wind blew hard and cool yesterday, reminding us that Old Man Winter is packing his bags for his five month visit to our part of the world. Em and I will be outside in the yard again soon, cutting down and trimming back much of what flourished over the spring and summer months. Most of them will lie dormant over the winter months, frozen to the earth, hidden beneath a sheets of ice and blankets of snow...but very much alive and ready to thrive again next year. We will be together inside, ever thankful for a warm home, loving family and faithful friends.

Last call for fall

Children are great at noticing the things that matter. Our morning walk usually produces souvenirs of pretty leaves or strange sticks that end up on the kitchen counter or bedroom dressers. Today there was a worm, brought to the surface by an early morning rain, squirming along the asphalt path towards the grass. Worms are as brown and unattractive as you can get, but both kids noticed it and just had to watch it and ask why it was doing what it was doing.

In this season we trample over thousands of leaves that have fallen from the mothertree, and I have to wonder what makes one stand out from another. You ask a grown-up to go outside and get a red leaf. He'll probably grab one of the first ones he sees. You as the same of a child, he'll walk and walk and walk and walk until...this one!

May you notice the differences in the sames.

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The boys

Their visions are grand. Engineer a modern parking lot to accommodate race cars, planes, trains, and helicopters. Their plans are limited only by the number of vehicles and hours until lunchtime. It's great to be a boy!

That was the year

This picture reminds me of trails left by jets flying high in the sky, where vapors are sharp and crisp right behind the engines and gradually blur and fade as they linger about in the blue sky.

I've always told friends and family that I am and forever will be amazed by the apparent quickening of time as I get older. The logical part of me understands that a week is a week and a year is a year and the elapsed time, by a clock, doesn't change. But the perception of time changes dramatically. I vividly remember how in the single digit and teen years of my life the school year seemed wonderfully, sometimes dreadfully, long. The early years are far more distinct and momentous than nearly any given year past the age of 20. We could say, "That was the year we went to Disney Land" or "That was the year we got dog."

The later years seem to blur together, and I'm sure it's because change slows. Unless you're a teacher or some other lucky professional, the calendar is 12 months long (instead of nine months separated by three month segments of freedom) and a week in June might as well be a week in January. This has become known to many as the "daily grind." Another day, another dollar. Working for the weekend.

In our society of progression where a step in reverse is capitalized upon by someone else, it's counter-intuitive to value simpler times and slower development. One of my favorite things about having kids is that you get to go backwards occasionally. To some extent I think parents do live out their ambitions through their kids, not because they didn't follow their own dreams and have all sorts of regret, but because there must be a value unconsciously placed on the experience of innocence and simplicity and the joy of learning. Slowly, yet steadily. Measured, yet distinct.

2011: That was the year we installed a new kitchen faucet. That was the year Margo started throwing her food on the floor. That was the year Miles got his first bike. That was the year our family focused on the present.

On a magic childhood ride

I vividly remember life as a child being really magical at times. In a more literal example, I remember the sense of wonder magic and fantasy I felt when my family visited the Orlando theme parks in the early nineties and how I felt so free "riding" the bicycle on the E.T. ride at Universal Studios. Even more pronounced are my fond memories of the anticipation of Christmas. I'm sure others share the sentiment of innocence and excitement in childhood while waiting annual traditions to unfold.

Sometimes I resent how, in the move from childhood to adulthood, our calendar shifts from "school-and-summer," responsibility-and-freedom...to fiscal years and quarters and months that just repeat without much change. My friend C and I often talk about how time moves more quickly the older we get, and it's pretty easy to understand why: Where childhood presents extraordinary growth and milestones each and every year, adulthood tends to chug along and finds us asking ourselves, "What year is it? How old am I?" (It's hard to keep track after 21).

Not to go down the path of re-living our dreams through our children, but I do sense some of the magic coming back. Our son is three and I think this year started to understand what Christmas represents--the sacred and the secular--and it was delightful to experience his anticipation with him. Our daughter is one and, with her beautiful brown eyes, amazes me with her innocent wonder of each new life encounter. It gives me a calming awareness of the completeness of family. A satisfying sense of wonder and magic for the continuity of life.

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Learning

The brain of a child is like the most porous of sponges, the greatest ShamWow, absorbing and storing knowledge but never saturated. E and I often marvel at the things our kids learn, the speed at which the learning and memorizing process happens and how readily a three-year-old can access a memory. Try convincing your three year old you didn't tell him earlier in the week he could have some candy. He knows you did. And you better give it to him.

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Another case of boy versus girl

Are these expressions telling of how things will be? The boy, distressed. Concrete emotion on his sleeve. The girl, cunning. Complex emotion up her sleeve.

I'm not dead...

...just hibernating, much like many other things in Minnesota. Apologies to all (six) of my readers for not posting since early December. Winter brought with it illness at home and craziness at work that made a few months go by in a snap. But I am back "online", clearing the cobwebs and trying to remember what font I'm using and how I managed to post 600-pixel-wide photos in the last few entries.

The days are getting longer, the temperature is rising, and while I fully expect Minnesotans will get pounded with one or two final snowstorms, I can't help but marvel at the prospect of the spring activities, many of which will be shared for the first time with my son. Em and I share a fondness for cycling and are eager to wheel Miles around in a trailer behind our bikes. As a young child, I spent a fair amount of the summer seated in a trailer, rolling along behind Dad's 10-speed, waving at cars as they passed. It was such simple, practical and effective entertainment that will always be one of the most enduring memories of my own childhood--and one that I hope I can pass along to the next generation.