Southern comfort

Aunt K and Uncle A traveled from Arkansas to visit us this past week. This picture pretty much sums up how lucky we are to have love in the family. See you guys again soon!

Music man

I'm feeling good about the progress I've made as of late. You readers don't have much to listen to yet, but I hope you stay tuned. I've got a few songs I'm working on that should filter through to the cloud soon. Until then, my eyes and ears are in composition mode.

I Leave With You

I finally figured out a good way to post songs to my blog. This is a song I wrote and recorded over the past few days. It's based on text from John 14:27. Protected by copyright.


Peace I leave with you is what he said / Your feet and your mind may wander far / But grounded, your soul lives / Feeding on the life I give / Peace I give to you / Your broken heart is aching, all alone / Fear has taken over, called it home / But let your heart now bleed / Pulsing life he gave, you need / And let love mend your worry now / But let your focus go unclear / If only for a moment, dear / And let His peace align the lenses of your mind / Peace I leave with you is what he says / Leave with me your broken heart and your hurt / The path has been made clean / Close your eyes and start to see / I will lead you on / Peace I leave with you

Fire safety

My son has this fixation with fire safety. It's funny how kids latch onto the strangest ideas or objects or beliefs. I think his class talked about fire safety in preschool, and then we took a field trip to the fire station where the ideas were further engrained. In any case, he will often (randomly) ask whether such and such a place has smoke detectors, and he used to reassure himself that "they won't make a beep" (because the sound frightens him, of course), and I would affirm his self-assurance.

Now he's not concerned as much that they'll make noise, but I think he's starting to believe they cause smoke or fire! I guess it's time for dad and son to take apart one of the old ones to see how it works!

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.

Chalk

The $0.97 chalk we purchased is so lightweight that it only lasts a few words before wearing down to your fingertips. I guess you have to spend the extra money for the good stuff. Good thing we bought the big box.

We've had the best weather this week, and the kids have been outside every night...and have gotten to stay up a little later than normal. It's what summer is all about, and our kids are living it. Margo (out of frame) gravitates toward blowing bubbles and riding her bike. Miles likes to spell words and draw roads. Em and I just enjoy the sight of two happy kids playing on a warm summer evening.

Minnehaha Falls

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.

Plugged in

One of the best things to happen so far in 2012 is that my friend C and I were able to perform a 35 minute set at a coffeehouse. He and I don't often get to sing or perform together (time and distance being the limiting factors), but we managed to put in more time rehearsing and preparing for the coffeehouse event over the past four weeks than we probably have in 5 years. It was really great and re-ignited the fire of music writing and recording. We made a goal for ourselves to get together once a month to continue collaborating on new ideas. I almost forgot what a rush it is to prepare and finally perform for an audience...it's really the culmination of a lot of hard work for a musician. And it went really well.

While no one is watching

Happy Birthday, Miles. Keep on playing and singing as if no one is watching you. You're doing great! ~Dad

The wait is over

Santa has made the rounds. The surprises have been revealed. The gift wrap and bows and ribbon cover the floor. Family has come and gone. And the story has been told again, of a baby born long ago to nothing, but who would become something to so many. Here's to remembering that each of us matters.

December

The month has nearly disappeared leaving only memories of many events and just three full days of 2011. My sprained wrist turned out to be a broken hand. I played and sang for a candlelight memorial service. I played and sang for a wedding. I helped photograph that same wedding. I played for another candlelight service. We ordered 8 pizzas and had many guests over to celebrate Margo's 2nd Birthday. We traveled to my parents house for Christmas Eve. Back home for Christmas Day. We are now hosting Emily's sister and family to celebrate Miles' Birthday as well as a belated Christmas for her side of the family.

My stay-at-home-dad days are over, at least for the foreseeable future, as I return to the grind of human resources on January 3. We shall see what the year 2012 brings...

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

Damn that snow!

Addendum to previous post.

What was that I just wrote about pulling the kids around in the sled on our snow covered lawn? Not one hour after I wrote that piece I'm out pulling the kids on a sled through said "deep snow." As I grab the rope, I start to run, backwards now so I can watch Margo's delight as I pull her thirty pounds effortlessly across the snow. Perhaps too effortlessly. My backwards plod in new Sorel boots were no match for the cold iron ring of the fire pit, hidden by a layer of freshly fallen snow. Aside from dumbfounded kids getting their first lesson in fallibility, what was I left with? A torn glove, a few lacerations, a badly sprained hand and wrist, and a good reminder to check one's blind spot.

Let it snow

After two seasons wearing tennis shoes and Gore-Tex lined hiking boots, I finally re-established myself as a Minnesotan and purchased a pair of classic Sorel snow boots. After enduring the pounding snowstorm and well-below-zero temperatures of last winter, I am now as prepared as I should have been. Additionally, I anticipate logging more hours trudging through deep snow while pulling a sled carrying Miles and Margo. No more frozen ankles!

Same as it ever was

Tradition is a curious thing yet not surprising if you believe we are creatures of habit. Holidays overflow with tradition from the set-up (tree up, then lights) to execution (dad turns on Christmas music, everyone sits down around the tree) to tear-down (wrap the lights, fold the tree, promise yourself next year you'll start shopping sooner).

It's always fascinated me how many traditions appear to be practiced and repeated just because that's how they've always been done. The danger there is that the rituals that make up traditions can lose meaning, and in some cases, be more of a burden than an enjoyment (when everyone knows it and no one says anything!). On the other hand, I sure have fond memories of traditions that I so anticipated each year at Christmastime. The childhood anticipation of Christmas was truly a magical time, and I hope some of the traditions Emily and I enjoyed growing up can be shared with our kids to make the time of waiting magical for them, too.

As with anything, it's important to strike a balance. Tradition is good when it brings about a true source of joy in bringing family and friends together, but you shouldn't be afraid to break it. Just as your mind--not a memento or keepsake or photograph--holds a memory, kindred spirits--not a ritual or time or place--make a family.

Timing

Don't blame the boy. This one was my idea. :)

Tradition

Somewhere in my brain a screw is loose. For the past few years on the day of winter's first snowfall my mind pulls me outside to go for a run, partly out of guilt that I haven't run all summer (I prefer cycling) but mostly out of the need to assure myself I can survive it. This year it wasn't terribly cold, but cold enough to create an icy path. The wind was also blowing hard, driving the falling ice into my eyeballs while I ran north.

I generally run at night--or in this case, snowfall--so that my slow pace and poor form are hidden from public view. For some reason I find it easier to run in the winter, despite having to wear hat, gloves, gator and many layers of clothing. My real problem with running is that I'm not consistent yet feel like I should be able to go farther and faster. And each year on the first run I end up running farther than I probably should for a first run. My wife, a fantastic runner, rightfully rolls her eyes.

But...what really "brings me back" each winter is how good it feels when I'm done. Coming in from outside, warming up, stretching and waiting for the satisfying muscle ache of a surviving yet another first winter run.

Parallels

Busy week

This photograph breaks a number of rules of "good" photography (exposing for the main subject, shooting faces instead of backs-of-heads, leaving room for your subject to go), but it gives a pretty accurate representation of our typical morning walk. We walk together on the neighborhood streets where cars and school buses and garbage trucks rumble by, and when we arrive at the trail head all is fair game. It's time to run ahead, free from the bonds of hand-holding and strollers.

It has been another busy week. We visited a new library on Monday. Papa Harry rode his bike to our house Tuesday and stayed the night. Nannie Lynn came Wednesday to play and help. Wednesday night we brought our car to Uncle Scot's shop for repair. We brought Emily to the bus station this morning to catch a ride to downtown Minneapolis for some work training. Miles has preschool tonight. Papa Mike will join us Friday for some adventure. Saturday on the calendar is an empty square. Thank goodness.

Minority

I brought Miles and Margo to our second ECFE event at the library and once again found myself in the minority. Although the three of us (one other dad and a grandpa) likely cramped the style of the "mob of moms" style, I'd like to think our masculine minds helped balance the energy of the room! Good stories and good projects..and good price: free.

Versions

"Do you ever feel you've become the worst version of yourself?" ~Joe Fox in You've Got Mail

I'm struck by the relevance of this question and often ask this of myself after a moment of weakness or failure. Whether you're maintaining a relationship with a significant other or developing a relationship with your kids, being self-aware of your best and worst is humbling, but also empowering. When you look at your versions--the combination of your attitude, decisions and behaviors in a given day--and ask yourself which version your wife/husband, boyfriend/girlfriend, dad/mom, son/daughter sees most, it can give you a good indication of whether you're giving enough of the best of yourself. If the answer is "usually the crabby version," it's really no wonder that spouses develop resentment and kids take on bad habits.

"Know thyself," said Socrates. These two words are timelessly significant for anyone trying to make a go of just about anything. Who are you today?

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.

Talking

One of the unexpected side-effects of watching the kids all day, every day is the strain on my voice. I talk far more than I ever did while I was working full-time. Miles is a constant question machine and, not wanting to ignore him, I spend a lot of time explaining why something is. It's a good refresher of mathematics when he asks me what "half of something" is...and of chemistry when he asks why steam comes from ice (can YOU explain that?). Margo is more of a noise machine than a question machine, and while her utterences don't require as many responses, I include her in our conversations. Add to those conversations many storybooks, commands and my own questions of them and I feel like I am talking non-stop.

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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