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Big Monday

Monday 22 July 2019

The first order of the day: get the front end alignment done on the Paddy Wagon (or minivan as others might call it). The Boy, learning that I was going to take the car and ride my bike back, insisted on going with me.

Second, later in the day, a playdate with D, his best friend in kindergarten who changed schools for first grade. D's mother, R, was a Spanish teacher at my school, and it just so happened that our boys were in the same class, and it just so happened that they became great friends, independent of any intervention from parents. The playdate included almost everything the Boy loves, namely Legos and swimming.

Later, eat an enormous dinner: salmon, potatoes, and one of his absolute favorites, asparagus. (How many seven-year-olds love asparagus, mushrooms, and blood sausage?)

Finally, after a little rest to let the food settle, go on a seven-mile bike ride.

Any wonder he went to sleep almost immediately?

First, Last, Only — Tired

Saturday 08 August 2015

The real challenge in trying to live each day as if it were the one day you chose to return to and relive — in other words, to live each day as if it were your first, last, and only day on Earth — is how utterly tiring it is. If you wake up and say to yourself, “I’m going to live today like it’s the only day of my existence,” you’re going to want to try to squeeze every drop of life out of every single moment. You’re not going to want to waste time sitting around, doing nothing.

When you go to the pool with your family, for example, you’re not going to sit in a deck chair, slowly drifting into near-sleep, with the only thing really stopping you being the fact that you have contact lenses in. You’re not going to sit on the side of the pool watching your family have a good time.

You’re going to get in and swim, like E did today. Even though he was exhausted. Even though he’d had no nap and so was incredibly exhausted.

It’s not that you’d live that day always on the go, but it seems like quiet moments of the day would be at the very least contemplative and not sleepy.

And you certainly wouldn’t waste any part of precious final evening watching some silly show from the History Channel about the supposed evidence that ancient civilizations created all their glorious monuments with the aid of extraterrestrial assistance. Sure, you might have the thought when you see the show on Netflix, “Hum, I wonder if they’ve tightened up that little theory since von Daniken popularized the theory in the early seventies with books like Chariots of the Gods?,” and you might be tempted to watch it to see if von Daniken himself makes an appearance (he doesn’t). But you wouldn’t actually watch it

But since it’s not my first, last, and only day on Earth, I do get another shot at it tomorrow.

The Battle

Friday 12 June 2015

With K's and the kids' departure to Poland nearing, we're spending as much time as possible at the pool. With L's swimming lessons -- and we were informed that it's time for her to move to the advanced group next time -- that meant that she was hitting the pool twice a day some days. And yet in spite of all this, getting out is the toughest part.

For the Girl, it's simple: she just doesn't want to get it. It's rare that she's the one who initiates the "when are we leaving" conversation. Usually, she seems willing to stay and stay and stay. And that translates to excessive lingering in the pool.

For the Boy, it's a whole other story: the towel is the challenge.

First Day at the Pool

Sunday 08 June 2014

Saturday at the Pool

Saturday 03 August 2013

Our first day at the pool this year as a family, but alas, the Boy, still recovering from some upper respitory infection, cannot get into the water.

Instead, he stays with Nana and Papa, forever pointing to the pool, forever needing distracting. It's so unfair, so inexplicable: everyone else takes turns in the water, and the poor Boy is stuck.

For the Girl, it's a continuation from last year: more development, more courage -- diving, diving, forever diving. With a new set of flippers, she's able to get deeper faster.

"But Tata, it hurts my ears to go that deep."

She also adds a new trick or two, like diving into the water through the ring.

"Perhaps I could try that," I suggest.

"I've got to get the camera for that," K replies.

"I didn't think you'd make it," she replies with a smile.

Views from the Pool

Saturday 03 August 2013

-ing in the Rain

Sunday 09 June 2013

Lately, Sundays and rain go together with us like any cliche classic pairing. A few weeks ago, during a friend's first communion, rain all day. Last week, when we were planning on having E's birthday party, rain through most of the day. Today, when we planned to go to the pool -- to squeeze in a visit before L and I head off to Polska -- rain through most of the day.

The forecast: scattered showers.

The reality: endless rain. But the Boy had fun running in the rain (the little bit we let him); the girls had fun chanting "Sun! Sun! Sun! Sun!" in an endless attempt to stop the rain; and we got some more rain.

Heaven knows we need it.

Flying and Dancing

Monday 03 September 2012

They’re not sisters, but they often act like they are, and occasionally they look like it, as well.

Of the three of them, L and T are certainly the most similar. Full of energy, always on the move, ever chattering, constantly seeking some kind of little bit of excitement.

L is a little weary to try something new until she sees someone else do it — like leaping from someone’s shoulders as they explode (as much as my tired legs can make them explode)Â from the water. She leaps prematurely at first.

Then, after watching T do it a few more times, she gets the hang of it. Timing the jump is critical, and she flies into the air so high that I suddenly worry that perhaps it’s too high. Sure enough, it’s a touch too high once, and she lands on her belly — her first belly flop, and she comes up howling.

Soon enough, though, it’s all giggles and laughs again.

And as suddenly as it started, it stops, as a heavy, sudden shower chases from the pool. But why? There’s no thunder, no threat. The youngest girls, realizing this, understand the implication.

“We can play in the rain!”

Why not? They’ll learn to see the rain as inconvenient soon enough.

A Nearly-Perfect Saturday

Saturday 01 September 2012

The Boy was merciful to us — kind, even — this morning, willing to trade another hour’s or so sleep for a spot in our bed. L, too, enjoyed a pleasantly late morning, so the sun was bright by the time I was grinding coffee and K giving the Boy his breakfast.

With a start like that, what else is left to do to make the perfect morning but go for a walk. The Girl picked out a dress –Â always a dress — and the three of us took off, leaving K behind to have some ever-rare alone time. “She’ll probably just spend it doing chores,” I thought as we strolled down the driveway and onto our quiet street, but then I recalled how some chores give K a certain domestic peace. It must be the Polish blood.

Our route took us by the once-proud, neglected home in our neighborhood that once set itself as the envy of all. The brick work around the place alone cost a fortune, and the addition brought the square footage probably over 4k mark. Now its brick privacy walls, overgrown with everything imaginable, are crumbling and yellow “Condemned” stickers decorate the doors like sad wreaths.

I walk by this house often. It gives me a bit of comfort. Something of a nemesis, something of an inspiration, something of a warning, it teaches me to be content with what I have by reminding me that more stuff only amounts eventually to moreÂ dilapidation.

Today, however, it just reminded me of the amount of yard work that awaited me at home. As fall approaches and the sun lowers, the yard work always becomes more pleasant. There’s a different feel to the air, even if the temperature reaches the low 90s like today.

After I’d mowed, trimmed, carted, raked, and disposed, there was only one logical conclusion to the day: the pool.

With Nana and Papa looking after the Boy — justÂ try to tell them that’s work — the three of us flopped about in the pool.

Sometimes more deeply than I would have ever expected from our once-terrified-to-get-her-face-wet daughter.

Final Day

Thursday 09 August 2012

The final day at Lake Tillery also included a boat ride, with the girls sitting in the back singing Polish Christmas carols as the Boy slept.

The destination: “Big Bridge,” a name that sounds just like something a three- or four-year-old would name a bridge that is rather large. Sort of like Big Wolf. (He still sleeps with the Girl every night. “He keeps me calm,” she once explained.)