The Daddy Diary

Last week, I had one of the best days that I can remember. It had nothing to do with Thanksgiving or the holidays which might leave you wondering what happened to make that day so great. Even if you aren’t wondering, you are about to find out.

I went to the grocery store, and I raked the leaves.

I’m one of those weird people that enjoy going to the grocery store. I sometimes get jealous of my Instacart shopper when I’m too busy to get to the store and have to use their service. I wish I was the one squeezing the mangos, examing the bell peppers, and standing at the butcher counter like a kid peering through the glass at the ice cream shop. Even though I enjoy it, there is no activity more ordinary than going to the grocery store. I do it every week, but my enjoyment got kicked up into the stratosphere when Ella said that she wanted to go with me.

She had been to the store before, but she was too young to participate or even remember her experience. She didn’t want to ride in the cart, and she asked (Well, she’s a toddler, she demanded) that she push the cart. When she started picking things off the shelves herself, I began to think that my services might not be needed on this trip. She must have gotten my grocery-loving gene because she was asking questions about what was on each aisle, what we were going to get next, and of course, how many boxes of cookies we were going to buy. I could see the joy in her face as she would pick something off the shelf and put it in the cart. Despite her enthusiasm, her skills of edible discernment need a little work. She picked an avocado that was so mushy, it practically oozed through my fingers when I placed it in the bag. She will learn.

Also, I told her that she could pick out one box of cookies. She chose the box of vegan oatmeal raisin cookies. They were stacked between some non-vegan, or legitimate, chocolate chip cookies and snickerdoodles, but she still chose the vegan cookies. Rookie mistake. Not in this house little girl. If that’s your choice when you live on your own, that’s fine, but in this house, we eat cookies with all the milk and butter and any other animal products you can throw in the dough. So, I asked her to reconsider her choice, and like a typical toddler, she dug in on her first choice. So, we went home with vegan cookies.

I saw tons of potential in her grocery ability. She’s raw now, but with my guidance, she might be one of the greats when it’s all said and done.

As much as I enjoy grocery shopping, I’ve never had more fun in a grocery store than I had that day.

My love of grocery shopping is matched by my hatred of raking leaves. My hatred stems from the fact that the house I grew up in had a .22 acre lot and just north of 9,000 trees. Scott and I spent more time raking leaves than sleeping during the winters when we were kids. One year after Scott had gone off to college, my dad paid my friend Mark Gribble and me 25 cents for every bag of leaves that we raked. By the end of the winter, it turns out he could have taken the amount of money he paid us and purchased Ecuador instead.

I hate raking leaves even more now because, in our current house, I rake and bag about forty bags of leaves every year. And we don’t have any trees. It is the ultimate insult for a leave-raking hater. All those leaves come from my neighbor’s trees. This is why I don’t feel guilty when I’m chipping dog turds in the back yard and I accidentally launch one over the fence into their back yard. Anyone who has seen me play golf knows that act is not intentional. I have a terrible short game.

Last week, I was in my backyard raking my neighbor’s leaves and Ella came out and said she wanted to help me. She has a little toy set of garden tools that are more decorative than useful, but she grabbed her little rake, put on her gardening gloves, and went to work. And we stood side-by-side and raked. And raked. And she could not have been more excited about raking leaves. By the end of the day, she probably only raked a total of three leaves, but she helped me more than she will ever know. It was the first time in my life that I enjoyed raking the leaves. I’m finding more and more pleasure in the most mundane places as long as my girls are in those same places.

You know you are a part of something special when someone likes you so much that they want to rake leaves just to spend time with you. If you want to have the best day ever, just find someone who wants to rake leaves with you and spend the day with them.

“Who here sees themselves getting married someday?” Mine was the only hand that did not go up.  Gregg, the counselor on staff at my church, was speaking about relationships to a group of about thirty adult singles.  I was not trying to stir the pot or trying to play the cool, aloof guy, I was just being honest (ok, and maybe trying to stir the pot a little).  The fact is at that time, I honestly couldn’t see myself getting marrried and having a family.

How did that guy end up a smitten father to two little girls?  Two things brought me to fatherhood — seeing a therapist and attending my dad’s funeral.

I ended up going and seeing Gregg personally, and his first assignment in our first session was for me to write my eulogy.  I know, it sounds morbid, but the purpose is clear.  How do you want to be remembered?  If someone wrote a story about your life, what would they say?

When Michelle and I got married, we made a vow that we would never let pets or children sleep in the bed with us. Even after we got our first baby, Gus the bulldog, we held that vow. For eight days. All it took was one thunderstorm for our little ball of fur to whimper at the bedside asking to join us. Mommy wasn’t going to let her baby sit by himself in fear. And that started the pattern of Gus sleeping with us every night.

Here’s a fun fact about bulldogs — They grow.

Our eight-pound fur ball of whimper turned into a sixty-five-pound bowling ball of snore. And our bulldog is able to defy the laws of physics, geometry, and personal space by somehow taking up more room on a queen-sized bed than two full-grown adults. No problem, we just upgraded to a king-sized bed. Problem solved? Nope. Gus’s powers over scientific laws cannot be restrained by bed size. He somehow still finds a way to push me off the bed even with the nine-hole golf course of space between Michelle and me.

I ran my first marathon about 20 years ago. There is nothing like the feeling of crossing the finish line at a marathon.  Even if you can’t or won’t run a marathon, do yourself a favor and sit at the finish line of a marathon someday.  You will see the triumph of the human spirit in several thousand individual stories.  The training itself is life changing.  I do miss the days of being able to run 26.2 miles. During training, I could eat my weight in Peanut M&Ms and not gain a pound. (I have empirical evidence to back up that claim). It probably helped that I was also much younger when I started running because that part isn’t completely true anymore. I didn’t keep as much weight off when I ran the Chicago Marathon three years ago.  Father Time ultimately wins the battle against every exercise program, and these M&M are not going to eat themselves.   

Facebook gets a bad rap, and on some issues, they deserve every bit of the blame. But I really like getting comments from all my friends on my birthday, seeing pictures of my friends’ children, and I especially like the memories that Facebook occasionally sends me.  They remind me of something that I had forgotten about or bring back a wave of emotions I haven’t felt since the day of the original event.  I got a Facebook memory last week from ten years ago where I posted that I was about to run the NYC Marathon in support of the Michael J. Fox Foundation. I still remember my heart jumping when I saw Mom and Amy at the finish line. Running that race was a Top Ten memory in my life.  At least for now. I think by the time it’s all said and done, my girls are going to occupy all ten spots on that list.

This summer, I started training to run the Dallas Marathon this year. I used to consider it a shame that I had run 5 marathons, but I hadn’t run my hometown marathon. I figured it was something that I had to do so it was time to hit the pavement again. But when I got the results from my MRI a few weeks ago showing I have degenerative disc disease and the doctor telling me my marathon days were over, I wasn’t terribly disappointed. 

Warning: Graphic Content

Parental Discretion is Advised

This post has nothing to do with parenthood, just about getting older.

On Monday, I had to deal with people freaking out about the drop in the stock market.  It would not be the only time this week that I had to take it up the rear end.

My doctor told me that it was time.  I knew this day would come eventually, I just didn’t think it would come so soon. He said that I had to get a colonoscopy.  “Do you see me using a walker with tennis balls on the bottom or watching Wheel of Fortune 14 hours a day?”  “No” he said.  “Then I don’t need a colonoscopy because I’m not old enough.”

I’m not sure which I dreaded more, the medical proof that I am officially old or what I was about to endure.     

“Be curious, not judgmental.” – Ted Lasso quoting someone that may or may not have been Walt Whitman.

Saying “I love watching Ted Lasso” is about as original as saying “I love breathing oxygen.” For my money, the cost of Apple TV is worth it just for this show. One of my favorite scenes from Ted Lasso, if not all of television, is the darts scene from season one. I’ll skip the details to avoid a spoiler alert for those unfortunate souls who haven’t seen the show. During the scene, he quotes Walt Whitman, “Be curious, not judgmental” when talking about the people who have underestimated him. Whether or not Walt wrote those words is irrelevant. It is something that I need to hear every day. Whenever I’m flipping channels and nothing interesting is on, I’ll pull up Apple TV and watch that scene again. Even though I’ve seen it dozens of times now, it still punches me in the gut every single time because it makes me realize something about myself.

I judge people all the time. Driving really slowly and holding up traffic? Consider yourself judged. Writing a check for groceries when you are in the check out line in front of me? Consider yourself judged. Walking around Wal-Mart with your underwear on the outside of your pants? Consider yourself judged. A bartender who can’t properly pour a Guinness? Consider yourself judged.

In the story of a special needs family, the forgotten character is always the sibling. It’s not fair, but their lives contain less drama, and they normally get less attention. The healthy brother or sister ends up like that member of a popular band that nobody can name. One of my biggest fears is that Ella ends up feeling like the second member of Wham! or The Righteous Brothers whose name nobody can remember (Andrew Ridgely and Bobby Hatfield, in case you were curious). The path of least resistance is to let the story play out that way. I spend so much time worrying about Audrey that it’s easy for me to think that nothing bad or noteworthy will happen to Ella.

“Ingrid Bergman, now there’s low maintenance.”

Dear Future Son-in-law,

Ever since Billy Crystal uttered those words in “When Harry Met Sally” guys have tried to fit women into one of those two (high maintenance/low maintenance) boxes. Initially, Harry leads you to believe that every guy should aim for a low-maintenance woman. Spoiler alert (for the six people who have never seen the movie): Harry does not end up with a low maintenance woman. Remember, he got the worst kind – high maintenance but thinks she’s low maintenance.

This is a picture of the monthly shipment of medical supplies for Audrey. This photo doesn’t include her medications. I’d have to use a wide-angle lens to include those in the shot.

I want you to know that Audrey will never be low maintenance. But it worked out great for Harry, and it will work out great for you. She will make you smile and laugh every day, and there is no bad mood that is a match for her giggles. Plus, there is no such thing as a bad day when you get to look at this sweet face. She’s high maintenance, but she’s so so worth it.

Your Future Father-in-law,

Andy

P.S. If you hurt her, I will break every bone in your body. Twice.

“Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart” – Winnie the Pooh

On Sunday, we had planned on attending church in person for the first time since the pandemic. We even preregistered Ella for child care to make sure that we had a spot. One unfortunate consequence of the pandemic is that any time that you are sick, the rest of society can’t take a chance being within six feet of you because it might be coronavirus.

Well, Sunday morning we were sharing a family allergy attack that looked like we had scrambled eggs and COVID-19 for breakfast. We were sure that the church wouldn’t allow us inside because Ella was coughing up chunks of lung like someone who has been chain smoking since the Eisenhower administration, and my voice sounded like Christian Bales’ Batman doing an impression of Tone Loc.

So we had to watch church online, which meant not having to pack the family truckster and drive to church, and that gave me a little more time with my thoughts. I thought about the video of Audrey that I posted on Facebook last week (shown below).

I wrote “Taking some baby steps, literally and figuratively.” After thinking about it, I was wrong. I could not have been more wrong. People are probably tired of my writing about her two open-heart surgeries, nine other surgeries, and several other times when she has been under anesthesia. As if that wouldn’t make it difficult enough to think that she would ever walk, Audrey has another defect – she is missing part of her vestibular system. Semicircular canals are the fluid filled tubes in your ears that help you keep your balance. She doesn’t have them. It’s not as if hers are malfunctioning, she literally does not have them.

Everything I take for granted (walking, hearing, seeing, eating, breathing through my nose) is a monumental task for her.

I was so wrong. Those weren’t baby steps. Those were giant leaps, and they left permanent footprints on my heart.

There is one advantage to not having semicircular canals. The second video doesn’t do it justice, but when you are missing semicircular canals, you can spin around all day and never get motion sickness. In fact, CHARGE kids typically love spinning around, sometimes as fast as possible. When Audrey is old enough for Disney World, I’m calling dibs on the Mad Hatter Tea Party ride. Even though I will puke every time I ride it, I will ride with her as many times as she wants. If you are in the tea cup next to me, you better wear a pancho.

Our society seems obsessed with achieving success as early as humanly possible. Ella is three years old, and I’m learning that we should have signed her up for an elite sports league about three and a half years ago so she could focus on one sport. Apparently, if she isn’t traveling halfway across the country to play in tournaments by the time she’s 8, her childhood will have been a waste. Looking back, I would’ve chosen tennis, but I’m still not sure how to measure her grip size in utero.