My 12th day as a father came and went Sunday with little fanfare really. Wait, that's not right...my 12th Father's Day I should say.
That still doesn't necessarily sound correct but let's move on.
What is Father's Day really? I mean, c'mon guys, moms do all the work. There's a reason why Mother's Day comes first, and why it comes at a time of year when you can actually enjoy some outdoor activity. The temperature here in the 'Ville on Sunday reached triple digits. Who's gonna get out and fire up the grill in that furnace?
Yours truly upset his wife early Sunday morning by getting up early. Yes, I got up and couldn't go back to sleep and decided to rise for some early coffee by my standards. I entered the kitchen to the smell of eggs, bacon and biscuits, and was promptly greeted with something akin to diaper rash.
"What are you doing up? You're not supposed to be up," is how the love of my life greeted me from a night of unrestful slumber.
I briefly wondered if I'd missed something on the calendar, because I just knew the one I was living by said this was supposed to be FATHER'S DAY. A simple "good morning" would have been better appreciated.
Turns out I had walked in on my surprise. I was to have been served breakfast in bed. We settled for breakfast on the patio, because I wasn't going back to bed.
My kids gave me their respective cards, all hand-written and created personally. Coby signed his simply with "Your Only Son," overstating the obvious. Melody was quite respectful and creative with hers as well, as she always is. My oldest daughter is most like her dad in that respect.
Little Abby wasn't quite sure what was going on that was any different than the previous morning. But she gave me a card nonetheless, and it contained her own little scribble, literally. I'm talking crayon on construction paper, but it's as good as gold for me.
Jeannie, who'd gotten up at the crack of dawn to prepare my Father's Day feast, also gave me a card. I'll not tell you what it said; some things just need to remain secret.
Coby was finishing up a baseball tournament across town that afternoon but I had already made the decision to attend church and trust we'd make it to the game on time. It all worked out and it was good to worship the Lord; I'd missed the last two Sundays and was needing a good dose of reality.
We high-tailed it home and made it to the game 45 minutes early. The temperature at that point was only about 120 degrees or so, but the boys came through with a solid 4-0 victory. We had about three hours off, so a couple of us visited the local McAlister's for a snack and some sweet tea before I zipped back to the 'Ville to pick up the girls, who'd decided to sit out the first game and hope there would be a second.
Went back to the ballpark to watch Coby pitch a nice ballgame against a pretty good team from Carthage. "My Only Son" left after four innings of work with a 4-2 lead, having thrown 75 pitches on a sweltering day. Thirty-seven of those had come in the top of the fourth when he pitched out of jam and left the bases loaded after allowing just one run. We went on to win 5-2 and advanced to the championship.
We then faced the Texas Thunder in the championship game as the sun began to set, and the temperature fell into a somewhat comfortable 80-degree range. There's really nothing like watching the sun set at the ballpark, no matter what ballpark it is, after a long day of baseball.
The Thunder was playing its fourth game of the day and brought some big momentum in the game, jumping out on us 2-0 in the first inning. We answered with two of our own and took a 3-2 lead an inning later, only to have them tie it up and 3-3. It stayed that way till the fifth, when they scratched a couple of runs to take a 5-3 lead.
We picked up a run in the bottom of the fifth to make it 5-4, and figured Coby could use some more work. He was going to be on a strict pitch count this time, having thrown earlier in the day, but as it turned out it wasn't needed. He threw 13 pitches in the sixth inning and we picked up the tying run in the bottom half to send it to extra innings. "My Only Son" pitched the seventh inning and took only seven pitches to get out of it, and we won it in the bottom half with a bases-loaded single.
Got home a little after 11 p.m. That was Father's Day for me. I don't have a whole lot of money and I'm not the greatest dad in the world by far. But I got a heck of a family whose company I adore, and spending the time with them is the ultimate gift for me.
Championships only add to the enjoyment.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Sidewalk Cafe'
An old friend updated his Facebook status recently with the following:
It's hot enough to fry eggs on the sidewalk.
To which my smart-aleck reply was this:
Who wants to fry an egg on a sidewalk?
It has definitely been hot here in the 'Ville the last week or so, no getting around that. But the only way you'd catch yours truly frying an egg on concrete is if I'd lost a bet, and even then I wouldn't eat it.
If you're from around here you're used to it. People say you never really get used to 110-degree heat indexes but you do, over time. The key isn't beating the heat, because that indicates a fight or competition must take place. There is no beating the heat.
But there is out-smarting the heat, or coping with it. Air conditioning, swimming pool, water hoses, can make the heat demon cry out in frustration.
My daughter and I spent several hours this past weekend out in the suana, playing in her state softball tournament. The 10-under girls won the entire thing after being forced to win seven in a row over two days after a tough loss on Saturday morning. Five of those came on Sunday, with four of those being played between 12:30 and 8:30. The extreme heat of the day took its toll but we were able to come home with the championship.
All this to bring up this myth of "global warming." A lot of people have made a lot of money talking about the subject but I've got news for them -- where I'm from, it gets really hot in the summer. EVERY YEAR. You come live here, expect for the heat to be suffocating from about late May to mid-October. I've never been fortunate enough to endure a cool summer. Hasn't happened in 40 years and it never will in this neck of the woods.
I read in a newspaper recently where there's talk the sea level in certain areas of the world has risen eight inches over the last 50 years or so. Let's see...at that rate by gosh the world will flood by about the year 2250. If I'm still alive then I'll be cruising around the sky in my flying S.U.V. or something so I won't worry what the surface of the earth looks like.
Besides, I firmly hold to God's promise to Noah in Genesis when He said He would never again destroy the earth by flood. So if this global warming thing is causing a flood somewhere I'm pretty sure the earth will rebound.
Soaring temperatures mean one thing to me -- it's summertime. It's going to be hot. And dry. And yes, it will be miserable. But I'm not looking for this huge wall of water to come destroy us anytime soon.
And don't look for me to be cracking an egg in the driveway anytime soon, either.
It's hot enough to fry eggs on the sidewalk.
To which my smart-aleck reply was this:
Who wants to fry an egg on a sidewalk?
It has definitely been hot here in the 'Ville the last week or so, no getting around that. But the only way you'd catch yours truly frying an egg on concrete is if I'd lost a bet, and even then I wouldn't eat it.
If you're from around here you're used to it. People say you never really get used to 110-degree heat indexes but you do, over time. The key isn't beating the heat, because that indicates a fight or competition must take place. There is no beating the heat.
But there is out-smarting the heat, or coping with it. Air conditioning, swimming pool, water hoses, can make the heat demon cry out in frustration.
My daughter and I spent several hours this past weekend out in the suana, playing in her state softball tournament. The 10-under girls won the entire thing after being forced to win seven in a row over two days after a tough loss on Saturday morning. Five of those came on Sunday, with four of those being played between 12:30 and 8:30. The extreme heat of the day took its toll but we were able to come home with the championship.
All this to bring up this myth of "global warming." A lot of people have made a lot of money talking about the subject but I've got news for them -- where I'm from, it gets really hot in the summer. EVERY YEAR. You come live here, expect for the heat to be suffocating from about late May to mid-October. I've never been fortunate enough to endure a cool summer. Hasn't happened in 40 years and it never will in this neck of the woods.
I read in a newspaper recently where there's talk the sea level in certain areas of the world has risen eight inches over the last 50 years or so. Let's see...at that rate by gosh the world will flood by about the year 2250. If I'm still alive then I'll be cruising around the sky in my flying S.U.V. or something so I won't worry what the surface of the earth looks like.
Besides, I firmly hold to God's promise to Noah in Genesis when He said He would never again destroy the earth by flood. So if this global warming thing is causing a flood somewhere I'm pretty sure the earth will rebound.
Soaring temperatures mean one thing to me -- it's summertime. It's going to be hot. And dry. And yes, it will be miserable. But I'm not looking for this huge wall of water to come destroy us anytime soon.
And don't look for me to be cracking an egg in the driveway anytime soon, either.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Pregnancy Times Four
I love my beautiful wife. She's taking one for the team on this one.
Our three previous children made it through their nine months -- excuse me, it's 40 weeks now -- in utero with nary a serious problem. Jeannie cruised through those experiences relatively pain free until it was time to do the serious stuff.
In fact, the only problems I can remember are Coby briefly having the umbilical cord around his neck and forcing some tense moments during delivery. I've been wanting to choke him at times ever since myself (THAT'S A JOKE, PEOPLE...NO NEED TO COMMENT)...
Melody had the most serious in terms of problems at delivery. When she was born I noticed her little chest heaving very heavily throughout the cleaning-up process in the nursery. I also knew enough from childbirth classes that her oxygen level wasn't where it was supposed to be. As it turned out, Mel was suffering from "wet lung," which basically means she had swallowed a lot of amniotic fluid during delivery and it was sitting in her chest cavity. Luckily for us Dr. Tex arrived just in time to control the situation and the baby was resting comfortably later that evening, although her and mommy didn't bond as well in that critical period following birth because of the extra time spent in the nursery.
They're still working on the bonding thing 10 years later (AGAIN, only halfway-kidding...)
The only problem with Abigail was that her father almost missed the birth entirely. We induced a week or so before the due date because a) Jeannie had had enough of pregnancy around the holidays and didn't want to endure a miserable New Year's, and b) daddy needed the income tax break the next child would bring.
Inducing is great. It's like going in for surgery. You have all this time to pack up, get ready physically and mentally for the birth and still get to the hospital without breaking traffic laws.
Only problem was it sped up the labor process fairly quickly. About 1 p.m. or so the nurse gave the laboring mom a checkup and everything was pretty slow, still looking at a few hours before birth. I saw an open window to go have lunch, so I got approval from the wife to grab a much-needed bite.
I sat down with my tray in the cafeteria and before I could take the first bite my cell phone was ringing. The doctor had come in and checked Jeannie and said it was time to have a baby! I hurriedly disposed of the lunch (and no, I didn't dispose of it in my mouth!) and made it back upstairs just in time to watch little Abby come into the world.
The speed of the delivery evidently was a picture of her personality, because Abby's been running around at breakneck speed ever since.
All this makes me wonder what's going on with Lily. She's sure making it hard on Mommy. We're officially down to counting days now -- as of this post we're at 47. Jeannie had to miss most of Melody's softball tournament this weekend because the heat was just unbearable for her to be carrying a two-year old around as well as one in the womb.
All she wants to do is lay in bed or on the couch and take naps, which is totally understandable. But she definitely had more energy with the first three. Lily turns somersaults every half hour or so, and Jeannie's been suffering fake labor contractions for about a month now, and that's something that never happened 1 through 3.
Lily also is apparently getting ready to play on the trampoline in the backyard. Unfortunately the trampoline now is Mommy's bladder, which is taking a serious pounding -- enough to make Jeannie reach and punch, squeeze, pinch Daddy whenever it's time for baby to jump. It's a feeling and pain that only expectant mothers can experience.
The pregnancy this time is different because of all that. I can't say it's been loads of fun for anyone, and yes we are all very ready for Lily to actually arrive. Mommy definitely. What I do know is that it's going to be an experience unlike any other, because that's just the way things go.
Our three previous children made it through their nine months -- excuse me, it's 40 weeks now -- in utero with nary a serious problem. Jeannie cruised through those experiences relatively pain free until it was time to do the serious stuff.
In fact, the only problems I can remember are Coby briefly having the umbilical cord around his neck and forcing some tense moments during delivery. I've been wanting to choke him at times ever since myself (THAT'S A JOKE, PEOPLE...NO NEED TO COMMENT)...
Melody had the most serious in terms of problems at delivery. When she was born I noticed her little chest heaving very heavily throughout the cleaning-up process in the nursery. I also knew enough from childbirth classes that her oxygen level wasn't where it was supposed to be. As it turned out, Mel was suffering from "wet lung," which basically means she had swallowed a lot of amniotic fluid during delivery and it was sitting in her chest cavity. Luckily for us Dr. Tex arrived just in time to control the situation and the baby was resting comfortably later that evening, although her and mommy didn't bond as well in that critical period following birth because of the extra time spent in the nursery.
They're still working on the bonding thing 10 years later (AGAIN, only halfway-kidding...)
The only problem with Abigail was that her father almost missed the birth entirely. We induced a week or so before the due date because a) Jeannie had had enough of pregnancy around the holidays and didn't want to endure a miserable New Year's, and b) daddy needed the income tax break the next child would bring.
Inducing is great. It's like going in for surgery. You have all this time to pack up, get ready physically and mentally for the birth and still get to the hospital without breaking traffic laws.
Only problem was it sped up the labor process fairly quickly. About 1 p.m. or so the nurse gave the laboring mom a checkup and everything was pretty slow, still looking at a few hours before birth. I saw an open window to go have lunch, so I got approval from the wife to grab a much-needed bite.
I sat down with my tray in the cafeteria and before I could take the first bite my cell phone was ringing. The doctor had come in and checked Jeannie and said it was time to have a baby! I hurriedly disposed of the lunch (and no, I didn't dispose of it in my mouth!) and made it back upstairs just in time to watch little Abby come into the world.
The speed of the delivery evidently was a picture of her personality, because Abby's been running around at breakneck speed ever since.
All this makes me wonder what's going on with Lily. She's sure making it hard on Mommy. We're officially down to counting days now -- as of this post we're at 47. Jeannie had to miss most of Melody's softball tournament this weekend because the heat was just unbearable for her to be carrying a two-year old around as well as one in the womb.
All she wants to do is lay in bed or on the couch and take naps, which is totally understandable. But she definitely had more energy with the first three. Lily turns somersaults every half hour or so, and Jeannie's been suffering fake labor contractions for about a month now, and that's something that never happened 1 through 3.
Lily also is apparently getting ready to play on the trampoline in the backyard. Unfortunately the trampoline now is Mommy's bladder, which is taking a serious pounding -- enough to make Jeannie reach and punch, squeeze, pinch Daddy whenever it's time for baby to jump. It's a feeling and pain that only expectant mothers can experience.
The pregnancy this time is different because of all that. I can't say it's been loads of fun for anyone, and yes we are all very ready for Lily to actually arrive. Mommy definitely. What I do know is that it's going to be an experience unlike any other, because that's just the way things go.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Turning 40
My biological clock will tick to its most likely halfway point Thursday, when yours truly hits the big 4-0.
I'm okay with it. Really I am. Actually, I think turning 40 is better than turning 30. There's something about leaving the 20s that makes you feel, well, older. I've heard it's a similar feeling leaving the 40s and hitting the 50s, which means I still have 10 years left to enjoy my youth.
Seriously, the only thing that I can sense changing in my life is my ability to reflect. I find myself longing more for quiet times out on the patio, sipping a glass of ice tea as the sun gently goes down and a cool breeze blows across my face. You know, goofy stuff like that.
I have noticed my body not recovering from physical activity nearly as well. I lost nearly 50 pounds over a six-month period in 2008 and have since added about 25 or so of it back. But I still consider myself in reasonably good shape for a 40ish, definitely borderline obese male with a blood clotting disorder and a history of diabetes in the gene pool.
I've had this toe thing going on for the past three months or so. It just won't go away. Originally I thought it was just a sprain, then I came to the assumption that I was suffering from what's called turf toe. But at some point turf toe heals, and this hasn't healed. In fact, the injury has begun shooting up my foot and into the ankle occasionally, so a friend -- an older friend -- mentioned that I might have come down with a case of gout.
I don't even know what gout is, but it sounds terrible. And it sounds like something reserved for old people. Whatever is going on inside my right foot, it hurts something awful.
Then there's the pain in my right arm and shoulder, that usually hits its breaking point about Thursday or so. That's usually the final day of the week that I play three or four games of racquetball, and by then my whole arm feels like it's going to fall off. It takes me at least three days to recover, and when Monday comes and I hit the court again my shoulder is still stiff and sore. Arthritis, I see you coming around the corner!
I've been waking up the last few weeks with stiffness and soreness in my lower back, whereas I go to bed at night with no pain whatsoever. Either I'm doing some sort of weird dreaming thing, or maybe my sleep posture is not what it needs to be. Regardless, the pain requires a double dose of Tylenol with my morning blood pressure medication.
And on top of all of this, my 40th birthday this week brings me closer to the birth of my fourth child in August. Lord knows how I'm going to make it through raising this one; not quite sure what's going on with the third child who's already here.
The kids keep me young I guess. Maybe that's how I should look at it. I won't have time to sit around and worry about growing old. I'll be too busy making sure the chicks get out of the nest with some semblance of life skills.
Okay Father Time. Bring it on.
I'm okay with it. Really I am. Actually, I think turning 40 is better than turning 30. There's something about leaving the 20s that makes you feel, well, older. I've heard it's a similar feeling leaving the 40s and hitting the 50s, which means I still have 10 years left to enjoy my youth.
Seriously, the only thing that I can sense changing in my life is my ability to reflect. I find myself longing more for quiet times out on the patio, sipping a glass of ice tea as the sun gently goes down and a cool breeze blows across my face. You know, goofy stuff like that.
I have noticed my body not recovering from physical activity nearly as well. I lost nearly 50 pounds over a six-month period in 2008 and have since added about 25 or so of it back. But I still consider myself in reasonably good shape for a 40ish, definitely borderline obese male with a blood clotting disorder and a history of diabetes in the gene pool.
I've had this toe thing going on for the past three months or so. It just won't go away. Originally I thought it was just a sprain, then I came to the assumption that I was suffering from what's called turf toe. But at some point turf toe heals, and this hasn't healed. In fact, the injury has begun shooting up my foot and into the ankle occasionally, so a friend -- an older friend -- mentioned that I might have come down with a case of gout.
I don't even know what gout is, but it sounds terrible. And it sounds like something reserved for old people. Whatever is going on inside my right foot, it hurts something awful.
Then there's the pain in my right arm and shoulder, that usually hits its breaking point about Thursday or so. That's usually the final day of the week that I play three or four games of racquetball, and by then my whole arm feels like it's going to fall off. It takes me at least three days to recover, and when Monday comes and I hit the court again my shoulder is still stiff and sore. Arthritis, I see you coming around the corner!
I've been waking up the last few weeks with stiffness and soreness in my lower back, whereas I go to bed at night with no pain whatsoever. Either I'm doing some sort of weird dreaming thing, or maybe my sleep posture is not what it needs to be. Regardless, the pain requires a double dose of Tylenol with my morning blood pressure medication.
And on top of all of this, my 40th birthday this week brings me closer to the birth of my fourth child in August. Lord knows how I'm going to make it through raising this one; not quite sure what's going on with the third child who's already here.
The kids keep me young I guess. Maybe that's how I should look at it. I won't have time to sit around and worry about growing old. I'll be too busy making sure the chicks get out of the nest with some semblance of life skills.
Okay Father Time. Bring it on.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Still Here Marching On
Okay so it's been awhile. All I can say is God have mercy on the workin' man!!
It's been one of the most hectic springs on record for us around the 'Ville. Getting ready for a fourth child is enough, but the first three are keeping us on our toes every day.
Coby just turned 12 years old. My son is growing up. I realized this last week when he took his first official physical to play athletics in the seventh grade next fall. His experience with the physical is a subject for another blog, perhaps, but I must decide the editorial content on such a post. It was quite a story. Let's just say Coby experienced a full physical and leave it at that, and he wasn't too pleased about it as most every other pre-teen undergoing the experience.
Melody is currently wrapped up in postseason softball for the local 10-under team. I too am caught up in this to my ears, having volunteered to coach her team this year. We won the local league with an undefeated record and then proceeded to go and win the district tournament last weekend. State is coming up in a couple of weeks.
Melody has what we call "raw" talent. That means she hasn't had a lick of coaching but shows flashes of good stuff on the field. Occasionally. There are lapses of course, which I've decided are my job as coach and as dad to fix. Her biggest obstacle to this point, with all due respect, is her gender. Communication between dad and daughter has been difficult at times this year when it comes to softball. She has her opinions, and I have mine. We had a little discussion last week about opinions, to which I had one simple reply.
It's okay for her to have an opinion, as long as she realizes ultimately that her dad's is ALWAYS the right opinion.
I'm proud of her though. I really am. And you can't get around the following fact -- through league play and into the postseason, Melody's teams haven't lost a single game that mattered all year. That's something we're all proud of, and it's fact. Not opinion.
Then there's Abby, who has less than two months as of today to enjoy being the official baby of the family. And she's enjoying every minute of it. She is talking up a storm now and just finished her first year of day school. Before you know it she'll be right up there with the other ones. It makes her dad more than a little sad.
Lily Ann is still roasting in Mommy's tummy. All signs are good and we are ready to go. Jeannie is enjoying most of the pregnancy as usual with the movements, kicks and punches she's getting daily from the inside. Arrival is set for Aug. 2.
We are still here marching on. Like a little army.
It's been one of the most hectic springs on record for us around the 'Ville. Getting ready for a fourth child is enough, but the first three are keeping us on our toes every day.
Coby just turned 12 years old. My son is growing up. I realized this last week when he took his first official physical to play athletics in the seventh grade next fall. His experience with the physical is a subject for another blog, perhaps, but I must decide the editorial content on such a post. It was quite a story. Let's just say Coby experienced a full physical and leave it at that, and he wasn't too pleased about it as most every other pre-teen undergoing the experience.
Melody is currently wrapped up in postseason softball for the local 10-under team. I too am caught up in this to my ears, having volunteered to coach her team this year. We won the local league with an undefeated record and then proceeded to go and win the district tournament last weekend. State is coming up in a couple of weeks.
Melody has what we call "raw" talent. That means she hasn't had a lick of coaching but shows flashes of good stuff on the field. Occasionally. There are lapses of course, which I've decided are my job as coach and as dad to fix. Her biggest obstacle to this point, with all due respect, is her gender. Communication between dad and daughter has been difficult at times this year when it comes to softball. She has her opinions, and I have mine. We had a little discussion last week about opinions, to which I had one simple reply.
It's okay for her to have an opinion, as long as she realizes ultimately that her dad's is ALWAYS the right opinion.
I'm proud of her though. I really am. And you can't get around the following fact -- through league play and into the postseason, Melody's teams haven't lost a single game that mattered all year. That's something we're all proud of, and it's fact. Not opinion.
Then there's Abby, who has less than two months as of today to enjoy being the official baby of the family. And she's enjoying every minute of it. She is talking up a storm now and just finished her first year of day school. Before you know it she'll be right up there with the other ones. It makes her dad more than a little sad.
Lily Ann is still roasting in Mommy's tummy. All signs are good and we are ready to go. Jeannie is enjoying most of the pregnancy as usual with the movements, kicks and punches she's getting daily from the inside. Arrival is set for Aug. 2.
We are still here marching on. Like a little army.
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