Random Things

One of the perks of having a kid when flying -- other than getting to preboard (if sitting in a small tube sooner can be considered a "perk") is getting to go into the cockpit. If I can get Eli to say "hi" or "thanks" to the Captain either before or after the flight it's a shoe-in. Even in the post-9/11 world. BTW, those cockpits look surprisingly 1970s in their technology. So do most of the pilots.

We have a new ghost at home. I think I've talked about our unseen resident here before; yesterday morning at about 4:30 am in the kitchen I heard someone (I presumed the LTR) walking in the kitchen behind me and "felt" somone walk in and heard a mumbled "Mornin'" and turned around to see no one -- and the sense that someone had come ambling in was so strong that I called out the LTR's name thinking he had to be there -- only he wasn't. I guess a mumbled "mornin'" is much better than a whispered emphatic "get out!"

I got a guest pass from the gym down the street here. It's called 24 Hour Fitness. I asked them what was the most common question they got from visitors. It was "what are your hours?" As I expected.

Said gym is on the second floor. The only way to get there is to take a moving escalator up to it. I guess they don't want you to wear yourself out before getting there.

I saw a beautiful, unexpected thing tonight. I went to the 6 pm hula show on the beach expecting to be repulsed by something so touristy (okay, okay, full disclosure, I went to get a photo of the loin-cloth-clad polynesian young men lighting the torches). Instead I was mesmerized by the Hula as performed by the "elders" -- a group of 60ish something Polynesian women joyfyully doing the Hula -- in this case a dance representing the natural beatuy of the island of Kuaii. The host admonished us for not applauding them enough and stressed that these were the (tribe's?) elders. They were all beautiful -- but the oldest looking one was stunning -- she had a smile on her face framed by gray hair and wrinkles that radiated joy and beauty. We shove our "elders" out of sight but here they were celebrating beauty by being beautiful -- and their age was no small part of their appeal. It's too bad the Hula has come to be considered tourist shlock for it is an amazingly beautiful dance that links humanity and nature.

Speaking of tourist shlock I bought a Greg Brady Hawaiian Tiki Idol. As someone who now seems to have two ghosts in his house we'll see what happens next.

Surf's up!

The Toughest Job You'll Ever Love

Someone gave me a tee shirt that says "Fatherhood: the Toughest Job You'll Ever Love." It's a nice shirt, but it, like the "World's Best Dad" tees I've received have remained unworn in my chest of drawers.

It was easy becoming a dad. Being a dad is much harder. And I'm not sure I have bragging rights.

Eli is a great kid. His mothers have done a terrific job raising him. He never went through the terrible twos -- but welcome to the testy threes.

By testy I don't mean touchy. I mean he wants to test what he can get away with and likes to play opposites, meaning, he'll do the exact opposite of what you tell him to do and then look at you to see if you'll let him get away with it, often with a great smile on his face with great joy at this new game he's invented called "Let's Push Daddy's (or mommie's or Pappa's) buttons and see if we can make his/her head explode."

Intuitively I know this is normally and of course I've confirmed this with other parents. This is something I expected.

What I didn't expect was the anger and contempt he'd hurl at me. During yesterday's 14 hour (garage door to final terminal gate) trip he threatened (at the top of his voice) to hurl me from the airplane window and rejected almost every request with a Sith Lord look of defiance on his three year old face. "Eli, please sit down and fasten your seatbelt, we're about to land." "No!" he screamed, looking at me as if he himself would jump out the airplane to avoid doing anything I wanted him to do. (let's face it, he gets this naturally -- his old man is one stubborn son of a bitch). The worst was when he made an etch-a-sketch drawing, told me to save it, and then looked at me and said angrily, "I didn't make it for YOU."

Ouch.

Okay, okay, I know I shouldn't take it personally. And I'm trying as best I can to not outwardly betray any emotion other than calm (I'm not always successful.) But look, when you see the boy less than one-fifth of a year and he wants to toss you out of an airplane when you do, how could it not personally effect you? When a loved one says hurtful things they still hurt even when you know they don't really mean them, do they not?

Christmas night did not go well. We had a fabulous day and his presence and laughter was the best Christmas gift. Then his nighttime going to bed routine started and he was a decidedly unhappy camper. It ended with him hitting me (this is also new and part of his new defiance routine) and telling me later that "I don't want you to tell me a story I want Pappa!!"

I returned to the dinner table while Pappa went to tell him a story in bed. My dad was offering words of reassurance and everyone was telling me not to take it personally. Right.

I knew I couldn't let Christmas end this way so I softly entered Eli's bedroom where Pappa was in the middle of the story. Wordlessly I slipped into Eli's bed and lay down next to him. I listened to Pappa's story -- a story he made up about me riding through a rain storm to get to Eli, dubbed "The Muddy Bike Ride Story" which Eli always requests while here. Eli was laying with his back to me and I put my face deep in the sheets and silently cried tears over the frustration and beauty of it all.

Pappa said his goodnight and left us. We lay there silently for a few moments. Then Eli rolled over facing me, reached down with a little hand and grabbed mine, and pushed his tiny fingers between my own. We lay there like that in the silence for 15 minutes. Knowing he wasn't asleep, I whispered to him, "I love you very, very much." He opened his eyes and whispered, "I love you very much, Daddy."

Yes, it is a tough job. And I'm am often quite sure I'm not up to the task. But how could I not love it?

Goodnight Eli, and goodbye for now. Daddy loves you very, very much

Another Visit Ends

The visits come and go. His changes are constant. This trip he delighted us with increased conversation skills and challenged us with a willfulness to get his own way, which often happened to be the opposite of what we wanted.

It's 5 am, and we leave for the airport soon. The LTR has the hardest task, as we leave him alone here to see the empty room and the unplayed-with toys. No, the loss is not a permanent one, but it is still a loss.

My next blog post will be from Hawaii.

Postcard from Illinois

My parents live on a small lake in downstate Illinois. The lights of the houses look lovely reflected off the calm waters. On Christmas night we drove Eli in a golf cart around the lake to look at the lights. This is my parent's house casting its glow upon the waters.

I snapped this with my digital cam on zoom, no flash. Tips on night photography welcome.

Merry Christmas

From all of us here at Scott's Take -- the LTR, Eli and me.