You Cannot Please My Wife

Heather's suffering from swine flu. It was really bad, though with a round of Tamiflu, codeine, and a rescue inhaler, she's already feeling much better, which I'm happy about. BUT...this entire experience, my wife has been saying, over and over again:

"I DO NOT HAVE SWINE FLU!"

"Why not?"

"I hate that term."

*sigh* "Alright, I hereby declare it. You have 'Coughing Pig Death'."

"I do not *cough*cough*weeze* have Coughing *hack* Pig Death."

"Why not?"

"That's even worse! I'm not going to die!"

"Right, it's Coughing PIG Death. You'll be fine."

"It's still so morbid."

"oooohhh, you need a cutsey name, like 'Rubella.' You got it. I hereby declare that you have the 'Itty Bitty Piggy Sniffles.'"

"*cough*hack*cough*cough*cough*I DON'T HAVE THAT EITHER!"

There is no pleasing that woman...

No Ass for Old Men

There is that persistent joke about old men somehow waking up without asses, and if you ever look at old men, it appears to be true. The backs of their jeans are always hanging flat off the back end. How does that happen? When does that happen?

Apparently in a man's 30's, because Heather walked up behind me and today and made a comment. I reached around and verified, to my horror, I was...half-assed.


Damn.

Why Fishing?

I never thought I'd be a fisherman. Growing up, the sport of fishing was something I viewed as just a notch above barbaric, and at least in some small part, backwards. As an English-major I admired Hemingway for his prose, but not for his obsession for catching Blue Marlins off the coast of Cuba.

I was never a particularly outdoorsy guy, and I just kind of figured I'd end up living in or near New York City, or some other large city. So it's surprising in some small part to even me that I'm so taken with fishing. And there's no single reason why I have started, or why I'm sticking with it so much, but instead a couple:

1. First and foremost, I love being on or near the water. Maybe it's because I grew up near the Chesapeake and the inlets of the Potomac River, but I'm most at peace when I'm near a big body of water. I mourned moving to Pennsylvania as a kid because I was so far away from the beach. I missed my friends, I missed my school, I missed my old house, but just as much I missed the open water. Fishing only carries me so far through that need. I've been talking for a while now how I want a boat. I tell my friends how if I won the lottery, I'd disappear off the Earth by buying a big enough sailboat that I could hop islands in the Caribbean and just disconnect for a while. I'm sure if I lived closer to the water now I'd have already bought myself a boat and I'd be out on the water damn near every weekend. My lawn would be knee-high and I'd be out on the ocean. And I'd be happy.
2. I love learning how to be more self-reliant. I figure if I learn how to go out and fish then I'm just that much more independent. And I figure if I can teach my kids to be independent and self-reliant in the world then I've done right by them. The last thing I'd want to do is raise two otherwise healthy and smart children who were either too frightened or too disgusted to fight for themselves in the woods.
3. I love any hobby where I get to obsess over gear. I just get all geeky and happy when I walk in to a place like Bass Pro and can stroll aisle after aisle of different fishing gear and try to figure out what it all does, and if I can use it. I don't need to even buy it. Just looking makes me feel bliss. This is not something I reasoned out before I started fishing, but it's one reason why I like it now.
4. But most important to me, right now my two kids beg me to take them fishing. They love spending time with me. I know this isn't going to last. At some point I'm going to be a horrible embarrassment to them. At some point, their friends, their school activities, their own lives away from here will take all of their attention and suddenly I'm good for lending them the car and doing their laundry.
   
   So I want to cash in on every moment where I'm still important enough to be with. Taking them fishing, I get to sit in the still and quiet of nature with my two wonderful children, and just, be with them. There's no need to yell, or scold, or even talk if we don't want to. We can just sit and drown bait all day.
   
   
   

Yesterday, after four hours of sitting on some rocks by the Conewago Creek in the mid-October sun and feeling happily baked, my son turned to me and said "Daddy, make sure we mark this place on the map. I want to come back here again with you. Even if we don't fish, I just want to come back here with you." I know some parents who'd give their eye teeth to be that in demand from their kids. The happiness from that moment warmed me more deeply than that beautiful autumn sun. And, you can bet every dollar you have that the minute I got in the car I marked it on the map, and I will make sure I get back there with my kids.

The fishing itself, that's all secondary. I wouldn't care if I caught nothing but boots and twigs for the rest of my life so long as I also get to catch moments like that with my kids too.

My Heart Breaks Open

I'm watching "The Namesake" tonight while I work. The movie speaks about the troubles of growing up a first-generation American and trying to balance between deep cultural traditions and the American way of life. My mom is from Germany so I feel a lot of connection to the themes in the movie.

But there is something more about this movie. This movie hit me on a lot of levels. Seeing how Kal Penn treats his parents as they get older, disrespecting them when they clearly love him. And then his changing relationship with them. I worry all the time about how my kids will treat me and perceive me as they age and I do too. I hope they love me. I hope I am close to them and they know how important they are to me.

And then there's a whole other level to the movie that I do not understand. Every movie about India, and I mean every movie, has broken open my heart. And I cried. I can't explain it. It as if something inside me springs forth with joy with only the thought of the place or the sight. I know it is not some perfect place. I've seen the pictures. I've talked with my friends, and I know that there is much there that is bad. But still...

I don't know why this happens, and I don't know that I ever will. I don't know that I ever want to know. And sometimes it scares me. I have read about people who have idolized India and I don't think I am one of those people. I don't want to be one of those people. I don't want my identity to be subsumed by a whole nation. I want to be my own person not identified by one thing, and I feel like I am sometimes. But none of those thoughts stop me from breaking down whenever I see something about India.

An Uncomfortable Silence

There was an uncomfortable silence in the room.  We were in a Mexican standoff.  His fingers tightly gripped my right nipple.  I was gripping his left nipple.

I raised one eyebrow.  "So...are you going to let go?"

"Nope!"

"I'm not letting go until you let go."

He shook his head.  "I'm not letting go!"

We looked at each other.  I narrowed my eyes at Owen.  He crinkled his nose and smiled.  His fingers pinched harder so I squeezed a little harder.  One of us was going to lose.

Suddenly my wife walked.

"WHAT IN THE HELL IS GOING ON?"

My son jumped.  I squeezed last.  I won.

My Little Man Is Growing Up

Today is my son's first day of preschool all on his own.  Last year when he went his sister was also in the preschool, albeit in a different class, so he felt like he wasn't totally alone.  This year, McKenna's in kindergarten and he's the big man on campus (as much as a hallway in a church can be considered a "campus") and he's not freaked out.  I am impressed.  I'm also a little overwhelmed.

He's my little man, my youngest kid, and this is his last year of preschool.  Coming out of his classroom today he just looked and talked like an older boy.  He was his own man today and it really showed.

I picked him up and we walked to the van as he told me all about his first day of school.

"I played with two boys today, but I don't know their names yet.  We won't learn any names until tomorrow.  We didn't even have any time to go on the playground, I only got to go down the slide one time and then we had to leave."

"Yeah"

"And nobody got into trouble today."
"That's good!"

"I drew a lot of pictures today.  I colored myself in.  I did a really good job, my teacher said."

"Wow!"

I put him in the van.  "Sit down little man and buckle up"

"Okay daddy.  And one boy only colored himself all yellow and the teachers had to tell him to use different colors but she said I did a really good job."

"Well I'm proud of you bubba."

And I am proud of him.  I shut the sliding door and started to climb into the van.  A tear ran down my face.  My little man is growing up.

Someone Take My Kids Please

I feel like a failure as a parent today.  We went bowling with friends we haven't seen in a while, so the kids were excited, and it bubbled up in some really bad behavior.  The kids were all over the lanes, pushing each other, dropping bowling balls, laying down in front of other people's lanes, yelling.  It was horrible, and embarrassing in a big way.  

My kids are always a little rambunctious and energetic.  They are spirited, and sometimes they have a really bad attitude, but today it was like watching an episode of "Nanny 911".  People kept glancing at me as I kept yelling at them to move, to sit down, to stop misbehaving.  What I should have done was removed them from the bowling alley and not let them play anymore.  But I didn't honestly think about that then.  I don't know why.

The more distance I get from it, the more upset and embarrassed I get.  And I hate feeling like this.