Category: Family

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What I Did On My Summer Vacation

Ok, I’ve got to get a couple things out of the way first… A.) Thanks so much for the overwhelming response to my last post. The sheer volume of readers was overwhelming as were the comments both on this site as well as on the various social media platforms I use to get this stuff out there. It was one of the most viewed posts and THE most shared post I’ve had in the (almost) ten years (side note, Holy Crap! Ten years?) I’ve been doing this. So from the bottom of my heart, and on behalf of my family, thanks!

Oh yeah, I mentioned “a couple things” didn’t I? Brief senior moment… So, B.) Often times the title I choose is a tad bit misleading. Sometimes they make perfect sense to me, sometimes they don’t and sometimes I just like the sound of it even though it doesn’t remotely fit what I wrote that day. Such is the case today, since what I’m about to put down for you here is neither about summer nor vacation. Rather, I’m going to attempt to put a literary bow on my trip back to Illinois.

Life is about discovery.  It starts at an early age, really. Toddlers discover new skills regularly and, as we grow, more discoveries, both similar and brand new come to our consciousness.  With a little luck, discovery is a part of our lives for the duration. 

For example, while I was home I made a very important discovery.  At the Heir To The Throne’s graduation party the Reigning Princess and the Little Diamond were seated next to me at one point and each was enjoying a lovely cupcake. A lovely homemade cupcake at that. Some wonderful human being made several dozen of these small delights, and I, for one, was grateful as you might imagine. I asked the Little Diamond if I could have one. She looked at me sweetly, and said simply, “No.”

I said “Wait a minute, who took you to the cupcake place and bought you cupcakes?” She pointed at me. “And who took you to the park to play all those times?” She pointed at me. “And who took you to the coffeehouse and got you juice and bunny cookies?” With a mouthful of cupcake frosting, she pointed at me.   “So, now can I get a cupcake?”

Her reply, again, was a resolute “No.”  With an impish grin for added emphasis.

Now what, you might ask, did I discover?  Simply this.  When I’ve lost control of the things that make me me and it comes time for the family to make decisions on my behalf, I want that kid nowhere near the process or I’ll end up living in some rat-infested dump of a nursing home.  And if my room has a window, (and I feel like that’s a big IF) it’ll probably be overlooking a bakery that specializes in cupcakes that are bigger than your head.

I’m joking, of course. Mostly. I’m fairly confident she’ll get out-voted anyway. So far.

Ok, I’m gonna keep this one a little on the shorter side than the last one was. But I want to end it with a question and I’d really like to hear from some of the faithful on this. Honest opinions, at that. I think I’ve talked about this before here, at least in passing, but I’m thinking about it again. Specifically, I’m thinking about selling ad space on the site. Tbh, I haven’t really dug deep into that yet, so I don’t know what kind of revenue would be generated. I’m fairly confident it wouldn’t be huge, based on the volume of “clicks” I generate, and a part of me kind of enjoys providing you with content that, while it may not be Pulitzer material, is at least also not clubbing you over the head with ads for E.D. meds or whatever Godawful fashion bit is trending at any given moment. I recognize that Godawful fashion is probably not the kind of thing advertisers want their website typing, but hey, I’mma speak my truth. So think about some of the other websites you peruse, and tell me what you think about having ads alongside whatever it is you may be viewing.

Like I said, I really want to hear some opinions on this from those of you that read me. So please comment, either here or on whatever social media platform drove you here. Thanks in advance for your input, and, as always, thanks for reading the stuff I put out here.

Peace

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PTSD

You may have noticed I haven’t produced any content here in, oh, almost two months. There are many reasons for this, and I’m not about to bore you with any of them. Instead, I’d like to do this. Devote today’s post to something different from my typical light-hearted fare and dive right into the topic I’ve chosen to come back here with.

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Last fall I wrote about the way we (mis)treat our veterans and I included some statistics I found on the interwebz along with some nonprofits that provide essential services to vets in need. I had no idea how close to home any of this was at the time. I found out just how close it was this past April.

I had already planned a trip back to Illinois for various grandkids events. What I hadn’t planned for was finding out my son had been diagnosed with PTSD as a result, not only of his time in the Army, but that service coupled with coming home from Baghdad to the immediate aftermath of Caitlin’s death with a topper of the often times life and death (emphasis on the death part) of our chosen career.

For some background, after he graduated high school he knew he wanted to make the fire service his career. The fly in the ointment was that he was too young to test for FD jobs at that point. I had told him, probably several times, that I thought the military would be a good experience for him. As I’ve said numerous times, both here and IRL, he was never a bad kid by any means, but I felt that the self-discipline the military would teach him would serve him well as an adult.

Then September 11th happened.

And, of course, everything changed.

In January 2003 he was sent to Kuwait for the second time. His unit had spent several months there in 2002, but this time they prepped in earnest for what would become Operation Iraqi Freedom. In March of 2003 his unit was among the first into Iraq. They were in country for about eight weeks when Caitlin was killed and I contacted the Red Cross to get him home, ultimately too late to say good bye to her.

Due to his short-timer status (he only had a few months left in his enlistment) he was allowed to stay stateside after Caitlin’s funeral. I don’t recall exactly how long he was able to stay with Diane and I but it seems as though it was several weeks, maybe a month, before he had to go back to Fort Benning, GA to finish out his enlistment. We didn’t talk much about his time overseas in these days. The only conversations I remember having with him were that it took him about two weeks of being home to stop scanning the rooflines for snipers for one; and that one day, as he cut the grass for me, a couple neighborhood kids innocently lit off some firecrackers. It was a week or two before July 4th, so that wasn’t unusual. His response to the sound of the firecrackers was to hit the ditch. That’s the environment he had come from, so I understood it and wasn’t too alarmed when he told me. I figured as he reacclimated to civilian life, he’d get a better handle on things.

I had no clue how wrong I was.

We had always been able to talk about any number of topics, he and I. But, looking back, few of the topics were of a serious nature. And I don’t say that to throw stones at either of us, more as matter-of-fact. I don’t believe for a second that either of us feared difficult conversations. Maybe more that by our nature we each tend to put off the difficult conversations.

So now, flash forward to April 2019. A got a text from my daughter-in-law one morning asking if I had a few minutes to talk. I did and she called me a moment or two later.

As I listened to her tell me my son had been diagnosed with PTSD I felt all the air in my lungs leave me. I had had no clue. And as the realization that I’d had no clue washed over me, I felt an almost instant sense of failure. How could I have missed something like this? How could I never once have a conversation with him about this? And, almost as quickly, I recognized the same behavior in myself. I mean, after all, I chose the name of this blog due to my own ability to hide personal struggles from the general public. Again, this is not me pointing fingers, this is me trying to lay this out as matter-of-factly as I can. These were the thoughts that went through my head. And they rocked my world like it hadn’t been rocked in a very long time.

Since I had planned on coming home in about ten days anyway, I told her I’d pack up my stuff and be there as quickly as I could. So while they made arrangements to find in-patient counseling for him, I made arrangements to get out of town and on the road home. 48 hours after finding out, I was on the road back to Illinois to help out however I was needed. I figured, at the very least, I could provide some sense of normalcy for their two littles, since we soon found out Daddy would gone for around a month, maybe more, depending on how it went. He ended up getting admitted into a behavioral health center founded by our union, the International Association of Fire Fighters (IAFF) in suburban Baltimore, MD.

Just a few weeks prior to all this we had both attended a legislative conference for the union in Springfield and one of the speakers was a young woman from the center. I remembered something she had mentioned, it was something I’d heard before, but this time, it stuck. She said, if you encounter a friend or coworker that was struggling emotionally, you need to ask them if they’d had any thoughts about harming themself or others. And I mentioned that to my D-I-L and told her if she hadn’t asked him that, specifically, she needed to. She texted me back a little while later and said she asked him and he said that he had not. So that was a small sigh of relief. After he had been at the center for a few days we found out that he’d lied to her. He had, in fact, given thoughts to harming himself, the stress had gotten so bad. He said he couldn’t handle seeing anymore dead people. It goes without saying that’s a part of our job.

We were able to speak with him pretty much every day right from the start. And as his time there went on (he was in for 30ish days) and he made more progress the frequency of his calls increased. In all honesty, I worried that he was pushing to get released too soon. But he assured me that wasn’t the case, that he was truly ready. To say there were no bumps in the road after he returned would be a lie. There were, without question. To the point that he and I went for a drive one night so we could vent at each other, and, while in the car he gave me, for the first time since he came back from Iraq in 2003, an example of what he’d been dealing with since then, unbeknownst to all of us. And I’m not going to describe it for you other than to say it was pretty horrific. And I can’t imagine carrying it with me for any amount of time, let alone for sixteen years. But it really helped illuminate for me what he’d lived through and with for all those years.

The plan laid out for him to return from the center was; his first week was off work, to get back into the flow of home life. Then back on the job for a week of light-duty. Followed by a return to full duty. His time on light-duty was pretty helpful for him as he went to each of his firehouses on each shift to explain to them what he’d been through and what the center had done for him. Talking about it helped. His return to full duty came at him like a young Mike Tyson. Relentlessly. Each shift, for his first four shifts back, his crew had a cardiac arrest call. Karma gave no fucks, clearly.

But he continued, and continues, making baby steps forward. It helped a lot once the people that lived in the town he works stopped trying to die every day he worked, but more than that, the things he learned at the center helped him keep upright and moving in the right direction. Which is, of course, the best outcome we could have hoped for, all things considered.

I’ve tried over the years, and I think I’ve done an ok job, of telling him that I’m proud of him, proud of the man he’s become. He’s got a good heart, an empathetic soul, and he truly cares about others. I think he’s on the right track to caring equally about himself and his own well-being. To that end, he’s working on a fundraiser with the proceeds to support an organization that benefits firefighters- Illinois Fire Fighter Peer Support . Imma tell you right now, as he figures out what he’s going to do on this front I’ll be publicizing the shit outta this.

Before I wrap this up I want to get a couple things out here. I’m usually hesitant to name people for fear of forgetting someone. Today, I’m going to take that chance. I need to thank in no particular order; the guys from my union, Local 3234 for offering support in any way needed and with no hesitation. The men and women from my son’s local, Local 4813 for truly displaying brotherhood and sisterhood in his time of need. Matt Olson, the driving force behind ILFFPS, for answering every question I threw at him and also taking the time to ask me if I was processing everything ok. Thanks to Wendy, Vin, Carey, and Laura for letting me unload on you when I needed someone to talk to because, of course, I still have a hard time showing weakness in front of my own kids, especially when I feel like they’re looking at me for strength. I need to thank my rock star of a daughter-in-law for, well, pretty much everything. You kept the wheels on at the house when we were struggling to understand the changes coming our way, all while putting up with the quirks Lilly and I brought. We’re truly blessed to have you in our family. And if there is anyone I forgot to mention, I’m so very sorry.

Lastly, if you’re reading this and you’re struggling with whatever personal demons you may face, please remember you’re not alone. Talk to someone, seek help, recognize your value as a human being and how important you are to someone else. Please.

Peace.

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Random Conversations With A Three Year Old – Wrapping Up

In order to wrap this up, I’ve got two updates on my time hanging out with the 3 year-old. I mentioned in an earlier post that after our stop at the coffeehouse we head to a local park for play time. Unless it’s raining, in which case (the first time anyway) we went to a well known, franchised, hamburger place. She got a meal that made her “Happy” (lulz) and played for quite a while on the indoor playground. The next time it rained, as I GTS’d a somewhat less Golden Arch-y place to go, she very helpfully suggested we might try visiting Disney World. Taking that advice under consideration (not really) I continued my interwebz search and found a spot, very close by called Kinderland. Can I just say that this little indoor playground is right in the wheelhouse for three year-old grandchildren of mine? Slides, a ball pit, swings, stuff to climb on, a plethora of options all geared to preschool aged kids. And to top it off they have Nutella To Go packs! As I mentioned in my first post about hanging with a three year-old, she’s a big fan of Nutella, so this place is like pure win for her.

And since we’re talking about food (can I segue like a boss or what?) let me just say the Little Diamond is a confirmed grazer. Like three breakfasts, two lunches, a dinner and a snack is not an uncommon day. She’s got a good appetite and eats a variety of good, healthy, things. With the occasional exception, because the apples in our orchard often stay close to the tree… Case in point, the other day for breakfast 2.0 she wanted grapes and mango slices. Healthy, right? I asked what else she wanted and she pointed innocently at the fudge stripe cookies. You know the type, they’re made by elves, I believe. In an incredible display of discipline, I told her she could only have one and she had to have something else healthy. So she chose carrots. Now, we’re good here, right? 75% healthy stuff with one cookie, especially a cookie as irresistible as one with stripes of fudge, feels like the best of both worlds. I figured this would be kept on a need-to-know basis; between LD and Grandpa. That lasted until Daddy walked into the kitchen to refresh his coffee.

“Daddy I had a stripe cookie for breakfast!”

Ratted out by a 3 year-old. We went through a similar exchange when her brother came into the kitchen a few minutes later, at which point I asked her if she’d like to go out on the front porch and shout it out to the neighborhood. She demurred. A little while later, when Mommy came into the kitchen and commented on the fruit LD had chosen for breakfast, I asked LD if she’d like to add any further comment aaaannnd she helpfully told her Mom she’d started her breakfast with a stripe cookie.

I’m perfectly fine with all this too, btw. If a Grampa can’t feed possibly inappropriate breakfast foods, well then, we’ve let the terrorists win, haven’t we?

I’ve been sitting here, intermittently staring at the computer screen for about 30 minutes now, trying to decide which direction I want to go as I try to finish this post. We had a couple of larger events the last couple days and either of them would be perfectly fitting ways to close this out. Ok, I picked one so here goes. The other one may surface soon or it may float off into the ether of my brain, time will tell.

A couple posts back I pondered whether there was anything more adorbs than a three year-old in a tutu. I can now say that there is, in fact. A dance floor full of three year-olds in tutus may well be the highest score to be obtained on the Adorbs Gradient Rating System (not a real thing) ever. Blasting past puppies, kittens, bunnies, laughing babies, you name it.

This was confirmed yesterday afternoon at the Little Diamonds first ever (and possibly last ever) dance recital, as her “troupe” gave their interpretation of “Somewhere Over The Rainbow” as sung by Judy Garland. The miniature prima ballerinas all did great although I must admit the LD was by far (no bias on my part, nope, not a bit) the best of the show. She really did do great, in all seriousness, and it was truly a joy to watch. Of course it’s far too early to say if she has a future in dance or not, but the fact that, when asked by her Mom what she wanted to do next, her reply was an emphatic “KARATE!” leads me to believe her debut may have also been her swan song.

Such is the temperament of an artistè.

Fun fact – I just GTS’d artiste and the proper spelling shows no accent mark, but I like it so I’mma keep it there. You don’t like it, write your own damn blog. Seriously, some of you should. You know who you are.

Peace

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Dates

I know I’ve written about this before, I’m not sure if it was here or on my old site, maybe both, but once again the calendar has managed to tie a wonderful moment in the history of our family with a horrible moment.

Regular readers, or people that know me (us) IRL might recognize May 24th as the anniversary of the day Caitlin died from her injuries after being struck by a drunk driver in 2003. From this point forward we can add May 24th as the date the oldest grandchild graduated from high school.

There’s no small amount of irony to me here, as Caitlin was one week shy of her own high school graduation when she was killed. This whole senior year for the Heir To The Throne has been filled with bittersweet memories. As I’ve watched his accomplishments in this final year of high school; from Honor Rolls, to FFA Banquets, going to three different Proms, to Senior Night, to walk-off home runs, to being named All-Conference catcher, I find it’s almost impossible to not think about how thrilled Diane and Caitlin would have been to watch this year unfold.

I haven’t had that conversation with him, but a couple of the offspring and I have talked about how proud Diane would be, not just about HTTT, of course, but of all five of the littles. But she loved baseball. We went to as many of her nephews games as we could and she was always yelling her encouragement to them. And she always told them how well she thought they played whether they had an 0-fer or got a hit every at bat. The Oldest One tends to be a wee bit vocal at HTTT’s sporting events. That’s an understatement, btw. On par with saying the Titanic had a mishap with an iceberg. And I don’t say that to make fun of OO (well, maybe a little) but rather as a point of reference, because I’m fairly certain Diane would have boosted the decibel level significantly above that produced by OO. Had she been in attendance at the walk-off she may well have jumped the fence to greet him at home plate with his team. And to hear he made All-Conference? I truly believe she would roll down her car window in traffic to tell random strangers about her grandson’s accomplishment. For real for real. As I wrote that I got a vivid image of her doing that very thing. And I laughed a little (I try really hard not to literally lol when I’m writing in a coffeehouse) when that popped into my head.

So yeah, tonight will be another in the line of bittersweet days for us all. I mean, we’ll get through it alright, we always do, but it’s just another example of the ripple effect. They never stop coming, it seems. There may be lapses between them, but they’re always lurking. At least it seems like it.

Before I let this devolve into anything darker, I’m going to wrap the post up with a couple pictures

The first is the HTTT with his (unanimous) All-Conference pitcher, the second is the HTTT with Caitlin taken Mother’s Day weekend in 2003. I felt like they were a far better way to end this post.

And so I am.

Peace

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Time Does What It Does

Marches on, that is. Monday marked the 12th birthday for the Reigning Princess. I still remember when the Quiet Child told me she was expecting, shortly after Diane died. I have never been more certain of the gender of a baby than I was that day. I knew, with 100% confidence, that this baby would be a girl. What I didn’t know, was that she would combine the best traits of her Grandmother, Aunt, and Mother. She has the vivacious personality of Diane and Caitlin, and the Quiet Child’s natural beauty. She grabbed my heart and wrapped it firmly around her tiny fingers from the very first moment I saw her and has never loosened that hold. Whether she’s sending me a random “Hi Papa, I love you, I miss you!” text or, when she sees me in person and launches herself into my arms for a ginormous hug from as far away as she can possibly leap and still stick the landing, she’s got a constrictor-like grip.

As it should be.

Without question, the most difficult part of my decision to move 800 miles away from the cold-ass environs (the week started with 4frickin5 degrees here. On May 20th and 21st. WTF? btw W in this case stands for weather) of northern Illinois, was the knowledge I’d see less of my favorite small humans than I had been accustomed to. Of course I see less of my favorite larger humans too, but that’s a different thing altogether.

I consider myself pretty fortunate to be able to be a part of so much that’s happened with the family littles this spring, from Heir To The Throne’s last baseball games, to the Former Beatle Baby’s first ever baseball game, with the Reigning Princess’s games sprinkled into the mix. From the Little Diamond’s first ever dance recital (a 3 year-old in a tutu, is there really anything on the planet more adorbs than that?) to HTTT’s high school graduation. Oh, just to complete the sweep, I got to try out the Boy Genius’ virtual reality rig while I’ve been back. That was pretty incredible. It also made me feel like a dinosaur as I thought back to the first ever “computer” we had back in the day. And I use the quotation marks, because while it was technically a computer, as compared to today, it really wasn’t. Oh, here’s a thing. Last night Went to the Spring Sports Awards Night at the Heir To The Throne’s school. He got a medal as the leading Run Producer (Runs Scored plus RBI’s) so that was cool. My favorite part of the evening came after, as the Oldest One and I were chatting with the family of HTTT’s pitcher. These two have played ball together for 12 years, and almost from Day 1 the were pitcher and catcher. As we chatted there in the almost empty auditorium, we found out both boys had made the All-Conference baseball team. It was an incredibly cool moment and showed the amount of respect they had earned from the other coaches in the conference, since coaches made up the voting body.

So, yeah, it has been a pretty cool (Ha! See what I did there?) spring here in northern Illinois.

Oh, here’s a random side note. You wanna know how you know when you’ve found a great coffeehouse? When you bring in your (teetering on the brink of a mini meltdown) three year-old granddaughter immediately post hair-braid-tie-thingy (I’m pretty sure that’s not what they’re actually called, but you know what I mean) malfunction and one of the baristas not only has a spare hair-braid-tie-thingy but also rebraids the part of the three year-olds braid that unraveled due to said malfunction. AND gives her extra bunny cookies. Yup, that place is a keeper. As much as I enjoyed the place I used to frequent when I lived here, this coffeehouse is now, solidly, my go-to place when I’m back in Illinois.

Getting back to the theme I had intended with this; I’m down to less than two weeks before I head back to central North Carolina. I know there have been a bunch of people I haven’t seen on this trip, that I had intended to. So, if you’re on that list, I apologize. However, I should have a wee bit more disposable time for the remainder of my stay, so I’m hopeful I can still see many of the people I had planned on seeing. Fingers crossed, right?

Peace

PS- Sixteen years ago tonight our world turned upside down. And I’m learning we’re still dealing with the waves as they ripple through the years. No profound message, no heart rending pleas, and I’m not looking for thoughts, prayers, or sympathy. Just thinking back on sixteen years.

Again, Peace

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Pride

It goes without saying, I’m proud of my kids and grandkids. For any number of reasons. In the case of the adults, for example, they’ve all grown to be loving. caring, human beings, the type I’m glad to spend time with, and I would even if they weren’t my kids.

In the case of the littles, I’m proud of the traits they’ve started to exhibit, which leads me to believe they, too, will become amazing adult human beings. But this particular post isn’t about the littlest ones. Instead, it’s about the biggest of the littles. Number 18 in your scorecard, number 1 in your heart, yes, this post is about the Heir To The Throne.

This season marks the end of his baseball career. That saddens me. But I get it. Much as I’d like to believe otherwise, I don’t think he’s quite good enough for the MLB draft and he has no desire to continue his education in college. He wants to get into the trades, specifically he’s taken an interest in welding. I’m ok with that btw. One of the things I’ve learned over the years was that going through an apprentice program in one of the trades is roughly equivalent to getting a four-year degree from college. The difference is that, in approximate numbers, in college roughly 90% of the learning takes place in the classroom and 10% takes place in the field whereas in an apprentice program those numbers are reversed. But the total amount of time spent learning your craft is (again, roughly) equivalent. And on an even bigger plus, he won’t come out of the education phase with a huge college loan debt hanging over his head, rather he’ll come out of it at close to top of grade pay.

So, I’m proud of him for that decision, and I’ll do all I can to support him, just as I will with the four younger littles, whatever they choose to do when their time comes.

But this post isn’t about that. This post is all about memories. Specifically the ones I’ll carry with me in HTTT’s post baseball days. Like for instance four years ago, in his first season of high school baseball when, after delivering a couple of key, run scoring hits, the guys on the bench started chanting “He’s a freshman!”. That will always make me smile. So, I’m not sure I’m as ready for this end to come as he is, but I’ll say this. The lessons he’s learned from baseball will be useful in his future, wherever he may end up. He’s learned leadership skills, as evidenced by watching him give pre-game pep talks to the team after the coach has said his piece. I’ve watched him call time to go out and settle down his pitcher (he plays catcher) countless times. I’ve seen him interact with numerous plate umpires and opposing players and I’ve seen him, almost without fail, represent his team honorably. We won’t talk about the rare occasions where the family “red ass” rears it’s head, but it has happened a couple times, almost always directed at himself. I also won’t mention the family foot speed, other than to make a blanket apology for bestowing it upon him via the gene pool.

One of the things I tried to teach him over the years about hitting was this; don’t step into the batters box until your head is right. You don’t have time to react to the pitch if you’re busy thinking about stuff. So think about situations; what the pitchers might throw, how many outs there are, the count, things of that nature before you step into the box. And if you find yourself thinking about, well, really, anything, ask for time and step out for a few seconds to clear your head.

So, let’s go back to last Wednesday, shall we? (I know, I know, it was almost a full week ago. It took me awhile to figure out how to embed the video) Your Hiawatha Hawks were playing in Big Rock. Due to rotten weather this spring (I know, right? Bad weather in Illinois in the spring? Who knew?) the Hawks were actually the home team in this game. They started out in a 2-0 hole after a sloppy 1st inning. The deficit grew to 3-0 after 3 innings. The Hawks fought back to 3-2 after 5 innings and going into the bottom of the 7th, found themselves down by the same score. The first two batters struck out. It wasn’t looking too promising for the good guys. Then, the leadoff batter worked a walk. So did the number two batter. That brought HTTT to the plate. He fouled off the first pitch he saw, a fastball he was a little late on. Same thing with the second pitch, fouling it almost off his foot. He stepped in for the next pitch and as the pitcher got his sign, HTTT asked for, and got, time from the plate umpire. He stepped out, got his head right, and stepped back in. The third pitch was close, especially if you were from Big Rock as they groaned when the ump called it a ball. And then, this happened-

You may have heard someone exclaim “Holyyyyyyy shit!” in that video. It may have been me. That’s what you call #sorrynotsorry in the online world. It was a pretty cool moment, definitely one I’ll remember fondly for the rest of my days. I hope he never becomes too cool to look back on it the same way. Life doesn’t give you many opportunities for walk-off homers, when you get one and are able to deliver, it should last in your personal highlights for as long as possible. There’s a metaphor in there somewhere but I’m not sure I’m clever enough to pull it into better focus.

So, yeah, I’m pretty proud of 18. I’m going to miss the heck out of watching him play ball. Senior Night is next week and I’m hopeful I can keep my shit together that night because one of us is kind of an old softie. The Reigning Princess has started her softball season, or will if the weather ever cooperates, and the Former Beatle Baby will start his first ever baseball season soon too. So there will be more fond spring sports memories in our futures, I’m sure.

I can’t wait.

Peace

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More Random Conversations With A Three Year-Old

As promised, the Little Diamond continues to educate me. As a bonus for you, dear readers, I’ve also included some of the running commentary I’ve had with her seven year-old brother, the grandchild formerly known as Beatle Baby. I hope you enjoy reading these as much as I enjoyed hearing them.

As part of our regular routine on days when it’s just the two of us, LD joins me at the coffeehouse (where the baristas spoil her with “bunny cookies”. These are small butter cookies shaped, as you may have guessed, like bunnies, and they’re a big hit) and after my daily latte fix (I may have a problem. Except it’s not a problem) we go to a park of her choosing. One of her favorites has a long slide. The other day, as she finished one of her trips down the slippery surface she proclaimed, to anyone listening, “Best. Slide. Evaaar.”

She’s also fond of facepalms when I (or any other adult she spends time with for that matter) says something she finds unbelievable. And, while that’s pretty funny to watch, my favorite LD special effect has to be either the sad trombone noise she’s perfected (“Wah, wah, waaah”) or when she says something she considers hilarious, and wants to ensure a reaction she feels is suitable, will finish it with “Anybody? Anybody?” I’m waiting for her to recommend the veal and to remind me to tip the waitstaff next.

Lastly on the LD front, apparently Jojo Siwa is a thing at that age group. I had never heard of her before, apparently she owes her “fame” to some reality tv show. But she’s quite a thing in LD’s eyes. If you’re unfamiliar with her, you should probably avoid GTSing her or your search suggestions may get flooded with teenage “musicians” and I’m guessing nothing good will come from that.

Moving right along. This happened one day last week. Actually all of it did. It was quite a week.

Former Beatle Baby “Grampa Joe, are you married?”

Me “Nope.”

FBB “Cause you’re too old, right?”

Me :-l

Or this- While holding his sister’s lip balm.

FBB “Can Lilly lick this?”

Me “No pal, that’s not for dogs.”

FBB “Oh.” “She kinda did.”

Me “She kinda did?”

FBB “Uh huh”

Me “Ok, then.”

In case you’re wondering, I washed off the lip balm before I gave it back to the LD.

This came from the bathroom yesterday-

FBB “Don’t stop, believin’…” Which, btw, sounded better than Journey since, you know, Journey. But I’m not sure why he felt compelled to sing that song, let alone to sing it in the bathroom. Also, at random times yesterday I was treated to Coldplay’s “Paradise” and possibly “Livin’ On A Prayer” by Bon Jovi? At least that’s who I think it’s by. I don’t care enough to look it up. I get enough off-base music suggestions (artificial intelligence my ass) as it is. I’m beginning to question his parenting though. Not really. But kinda.

Finally there was this, at a fundraiser breakfast for the fire department where I got my start lo those many years ago, and where we were joined by his Aunt, the Oldest One. Tossing a sugar packet in front of his Aunt, FBB said

“You dropped your name tag.”

As you might imagine, the table erupted into some pretty hearty laughter. But the best part was when he leaned over to his Mom and asked

“What does that mean?”

Peace

PS- I’ve got another one of these brewing, but first I need to figure out how to whittle a video down to a size that will allow me to embed it into a post. You’ll know it if I’m successful…

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Random Conversations With A 3 Year Old

This one might be long on column space, but it’s pretty short word-wise. And if the subject keeps up the entertainment value of comments, I’ll do another one of these.

One of the obvious bonuses to coming out here a week earlier than I’d planned is getting more time to hang with the littles. Even the not so littles. One of the surprise bonuses (I’m not sure how many there will be, since, you know, surprise bonus) is the opportunity to glean wisdom from a certain three year-old. The Little Diamond and I have been hanging quite a bit this week and these are some of the pearls she’s dropped on me…

Little Diamond from the back seat of the car after a morning of running errands – “Are we almost home?”

Me – “Almost. Are you tired?”

LD – “No, I’m hungry.”

Me – “What do you want for lunch?”

LD – “Chips!”

Me – “You need to eat more than chips.”

LD – “Ummm peppers and tomatoes! And chips!”

Me – “How about some bbq too?”

LD “Yeah, whatever.” I could almost hear her eyes roll at me with that one.

Then there was the time I was singing along (poorly I might add) to the theme from SpongeBob SquarePants…

LD – “No Grampa, it’s SpongeBob Triangle.”

Me – “When did they change it?”

LD – “Last Friday.”

Me – “Ok then.”

I have learned over the past week that this phrase precedes some very unusual comments…

LD – “Ummm Grampa Joe, I have to tell you something.”

Me – “You do?”

LD – “Ummm I saw something blue on the floor and it was from Lilly’s toy.”

Me – “Did you throw it in the garbage for me?”

LD – “Umm yes? *with an impish grin*

Me – “LOL are you sure?”

LD – “Yes?”

Me – “Ok then.”

Or this.

“Grampa Joe, I have to tell you something.”

“Ok, sweetie.”

“I’m hungry, can I have a snack?”

“Sure, what would you like?”

“Nutella.”

“Nutella and what?”

“Nuffing. Just Nutella.”

“Ok then. I’ll get you some Nutella.”

LD, describing game pieces from Candy Land –

“This one doesn’t have a face.”

“What happened to it?”

“A puppy did it.”

“Really? What puppy?”

“Ummm Sherlock.”

“Who has a puppy named Sherlock?”

“Ummm Daddy.”

“Really. Daddy has a puppy named Sherlock?”

“Uh huh.”

*Pro tip* Daddy does not, in fact, have a puppy named Sherlock. Or anything else, for that matter.

This next comment I hear, at random, roughly forty to fifty times a day and that’s not an exaggeration. And each time melts my heart.

LD – “I love you Grampa Joe.”

Me – “I love you too sweetie.”

If you’ve got grandkids, or for that matter, kids around this age, I’m sure you’re familiar with this type of running commentary. Probably to the point that you could fill up one of these posts with similar tales. So you can relate, I’m sure. Through all the hurdles life can put in our path, moments like these always seem to help get us focused back on what’s truly important. Like, for instance, did you know My Little Ponies have cutie marks and NOT beauty marks? This is important.

Peace.

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And Here We Are

So, I was cruising through the Jewels the other day, picking up a few things, one of which being body wash. I had many varieties? Blends? Styles? Types? Kinds? Yeah, maybe kinds, from which to choose. I mean of the brand I like. And Jesus, when did shopping for body wash become like shopping for wine? Have you ever really stopped and looked at the aisle full of cleaning products for your body? It’s staggering. So, when the maker of my brand apparently decided to drop my preferred kind (kind still doesn’t sound quite right) I was left with a quandary. I mean, of course, getting clean is the primary target. But I’d kinda like to smell nice too, right? I don’t think that’s a crazy request, either for myself, or for others that may end up in close proximity to me. Now, a complicating factor, for me anyway, is the inability to smell much of anything. The result of having polyps removed, twice, about twenty years ago, so I can’t tell how pleasant or unpleasant a blend might be. So, when I looked at the label of one and saw “Dark Pomegranate and Sandalwood scent” I thought two things…

A.) Do I want to smell like a candle? and…

B.) Oooooooh pomegranate!

Don’t judge me.

In case you missed it, I kinda buried the lede up there, I’m back in Illinois. It’s baseball/softball/dance recital/graduation season and I thought it might be fun to surprise the fam by getting in early. Mission accomplished, btw! Now if Mother Nature would only cooperate. Not likely, right? Although I suppose it’s only fair that Illinois weather should return to crap within days of my arrival.

#LillyNO was again a trooper on the road trip home, she slept on the back seat (in her new car harness) the whole trip with not one peep out of her. So that’s also a win. Speaking of troopers (see what I did there?) I thought for sure I’d gotten nailed by radar in Ohio, just west of Dayton. Traffic had been pretty great until I got to the Greater Dayton Area and then it started significantly sucking. Or maybe sucking significantly. Either way. So when I got up on I-70 westbound I tried to get around a particularly aggravating cluster of knuckleheads. And as I got up to cruising speed, I noticed an Ohio Highway Patrol squad sitting on the shoulder with the trooper shooting radar. As soon as I saw him, he dropped the speed gun and got into his car, lighting it up. I muttered something (fun fact: I don’t know how many words #LillyNO understands, but she has figured out eff bombs aren’t happy words…) and moved into the right lane, anticipating I’d need to pull over. Much to my relief, he pulled in behind a Jeep Cherokee a couple cars behind me, so, Yay Me! I waited a couple miles out of courtesy and then got back on it. The miserability factor of the traffic flow however, continued past Indianapolis. Pretty much until I got off the Interstate at Remington and hit two lane roads the remainder of the drive home. That adds time to the trip, no doubt, but traveling through northwestern Indiana and through the south/southwest/west suburbs is so hit-or-miss I try and avoid it. In perfect conditions it’s probably 60-90 minutes faster than the two lane route, but conditions there are rarely perfect, at least not at the time of day I typically go through there. So I choose to preserve what little sanity I have left.

It’s almost like Mother Nature is reading over my shoulder (which, I’m told, is rude af btw) because looking out the window I can see that Winter Storm WTF (not it’s real name. I don’t think.) has descended upon northern Illinois. And apparently #LillyNO is as done with winter as I am. She’s whining to go outside yet, both times I’ve tried to let her out, she refuses to set foot out into the snow/sleet/whatever the heck it’s doing at the moment. I hope she’s not holding out for sunshine, her bladder isn’t that strong. But then, who’s is? She’s now going back and forth, from front door to back door, only to find it’s doing the same thing at each stop.

This may get interesting…

Peace

PS- Because, well, you know, we’re now 0 for 3.

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ICRTD Hurricane Edition

You know, I was part way through a post about my recent travels and with the way my phone has blown up the last couple days, I figured it might be prudent to address the weather.  I’m not sure if you’re aware, but as it turns out A HURRICANE IS COMING AND IT’S GOING TO MAKE LANDFALL IN NORTH CAROLINA!!!!!!

First off, let me just express gratitude for all the family and friends that have called/texted/DM’d/Messaged me the last few days to make sure I’m safe.  It kinda shocked me, but then I realized it’s because I’ve got the coolest friends on the planet and I appreciate each and every one of you, whether you reached out to me or gave me a few moments thought out of your day.  So thanks, I’m humbled, truly.

Now, to The Storm (capitalization mine) that approaches…

Among the reasons I chose central North Carolina were the consideration that any hurricanes that might come this way would, in theory at least, weaken significantly by the time it came in this far.  Believe me, I have no desire to “tough it out” when it comes to 100+ mile per hour winds and 25+ inches of rain all at the same time.  I have what I consider a healthy respect for Mother Nature.  Being a native Midwesterner I experienced several tornadoes over the course of my life, some closer than others, but I knew enough about them to know that it was foolhardy to try and stare one down.  Tornadoes, of course, are fairly short-lived phenomena.  Hurricanes, as I’m sure you are aware, last for days.  If the experts recommend I should evacuate, I’m gone.

Now, please don’t take this the wrong way, I don’t mean to suggest any of the concerned calls or offers of a place to stay were out of line, rather I know they were placed out of genuine concern for my safety.  And again, I appreciate you.

The initial storm track after landfall was actually fairly close to me, within fifty miles or so.  But even at that the storm that was expected to pack winds around 125 mph and dump 25″-30″ of rain on the coast was only expected to bring 30 mph winds and 3″-6″ of rain to this part of the state.  Granted that’s larger than a typical storm, but perfectly manageable, at least to me.  As long as the storm doesn’t produce six weeks of sub zero temperatures (you know, like January in northern Illinois) I think I’ll be fine.  Further, as of about 45 minutes ago the National Weather Service Hurricane Center now predicts the storm will move south and west after landfall, crossing through South Carolina instead of North Carolina.  I haven’t seen the local updates yet, but I feel safe in assuming that will lessen the impact of the storm on this area even more.  Of course, I’ll continue to monitor the updates and I promise not to do anything (too) stupid once the storm finally gets here.

I mean, after all, who wants to be on Florence’s list?  Amirite?

Peace