Walk on By

The long month of March is just about over.

For many folks in this north land, this is usually a welcome thing. The coming of April doesn’t mean instant change (usually), but it has meant a softer side to being outdoors: lighter jackets, shoes rather than boots, more daylight in general.

Photo courtesy via CC

And more sightings of little sales. Rummage sales, garage sales, estate sales… The “stuff” comes out from hiding in dank basements, airy attics and overstuffed garages. Treadmills, furniture, books, antique ashtrays, Smurf glasses.

We like “things” in our household. Shiny things, old things, funny things, random things… and this is a problem because our house is not huge and it starts to add up. Our toyroom has too many toys – enough to make it difficult to concentrate on one thing for a good amount of play. Our basement has some relics and other various items that will never get used, just shifted from corner to corner. At this time the kitchen has no room for another unique blender or sandwich maker.

So, in the upcoming weeks – through mid-May at least, I must listen to the words sung by Dionne Warwick: a resounding “Walk on By”… that yard sale with all the sweet Super Nintendo games. “Walk on By” that garage sale with the neon beer signs. “Walk on By” that rummage sale with the vintage Bacharach albums…

Just walk on by. Don’t stop.

Just walk on by. Don’t stop.

Incommunicado

All right, this one is about mama.

When traveling for work, she tends to go incommunicado. She may be out west, down southeast, out east, mid-west, far off, wherever, as far as I am concerned she is long gone, and her absence makes my heart grow fonder.

My reliance upon her periodic (daily) communicative updates, be them reminders (I will be home late because…), lunch reviews (this PBJ needs more J) or even gossip (you should see her hair!) are as mortar to brick. It becomes clearly apparent this mortar is missing while she is away on business. The wall doesn't come crashing down but it doesn't feel as rigid either.

And this house of boys doesn’t sleep well when she is not home.  ;(

However, the entire purpose of her traveling is to attend meetings and work gatherings, stuff that can’t be interrupted even if it were close by. So we deal with it. We don’t mind her traveling. We can handle it. It's covered.

Back at home, we schedule out simple meals (as my barber says "breakfast - you can always make them breakfast for dinner"), coordinate sitters through our custom network of friends and family, if necessary. Get a bit more creative with the boys outfits (there you go, yellow shirt, blue pants - makes for green socks...).

We check-in over the phone every evening she is out. The conversations aren’t as lively as they used to be, we know each other fairly well by now. In between lines of placid conversation we listen to each other breathe to determine how our days really went.

Often the voices are tired:

<Early morning flights, jet lag, stressful meetings, uncomfortable beds><busy boys, cleaning house, running noses, 3:1 ratio, the warm lump that I sleep next to is elsewhere>

In today’s world, as we stretch ourselves out – communication is one of those things that gets kinda thin ... and the mobile phone seems a bit of a necessity.

Three Guesses

Conversation in the car, on the way to preschool –

“Hey, lets play a game. Do you know what you want to be when you grow up? If so, don’t tell me. The game is for me to guess what you want to be, ok? I get three guesses."

"Are you ready?"

"Yup."

Photo courtesy via CC

"Do you want to be a Doctor?"

"No."

"Do you want to be a Mayor?"

"Nope."

"Ok."

"Now I have one more guess, all right, then you have to tell me what you want to be."

"Do you want to be a firefighter?"

"NO."

"Dad, I am not going to tell you ‘till we get closer to school."

"All right.”

*Crickets * chirp * crickets *

Park the car.

He unclasps his belt, jumps out of his seat and leans towards the front seat.

“Dad, I am going to tell you what I want to be when I grow up."

"Ok."

"I want to wear a suit.”

(At this point, I was really enthused. Wow, a business guy, like his mom, perhaps a banker, an attorney, a mortuary man?)

“I have to whisper it to you."

"Sweet, can’t wait."

in a hushed tone - 

"I want to be Iron Man."

"Oh.”

We hop out of the car and walk the walk. Step one, step two….. step 36, 37, 38…

“Dad, do you want to be Iron Man too?"

"No."

"I want to be Captain America."

Altering Habits Via "The Force"

Brace yourself for a bit of economics.

By golly a gallon o’ gas is approaching $4 (especially in my urban 'hood). This means that to fill the big tank of my family-toting/gas guzzling, pseudo SUV it will cost approximately $72; and then if $5 gas – that would mean $90 to top’it off.

"Honey, instead of camping in the Black Hills, shall we consider the backyard instead? These prices just suck.” – Says this landlubbing, milk-drinking, Midwest born and raised... guy. It's just not fair. *sigh, poor us*

It’s kind of crazy how our habits or our values change – especially when outside pressures or “forces” hit us head-on. Stuff we really can’t control, but yet find means to react to. “The Force” as I'm calling it, is outside our control, but it pressures us to react and make some change in our routine.

This specific gas price action (or reaction?) may affect my families budget into the future (microeconomics): lessening our chances of eating out at a drive-thru restaurant, being able to afford going out to movies or attending a Twins game, or in an extreme case - reverting to one automobile… changes made that may be good or bad.

And what's interesting to me, is how our habits will change. How the food we eat may change – due to cost; How we may not afford popcorn or Goobers at the movies; How we may attend a cheaper St. Paul Saints baseball game rather than a Twins game. How we will drive less – and probably walk or bike more.

Also, what’s nuts, is that the price change doesn’t even take into account the external cost that emitting carbon out (of our vehicles) will have on us and our world. As our seasons warm (or disappear), will we actually place a cost, a force, a pressure, on this phenomenon? Or just continue on and perhaps wear masks - living with the external costs (a negative externality) of our day to day routine.

So, the loaded question is: what is it exactly that causes “The Force”, the pressure? (hint: supply, demand, the market)

We aren't in an oil crisis yet, but it's starting to remind me of another era: 1979-80.

From what I recall at that time - as a five year old… my parents bought a red wine-colored Plymouth Horizon. They probably rocked out to something by Lipps, Inc. or Bob Seger on its radio, similar to this. That Horizon was indeed a front-wheel drive, fuel efficient, lightweight hunk of man-made engineering.

And by the by, my kids are really digging the following commercial for the Kia Soul, which is perhaps a modern day equivalent to the Plymouth Horizon.... Well maybe not, but can anyone say - dancing robots?

Three Sides to Every Fact?

There seems to be a lot of "change" or "proposed change" going on these days. Be it man-made, or not. We seem to have entered an era of false facts used to drive this change and it seems difficult to determine whose word is correct through the debate.

With the reasons, or reasoning for change - I find much of the proposals questionable - though it is difficult to discern the facts and their true logic or reality. Here is an example, from a source that I think is respectable.

What is real and what is false?

A recent occurrence of this fact conundrum was when driving down the street and listening to a pro/con topic on talk radio.

As I listened, I thought about how there is so much information available. To discern and wade through it seems to be an exhausting task.

In my gut, there was a feeling for which side to agree with. But the way the two opposing speakers were throwing facts and figures around, it made them seem really… right, as in correct.

Which to choose? The very effluent speaker who practically chafed at the other speaker on air - or the less clear speaker, the one who used um and augh a lot (I tend to root for underdogs)?

How about which one sounded the clearest. I mean this literally. Perhaps one of the speakers was actually in the studio with the talk show host and the other was on the phone line – thus offering their viable information, though with a bit of snap, crackle and pop and with a slight delay.

Perhaps the local person versus the outsider?

The think tanker versus the tanking thinker?

I don’t know, I couldn't tell, so I turned the radio off.

I took statistics in college. I managed to make my way through and it wasn’t all pretty – but I got through. What I seemed to hear is that there is a difference between the application of mean, median and mode. I am troubled by folks using facts and the means to gather these facts - and then only having perhaps 45 minutes to relay this information. Or, is that what makes a good politician?

I've been told there are three sides to every story. Yours, mine and the truth.
Does that go for facts as well?

oh, you've gotta know when to hold'em...

Sippy Cup Madness

I know it’s a ridiculous title, but it’s what came to my mind and I am pleased to write a bit about the family and how our child rearing is… progressing.

As the NCAA March Madness starts this week, I am enthralled in another form of “madness” at my home. Our youngest child turned two recently – “yay” for him and his birthday. “Yay” for us, it was the end of a long line of celebrations that essentially lingered through winter, starting at/with Christmas and into a new year, through three birthdays, a baptism, and various upper respiratory illnesses.

Sarcastically speaking - we love winter. Sometimes, right before Christmas I wish I could just take a great big gulp of fresh air and hold my breath.... all the way through - March.

Anyhow, so our youngest is now 2. To me this means he is beginning that more independent streak – complete with shorter naps, bits of whining, and some form of frustrated, communicative post-babel which he uses as we watch him walk off on his own - (down the busy mall esplanade). He is developing into his own MC - beginning to test his skills at ruling his roost, kinging his castle and so on. Becoming his own beautiful person.

Being version 3.0, he already has versions 2.0 and 1.0 to mimic and keep up with. This is funny because as he works hard to keep up to pace – he essentially skips some developmental steps. As in he skips the “Little People” phenomenon, either because we parents are now too busy overall to play it with him, or because we play in other advanced forms of pretend that the older boys initiate, which often includes the use of opposable-limbed action figures.

Whatever.
We are about to move him from the crib to a big boy bed. We have removed the high chair (which no longer gets used) from the small kitchen and into the basement – soon we will no longer be filling landfills with diapers  - and I have been eyeing those sippy cups up on the shelves. The ones that take three pieces, plus assembly, to use. The ones that take up valuable shelf space.

The big trouble in our little corner of the world is that this is probably the last time this stuff will get used - by this immediate family unit. Moving from one family stage to another is odd, and different, and leaves us parents feeling kind of older and sentimental. Where did our babies go?

It is madness to have these children, and secretly enjoy the madness they create, but to then watch them get older - a vicious self-inflicted cycle indeed.

I know it’s a ridiculous rant, but it’s what came to my mind and I am forlorn (a bit) to write about the family and how our child rearing is … regressing.

btw - Go Big Ten!