I skipped today's run in favor of an outing to the Berkshire Mall. If you aren't from the area, you may still recognize the name, as it received a bit of notoriety last year when some moron with a criminal record tried to sue the mall administration after a video circulated showing her walking into a fountain. Yup.
I worked at this mall for several years during high school and college. In fact, it's where I met my wife. This was the first trip my son and I took to the mall together, so naturally I had to take him to the place where his Mommy and I got to know each other. Before that, it was essential that we stop at the pet store, pet a few puppies, and stare at a lizard or two. Having accomplished all that, we continued on to what is now F.Y.E. Immediately upon entering the store, I recognized its smell as if I never left. Hours of my life were spent on the cheap faux-wood floor and rarely cleaned carpet of what was then known as Record Town Saturday Matinee. The only things that have changed about that store are the name, employees, and inventory. Tapes and laser discs have been replaced by Jeff Dunham plush toys, some sort of headgear called a "laplander", and action figures from movies I've never seen. It didn't make me miss working in retail one bit. The four minutes or so that we wandered around in FYE were plenty, so we moved on to the next store.
I have recently been surprised by how many people want to talk to me- well, me and the baby. This was never more true than when I walked into The Shoe Dept. A college-aged clerk greeted us as we entered the store, which was not unusual. However, he engaged me about my son's Phillies attire, and we continued to talk as I inched away from him. We shared little but a common interest in baseball, but his similarly-aged coworker came over and asked a few questions about my son. They were watched and smiled as he walked/ ran around their store. I couldn't believe that two guys their age would have any interest in a baby, but we spent at least 10 minutes talking and playing in their store. We didn't buy anything, but we did learn something about how awesome my son is.
The next stop was lunch at Taco Casa, an on-again-off-again local franchise. While I knew that we were going to have lunch at the mall and remembered to bring water and snacks, I neglected to bring other essentials such as a bib or washcloth. I gambled (and won) by not using a bib at all. I was especially pleased with the result because I used a standard-issue plastic spoon to feed him, and he has never eaten from of anything other than a soft plastic baby spoon. I was also able to use his unused water and some napkins to clean the soft taco remnants off his face and hands. This was easily the quickest and easiest meal he's ever had.
We visited a few stores after lunch, but I had band practice in the afternoon, and he needed a nap. He slept for about 35 minutes on the way over to the school, and was in a really good mood as I got set up. He danced for most of our short practice, occasionally stopping to pull off a sock or throw a toy out of his play area. He seemed genuinely excited that I remembered to bring along his little drumsticks.
Unpleasant situations become much more bearable for him when he can hold something. When he let it be known that he didn't enjoy "swimming" lessons, we brought along a bath toy for him to hold. The only time this trick hasn't worked is when he had to have a routine blood test a few weeks ago. Nothing could have saved that day.
After band practice we stopped at PopPop's house for a quick session of taking magnets off the refrigerator, shaking music boxes, and staring at the ceiling fan. My son also carried on an adorable conversation with my dad, actually responding at the proper times and pausing for replies. Words are coming soon, I'm sure. Mommy was already home and waiting for us when we pulled up to the house. And with that, we were already more than halfway through our first week alone.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Day 4
While on the trail today, a fellow runner called out to me as he ran towards us in the opposite lane. At first I was a little bothered by his words because I thought he said "Get rid if that, and get some speakers"- referring to my preference of listening to podcasts such as The Grizzly Bear Egg Cafe when I run. Many runners (mostly the serious, talented ones) have a disdain for those who run while using earbuds or headphones. In fact, many races forbid runners from using such devices; they say it's for safety reasons. I once shared an article with my students about a woman who won a marathon only to have her prize stripped from her because she was using an iPod during the race. Strangely, the second place winner was also disqualified because she consumed an unauthorized liquid provided to her by someone other than a race volunteer. While I understand the need to establish rules and consider everyone's safety, I have yet to encounter a runner who listens to his music at such a volume that he is unable to react to the customary "on your left" warning when he is about to be passed. Regardless, I wasn't happy with his comment. Then, a split second later, I realized what he actually said, and I felt bad for not acknowledging him. His advice- "Get rid of that (the stroller), and get him some sneakers". If I had heard him correctly through his panting, I'm still not sure what I would have said. I probably would have over-explained how good of a walker he has become in such a short time, and how he started on Father's day, and that we were lucky enough to catch his first steps on video, and that he likes to chase me around the couch, and countless other things I wouldn't have been able to fit in the second-and-a-half I had to respond. Instead I just nodded.
I noticed today how nice it is to talk to another adult once in a while. I'm only four days deep in this experience, and the one thing I truly miss about working is occasional interaction with my peers. I found myself rambling when on the phone with an old friend this evening. I caught myself and apologized. I imagine I'll be doing a lot of that over the next year. During a tough day at work, I could always count on a laugh while eating lunch with my fellow teachers. While my son and I certainly make each other laugh, his sense of humor is yet to develop past fart noises, pratfalls, and silly faces. Come to think of it, that's not all so different from lunch at school.
I noticed today how nice it is to talk to another adult once in a while. I'm only four days deep in this experience, and the one thing I truly miss about working is occasional interaction with my peers. I found myself rambling when on the phone with an old friend this evening. I caught myself and apologized. I imagine I'll be doing a lot of that over the next year. During a tough day at work, I could always count on a laugh while eating lunch with my fellow teachers. While my son and I certainly make each other laugh, his sense of humor is yet to develop past fart noises, pratfalls, and silly faces. Come to think of it, that's not all so different from lunch at school.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Day 3 - First Day of School
For the first time in roughly 28 years, I was not present for the first day of school. It was really weird reading so many Facebook statuses (stati?) discussing nerves, disdain, etc. for 7:00 AM on August 29th. Of course, my wife had added reason to dread the first day of school this year. She had the rare opportunity to stay home with our son for the first 13 months of his life, and she hasn't been excited about leaving him for a few minutes let alone several hours at a time, 5 days a week. While it wasn't easy for me to go back to work and leave him each day, she hasn't known life without him since he's been around. As much as I admire her for doing such a great job taking care of him for the past year and change, I also admire her strength in returning to work this year. I can't imagine exactly how difficult it is for her, but I got an idea when she came home today. Our son was nearing the tail end of a 3 hour nap when she got home today. Stepping through the door without a word, she began crying. She made it through the whole day with her game face on, but when she got home it hit home. I hugged her and told her to go up and wake him up, as he had been sleeping long enough. She said she didn't want to wake him, but she would go up just to see him. Sure. I was able to observe both of their faces as he rolled over and woke up, but I could have just looked at one of them and seen the exact same joy. But then some dust got in my eye, so I had to look away. Regardless, it was nice to see their reunion, and the novelty of it isn't likely to wear off.
So what kind of adventure caused my son to sleep for roughly half of the school day? Surely it must have been something quite grand. Nope. We went to a nearby Arby's to wait in line and try to get a voucher for 52 free sandwiches.
The restaurant had gone bankrupt and closed several months ago, brandishing a sign that read "Closed Permanently". Guess not. Someone else bought the building and decided that the area needed roast beef and curly fries. They also elected to offer the aforementioned vouchers to the first 50 customers on the day of their grand opening. Though it was the closest Arby's to us (nearer by roughly .8 miles), my wife and I avoided it because their meat was always so dry. What is the point of investing in a Big Montana (is that still a thing?) if it's going to taste worse than how I imagine Montanan soil to taste? (There is no point; that's the answer.)
After his morning bottle, I packed up and drove the 6 minutes to Arby's. The line spread from the far side entrance, around the front, and through the parking lot. Counting the small children in line, an eyeball's guess put the number of hopeful sandwich-eaters at around 70. This begged the question- how literally would management take "First 50 customers"? Surely they didn't consider infants to be customers. Naturally they would have the common sense to limit one per household. But what of the backlash that they would certainly face from an angry family of 12 bussed in from the city, sporting matching tie dye wolf face t-shirts and beltless acid-washed jeans? While I pondered the issues and my son finished the breakfast bar I brought along for him, the line actually began to grow. Of course people were saving spots in line for late-arriving friends. Of course they were. Would no one step up, speak up and be the line policeman? They would not. It was at this moment that I began picking specific people in line that, regardless of whether or not I got the prized sandwich voucher, I would still be satisfied if they too got shut out.
This brought to mind a similar situation from a few years ago when I was waiting in line for the latest and greatest iPhone. A man in front of me brought along his small child to wait in line with him and serve as proxy to get his wife a new phone. On this day, the line would be policed. Other potential buyers, regardless of their position in front or back of him, cleanly berated this man for exploiting his child in this fashion, even taking a moment to attempt to explain to his progeny what absolute garbage his father was. It gets better. When the man finally got in the store to purchase his phone(s), the cashier discovered that he was only carrying cash. Apparently one could not purchase an iPhone without cash on this day. He was forced out of line (kicking, screaming, and swearing- naturally) and to an alternate counter where he had to first buy gift cards before he would be allowed to buy the phone. I reserved one ear for the scene he was performing while I signed away the next two years of my cellular life. I have no idea if he got an iPhone that day, and frankly, I don't care. It was just nice to see a group of people come together with a common interest. It was also nice to see the guy come unglued and inconvenienced. I just hope his kid has the common sense to run away from home at an appropriate age.
Needless to say, we didn't get our free sandwiches. The line was cut off just a few heads in front of us. Had I not taken the time to dress and feed my son before departing, we would have been successful. We would have also been trashballs. Regrets? Nah. The members of the overenthusiastic first-day crew were calling customers by first name as they delivered orders to the counter and were nice enough to give my son (unsolicited, I assure you) and me coupons for free shakes. My son also again won the unofficial "Best Behaved Small Child In The _______" award, soundly defeating the mulch eating toddler a few spots in front of us. I've got to think he's way ahead on points right now, but we'll see how the rest of the season plays out.
So what kind of adventure caused my son to sleep for roughly half of the school day? Surely it must have been something quite grand. Nope. We went to a nearby Arby's to wait in line and try to get a voucher for 52 free sandwiches.
The restaurant had gone bankrupt and closed several months ago, brandishing a sign that read "Closed Permanently". Guess not. Someone else bought the building and decided that the area needed roast beef and curly fries. They also elected to offer the aforementioned vouchers to the first 50 customers on the day of their grand opening. Though it was the closest Arby's to us (nearer by roughly .8 miles), my wife and I avoided it because their meat was always so dry. What is the point of investing in a Big Montana (is that still a thing?) if it's going to taste worse than how I imagine Montanan soil to taste? (There is no point; that's the answer.)
After his morning bottle, I packed up and drove the 6 minutes to Arby's. The line spread from the far side entrance, around the front, and through the parking lot. Counting the small children in line, an eyeball's guess put the number of hopeful sandwich-eaters at around 70. This begged the question- how literally would management take "First 50 customers"? Surely they didn't consider infants to be customers. Naturally they would have the common sense to limit one per household. But what of the backlash that they would certainly face from an angry family of 12 bussed in from the city, sporting matching tie dye wolf face t-shirts and beltless acid-washed jeans? While I pondered the issues and my son finished the breakfast bar I brought along for him, the line actually began to grow. Of course people were saving spots in line for late-arriving friends. Of course they were. Would no one step up, speak up and be the line policeman? They would not. It was at this moment that I began picking specific people in line that, regardless of whether or not I got the prized sandwich voucher, I would still be satisfied if they too got shut out.
This brought to mind a similar situation from a few years ago when I was waiting in line for the latest and greatest iPhone. A man in front of me brought along his small child to wait in line with him and serve as proxy to get his wife a new phone. On this day, the line would be policed. Other potential buyers, regardless of their position in front or back of him, cleanly berated this man for exploiting his child in this fashion, even taking a moment to attempt to explain to his progeny what absolute garbage his father was. It gets better. When the man finally got in the store to purchase his phone(s), the cashier discovered that he was only carrying cash. Apparently one could not purchase an iPhone without cash on this day. He was forced out of line (kicking, screaming, and swearing- naturally) and to an alternate counter where he had to first buy gift cards before he would be allowed to buy the phone. I reserved one ear for the scene he was performing while I signed away the next two years of my cellular life. I have no idea if he got an iPhone that day, and frankly, I don't care. It was just nice to see a group of people come together with a common interest. It was also nice to see the guy come unglued and inconvenienced. I just hope his kid has the common sense to run away from home at an appropriate age.
Needless to say, we didn't get our free sandwiches. The line was cut off just a few heads in front of us. Had I not taken the time to dress and feed my son before departing, we would have been successful. We would have also been trashballs. Regrets? Nah. The members of the overenthusiastic first-day crew were calling customers by first name as they delivered orders to the counter and were nice enough to give my son (unsolicited, I assure you) and me coupons for free shakes. My son also again won the unofficial "Best Behaved Small Child In The _______" award, soundly defeating the mulch eating toddler a few spots in front of us. I've got to think he's way ahead on points right now, but we'll see how the rest of the season plays out.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Day 2
My son woke up around 9:15, so I quickly went downstairs to brush my teeth, fill his bottle, and otherwise get ready for the day (our upstairs bathroom has been under construction for roughly a month- that's another story for another blog). By the time I got back upstairs, he was asleep again. I took this opportunity to take a shower and get dressed. He was up soon after that. For the second day in a row, I got him dressed before lunch.
It was raining heavily as my wife left for work in the morning, but it stopped soon after. A combination of the uncertainty of the weather, the late wakeup, and my recent foot pain caused me to forgo my 5-mile training run. Instead I chose to watch episode 28 of Deadwood and thought a little about running while my son had his breakfast. I'm trying to watch shows with questionable content before he starts talking. If you've ever seen a few minutes of Deadwood, you know why.
By the time he finished his cereal bar, it was more or less time for lunch. We played for a little bit (to work off the calories, of course), and I prepared a bag of distractions for the day's adventure: band practice.
A few years ago, some of my coworkers and I started a band at school. We played at the school talent show and on the last day of school for a couple years, but our goal was always to put on our own concert. Last spring, we did. We got a lot of kids to perform with us (that's a 7th grader playing drums in the video), charged admission, and used the proceeds to buy our auditorium some much-needed stage lights. The night was a success, and we have since been asked to play at a couple of other events. One of these events is taking place later this year at a local bar. Our principals take part in an U.G.L.Y. Bartender event each year, and this year we will be providing the entertainment. Because the band usually practices after school and my wife is still working when practice begins, my son will occasionally be accompanying me.
I knew I couldn't just let my son run free in our rehearsal space (the school's band room), so I packed up a small play pen to keep him contained. In the interest of full disclosure, this device was originally purchased for the purpose of allowing a former rabbit of ours to frolic in our yard. It's also very clean and the perfect size for a toddler, so get over it. While it worked great to this end, he was also able to push it towards the very dangerous hi hat, so I had to use a combination of several other percussion instruments to hold him back. While he didn't like this at all, it saved his fingers from getting caught in between the cymbals.
I felt bad for forgetting his little drumsticks, so I gave him a drum to smack around while we played. As soon as I put it down, he started banging on it. He also "sang" a little bit when our singer began. Occasionally when the actual musicians (remember- I'm a drummer) had to stop and learn a chord progression, I would give him my sticks. He does this cute hybrid march/ walk thing when he gets a pair of drumsticks in his hands. We managed to get about 50 minutes of decent rehearsal time in before he decided it was time to go. Considering it was a little past his normal nap time, I was thrilled with his tolerance. I packed up all of his (and my) toys, and we were off. I turned the stereo in the car down and planned a route home that would give him plenty of time to take a nap.
The route took us over one of our local "mountains" (home of our Pagoda), through the rolling hills of Lower Heidelberg (home of another famous, yet far less interesting, local), and finally back home to the anticipating arms of Mommy. The daddy-only portion of Day 2 was complete, and we had a long weekend consisting of an R-Phils game, a trip to Hersheypark, a visit from Gram, and an impending hurricane to look forward to. See you on Monday...?
It was raining heavily as my wife left for work in the morning, but it stopped soon after. A combination of the uncertainty of the weather, the late wakeup, and my recent foot pain caused me to forgo my 5-mile training run. Instead I chose to watch episode 28 of Deadwood and thought a little about running while my son had his breakfast. I'm trying to watch shows with questionable content before he starts talking. If you've ever seen a few minutes of Deadwood, you know why.
By the time he finished his cereal bar, it was more or less time for lunch. We played for a little bit (to work off the calories, of course), and I prepared a bag of distractions for the day's adventure: band practice.
A few years ago, some of my coworkers and I started a band at school. We played at the school talent show and on the last day of school for a couple years, but our goal was always to put on our own concert. Last spring, we did. We got a lot of kids to perform with us (that's a 7th grader playing drums in the video), charged admission, and used the proceeds to buy our auditorium some much-needed stage lights. The night was a success, and we have since been asked to play at a couple of other events. One of these events is taking place later this year at a local bar. Our principals take part in an U.G.L.Y. Bartender event each year, and this year we will be providing the entertainment. Because the band usually practices after school and my wife is still working when practice begins, my son will occasionally be accompanying me.
I knew I couldn't just let my son run free in our rehearsal space (the school's band room), so I packed up a small play pen to keep him contained. In the interest of full disclosure, this device was originally purchased for the purpose of allowing a former rabbit of ours to frolic in our yard. It's also very clean and the perfect size for a toddler, so get over it. While it worked great to this end, he was also able to push it towards the very dangerous hi hat, so I had to use a combination of several other percussion instruments to hold him back. While he didn't like this at all, it saved his fingers from getting caught in between the cymbals.
I felt bad for forgetting his little drumsticks, so I gave him a drum to smack around while we played. As soon as I put it down, he started banging on it. He also "sang" a little bit when our singer began. Occasionally when the actual musicians (remember- I'm a drummer) had to stop and learn a chord progression, I would give him my sticks. He does this cute hybrid march/ walk thing when he gets a pair of drumsticks in his hands. We managed to get about 50 minutes of decent rehearsal time in before he decided it was time to go. Considering it was a little past his normal nap time, I was thrilled with his tolerance. I packed up all of his (and my) toys, and we were off. I turned the stereo in the car down and planned a route home that would give him plenty of time to take a nap.
The route took us over one of our local "mountains" (home of our Pagoda), through the rolling hills of Lower Heidelberg (home of another famous, yet far less interesting, local), and finally back home to the anticipating arms of Mommy. The daddy-only portion of Day 2 was complete, and we had a long weekend consisting of an R-Phils game, a trip to Hersheypark, a visit from Gram, and an impending hurricane to look forward to. See you on Monday...?
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Day 1
Sure enough, my son woke up around 9:15. He managed to sleep through the night, surviving a scare when my wife left for work and the dogs opted to inform the entire neighborhood. I got him dressed right away [which is odd for me- I usually keep him in his pajamas until after his lunch (read: mess)] and took him downstairs for breakfast. (Note: I will spare you these details in the future, as most mornings will likely have little variation.)
Breakfast for my son consists of a bottle of whole milk and a breakfast bar. He is rather fond of the apple cinnamon cereal bar made by Gerber. That is to say, I think he likes them. He hasn't told me otherwise.
Wednesday is trash day. Having worked at the previous night's Phillies game, I didn't get a chance to take out the garbage cans in the evening. My son walked over to the front door and watched as I quickly rolled three containers-full of diapers and Land of Nod catalogs out to our rounded curb and returned just in time to find that he had squashed his breakfast beyond recognition. Our dogs, one a border collie/ cocker spaniel mix and the other a lab mix of some sort, were the benefactors of my son's destruction, as I split the remains of the bar into their respective breakfast bowls. They, too, didn't complain.
The day's schedule included an 8-mile training run and lunch with Mommy during the day and studio time in the evening. I had hoped to get the run in before lunch, but my son's reluctance to finish his bottle made that impossible. Instead we curled up on the carpet and watched the most recent episode of one of my favorite dumb shows of the moment, SyFy's Warehouse 13. The episode veered from the standard monster/ artifact of the week formula and actually provided some character development for a change. My son didn't want to talk about it, but I know he noticed.
Soon after the show ended, Mommy arrived home from her first day of work for lunch. She explained that she had "a moment" when she discovered some Cheerios our son placed in her school bag. We had always heard stories like this from our friends: how heartswelling/ breaking it is to find the little things their children leave for them in their briefcases, etc. He wasn't old enough during last school year for me to experience this, but I'm sure I'll know some day. Despite this grainy gift, she managed to make it through her first few hours of work without crying. We all left the house after lunch- my wife to work, my son and I to a nearby trail.
My son has been a great training partner. We use the Jeep Liberty stroller, which apparently is not intended for use as a jogger, but works great on both trails and sidewalks. We were the only father/ son team on the trail today; in fact, we are usually the only father/ son team on the trail. We are generally joined on the trail by retired couples, mommies and their babies, and the occasional cross country team. Today was no different. My son fell asleep roughly two miles into my run, but some bumps on the trail startled him, so I slowed down to a brisk walking pace in order to let him sleep. This was a bit of a blessing in disguise because I'm fairly certain I have a few broken bones (as well as diagnosed tendinosis) in my left foot, and I didn't want to push too hard today because I was not wearing my normal running shoes.
I have been wearing various varities of Vibram Five Fingers for the past couple of years. Last year I ran the Philadelphia Marathon in pair of Bikila, and this year I am running the Steamtown Marathon in a pair of Bikila LS (because just one would be far too painful). I injured my left foot last year on a rugged trail run, and I don't think it ever fully healed. The hundreds of miles I have put on my feet in concert with the lack of support these shoes offer have contributed to a fair amount of foot pain. However, before I started wearing Five Fingers, I had so much pain in my right knee, I was physically unable to run. A broken bone or two is a small tradeoff for actually being able to run!
He woke up around mile 4, and after a short sippy cup break, I (we?) ran the rest of the way. We returned home, and we each refreshed with a cool beverage. While I drank my red Gatorade and he drank his afternoon milk, he pointed over to my bottle to let me know that we were doing the same thing. It was easily one of the three most adorable things I had seen all day.
Before I knew it, my wife returned from work, and my first day home from work was complete. She wanted nothing more than to play with him, and I finally got to shower around 4 o'clock in the afternoon. 1 day down, 180+ to go!
Breakfast for my son consists of a bottle of whole milk and a breakfast bar. He is rather fond of the apple cinnamon cereal bar made by Gerber. That is to say, I think he likes them. He hasn't told me otherwise.
Wednesday is trash day. Having worked at the previous night's Phillies game, I didn't get a chance to take out the garbage cans in the evening. My son walked over to the front door and watched as I quickly rolled three containers-full of diapers and Land of Nod catalogs out to our rounded curb and returned just in time to find that he had squashed his breakfast beyond recognition. Our dogs, one a border collie/ cocker spaniel mix and the other a lab mix of some sort, were the benefactors of my son's destruction, as I split the remains of the bar into their respective breakfast bowls. They, too, didn't complain.
The day's schedule included an 8-mile training run and lunch with Mommy during the day and studio time in the evening. I had hoped to get the run in before lunch, but my son's reluctance to finish his bottle made that impossible. Instead we curled up on the carpet and watched the most recent episode of one of my favorite dumb shows of the moment, SyFy's Warehouse 13. The episode veered from the standard monster/ artifact of the week formula and actually provided some character development for a change. My son didn't want to talk about it, but I know he noticed.
Soon after the show ended, Mommy arrived home from her first day of work for lunch. She explained that she had "a moment" when she discovered some Cheerios our son placed in her school bag. We had always heard stories like this from our friends: how heartswelling/ breaking it is to find the little things their children leave for them in their briefcases, etc. He wasn't old enough during last school year for me to experience this, but I'm sure I'll know some day. Despite this grainy gift, she managed to make it through her first few hours of work without crying. We all left the house after lunch- my wife to work, my son and I to a nearby trail.
My son has been a great training partner. We use the Jeep Liberty stroller, which apparently is not intended for use as a jogger, but works great on both trails and sidewalks. We were the only father/ son team on the trail today; in fact, we are usually the only father/ son team on the trail. We are generally joined on the trail by retired couples, mommies and their babies, and the occasional cross country team. Today was no different. My son fell asleep roughly two miles into my run, but some bumps on the trail startled him, so I slowed down to a brisk walking pace in order to let him sleep. This was a bit of a blessing in disguise because I'm fairly certain I have a few broken bones (as well as diagnosed tendinosis) in my left foot, and I didn't want to push too hard today because I was not wearing my normal running shoes.
I have been wearing various varities of Vibram Five Fingers for the past couple of years. Last year I ran the Philadelphia Marathon in pair of Bikila, and this year I am running the Steamtown Marathon in a pair of Bikila LS (because just one would be far too painful). I injured my left foot last year on a rugged trail run, and I don't think it ever fully healed. The hundreds of miles I have put on my feet in concert with the lack of support these shoes offer have contributed to a fair amount of foot pain. However, before I started wearing Five Fingers, I had so much pain in my right knee, I was physically unable to run. A broken bone or two is a small tradeoff for actually being able to run!
He woke up around mile 4, and after a short sippy cup break, I (we?) ran the rest of the way. We returned home, and we each refreshed with a cool beverage. While I drank my red Gatorade and he drank his afternoon milk, he pointed over to my bottle to let me know that we were doing the same thing. It was easily one of the three most adorable things I had seen all day.
Before I knew it, my wife returned from work, and my first day home from work was complete. She wanted nothing more than to play with him, and I finally got to shower around 4 o'clock in the afternoon. 1 day down, 180+ to go!
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
It Begins
Let me explain. No, it's too much. Let me sum up.
My name is Kevin. I am 33 and live in Sinking Spring, PA. For the past 11 years, I have worked as a junior high school teacher in the school district from which I graduated. For much of that time I have worked part-time for Philadelphia Phillies, played drums in several bands, and announced high school sports. My newest projects are finishing my third Master's degree, training for my second marathon, and teaching my first drum student.
On July 13th, 2010, my wife and I welcomed our son into the world. My wife, also a teacher, was able to spend the following school year at home completing graduate level classes online and taking care of the baby. Throughout the year we discussed our future plans: namely what we would do when she had to go back to work. If we had created a list on our options, day care would have been at the very bottom. Our parents are all very busy, so working out a schedule to find someone to watch him during the day would be quite difficult. Looking to work from home, my wife attempted to get a job with a cyber school. She was perhaps too honest about her motive during the interview process, and that likely disqualified her from consideration. If she chose to quit her job outright, we would have to pay back all of her compensation from the past year. There was no easy answer.
The school year went on, and we still had not reached a decision. All the while there was an option that neither of us were very excited about: I could stay home. She didn't like it because it would mean that she would have to go back to work. I didn't like it because it would mean that I would have to alter my "go-go-go!!!" lifestyle. However, it soon became the only practical choice. I decided to be an adult for a change and do the best thing for my family. I met with our district superintendent, explained my plans to finish my current graduate program, and it was settled. For the 2011-2012 school year, I would be on professional development leave and be a stay-at-home dad.
So that brings us to this evening. As I sit here and type this, my wife, coworkers, and other teacher friends are sleeping, having gone to bed anxiously anticipating their first day of work later today. It's 1 o'clock in the morning, and I am the most relaxed I have been in years. I know my son is going to wake up somewhere between 9 and 10 o'clock. I know I have to take him for an 8 mile run after that. I know my wife is coming home for lunch at 11:30. I know I have to lay down some drum tracks at 6. What I don't know is pretty much anything else about how this year is going to play out. And I couldn't be more excited.
Welcome to SabDadical.
My name is Kevin. I am 33 and live in Sinking Spring, PA. For the past 11 years, I have worked as a junior high school teacher in the school district from which I graduated. For much of that time I have worked part-time for Philadelphia Phillies, played drums in several bands, and announced high school sports. My newest projects are finishing my third Master's degree, training for my second marathon, and teaching my first drum student.
On July 13th, 2010, my wife and I welcomed our son into the world. My wife, also a teacher, was able to spend the following school year at home completing graduate level classes online and taking care of the baby. Throughout the year we discussed our future plans: namely what we would do when she had to go back to work. If we had created a list on our options, day care would have been at the very bottom. Our parents are all very busy, so working out a schedule to find someone to watch him during the day would be quite difficult. Looking to work from home, my wife attempted to get a job with a cyber school. She was perhaps too honest about her motive during the interview process, and that likely disqualified her from consideration. If she chose to quit her job outright, we would have to pay back all of her compensation from the past year. There was no easy answer.
The school year went on, and we still had not reached a decision. All the while there was an option that neither of us were very excited about: I could stay home. She didn't like it because it would mean that she would have to go back to work. I didn't like it because it would mean that I would have to alter my "go-go-go!!!" lifestyle. However, it soon became the only practical choice. I decided to be an adult for a change and do the best thing for my family. I met with our district superintendent, explained my plans to finish my current graduate program, and it was settled. For the 2011-2012 school year, I would be on professional development leave and be a stay-at-home dad.
So that brings us to this evening. As I sit here and type this, my wife, coworkers, and other teacher friends are sleeping, having gone to bed anxiously anticipating their first day of work later today. It's 1 o'clock in the morning, and I am the most relaxed I have been in years. I know my son is going to wake up somewhere between 9 and 10 o'clock. I know I have to take him for an 8 mile run after that. I know my wife is coming home for lunch at 11:30. I know I have to lay down some drum tracks at 6. What I don't know is pretty much anything else about how this year is going to play out. And I couldn't be more excited.
Welcome to SabDadical.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)