Daddy and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

The last few days have been a dungstorm of craptastic garbage.  A root canal with intestinal flu kind of an experience.  No one died, no family illness, just an unfun experience of a weeklong window.  

I’ll explain. 

First of all, there were some unexpected expenses, and I mean a bunch of them.  School started, and soccer got into full swing both carrying with them an assortment of expenses.  I mean school clothes and supplies and uniforms and back to school nights with donations for whatever else. For some reason every household bill came due on the same day and Adrienne had to travel twice for work which has its own expenses and it own stresses.  It would have been quicker just to throw my wallet into a bush and walk away.

Then there’s the time part of it.  With Adrienne out of town and me becoming daddy day care, my days became very long.  Avery is playing soccer and running cross country.  Her running coach said to me, with a straight face mind you, that “I understand that she is in soccer, plenty of the kids are.  I understand completely.  So just bring her to cross country ON THE DAYS SHE’S NOT IN SOCCER”.  To those uninitiated in the world of parentdom, this is a tall order.  

“Yeah, no problem” I replied but inside I’m thinking “Holy hell, how in the love of everything sacred and holy can I add another drop-off/ pick up to every day of the week?” For the first time every I began to consider that cloning humans isn’t such a bad call.  

I know from personal experience that when I stress, I grind my teeth when I sleep.  To date, I haven’t ground one out of my head.  I changed that the other night.  I cracked one of those guys in two.

This morning I was driving the girls to school.  It was a tight gripping eyes forward sort of a drive.  A wits end sort of thing.  The kind of time where you are keeping your shit together by a thread.  A thin, frayed thread. I was trying to get the girls to school and then find a moment to regather myself on the way to the office.   It was that moment when I realized that my computer was still sitting on my couch.   Something in me broke.  I was at a red light and I put my hand through what hair I have left, frustrated.  Just then, my eldest asked me, “What’s wrong, daddy, you seem sad.”

Damn.  

“Nothings wrong sweetheart, I didn’t sleep very well last night.”  That was the truth, but not the whole truth and not nothing but the truth.  Daddy hadn’t been sleeping very well at all lately.  Nor has he been eating very well or been running the way he usually does.  He’s tired, he’s stressed, he doesn’t know when things will lighten up and now he is in the unenviable position of lying to his daughter to cover it up.  I dropped them off and made the slow trek back to my house to retrieve a computer bag that should have been with me all along.

With the notion of being concise, I’ll suffice it to say that the rest of the day failed to improve on its beginnings.  

At dinner my daughter asked me if things had gotten better.  They hadn’t.  This time I was more honest. I let her know that I hadn’t had a great day but that I was happier now seeing them and having dinner as a family.  She seemed happy with my answer but still gave me an extra hug at bedtime.  

The lesson here girls?  I can think of a couple.  First, everyone has a bad day here and there.

Everyone has times where they feel the world is conspiring against them.  That you feel like the eye in the sky is a mean kid with a magnifying glass.  You know what, maybe it is.  Maybe you have periods where you have to take your lumps.  Maybe you need a chance to take the fetal position in the middle of your bed and wait for tomorrow.  The thing you have to realize is that whether karma is actually out to get you, or you are just seeing it that way, its temporary.  It’ll go away.  Stay strong, you’ll be fine.  The other thing isn’t quite as easy to talk about.  I have bad days.  Mommy does, too. 

 

I remember growing up a lot of years ago and seeing Grandma working three jobs to make ends meet.  One of her jobs had her proofreading phone books from home.  You read that correctly, she proofread phone books.  Try to design a worse job in your head.  Impossible. But I digress, one day, I walked in on her doing her proofreading and she was crying onto the pages.  I asked her what was wrong, and she said that her eyes were bothering her from the proofreading.  Now, that may have been the truth, but not the whole truth and not nothing but the truth.  I imagine Grandma was tired, sick of working as hard as she was and let the mask slip for an unguarded moment.  Here’s the thing.  She worked those jobs to make sure her kids were okay.  She may have been tired and hurting but I bet she wouldn’t have changed it.  

The same goes for me and mommy. Some days it feels like a lot of pressure, but it’s okay.  Sometimes we let our guard down, but its because we trust you and trust that you know how much we love you.  

So, yes sweetheart, daddy was sad, but he isn’t now.  He will be again someday, but it won’t last.  No need to worry.  He’ll be goofing off with you in no time, making mommy sad!

Good Job Wifey, Good Job Sis, Good Job Runners, Everyone but Chris

Last weekend was the Wild West Relay.  For those out of the know, the Wild West Relay is among the dumber activities that one can participate in and is one that pushes its competitors physically, mentally and olfactorily.  It is a 200-mile relay race from Fort Collins to Steamboat Springs, Colorado.  The race takes a team of twelve runners through the night and over mountain passes.  Its fun in a “passing a kidney stone” sort of way in that the real fun is upon completion. 

For our team, Tutus and Teabags, I am our captain, serving my third year in the role.  As it turns out every captain we have had has served exactly three years in the role.  The first year you are just trying not to mess everything up, the second year you try to fix what went wrong in the first year and in year number three you recognize that there is nothing you can do to make it go smoothly and resign.  

This year was rougher than usual.  Every year I try to get an assembly of ‘alternate’ runners.  These are runners who kind of want to run but definitely want to be forced into it.  Invariably there are runners who drop out and its nice to have two or three people that you can guilt into the role.  

This year we had three alternates.  

We had three drop outs.

All three alternates rethought their commitment to being an alternate. 

Ugh.

No hard feelings to any of the dropout runners or the alternates.  For the first time ever, every excuse was a good one.  There were no bat mitzvas, no birthdays of a second cousin twice removed, no Disney on Ice tickets, no Steven Segal book signings.  It was injuries, business travel and one kind dad who learned his daughter had signed up for the race and wanted her first time running it to be with her old man.  I get it.  Every single person.  But it still sucked.  

We start planning for the August relay in January.  This year we found our last runner six days before we departed.  It created a logistical nightmare with no one knowing what they would be running or who they were running with.  

Then there was the race itself.  In addition to start setting up the race in January, I also began training for it as well.  I dutifully ran between fifteen and twenty miles a week for seven months.  I felt strong and ready.  The best laid plans of mice and chubby men.  

One by one I watched runners take off and complete legs.  Being runner eleven, I wouldn’t run my first leg until late afternoon despite the team starting at 6:30 in the morning.  I watched my wife take on the most difficult leg she had done in her race history and push herself beyond her limits.  She did fantastic.  I watched my sister find a gear that she generally doesn’t find and go beyond what she has done historically.  I was truly impressed…until my leg.  

My leg was a difficult leg with a lot of elevation gain.  No matter, I trained for it.  I literally ran a leg with more elevation gain the weekend before and beat my desired time by a minute a mile.  What could go wrong?  Answer: everything.  I felt tired.  I felt nauseous.  Honestly, I felt like quitting.  I came in later than I wanted to, five minutes later to be exact.  Five minutes late on a five-mile leg.  The math is simple.  I felt like ten pounds of poop stuffed in a five-pound bag.  I was upset but I had two more legs.  

Whelp, my second leg was more of the same.  Struggled.  Felt ill.  I felt tired.  I failed to come close to my goal.  The Wild West Relay 2018 was proving to be a roaring success for those around me, and landing with a thud for the captain.  

My last leg, as luck would have it, was a sloshy one with bits of rain, bits of hail and alongside a busy highway.  I did well, truth be told.  I exceeded my newly low set expectations.  It was a silver lining on a crap colored weekend.  

I wasn’t happy with myself, but I couldn’t be prouder of my team, my wife and my sister.  On a side note, every woman that ran with us far surpassed their expectations.  Nice job ladies.  

At the end of the day, I was unhappy with the way my race turned out but thrilled to see my teammates do as well as they did.  It’s a fair trade off.  I too am retiring as captain of the relay team.  The title is up for grabs, just text me!

The message ladies?  Its pretty straight forward.  I trained, I practiced, I busted my ass to be ready for the relay.  I woke up daily before the sun came up to make sure that I had time to get a run in before I had to take you to school.  And in the end, I failed.  Here’s the catch: I failed to hit my goals, but in training, practicing and busting my ass, I win.  I left whatever I had out in the roads.  I literally thought I was going to vomit my way through my first legs.  I didn’t put my miles on anyone else.  I did them, slowly, but I did them.  The other thing?  Mommy and Aunt Jen killed it.  A good teammate may not do as well as they want but still revel in the successes of their teammates.  I could have cried as Mommy came over the top of her first leg.  I watched Aunt Jen, a super steady runner, push herself and have the best relay she’s ever had.  My happiness for them far outweighs my disappointment in my performance.  

Now get out there and put in miles of your own.  Avery, just seven short years before you are eligible to compete!

A bizarre side note.  Bombas socks are the greatest running sock ever created.  I tried them for the first time over the last few weeks and couldn’t be more impressed.  I have no connection to the company but know a lot of runners who complain about their feet.  Give them a try.  Every pair you purchase they give a pair to the homeless.  Good for your feet and good for your fellow man.  It’s a pretty good deal.

Fourth of July.....just a few weeks late

The Fourth of July has always been a special holiday for my wife and her family.  Technically speaking, I guess it is for most Americans, but her family has always had a bigger connection than I have had. 

In my wife’s hometown, the entire town leaves their homes, jobs, and plans on going out to the lake and watching the fireworks display.  Being a small midwestern town they tend to lean more patriotic than the average Joe anyway and add barbecue and the spectacle of explosions it becomes a hard to resist experience.  My wife’s father and brother being a part of the fire department always meant that we got seats just a few dozen yards from where the display was launched.

If you ever get offered such a seat at a firework display, take it, don’t ask questions, don’t think, just take it.  It’s an awesome, heart attack inducing, pant soiling good time.

Anyway, back to the story.  My wife has always treated the Fourth as a much bigger deal than I have.  I don’t love parades and firework displays really lose something if you aren’t invited by the fire chief.  This year, my wife decided that we would be going to Breckenridge for the holiday and made it so we would celebrate the Fourth with the kids but then they would leave with their grandmother and then we would have a day to ourselves as well.  Nice work, darlin’.

The first thing that I realized is that Breckenridge takes Independence Day more seriously than Will Smith and Jeff Goldblum ever have.  We were fortunate enough to have Adrienne’s friend happen to be in town and giving us tips and pointers on how to navigate the holiday in the mountain town.  Without him we would have been completely lost, with him, we were just mostly lost. 

First of all, the fireworks display was cancelled due to dryness and heat.  We found out that detail on the way up, coincidentally, it was also why we didn’t celebrate the holiday in Gunnison.  Best laid holiday plans of mice and men.  The kids were minorly disappointed, but the thrill of this adventure made up for it. 

It was a long trip so here’s the high notes.  Breck has a river running along side Main Street.  Tons of kids were playing in the river and mine decided to join in the fun.  Macy, my middle girl has become a bit of an environmentalist and has taken to picking up trash where ever she sees it, apparently, including rivers.  She saw some plastic stuck on a rock and decided to get it and dispose of it.  She made her way out and pulled the pink plastic from the water. She realized immediately what she had recovered and the ‘yelp’ she let out said that she wasn’t prepared for a bag full of dog poop.  I laughed hard as I made her carry it all the way to the trash.  She didn’t think it was nearly as funny.

We were told that the parade is a fun time but that you need to set up seats and claim your spot early.  Some people have a different definition of early than I do.  My wife and I went for a mountain run and then grabbed a blanket to claim our space.  We casually walked down to Main Street only to find that the entire length of the parade route had been claimed before 6:30 in the morning.  Fortunately, Adrienne’s friend had claimed enough space for his family and mine.  Thank you, Craig, you made three to four ladies very happy. 

During the parade, my youngest asked me, let’s say four hundred times, for a bottle of water.  I finally relented and made my way through the crowd to find one.  It was a surprisingly difficult endeavor at 10:00 in the morning.  Between the throng of people and the fact that the only stores that were open were coffee shops with thirty people lines, meant I was going to stray further and further from our campsite.  In the end, I got the water from an oxygen bar (whatever that is) from a young woman who may not have ever sold a bottle of water before.  I got the water, but the length of the journey meant nearly no parade for me. 

The rest of the day involved live music, a picnic by the river, a couple of cold pops, and an obvious display of where we had missed the sunscreen.  The next morning, we packed up the kids and sent them away to the grandparents house. 

For the next 24 hours, we were free.  Breckenridge watch out.

As it turns out, my wife and I are no longer spring chickens.  Sure, we had big ideas.  We started with breakfast.  In that town, it is surprisingly difficult to find a place without a two hour wait, but we managed to find a seat at a bar in a café.  Adrienne was so bold to order (gasp) a Bloody Mary with her benedict.  That was as ballsy as we got for the next several hours.  We ate well, we drank some, we walked the entirety of the touristy parts of Breckenridge and took a gondola to the top of the mountains and took a hike.  It was a lovely time with my wife without the rigmarole that generally accompanies a family vacation.  Sure, we were no longer the rapscallions that would take a town like Breckenridge by storm we were still able to have a great time despite our lack of mischievous ambition. 

The lesson here girls.  I guess there are a couple of things here.  First of all, its not a shot at you that mommy and I like to spend a day or two here and there without your precious faces around.  Think of it as a parental reset.  It doesn’t mean we don’t want you around…exactly.  Not every trip can be Disney.  Some of them can be more adult themed.  We love you, but we love each other as well.  Secondly, trips like that are important.  In the years coming, you may feel that you are too old to do trips like that.  I once thought so.  Turns out, you’ll regret the times you don’t go.   There were trips I didn’t really want to go on, but grandma was one that wouldn’t let us not travel with the family.  In retrospect, I’m glad for it, though it seemed like torture at the time.