I Rise, I Fall

I love Rick(y) Nelson. Always have. Even as a Boy named Stu, living in Oklahoma, I would watch The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet, and especially dig the episodes in which Rick(y) sang a song.

I tell you that for this.

My parents bought me Legacy, Rick(y) Nelson's box set for my 34 birthday. That was July 2001. My Lovely Bride was just out of her first trimester with the Elder Boy.

Naturally, I spent a lot of time listening to Legacy. It was my soundtrack of sorts, to impending fatherhood.

When Ethan was born, I didn't know any lullabies. Because of my ignorance, I decided to make a deep cut Rick(y) Nelson song my de facto lullaby for Ethan. I Rise, I Fall is that song. I can't begin to count the times I've sang it to him the past 5 1/2 years. Anytime I hear the song, I'm flooded with powerful memories of E as a baby, or toddler. Him in my arms, as I walked the floors, doing my patented baby dance/walk move. Always singing that song (Wy's song, for those playing along at home, You're Nobody Til Somebody Loves You by Dean Martin.)

Today, I Rise, I Fall is a poignant reminder of the passing of time.

This past week, as we prepared for Ethan's first day of kindergarten, I've been reading old BLOG entries as well as looking at old pictures on shutterfly. I'm amazed by how much things have changed. Almost as if overnight. When I wasn't paying attention.

All week, I've been trying to figure out a way to do a proper BLOG entry for this occasion. This BLOG by design is nothing more than my attempt to create a chronicle for the Boy(s) in that distant Buck Rogers future. Thus, today's entry is important.

The thing is --- I got nothing. Words escape me. All I got is this wistful feeling deep in my gut, and the closing narration from the TV show the Wonder Years stuck in my head. "Growing up happens in a heartbeat. One day you're in diapers, the next day you're gone."

I know Ethan is far from gone, it is after all, only kindergarten. Still, like another time when I had a hard time saying good bye to a turtle named Tula, I realize today is just one more step of many, away from me, and his Mom.

That is as it should be. That knowledge however, doesn't make it easier. Especially for me, a guy who has a hard time letting go.

So, today, in honor of that big step forward, I want to look back with wonder via the video below. Today, has proven yet again, that time passes so quick. Savor it. Blink your eyes, Dear Reader, growing up does happen in a heartbeat.

Until I BLOG again...Since I'm that much a part of you.

It's just a moment - Part 1

"Wow. It looks like we actually had a good time."
My Lovely Bride's reply upon viewing our vacation photos

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Traveling with small Boy(s) is hard.

Those shiny happy people pics I posted, are only one side of the vacation coin, and a disservice to anyone crazy enough to compare their vacation to the pictorial presentation of ours. Sure, we had fun (the Boy(s) are still talking about the trip, which is huge considering their attention spans.) But on the flip flop and fly, there were many not so fun moments. Some were just plain shitty.

Like Wednesday, July 25th, at 5:50pm. It was 11 minutes before I turned 40 (Pop always told me that 6:01pm was my birth time so that was when I officially turned whatever age I was turning.) I was in New Braunfels, standing in the parking lot of the Heidelberg Lodges with the contents of our largest suitcase strewn around my feet.

"Man," said a guy on his lodge porch watching me unpack as he drank a Miller Lite, "That sucks."

I nodded in agreement as I stared incredulously at the empty suitcase that had, until a few second before, contained every stitch of clothing the Boy(s) and I had brought on vacation.

My disbelief quickly segued into anger and before I could stop myself I said, "Motherfucking Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles!"

Now it was the guy's turn to nod and stare incredulously at me, a crazy man cursing Ninja Turtles in the parking lot, because he had dumped the contents of his suitcase in a wet and muddy parking lot.

"Happy Fucking Birthday." I added as an afterthought. The guy didn't hear me though. He had went into his lodge.

Can't say I blame him. He probably thought I was going to go postal. I didn't. Actually, I felt more like crying, as I stood there thinking about all the little things that had gone awry on my 40th birthday. Insult to injury I guess. Fortuna can be one sadistic bitch.

---

My day began innocently enough, 10 hours earlier in San Antonio. It was raining --- hard --- which was a problem. You see, Dear Reader, it was moving day for the Team. In my infinite wisdom, I had agreed that Wednesday (which was my birthday) could be the day we checked out of our San Antonio hotel, visited Sea World for Day 2, and then drove up to New Braunfels for the second half of our trip. I figured, based on the ride into San Antonio, we could easily leave Sea World by 3pm and by 6:01pm, I would be checked into the new hotel, unpacked, and relaxing with a cold beer on the cool Comal.

I should have known things weren't going to go as planned, when My Lovely Bride reminded Wy before breakfast that is was my birthday. His response: "I want it to be MY birthday!!!" At which point, he freaked out, hard.

After breakfast, and learning the weather report was not promising, we decided to augment our plan and head to Wal-Mart after we checked out of the hotel --- to buy warmer clothes, umbrellas and ponchos for Sea World.

Again, the problem with our great plan. Rain. We delayed our start as long as possible, hoping the rain would stop, or at least lighten. It didn't. We had to move, and as Dad, I was relegated to pack mule.

I don't know about you, but when the Team travels, we bring a lot of crap. I'm talking enough crap, that if you saw us, you might think we were moving. We had suit cases, bags full of reading books, coloring books, sticker books, with crayons and markers. Then each Boy had their own bag of toys they had brought on the trip. Then there were special pillows and blankets. Then there was the personal care bags (soap, shampoo, medicine, etc.,) my work-out bag, iBook bag, ice chest, food items, and then all the 'new' crap acquired while at the hotel and from Sea World Day 1.

That's a lot of crap, that I, the pack mule, had to move from our 3rd floor room to the van that was already full of Stage 2 crap for the stay in New Braunfels (fishing poles, tackle, swim towels, kick boards, swim goggles, lawn chairs, etc.) My job was to take all the crap from the room, to the van, and then organize and pack it in a way that would allow us to travel safely, and comfortably to Wal-Mart, Sea World and then, New Braunfels.

Did I mention it was raining?

Walking out of the lobby with my first load, I noted a crudely drawn sign taped to the front door that read: Sorry, we're full. Fuck me. The hotel was packed and crowded with everyone else checking out at the same time. Since it was raining, hard, their carport thing by the front door was full of vans, and SUV's trying to pack up their crap under it's shelter. The parking lot wasn't any better. Any space close to a hotel exit point was occupied. My options were to either wait for a space to open, delaying our start time even more, or suck it up and do what had to be done. Suck it did. Hard.

You see Dear Reader, the night before we had parked a considerable distance from the hotel doors. As luck would have it, in a spot that was the lowest point in the parking lot. Not only did I get to walk, with a lot of crap, in the rain, across a parking lot. When I arrived at the back of the van, I got to load while standing in a river of drainage water that came up well past my ankles.

I had hoped after my last trip (3 for those scoring at home) to the van, the carport would be open enough for me to move the van underneath it, so I could rearrange all the crap I had haphazardly thrown in before. However, when I finished, the carport thing was even busier than when I began. Again I decided to suck it up (and suck it did,) repacking the van in the driving rain, with a river of water running around my feet.

Drenched but done, the rest of the Team loaded in the van and we headed to Wal-Mart to get our day started. An hour later (can you believe finding warm clothing, ponchos, and umbrellas in a San Antonio Wal-Mart in late July isn't that easy?) we were finally on our way to Sea World for Day 2 of family fun.

Victory? Not even close.

Still raining, we decided it would be best to suit the Boy(s) in their new clothes and ponchos (which they called pong-o's) in the van. That way they wouldn't be drenched by the time we walked from the parking lot to the park's entrance gate. As my Lovely Bride went to work on getting their new stuff ready, I got out of the van and went around back to get a warmer shirt, that I had wisely placed in my work-out bag for easy access. Behind the van, with the back up (I was using it as protection from the rain) I was pulling my yellow pong-o on when I heard The Little Warrior start complaining about the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

You see Dear Reader, Wy was adamant that his new Teenage Mutant Ninja Warm Up pants from Wal-Mart (they weren't really TMNT, but similar colors) must be worn with his TMNT T-Shirt. Otherwise he didn't want to go to Sea World. Since leaving him in the van wasn't a realistic option, I decided to suck it up yet again, and try and get his TMNT T-Shirt from his suitcase. That's when I realized I had a slight problem. Wy's suitcase was also E's suitcase as well as mine. We were sharing one large suitcase. The largest one we own. That meant, based on the way I pack mule, it was at the bottom of all the crap in the back of the van.

Fuck me. Did I mention it was my birthday?

I tried to reason with Wy. I even explained my packing methodology, and how the largest bag was at the bottom, and it was raining, and I'd have to remove most of our crap to get the bag and then open it in the rain, and then try and find the shirt, etc.

He wouldn't listen. He took my lengthy explanation as a NO and freaked out, hard. So bad in fact, that my first impulse was to get into the van and leave Sea World.

I'd like to say that I didn't do that because I'm a mature father, who realized that wouldn't be fair to the Elder Boy or my Lovely Bride. That I could work it out with Wy. That's not true. The real reason. I'm cheap. Seriously. We had prepaid for our tickets and I wasn't about to lose the money. We were going to have fun, dammit!

So, for the third time in as many hours, I decided to suck it up, and unpack the van in Sea World's parking lot in the rain. Then, for what seemed like 5 minutes, I dug through Wy's, E's and my crap trying to find his TMNT T-Shirt. After I found it, I figured Wy would think I was a 'good' Daddy.

Wrong.

Instead, when I gave it to him, he freaked out, because he realized that we expected him to wear his pong-o over the freaking TMNT shirt. Pissed, I hastily threw all of our crap into the van and got back into the drivers seat, and sat through 15 hellish minutes of Wy crying. Finally, with Wy in a good enough place, we decamped and headed to the front gate for family fun.

It lasted a minute. As soon as Wy hit the ground, and started walking, he realized his pong-o was to big (they came in two sizes, adult and child) and he freak out again!

At this point, I was done. I decided to walk it off to the front gate, with the Elder Boy in tow. Five minutes later, My Lovely Bride came walking up in her lovely yellow pong-o with a wailing Little Warrior 30 yards behind her.

On hindsight, I'm surprised they even let us in the park.

Until I BLOG again...This time will pass.

Read Part 2

This is "40"

My 40th lap around El Sol happened while I was on vacation. Depending on how you score, I either turned 40 in San Antonio, or New Braunfels, which is where I was at 6:01pm, which is when I was born on July 25, 1967. I was premature by at least a month. In a hurry then. In a hurry now.

40 was hard for me. On one level, it was this big, black, over the hill, round number, birthday. Then, on another level, I was dealing with it being my first birthday since Mom died. That's a hard one. When the person who gave you life, is no longer alive to acknowledge the day that commemorates the event.

The coup de grâce though was that my 40th birthday, which was on Wednesday, fell on the 40th week mark of Mom's death, which occurred on a Wednesday. Seriously.

So yet again, I ask myself, what does it mean, if anything? You'd think, at 40, 40! I would have some idea. I don't. Actually it is the exact opposite. The older I get, the less (I feel) I know.

I've been trying to put 40 in context the past week, spending a lot of time trying to remember what my parents were like when they were 40.

Jerr turned 40 in 1977, I was 10. Mom, turned 40 in 1981, I was 14. Looking back, I can't recall them well at 40. Since they were my parents, they always seemed so much older than me ---- 40 seems ancient when you are 10 or 14. I can't even imagine what it will seem like for my Boy(s) who are 5 1/2 and 3 1/2. Fuck me.

Looking back on my 40th, I have to say, it sucked. The thing I realize now, hindsight and all that, is that short of a resurrection my birthday had no chance of not sucking. It was what it was. Hard.

So, Happy Birthday to me, now that I'm officially middle age. That's not even true. Fuck, if I'm Mom, I have 25 years left. She died at 65. Her Mom, old granny, is 84, and going strong. If I get that, I'm not even there. The thing. I don't know.

You won't either Dear Reader.

So my advice is this: live.

Until I BLOG again...(Will I?) sing a new song.

Memories are made of this

For those that care, Team Tinsley Summer Vacation Photo action.

Until I BLOG again...These are the dreams you will savor.