“Are we ready for the camping trip next weekend?” “Are we ready?” I thought. “I’m barely even capable of finding my left shoe.” I looked up at Annie, “Short answer is no.” Annie frowned. “The house is a problem. Half the Living Room is taken over by jams and market materials, the other half is leftover end-of-school year chaos that we haven’t gotten around to addressing. I still have some of my own work crap in the corner….
It’s the first day of school! Today’s the day! I can get a routine started again! I can focus on teaching Regina the alphabet and shapes and counting without Lyd interrupting or impatiently scolding Reg when she gets it wrong. I can get ahead of the laundry. We live close enough to the school where we can walk Lyd every day, we’ll be able to get out, get some fresh air. Sun rays are coming through clouds, a cherubic chorus…
Chapter 1. Relax Deep breaths, “Okay, well here it goes!” I turned off the van wondering why I was so nervous. “It’s only for a couple of hours, anyone can do most anything for a couple hours. Right?” I entered the building and pushed the door button, the chime sounded and I heard a lock open up and the door slowly opened (I think I heard a long ominous creak). “Hey there!” It was Mrs. Karls, “How are you doing?”…
Hi, my name is Brooks and I’m a Stay At Home Dad. This is a choice my wife (Annie) and I made together. Can I get a full-time job? Yes I can. I am by trade a Stagehand. This means that my work schedule is really not a schedule at all. Work can be spotty, sometimes it feels like a tsunami, other times it feels like the Sahara. I have incredible flexibility in that I can turn down gigs. So,…
I had a bit of inspiration recently that compelled me to think about Annie’s Grandma, she went by “Nani” (Nah-Nee). She was born Christmas Day 1925, today she would have been 90 years old. She was a little tiny feisty lady. She was Italian and always dressed the part. She had oversized coke bottle eyeglasses and had a thick Rhode Island accent. “Come hee-ah Honey, gimme a hug! Way-uz my dahling Lydia?” I met her back when Annie and I…
This morning I’m braiding Lyd’s hair, the news was on, an update on the San Bernardino Shooting came up. “Daddy? Did someone shoot a bunch of people?” “Yes. Sweetie, someone did a terrible thing, the most terrible thing you can do actually.” “Why?” “I honestly do not know.” (taking a cue from a Mr. Rogers quote I once read) “But watch, see that lady being helped? There are always people helping. I want you to remember that and look for…
Earlier this week, Annie asked me if I could send her the Christmas Card mailing list. Sure, no problem. I dug through a couple of desktop folders and finally found that little document. “Hmm!” I thought, “This hasn’t been updated since 2012. There’s got to be something more current than this.” I did some more searching before concluding that I must have been sending Annie the info in some different form for the last couple of years, I’ll probably remember…
2008 was a unique year for us. Annie was settling into a very promising job, my gigs felt like they had attained cruising altitude. We had been married for three years, we were about as happy as we could be. Something wasn’t quite right though. Since day one, since our engagement days, we would have musings about someday having kids. There really wasn’t a time where we weren’t interested in becoming parents. Before I go on, let’s jump back a…
Kindergarten, Day 1. The drop-off was successful. I was not nearly as emotional about it as I thought I’d be. Annie was pretty upset though. Me? The feelings are running a little deeper under the skin on this one, they don’t seem to be coming up to the surface very quickly. I’m quietly pondering it all. I’m thinking about how long the days are, and yet I’m a bit blown away by how fast the years are piling up. I…
Two and a half years ago, a doctor told us you were pretty much a miscarriage—85% chance. The news was given in an awfully dismissive manner, he might as well have finished it with, “that’s the way the cookie crumbles” and a shrug. I don’t think that doctor realized how close he came to having an angry man in a kilt fly across his desk and damage his face. Your Mother’s fingernails, when properly buried into my forearm can have…