Crack of dawn

Noah and Elliot slept pretty well together last night, but the power inexplicably went out for a couple of hours around 1:30 AM.  Without the white noise of the fan, the boys woke up.

We had earlier decided if they woke up during the night, we would put them back to sleep in their own beds.  Our reasoning was based on them waking each other up, not due to it being quiet, but we did it anyway.  As Mandy was leading Elliot back to bed, I heard him say, "I want Noah to put me to bed."

Despite being up for about an hour during the night, Noah woke up super early and couldn't be convinced to go back to sleep.  I decided to take him to Starbucks to help keep the rest of the house asleep.   The Plaza Art Fair was going on, so the streets were all blocked off and artist tents were everywhere, and we had to park a couple blocks away.  It was 46 degrees outside, so by the time we got there, Noah decided he wanted hot chocolate.

Crack of dawn visits to this 'bucks were pretty routine back when Elliot was little and waking up so early all the time.  It's probably been a year since I came in that regularly, but the guy behind the counter remembered me enough to mention that I hadn't been there in awhile, and to ask where Elliot was.

Afterwards, we walked around the Plaza a bit, and over to Brush Creek to see the sunrise.  We'll both need naps later.

Hot, hot, hot!

The value of a nap

We had a birthday party with Noah's friends today, which Mandy will probably talk about later when we have some pictures.  In all the rush, we forgot cameras, and got to enjoy just being in the moment.

It was an active party, held at a place that essentially consists of a bunch of indoor bounce houses.  Elliot was asleep before we got home, and it was clear Noah needed to go down too.  When they both woke up, it was almost like we had two different kids.  Kind, funny, helpful to each other and thankful for all we did for them.

It was another beautiful day.  The weather in Kansas City does occasionally have its redeeming moments, and we've had a stretch of them lately, with no end in sight.  There was a lot on tap this weekend - the Plaza Art Fair, the Waldo Fall Festival, and a number of other smaller gatherings.  We could have done nearly anything with this weather, but the boys wanted to go to a park.

Noah suggested a picnic for dinner, so Mandy went home and made dinner and brought it back to the park.  Noah thought this was one of the greatest ideas he'd ever had.  They were polite, thanked us, asked to be excused from the picnic table, and continued to play like best buds.

Tonight, Noah wrote thank you cards to all his friends, both kids bathed without complaint, and had a great time playing with each other as we moved the train table from Noah's room to Elliot's room in order to make room for Noah's hot wheels.

After bedtime stories, they wanted to sleep together in Elliot's bed.  We've tried it once before, and it lasted a few minutes.  A few fart jokes, some laughing, some bonked heads and some crying, and it was all over.  Tonight though, after telling them we'd let them if they were quiet after 10 minutes, we let them try again.  Not a peep was heard, and when we finally checked on them, they were sound asleep.

We'll have to treasure this day.  There have been few like it.

You're going to need those knees someday, son. 

Noah's usually one of the bigger kids on the playground...

Why we've never been on a cruise

This happened over 10 years ago, but it's a memory that still evokes a visceral reaction whenever the subject of a cruise comes up.  Although I felt sorry for her, because she was so looking forward to this trip at the time, this is one of the funniest (because it didn't happen to me) e-mails I've ever received.  Forgive the spelling and grammar errors, as she was typing fast due to the cost per minute.  

Sitting in a Mexican Minute-Clinic.  She looks pathetic, doesn't she?  

Click on picture to read 

Click on picture to read

Happy Birthday, son.

Dear Noah,

Happy birthday. You’ve been in our hearts for five years now. You entered into this world full force, crying nonstop when you were born, refusing to sleep, and you’ve not slowed down since. You walked at 8 months, scaled and tiptoed along our narrow rock retaining wall at one, rode a bike with training wheels at two, and without at three. Before you turned four, you swam across a 40-yard pool without stopping.

You’ve climbed boulders in Colorado, played in creeks and stomped through a myriad of puddles. You are easily the fastest kid your age we’ve encountered, and taller than most. Given all this, it’s sometimes easy to forget how young you are. One day, when you were still three, we were complaining about how cranky you were, forgetting we took a bike ride that morning that was nearly six miles. And you pedaled the entire way.

While you have all these raw physical skills, you’re only competitive with yourself. To watch you create one of your “inventions”, and proudly show it off, we can see that your mind works in a creative fashion. When you don’t accomplish what you set out to, we can see the dark clouds move in. You get frustrated and stubborn, refusing help for whatever it is you may be working on. You didn’t talk until you were two, but you learned your alphabet, your numbers and even how to spell a little shortly after. You have one volume - loud. I can tell you to whisper a thousand times, and you whisper, “OK” in acknowledgment, but it lasts no more than a few seconds.

To make you stop at the end of the day, we literally have to lay down with you and make you quit moving long enough to fall asleep. And it never lasts long. Your younger brother will lay in bed for a half hour after he wakes up, talking to himself and lounging around until someone gets him. With you, all we hear is a yawn on the monitor as you first open your eyes, seconds later followed by the hard thump of you jumping out of bed onto the wooden floor to start a new day. One morning, well before it was light outside, I asked you why you were getting up so early. You replied, “Because I’m bored of sleeping.”

I’m tempted someday to throw out my watch and plans, and see just how far you’ll go before stopping on your own. In five years, I’ve never seen it happen, unless you count falling asleep in your high chair during dinner.

Your full steam approach to life is going to create some challenges as we try to properly channel your personality. It will be someone’s full time job to keep you engaged. You love friends, but like me, you make them cautiously and hold them fast. You love your brother, especially when you’re apart, and you’re very protective of him when other kids are around, but my God you can be a pain in his ass when it’s just the two of you. You love your mom and dad, and even though you’re mostly reluctant to give hugs, you surprise us with “I love you’s” out of the blue, hugs that we weren’t expecting, or even more frequently, flowers that you picked for us. Likely out of someone’s garden or a business’s landscaping. You are empathetic towards others; you’re extremely kind to babies and younger kids, and take good care of them.

You know it all, even at this age, and you’re quite defiant at times. You will die on the hill for what you feel is right. If we give you two choices, you will most likely counter with choice number three, and even faced with an ultimatum of “no stories, and immediate bedtime” or some similar consequence, you will cling stubbornly to the unavailable choice.

Your full-on belly laugh is as infectious as any I’ve ever heard, and just hearing it makes us smile, even if it’s because you’re doing something you shouldn’t. You’ve had this same laugh from the time you were a baby, and it hasn’t changed a bit. I watched a video of you laughing at three months old, and it sounds exactly the same as listening to you laugh today. You love to make us laugh.

You inherited your mom’s beauty, intelligence and sweet tooth, and my short temper, perfectionism and reticence. Because we are so alike, we butt heads more often than I would like, and it takes me remembering that in order to de-escalate these situations.

You are one of the bright lights of our lives, and while some days it seems to have taken forever to get here, mostly time seems to be rushing by at a speed beyond our control. Given all you’ve accomplished in the first five years, we’re excited to see what you will do the next five.

Love,

Mom and Dad

Welcoming Elliot home

Riding his first bike.  At 2 1/2 

Not wanting to grow up

I was by myself tonight. After days of full-time duty with the kids, Mandy got out tonight, and I put both both kids to bed.  Elliot was first, and as is way, he wanted mommy up to the point I laid in bed with him.  He was out in minutes. I’d hoped Noah was putting himself to sleep.  It happens about 80% of the time when we start with E.

I stepped out of Elliot’s room, walking softly and listening for any sound from Noah’s room.  Unlike other nights, I thought I heard a weird sound. I couldn’t initially tell if it was real or not, and if it was, whether it was coming from E’s room or Noah’s.  I finally went into Noah’s room and found him crying in his bed. I was confused, because he was just fine when we were reading stories a few minutes before. I asked what was wrong.

"I don't want to turn 5 tomorrow, I'm scared of going to heaven."
“You’re not going to heaven for a long, long time.  There’s nothing to be afraid of in turning 5.”
“If I go to heaven, I’m afraid I’ll be lonely.”
“If you ever go to heaven, you’ll be there with lots of friends.”
“But you and mom won’t be there.”
“We will be there. But you’re only turning 5. If you go to heaven, you’ll probably be 100. It won’t happen for a long, long time.”

It was heartbreaking. He was afraid of getting older for some reason, most likely because he though he closer to dying and going to heaven. I wondered again why he was thinking about it like that. After more discussions about how fun it was to turn 5, and how fun it was to get older, he finally told me he was excited about his birthday tomorrow, but I could tell he was just saying it for my benefit, and was still thinking about heaven.

He eventually fell asleep, and as I looked at that innocent face, I was surprised again that he’d been thinking about something that I had no idea about, and it made me think again about my ability, or lack thereof, to shield him from fear and worry.

I love this kid.  And as hard as I try, he’ll never know how much.

Silver lining

There aren't many benefits of recovering from surgery, but there is one.  I'm getting to see my boys much more than I normally do, and even though I can't do much with them, it is enjoyable just talking and listening to them.  And occasionally I get to do things I can't do because I'm at work.

This morning, I took Noah to school, and walked him to his classroom.  He showed me where he puts his backpack and where he sits, and hugged me when I left.  It was a little thing, but I loved it.  He looks like such a big boy going off to sit at his table.

Later, I played with Elliot at the park.  In between work calls, I "chased" him around the playground.  It's a little sad because I can't run yet, or even move very fast, so he gets mad, sits down and cries because I'm not chasing him.  He took my hat, and wouldn't give it back.

Great Prostate Cancer Challenge

Even before my surgery, Mandy signed us up for the Great Prostate Cancer Challenge 5k run.  She wanted to do something to contribute to getting the message out about prostate cancer.  I thought it pretty optimistic at the time, coming only a couple weeks after my scheduled surgery date, but things progressed better than expected and we were all able to turn out.   Both boys woke up extremely early for some reason, and Noah came downstairs and said "Happy race day, daddy!".  He had been excited to run it.  We were joined by Mandy's mom, and our friends Jacob and Jenni on a great morning.

We ended up walking 1.7 miles.  I wanted to walk further, but I wasn't feeling it and the kids were getting tired as well.  But I was glad I had been able to get out and participate.  I had several men who had been through the RP procedure ask how on earth I was out there just two and a half weeks after surgery.  Noah and his friend Liam ran off and on the entire way, and when we approached the finish line, they hauled ass towards it.  They were running so fast and hard they ran past the turn off towards the finish, and had to be redirected by the cops.  We hadn't yet turned the corner, and the last we saw was them running full speed together.  While we couldn't see them finish, we could hear the crowd erupt in cheers as they made it towards the finish line.  Fortunately, the event photographer captured some great pictures of their finale.

We stuck around and played a few games, had some pancakes and donuts, and I even got my picture taken with a Jayhawk mascot.  It goes against my Mizzou blood, but what they hell - they did save my life, I suppose, so I'll give them a pass this time.  Elliot also won a $50 gift card to the Capital Grille.  Sorry, little guy, but you're going to have to miss out on this one - mommy and daddy will be taking care of spending it on our next date night. Mom says you owe her.  

All the way up to this morning, I wasn't sure I would participate.  My recovery hasn't been linear, but more up and down.  I'll feel (relatively) great for a couple of days, then really struggle for a while.  I was walking several miles a day, but I was sidelined almost all of yesterday, and except for this morning's walk, I've been cooped up inside resting.  It seems like as some part of me gets better, some other part of me starts having more issues.

When I had absolutely no choice but to be patient, I was pretty good about it, but yesterday I let the pain and frustration and limitations get to me, and I turned into a bad patient.  I undeservedly made Mandy's life miserable the last day and a half - the one person that is bearing more of the brunt of this than me, and doing her best to keep me, the kids and the house all going.  I apologize sincerely.

This up and down is all part of the healing process.  It can be a little concerning at times, but it's all normal (repeated calls to the doctor keep assuring me), and there are some indications about long term effects that are very promising very early on.  I have been much more physically active than many who've gone through this surgery can expect to be at this point, and I have to remember that relatively, I'm doing extremely well.  I'm an impatient patient, but I have to remember that's not anyone else's problem.  This is a 4-6 week recovery, not a two-week one and in the grand scheme of things, this will be just a blip on the timeline of my life.  I'm down about 15 lbs since the surgery, mostly due to diet, but partially due to loss of muscle mass I'm sure.  It won't be that long until I'm at full speed again.

  

The crowd cheered as he and Liam ran the final few feet.

Bringing up the rear