Along For The Ride

While on vacation: no work, no appointments and no going to bed at a decent hour, NO SCHEDULES, the exception of course is having a toddler. While there is no going to work and there are no appointmets, there is a loose schedule to keep and if you don't go to bed at a decent hour, the next morning could be less enjoyable than it would have otherwise been had you turned out the light 45 minutes sooner.

I wasn't shocked when I heard Pierce call out for me at 5:30, WIDE AWAKE but I was surprised, which made me thankful for those 45 minutes. Who needs to sleep in till 7am anyway? It doesn't take me long anymore to wake up, especially with P's lack of inhibition regarding normal 5:30am decorum. Who spins in circles and laughs hysterically as a response to "would you like some milk"?

After four small cups of coffee and watching CBS's Eye Opener, the morning reached a modicum of normalcy. By that time most of the house was awake and into their normal routine. Mama and Nana went for a walk on the beach, while Pierce and Daddy took their own walk. P was tired (from already being up for four hours) and was more interested in Daddy carrying him which I enjoyed (nothing like your son's chin pressed firmly on your shoulder and arm draped around your neck). He pointed at the seagulls (he calls them ducks) and clapped when they glided through the salty breeze. We watched overweight old guys with white chest hair diligently hunt for lost treasure with medal detectors and spied on the same unlucky or unskilled fisherman all while maneuvering through the morning shellers.

Ashleigh and I broke away while Nana and Poppy watched Pierce. It was fun to rehash the previous events and talk about upcoming activities for the week and remaining year all while being cognizant of the fact that we were alone, holding hands on a beach and the last time that had occured was three years earlier. We went for an impromptu drive up HWY 1 in CA, found a pull off and ran down to the Pacific Coast. Times are slightly different. We kissed and I told her I'd be back in 41 minutes after a five mile run (took 46, it's very muggy).

Activity of the day centered around two souped up seven speed bicycles (one with a baby seat on the back) and a five mile bike ride that had us stopping twice; once at the Sanibel Community Park and the other at Bailey's local Grocery for refreshments. Pierce's body language seemed to express that he was along for the ride, content to try just about anything provided that there were snacks and drinks along the route.

RC Otters was next on the route. We all piled in to The 2012 XLE Sienna and punched in the coordinats to Captiva Island because Nana had it on good authority that the aforementioned establishment was not to be skipped. After a bumpy start in the inside dining room, we quickly audibled and moved outside which made all the difference. It was there that Pierce discoverd his LOVE/INFATUATION for tarter sauce. His fried fish filets were merely a vehicle to consume as many tiny buckets of the heavenly goodness as possible. It didn't last long but it was a ravenous five minutes, over as quickly as it had begun.

Just about the time as the rest of our food had arrived a local guitarist playing for the evening entered his radar. He began to wave his arms high in the air like he was singing "Itsy Bitsy Spider" and clapping at the end of each song. He was tired of being in the high chair and wanted a closer look. While my locally caught and grilled grouper and crab meat would have tasted delicious while hot, it would've have been a poor substitue for me picking my son up, walking to the lower patio and dancing with him in front of the musician. His Mama tagged me out after about ten minutes and his Nana after that. We didn't plan on entertaining the rest of the restaurant but we did enjoy the moment, (not as much as Pierce loved the tarter sauce) because we're all making the most of our ride.

Buckets of Fun

Eleven months ago, I wrote a handful of posts detailing our first family vacation to Hilton Head. The following few paragraphs may read/sound redundant but I promise you, nothing can be further from redundant than a 23 month's old deep giggle and wide smile against the background of relentless surf crashing in on broken shells and sand.

After sharing his Nana's yogurt and his Mama's omelette, we took 20-30 steps before our bronzed toes hit the sand. There are more than a few clues to Pierce's imminent OCD but one HUGE tell, is when he says "uh oh", points to his tiny tevas, looks up at me with trepidation painted all over his face because sand has clinged to his toes.

His obsesession with lining his blocks up semi-perfectly is matched only by his curiousity with the waves constantly rolling up the shore and receding back into the horizon. Part of the natural high that comes with being a parent is trying to imagine your two year old's thought process, re-living the first time you ever saw salt water collide with a shoreline.

I don't remember the first time I saw it and I'm sure that P won't either but with the help of this blog, my journal and a lifetime of healthy living, I'll remember this trip and Pierce's grin, ear to ear as he held on to my fingers like he was crossing monkey bars, I walked him in to the gulf and we swam out sixty feet further than his mom was comfortable with, his arms wrapped like a burmese python around my neck, excited but uneasy.

After taking a cresting wave right in the kisser, it was time for us to head to the beach towels, eat string cheese, sip on apple juice and reapply the all important 70 spf. After snack time, we headed back down to where the very tip of the ocean reached before being sucked back in to the sky. P liked sitting in between Daddy's V and watching the water pool up and roll back. His favorite activity involved tossing a shell three or four feet out and witnessing the ocean deliver it back to him, this exuded DEEP GIGGLES.

We practiced that excercise for about thirty minutes before returning to the towels. It was there, that we embarked on a journey that every father must have with his son, the building of the sand castle. At this point, it might be more fun for Dad than for son but either way we both thouroughly enjoyed packing sand and broken shells in to a plastic mold. Pierce's favorite part was taking his Mom back to the water and fill the bucket to the top. Truth be told, he lost interest after four or five trips, the castle walls were only half built, the guard towers were not even started (this is what I was talking about re-living your childhood) and the moat not filled. It was nap time.

Who knows the number of families that the passing tide has bared witness to the exact same scenario occuring. After dinner we walked out to see that our sand castle had been infiltrated/claimed by the tide with no trace left except for this written record.

Master Architect: Ashleigh Hernandez

My experiences are new to me. The lessons learned are probably not new to you. Most of the time, I'm just working out the Silver and Black Lining.

Man's First Flight

Flight Departure time 9:15am
Alarm set for 5am
On the road to CVG @6:15am
Destination: Sanibel Island, Florida

Now imagine the above text "quickly typed across the screen in army green color, (spy movie style).

I'm willing to guess that a large percentage of parents let their thoughts wander when it comes to any impending scenario that they aren't going to have complete control of (like any parent has complete control of anything). I had a funny thought about our upcoming travel adventure that had the NSA confiscating Scout, (Pierce's stuffed best friend). It went something like; we put Scout on the conveyer belt to be scanned, the machine pauses, the officer walks over and explains to us that Scout can't make the trip, at which point Pierce goes "Patrick Swayze Road House" style on his throat.

About eighty percent of the above scenario ACTUALLY happened. Scout went in to the scanner and the belt stopped, we were holding up about 50 curious passangers, I am usually "randomly" selected to be strip searched. The scanning officer radioed for back-up. The NSA officer walked up and explained to us that they were going to have to...... test the milk in the bottle next to Scout. Upon hearing the news, I swear, Pierce relaxed his hands.

After making it through security, Pierce got his first try at the long stretch of moving floor. After walking to our concourse, I was happy to see that our gate was next to a stretch of the escalator's cousin. Pierce and I took advantage of a less than crowded airport and rode our section a handful of times.

Ashleigh and I were both anxious to get in the air, we figured the roughest part of the whole process was when Pierce realized that he was going to be confined for more than a little bit. We did have the good fortune of an empty row in front, behind and beside us. Once "Sunny days, keeping the clouds away rang through the IPad's speaker and P got his morning Elmo in, things settled for a while and all things considered, the two hour flight went as well we could've hoped for. It beats a six hour road trip!

Rounding third, the last twenty minutes were a little rough mostly because while we were able to use his agrressive morning appetite to our advantage and feed him bites of his favorite snacks to keep his ears from popping, he was full and wanted nothing more to do with his Mott's fruit snacks on the descent. I felt bad for him. His ears were bothering him, it was time for his nap and there was no end in sight.

While I am conscious of the surrounding passangers on the plane, I don't shrink like a hermit in to a shell of anxiety because my son is being a two year old. A Daddy's heart and mind are too busy filled with and exuding compassion and love for his son. "It's almost over mijo, we're almost there, I am so proud of you.

So, to the sideways looking folks in row 10, sorry you couldn't focus on that uber importnat game on your Kindle, hope you reach level 100 someday, not on the game but as a human.

As the landing gear touched down, Pierce could sense we crossed the finish line, his ears stopped popping, his Mama scooped him up and all was well. His mind was blown further when he saw Nana and Poppy waving as we exited the terminal. He reached mental overload and he passed out in the car seat until we got to our home for the week.

My experiences are new to me. The lessons learned are probably not new to you. Most of the time, I'm just figuring out in my head, what the Silver and Black Linings are.

My Half

The timing of the Bluegrass Half Marathon was not ideal, I would've rather had 60 days clear of winter to train as opposed to 30 but if it's easy then it isn't worth doing right? This event represented significant progress on my way to achieving my ultimate goal. I wrote about being revived last April and I sit today, (legs sore) experiencing that same feeling.

I arrived at Keeneland anxious but ready. I had completed runs averaging seven miles the previous four Sundays at a rate of about eight minutes 33 seconds. Not knowing the course my goal was to sustain that pace and finish under 110 minutes. The crowd was large and the energy emitted into the cool early morning air was unmistakable.

This is only the third race I've competed in and first over 5K. I know I have a lot to learn, one thing that I tried to remind myself of was to; run my race, keep my tempo, and try not to get too excited too quickly. I failed on two of those. While I didn't get too excited, I quickly became preoccupied with getting around some of the less serious runners and unnecessarily expended energy. As a result, my tempo was erratic for the first couple of miles. There is no substitute for experience and I won't make that mistake again.

It was mile four that I realized, I should have eaten more than a handful of strawberries and another of blueberries. I don't typically eat a lot before runs but I also don't typically run half marathons. I made a critical error. I noticed other runners slurping down gel packets and chalked the feeling of the bottom of my stomach down in the "remember this next time" column.

I would not be one hundred percent truthful if I didn't share that for a moment, I let an unsettling feeling of panic creep into my mind at around mile six. The hills were relentless, I found myself hoping I would see a stretch of moderately flat terrain but that stretch turned out to be wishful.

I began to hear Coach Breeden screaming at my 14 year old self, "get your ass up this hill". When I reminisce about Freshman basketball conditioning, I associate two words with it: EPIC and FAIL, because that is what I did. I've never felt more miserable about not finishing something mostly because **that is about the last time I didn't. Everything happens for a reason, as silly as it sounds, to have placed that much significance on cone drills on a stupid hill in Ashland KY, that feeling of failure has fueled me for more than sixteen years.

ALERT! There's about to be a Hunger Games reference. I had a lot of time to think on this 13.1 mile run. Having recently finished the first two books in the Hunger Games Trilogy, my dorky self couldn't help but associate the marathon with the "games". Every time I needed a little help there would be a crowd of supporters handing off parachutes of water. I suspected it, when Points of Authority by Linkin Park blasted through my earbuds at a difficult time on mile eight but KNEW it on mile nine when Lennon's Beautiful Boy played that Haymitch was my DJ.

I started running again for more than a couple of reasons, I detailed it in the post Besties last April so I won't go in to it here. Except to say that Pierce was one of them. I sing Beautiful Boy to him most nights as I lay him in his crib, when it played, it helped me get my ass up more than a few of those hills.

The adrenaline healed my empty stomach and numbed my aching feet, legs, calfs and everything below my waist. I pulled my earbuds out on mile ten. Hearing the thunder of the other runners around me proved useful. The distance between markers 11 and 12 seemed further and further.

That last mile I pictured two more mind clouds; the first of me wearing my Blue Lions T-Ball jersey running down a first base line with my dad yelling "run like the wind son!", the second was picturing Ash holding Pierce at the finish line cheering Daddy on. I smiled at my wife and gave Pierce a pat on the head as I finished. It would have been infinitely more difficult without her support (asiu).

13.1 miles @ 2hrs 1 min 52 sec This is 12 minutes longer than I wanted but I am pleased with the result, considering the type of course and that I didn't stop and walk once.

I'm coming for you Marathon!

**Unless you ask Ash about fixing our back door.

When all Else Fails, Bribe!

I never thought I'd be the type of parent that needed to bribe their kids to get them to do what I wanted them to do. But I overlooked the fine print of evolution, he's smarter than I am.

Every parent should hope that their kids become better than they are. As a Dada, that's what I work for. At the office and at home, the goal is to give the next generation every opportunity to be better, to achieve more, to move the bar higher for the grand kids and the great grand kids.

In the post Inaugural Christmas I described our morning ritual. Pierce wakes up and babbles to himself and that is my cue to go downstairs and make coffee, also to get his morning snack ready. After those simple preparations, I'll go back upstairs and open his door chanting something like "Is my little blue, blue, blue, blueberry head in here? He'll smile and chuckle to himself all while rolling around in his crib holding the stuffed animal of the week. After changing his diaper, we'd go downstairs and right before we hit the last step, I'd ask him for a kiss, he'd oblige and now without me asking when we get to that step, he'll turn his head an plant a wet one right on my mouth and smile. It's the best.

I grab my coffee, hand him his milk and grab the snack trap full of Morning O's. Pierce and I will sit on the couch, under a blanket, he'll eat his snack, I'll sip my coffee and smell his sweet hair and kiss his soft cheeks all in the glow of HLN. We'd sit for 10-15 minutes before he was ready to get down and start playing. About four weeks ago, 10-15 minutes turned in to 1-2 minutes.

I missed those minutes so much that I asked Ashleigh to pick up a more exciting cereal without compromising his healthy diet of course. I figured he was bored of the plain Organic Morning O's. Ash (not knowing my motivation) obliged and picked up Fruitful O's. There we were, Sunday Morning Pierce and I snuggled up again, it was just like old times. He ate a whole snack trap worth and I smiled at his Mama. She squinted at me and put two and two together, the 15 minutes were up and Pierce was off to play. Ash shook her head in a way that only spouses can, it's that "I can't believe you but I can believe you" sort of head shake.

The next morning, it was back to 1-2 minutes. It wasn't the cereal, Pierce doesn't need a morning snack, he's content to play and wait for breakfast. He does sleep 10 hours (which I'm not complaining about) he's just ready to spend some of that energy. That is what I tell myself anyway, as I sit without my cuddling buddy.

I bribed him with Organic Fruit Loops and stepped in to a time machine for one morning. I'm glad that he's not old enough to realize that I compromised my parenting, although I'm sure that deep inside that brain of his, he knows he has me right where he wants me. I'll concede the point on this one and look forward to our future chess matches.

My experiences are new to me, the lessons learned are probably not new to you. Most of the time, I'm just figuring out what the Silver and Black Lining is?

Hook, Swipe and Stab

I pick my spots when it comes to aggression. I've found little use for the emotion, relying instead on patience and terrible wit. Every now and again a situation presents itself when your patience fails you and a man is overcome with a testosterone fueled moment of aggression.

It happened this past Valentine's Day. I happened to be out to lunch with my beautiful wife. Is it a coincidence that something like this would happen on our 13th Valentine's Day?

There we were at a lovely Italian Restaurant conversing over one subject (Pierce) but a myriad of topics. They were normal conversations that parents of a 16 month old have: upcoming pre-pre-schools, potty training, his latest abilities and possible vacation plans.

It was clear to us that the guy next to us was clearly frustrated, over what, we weren't sure but it was coming to a point where I was going to have to make my displeasure known because it was starting to interrupt our lunch. It seemed like he was struggling using his fork. I was just trying to be nice when I handed him my unused fork, he placed it in his right hand and he immediately made and aggressive hook/swiping motion into a plate of pasta and stabbed a penne. He shoveled it into his mouth and smiled a smile that would let anyone know he was pleased with himself.

His Mama and I clapped and cheered as only two loving parents can. The penne made a perfect prey because he could stab it and cram it into his mouth without it falling off. He's made more progress since that day. We had mashed potatoes last night and he quickly learned that all he had to do was jam his spoon into a pile and they would stick. That strategy did little for him tonight when Dada made brown rice.

Just Write

I am not going to be wordy with this first of what I hope is a few posts. There have been three or four fun topics that I've wanted to write about but to put it simply, I've been apathetic. Seems like I go into hibernation when the days get shorter and the nights colder. For now, the wine glass is full and I'm ready to get started.

I just put Pierce down for bed. A full day it was and we both had a GRAND time. After walking down to the basement, I flipped on the tele and while I opened my bottle of Chateau Saint Jean I got to hear about the latest happenings in Syria.

Amateur video of a makeshift clinic was dancing across the screen and the obnoxious self serving anchor asked the field reporter to describe the scene. One of the victims, a six year old boy.

I looked down at my baby monitor to see my baby boy sleeping soundly in his warm room and cozy crib.

Lord, Thank You for my many blessings, please comfort the parents of that little boy.