We leave the house at around 6:25 a.m. during the week. We arrive at school around 6:50 a.m. Today I counted the cars that passed me going the other way. Heading in a different direction. There were 87 cars.
At least 87 people drove past me on my left, heading to work, maybe home, maybe starting their vacation. I don’t know. I don’t even know if there were more people because it is dark at 6:30 in the morning.
What I know for sure is that there are 87 people living out their stories right now. Are those happy stories? Is someone feeling broken-hearted? Did someone start a new job today?
It is easy to get caught up in our lives, the small plot line we create. I can’t tell you how many times I have driven this route to school (OK I can because I blogged about it: From Home to School). But I never really considered all the stories happening around me, until today.
Until I counted the cars passing me going the other way. There are 87 stories that I have not heard, but I hope they are doing well today.
I wonder how many of those 87 cars I’ll pass again tomorrow morning…
Dadlife… it is amazing to look back at these moments knowing how my children have grown. But also how the lessons from these moments still hold true… Original post is from April 2010.
“Communicate”
It was 1:10 in the morning and my 4-month-old daughter is antsy. I get up and find the pacifier. No go. She spits it out. I try again. She settles down. I creep back to my bed. Pull the blanket over me and feel the quiet darkness of sleep fill my mind.
“Augghrrr, Augghrrr, whaaaa,” she cries.
With a sigh only a frustrate parent knows, I head back to the crib. I try the pacifier again, but she is not settling down. OK, diaper? I set her down and get a clean diaper on her. Lay her down, repeat the bed, cover, darkness of sleep and she repeats her audible noise of discontent.
My wife groggily suggests a 4-ounce bottle. So, I head upstairs. I am actually waking up by this time. My wife feeds her, I fall back asleep.
In a blur of slumber and frustration, my daughter wakes me up. It is now 1:36. I go for the pacifier, again. We fall into a pacifier, spit it out, pacifier; spit it out routine with a few of those frustrated sighs thrown in for fun.
I pick her up. In the darkness, I can see her looking at me. Then her eyes close. For the next five minutes, I rock her in my arms. Victory. I lay her down, check the pacifier and head to my pillow.
1:52. My frustration level is now high. But I squash it. Let out a good 30-second sigh and head to the crib. Next trick is laying her on her belly. This time it works. With a last little sigh, from her, the night continues.
As a fall asleep, I think about how much easier it would be if she could only tell me what she wants, or what is bugging her. My mind wanders about that idea, about how many of life’s hardships are based on this premise. The ability to communicate. To communicate truthfully. To simply express what is bugging us. To tell the people around us what we need. Many times, we are afraid of what will happen if we do. What will the other person think? Does this make me look weak? Do I have the words to actually express what I am feeling?
I see the negative consequences of not communicating in the classroom and in life. I see people just continue to be “antsy” and live everyday in a constant agitated state, simply because they will not or cannot communicate what they need.
I hear my little girl sleeping soundly, I had figured out what she wanted. But, I cannot wait until she can tell me in her own words.
4:50 a.m. It is the alarm clock this time. I restrain from telling the clock what I feel this morning….
So, I’m not doing what I set out to do. I am supposed to be writing a really cool short story idea I have. I am at my favorite writing spot at my local coffee shop, The Blue Moon. I have my Bizarre Orange Encounter drink. (My traditional drink for moments like this.) My writing playlist is hitting the right notes. But I am blogging.
Chasing your dreams is hard.
Today, this moment, is a perfect example why.
First, I had planned this moment a few days ago. Our trash needs to be out on the curb at 7 a.m. I was like, I could just go to the Blue Moon to write before the day started.
It opens at 7:30. We are on Easter break. Perfect way to start the day. Well, it was a struggle to just get here.
I got the garbage out in time, but had to fight… fight the urge to just crawl back into bed and sleep. The voice in my head tempted me with the thought that I could write another time. And it is true… but that is the first hurdle to achieving your goals. Actually working on it.
There will always be something to take you away from working on your goals, especially if you have to hold down a job to chase your dream or raise a family or any relationship. We only have so much time. We all have the same amount each day. We decide how to spend it. It’s important to spend it well. That means your relationships, your job, but also your goals.
Yes, you have to plan your time, and that is OK. Plan the time with friends and family, but also your goals, and stick to it.
The second hurdle was my youngest daughter. She loves having breakfast at the Blue Moon. I was tempted to see if she wanted to go. To sit and talk with her about Taylor Swift and horses. But if I did, I wouldn’t get any writing done. Achieving balance is part of life. Hence, the reason for planning your time. It helps you maintain that balance so you can strive for your goals and be a good friend, father, and husband (in my case).
I showered, grabbed my computer, kissed my wife and headed to the Blue Moon. Got my drink. Put in my headphones. And started this blog… which is also a hurdle.
I am supposed to be working on a new short story. Instead, I am blogging. I know what you might be thinking reader. How is this a bad thing? You blog all the time.
It is bad because I am not working toward my goal. I want to be known as a writer. I have novels that are not completed. Short story rough drafts in notebooks. I have so many ideas that are not completed. They don’t write themselves.
Yes, I am happy to blog. I hope this post helps you in your pursuit of your dreams. But I wonder, am I just afraid to reach for that big dream. Are you afraid, too?
We find ways to distract ourselves, to give ourselves excuses not to chase those big dreams.
Today has 24 hours. Plan it well. Love your family and friends, but your goals need your time and effort too.
We had s’mores last night. Set off a few fireworks. Tried to catch lighting bugs. Watched our neighborhood firework show. Then went to bed. This morning we had cinnamon rolls. While we were eating, my youngest daughter said that last night was fun. Everyone agreed.
One of the things I am proud of is the sense of home we have. My wife and I work hard at creating a home that is warm and safe for our children. When I became a dad, I wanted my children to know that they had a loving place in this world. I wanted a home filled with laughter. Filled with love. A place that my children could find reprieve from this world.
I grew up in houses that I felt alone in. Scared in. There were houses where I found ways not to spend time in… luckily the library was across the street from that house.
Our home is part of the fabric of our family. We have movie nights, dance parties, blueberry muffins and simply some good days.
Of course we have had our troubles, rough times. But the heart of our home is love. And I have to give credit to Oprah Winfrey for some advice early in my days of being a dad.
Does your face light up when your children enter the room?
As Oprah says, it was a light bulb moment for me. I remind myself of this everyday.
Now, I might have taken the idea to the extreme. Especially in the mornings. My kids hate my energy in the morning, but part of the reason for that is that I want them to know I am excited to start the day with them. To let them know they are loved. The teen years are the toughest in the mornings… they do not want to talk when they first get up. But it is all good! It is funny to listen to my sons, who are both out of the house, about how I used to wake them up. But they remember it!
I do my best to let my children know I love them each time they enter the room. I am not perfect. No one is, but I am proud of how I’ve created a home I never had. I look forward to all the good days ahead.
6:42 a.m. Aug 25, 2022. The day my wife, two daughters, and I almost died.
The story is not uncommon, sadly. And it is a simple one. I was at a light waiting to turn left across a four lane street. (This is what made the moment an almost moment.). The light changes green for me and I start my turn. I am moving across the lane closest to us, turning the wheel, when I noticed the lights of a semi truck flying toward us in the next lane. There was a minivan stopped at the light, but the truck wasn’t even slowing down. I slammed on the brakes and watch as the truck then cattle trailer streaked by in front of us. Our headlights reflecting back to us. I don’t think the driver even saw us.
It was dead silent in the car as I took a breath and continued across the intersection, headed to a “normal” day at school. We were that close to having everything change in our life. I am writing this at 7:18 a.m. and I can’t shake the weight of that almost moment.
I woke up with the song “Desperado” by the Eagles in my head this morning.
As I started my coffee, got the oven preheating, I brought up the song on my phone. Tears started falling as I placed the cupcake paper liners into the baking pans for the muffins. Some of you will understand right away my reaction; “Desperado” was a favorite song of the late Gary Monter. It was a song he sang to his boys as they were growing up.
Mr. Monter was my principal at Centura. He was great at his job, but he was also an amazing friend and person. He was 53 when he died, on a Sunday, in May of 2013.
I’m sure you have seen this video clip of Keanu Reeves.
Who loves you?
Who in your life needs to know you love them?
How can you tell them today?
Because today is the only day you really have to express your love for those that matter the most in your life.
Today.
Right now.
I cried this morning making muffins, and it was good for my soul. The pain reminded me that tomorrow is not guaranteed… but love is… even after we are gone.
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My morning routine is different this year. My wife heads to school with our two middle daughters. My oldest son usually heads to school soon after. I wait another 40 minutes to take my youngest daughter to preschool.
This week my daughter and I have been playing a game she created, “Treasure.”
We start at the front door.
Our river.
Which is really a river. We cross the river by rope, or bridge, or however she decides we can cross. Next, we find a treasure hiding in the jungle (living room).
Our treasure chest.
On the drive to preschool she retells of our adventure with joy in her voice.
But what I have discovered this week is that little treasures are everywhere. Most of them are right in front of us.
I arrived at work just before 7 o’clock. The maintenance crew is sweeping the snow from the parking lot, but the section I usually park in is untouched. It is an unblemished field of white. I feel guilty pulling into, what I hope is, my parking spot. I have no idea if I am between the yellow lines. I know I am close because I recognize the shape of the bush that I park by.
I collect my computer, coffee cup, and my Vikings Tervis cup. The air is cold. It quickly hurts my nostrils. My breath a heavy cloud in front of me. I watch as maintenance zooms around the parking lot in their little tractors, sweeping away the snow. I head to my office, snow lightly crunching under my feet as I traverse across the white stillness. My mind heavy with life and work. On an impulse I turn to take a picture of my steps for my 365 project.
As I put my phone back into my pocket I think about how I am the first person to walk on this snow this morning. Then how in a few minutes the maintenance guys will clear away my steps. How more cars will settler in their spots for the day, and when I walk back to my car my steps will be gone. If it warms up enough, there will only be slush left on the concrete.
But isn’t that life? Isn’t this a metaphor for every morning of our lives? Each day we are given the opportunity to make our mark on the day. Yes, life, and other people, will impact our day. Our lives are all connected, we can not or should not shy away from that fact. And yes, some days it feels like we have to find our way back to the car by jumping puddles or stomping off slush from our shoes before we go home.
But that is the point. Our lives are worth making those steps each day. Even knowing that the prints may be gone by the end of the day because we know we took them. My hands (or feet) will never be saved in concrete. I know my life is meant to walk in snow, that my prints are only seen by me. And that is OK because I made them, crooked left step and all.
This morning was a reminder of one of the aspects of life I’ve learned. It started as one of those mornings. Trash and recycling need to be put out on the curb. Lunches needed to be made. Diapers to daycare. Movies to return. My oldest son overslept. My youngest daughter didn’t want to be put down. It was time for me to start my commute and I was nowhere close to pouring my coffee into my travel mug.
I multi-task, carrying the last of the recycling, diapers under on arm, movies clutched in a few fingers to put in my wife’s car. Both garage doors opening is an appropriate sound track to the morning, arrrrgrarrrarrr, clunk-clunk.
It is about 6:20 in the morning, dark, and my breath can be seen as the cold tickles my forearms. It takes three trips to get the trash and recycling to the curb. The constellation Orion is above the southern horizon. Mars is shining bright toward the east. Beautiful. I take a few minutes to star gaze (I don’t know why, but stargazing is special for me).
In those few minutes the stars reminded me that life is beautiful. No matter what is going on in life, “nothing dims these stars.” I know that life can be hard. I know even in good times there can be a grimy feeling to life. Diamonds can collect filth on them. But the shine is still there; the diamond will sparkle (like a star) with a little cleaning.
Minutes later as I was getting into my car, my sons came out to get into the minivan. “Did you guys see the stars?” I asked. We go out to the drive way and we stargaze together for a minute. For a moment life hits me, in a single moment I feel the beauty of life so true that it almost crushes my heart. There I stood with my two sons, in front of our new home, on the driveway that we play basketball. Life can be hard. I know this. There is pain and disappointment, tragedy that can also crush a heart.
It takes work, it takes time, but no matter how filthy a diamond becomes, it still has its shine. “Nothing dims these stars.”
“Dad, there is a new Clone Wars on tonight!” Both boys head to the minivan chatting excitedly about the show tonight. I smile. Everyone has their own set of stars. What allows you to know that life is beautiful?
It is all Connected 