Having kids means never knowing where your day is headed.
Let’s take...oh I don’t know…yesterday as an example. Saturday night was spent tending to one or both of the boys. One would wake up ‘Dad, I can’t sleep’, then the other would wake once the first fell asleep. The night was windy and the temperature fluctuated from perfect to stifling. Even I would wake too cold or too hot and have to adjust things accordingly.
At one point three year old was sleeping on top of me in my own bed. It was 4:30 in the morning and he was crying for reasons only he’ll ever know, so I picked him up and laid down with him. He put his head on my chest and went right back to sleep. Eventually, I slid him between me and wifey and I fell back asleep.
Only to wake (yet again) with his tiny feet digging and pushing into my back. Even in his dreams, the kid’s a whirling, swirling, mass of humanity. It’s like his own body is rioting. He spins and turns and launches out with his arms and feet. Even more perplexing was wifey had left the bed. So it was me and three year old forming a human ‘T’ with myself taking the brunt of it.
I readjusted the boy and fell back asleep for approximately 25 minutes when eight year old came in asking ‘Why is Mommy in his bed?’. So that’s where she went. Turns out three year old was pushing her right out of bed and had grabbed big clumps of her hair while he was sleeping. Rather than fight the little bastard, she just went to his bed to get some sleep.
Wish I had thought of that.
The two boys get up, head downstairs and watch ‘Rise of the Silver Surfer’ which I had DVRed the night before. See? I think ahead sometimes. I get another hour of sleep before three year old comes crawling back into bed. ‘Daddy, Silver Surfer is scary!’ ‘Wuss,’ I think while saying ‘It’s ok, it’s just make believe and he turns into a good guy at the end of the movie’.
Keep in mind this is the same kid that loves – and I mean LOVES – Venom from ‘Spiderman 3’. That thing freaks even me out!
I do have a point to this story. I swear. I drag my exhausted ass out of bed and am helped down the stairs by three year old. We do our usual morning routine of cereal, coffee, and my not talking until I fully wake up while they finish the movie.
As soon as it’s over, my eight year old asks to go play baseball at the park. It was nice – if a bit humid – in the morning and you could just feel the impending storms. There are times in New England when the air gets so heavy and hot you can smell the rain and lightning on their way. I figure if we’re going to play, now is the time.
Since the season is over, it’s basically me and him and maybe three year old if I feel up to that challenge. Yesterday I did not. I tell number one son ‘we can go, but we have to tell your brother we’re just going to run errands and will be right back’.
Done and done. We head off to the park. As we pull up we see some kids playing on one field, but the other fenced in field is all ours. We get our stuff, start walking when boy number one says ‘Hey, the trophies have their own car?’
Completely confused, I look around and see a Volvo SUV parked in the lot. It’s completely covered in ‘Boston Red Sox World Championship Trophy Vehicle’ or something like that. On each side are large photos of the World Series trophies; one right next to the other.
My only thought, since I hadn’t had my full dose of caffeine yet, was simply ‘Huh’.
Well, ‘huh’ quickly turned into ‘Holy shit!’ as we noticed a line of about 20 people right in front of us. There, on a fold up table in the middle of the park, were the two World Series trophies the Red Sox has recently one. 2004 and 2007.
I saw the trophies first and watched my son as he checked out the line. ‘What’s everyone doing….’ and he stops as he sees the trophies. I mean stops as in stops talking and stops walking. Just stops. ‘Dad, are those the real ones?’
‘I think they are.’
‘Can we go see them?’
‘Yes, I think we can.’
So we get in line and after 20 minutes or so, we are greeted by who I now refer to as ‘Keepers of the Trophies’. We’re asked not to touch the trophies, but we can take as many pictures as we want. I take one of my son in between the two, then one of the Keepers (cute girl one, too!) was kind enough to take one of both of us.
Three things here:
First, it says a lot about the Red Sox ownership that they allow free, public viewings of the trophies in random places around the state (and country, from what I’ve heard). Everyone at this place was very friendly and accommodating, but they also moved things along so everyone had a chance to get pictures taken.
Second, the trophies are much nicer looking in person. I’m sure they’ve been polished up and all, but television really doesn’t do them justice. I’m now wondering if the NBA trophy isn’t as nice looking in person since it looks fantastic on TV.
Three, this is the reason camera phones were invented. If I didn’t have my blackberry on me, there is no way we would have been able to get our pictures taken with the trophies. None whatsoever. Let’s hear it for technology!!!
By the way, baseball was officially scrapped after the trophies. He had to get home to tell his mother all about it. He had no complaints from me.
There you have it. You have kids and your life takes drastic, unexpected turns on a daily basis.
Wouldn’t have it any other way.
Today’s distraction: One of my own. I managed to get tickets for the July 9th Red Sox – Twins game for my boy’s birthday. We’re sitting in the first row on the right field balcony and he asked about bringing a sign with us. Since it’s a perfect spot, I said sure. Now we have to figure out what to have the sign say.
I came up with ‘Welcome, Minnesota! Big Papi, KG and Randy Moss are all doing fine!’ or ‘all say hi’ or something along those lines.
I’m open to suggestions, of course, so send ideas my way. Keep in mind I have an eight year old with me and I don’t want to get kicked out of the game, so keep it clean.