The Vacation - Part III

     My kids amaze me with their boundless energy, their endless enthusiasm, and tireless fascination with the world around them.  They also have a way of driving me absolutely batty with their whining, loud obnoxious noises, and willful defiance.  Vacation seems to bring it all out, the good and the bad.  Not just in them either.  Their father as well.  I think it has a lot to do with lots of people in close proximity, in a change of environment, with no naps and a complete disregard for normal schedules and routines.  Those things effect the kids too.

     I'd like to pretend that I'm super-dad.  I am not.  I'm starting to become super-grumpy dad.  That's not how I want them to remember me.  So, tomorrow I will work hard at making memories with the kids.  Yes, we will probably have way too much planned for what I want.  I will try and be understanding of and caring to my wife, who does not know how to relax on a vacation.  I know that this is an important week for her, and I need to make it as special as I can.  I can do better than I have been doing.

     Not that we haven't had a great time.  We have taken in the trained cat show put on by the crazy man with a fake French accent.  We have had great sea food, except for the kids who won't eat anything but chicken fingers.  We learned the history of the last 500 years on Key West as well as the architectural styles of the houses built in the 1800's.  The boys got to make pretzels with Dave, the pretzel guy.  A wonderful, friendly man with a New York accent, who is friends and neighbors with my in-laws.  We ate hot dogs with all varieties of mustard on pretzel buns.  We got to hold hermit crabs, and conchs, and horseshoe crabs, and sea cucumbers at the aquarium.  We even got to touch a shark.  Of course, we also had chocolate dipped frozen key lime pie on a stick.  We have snorkeled (the kids have anyway), and splashed on the beach, and played in the pool.  We have hunted geckos and chased iguanas.  It has been a fun and eventful trip. 

     The best part of the whole trip for me has been taking pictures of the kids.  They have been so fun to watch and record. Will is growing up so fast, he wants to have me all to himself.  He wants to do what I am doing and be where I am.  I know he is so much like me.  I have to spend more time with him, getting to know him.  He's 8 now and that seems so young, but in 5 more years he'll be a teenager, and 5 years after that he'll be heading out into the world.  Time moves too quickly.

     Caleb is so fascinated with animals.  He is so inquisitive.  It has been fun to watch him study and take things in.  He has been running around with a camera taking pictures for his kindergarten journal.  He is so proud of them.  We bought the two older boys underwater disposable instamatic cameras for the beach the other day.  Caleb wanted to know why you could only take 27 pictures.  I told him that it was because that's all the film they had in them.  "What's film?"  I tried to explain about negatives and darkrooms and processors and prints.  "Yeah, but can't you just print them out on the computer when we get home?"  I'm getting old.  I must seem a dinosaur to him.

   Josiah is, well, unique. He is the quirkiest of our kids.  It doesn't help that he's trapped in the middle never getting the respect or privileges that the older kids get, and never getting the attention of the younger kids.  He can be the sweetest kid of all and then other times.... Jo just wants to be like Will and Caleb at this point.  Joe also made Karlye's day when he was with her at the pool surrounded by other guests when he began shouting "I pooped in my pants!" so that everyone one would make sure and stare.  I did have to help with clean-up, but unfortunately missed the show.

 

     Gracie is as cute as can be, which is good, because she is starting to develop an attitude about everything.  I guess independence is a good thing, but we are going to have our hands full with this one.  I'm told all the time that she will have me wrapped around her finger.  We'll see.  We'll see.

     Elijah is starting to really become a part of the family.  He's developing his own personality.  he loves to entertain.  He likes to explore.  He doesn't like to sit still.  I am enjoying him fight for his own place in the chaos of our family.

Well, who knows what tomorrow brings?

The Vacation - Part II

     We made it to Key West without much excitement.  Unlike the last time we made the trip six years ago, we did not have a baby who screamed for 4 straight hours.  Sure the kids got a little fussy after a while, but they were fascinated enough by the ocean that they did not get too fussy.  My father-in-law had rented us a really great place and his wife had dinner waiting for us there when we arrived.  It was wonderful.  We ate and my in-laws went home.  The kids were watching TV and climbing on the couch, when Will says, "Ewwwh!  What smells like poop."  Let's just say that our little girl had exceeded the capacity of her pull-up and the white cloth couch now had a very not-white stain.  Less than thirty minutes in our room, and we had already achieved our all time most embarrassing family vacation moment. Not too shabby, if you ask me. 

 

There is a great view off our back balcony too.

 

This morning Caleb sat out there and stared for quite a bit. "I could sit here forever.  This is the perfect view", he told Karlye.  We had a mini church service out there after breakfast.  We read Genesis 1 and talked about creation with the kids. 

 Next it was off to the pool.  The kids almost didn't get to go.  They had been asking nonstop since we had arrived, and were all walking around the room in rubber flippers.  Then someone started whacking someone with a snorkel tube, prompting the best quote of the day, "The next person to hit another person loses a fin."

Josiah entertained the other guests with his attire.  You would never know the kid wasn't a native.

Everyone finally got to swim.

    After a while we packed up and headed to Grandpa's condo for lunch.  Then we hiked down to the beach.

 Elijah's first beach moment.

Will didn't write this, but he was quite fascinated with it when he found it.

     Ten little feet all lined up in the sand.

Grace chasing some seagulls.

    I am having a lot of fun relaxing and trying out my new 75-300 mm zoom lens that I got last year for my birthday.  I have probably enjoyed it too much, based on the reaction I've been getting from my spouse when she sees me pull out the camera.
     I'd really like to take time and write something meaningful or insightful, and I may yet have a chance.  Taking 5 kids on vacation is not conducive to blogging, I'm learning.  It's quiet now.  The two littlest ones are fast asleep.  The three older boys are staying with Grandpa and Chris the rest of the week (suckers!).  I'm listening to the crickets chirp and finally have a chance to stop for a while and think.
     I realize that as much as I fight taking these big long distance family vacations, that I do enjoy watching the kids amazement at all the new and exciting things that they never dreamed of back at home.  Yes, it's a hassle, and yeah, I prefer the mountains to the beach, but I am glad to be able to make these memories with my children.  I hope they will understand as they grow how important these times are.  I hope that they will not turn into teenagers that are so used to these kind of vacations that they stop appreciating them and the times like these that we have together.  I'm not sure I know how to accomplish that. At least for now, I see the wonder in their eyes, and I know that they are having the time of their lives.

The Vacation - Part I

    Well, it has begun.  I'm sitting here waiting for our plane to arrive, risking bodily harm for not paying close enough attention while I type.  Karlye is in her hyper-alert drill sergeant mode that she assumes whenever we travel en masse.  I'm not letting it bother me, because I realize that if left in charge, there is a good chance that we would leave a child somewhere.

     I am remarkably relaxed for traveling with all 5 kids.  We've never attempted it with that many.  Our previous record was 4.  Usually I'm a bundle of nerves.  I'm not sure why.  The kids generally behave better in public than at home.  I think I just don't want people to see the chaos that we accept as normal.  I think I also hate the looks that we get from people when the see us checking a small moving van worth of baggage through security.  I know what they are thinking.  They are afraid we will sit behind them.  I think that they have heard the story of the gooey chocolate chip cookie that one of our sweethearts flung at the back of some business mans head on a certain Midwest flight.  They are afraid that someone will scream for the entire 3 hours of the flight.  I hope not.  No guarantees, but so far so good.  Karlye has confirmed that we are the only family with children on the plane.  All eyes will be on us.  Maybe we will sit near the engine...

     Now we are cruising at 30,000+ feet.  Ours aren't the only kids.  I still heard a couple of snarky comments as we boarded the already mostly full flight.
     "At least I wont be the only one screaming when the pressure changes."
     "Let me know when you start crying, I'll join you"
    
     We're flying to Florida, so Grandma's and Grandpa's outnumber us all.  They are forgiving.  You can see the look of understanding tinged with guilt.  They have been there before.  Most have just just spent a week fulfilling their grand-parental duties.  They've loved on little Johny and Sue until they've has their fill and are fleeing back to their sunny retreat far away from the phone calls asking, "Do you think you could watch the kids for us tonight?"
     I personally love hearing kids scream on planes, as long as they are not mine.  That way I know that I am not alone, that my kids are not abnormal.  Right now though it is mine who is starting to squeal.  Elijah is trying to make up his mind if he is happy or very upset.  He's giggling a lot and occasionally the giggles transition into an irritated shriek.  I think he's had his fill.  Only an hour to go.  Grace and Josiah have gotten bored watching Tangled on my phone and are now giving the men in front of them shiatsu massages through the seat with their feet.  Ahhh, yes! I just heard a howl from several rows back.  It was a big one too; I'd say a 9 or 10 year old by the sound of it.  My two oldest have been perfect.  Thank you so much Nintendo.  Thank you for making us Nintendo Brand Ambassadors,  Thank you for flying Karlye and I to Seattle and showing us around your headquarters, but mostly thank you for giving us two free Nintendo 3DS's.  It's like we hypnotized Will.

     Well, the little girl 3 rows back is really making a scene now.  Keep it up honey, everyone is watching you and not my kids.  Yeah, I saw that dirty look you just shot back there buddy, now aren't you glad it's MY kid your sitting in front of?
     Fifty minutes left.  I'd love to take a nap, but I think that's considered child neglect on a plane isn't it?  Karlye is running back to the restroom and Elijah is on the opposite of the plane from me really starting to get worked up.  I can't get to him, so I'm just trying to make faces to quiet him.  It isn't working.  I'll pretend I am not related.  No, that's not working  either.  The look alike kids in look-alike clothes are giving me away.  Wait, he fell asleep.  Just like that.  Nice, I'll tell Karlye I just have a skill with babies that she doesn't possess.  I'm sure she'll buy that.
      Now Caleb is bored and starting to whine.  We are starting to descend.  The worst is almost over and it wasn't that bad.  I'll keep you posted.

Sports

     Today was one of those days that can take a weeks worth of worry and extinguish it in one deep draught of sun-infused air.  The earth is waking up and the last traces of winter's chill are melting away as shades of green seep into the brown blanket left by autumn. It was my afternoon off today and that made it all the better.
     Karlye took advantage of my presence to escape the chaos of motherhood for a few hours and left me in charge of the house while she did whatever it is that women do at malls.  The two youngest munchkins were in their rooms, purportedly taking naps.  That left me and Josiah, our 4 year old alone for some rare one-on-one male bonding time.
     Jo immediately decided that today we would have a day of sports.  We would start with football he informed me.  He would be the "hutter" and I would throw him the ball.  It was wonderful.  We played one on one, four-year-old rules, no holds barred football.  He moved me to the top of the yard, near the house. He grabbed the green and black Nerf ball.  He squatted in front of me.  "Hut, Hut,...Hike!"  He spiked the ball into the ground and ran.  I then was instructed to run and grab the ball and then throw it to him.  It took several tries and some kind but constructive criticism before I managed to pass the ball properly (not to high, not too low, not too fast).  On the 4th or 5th attempt, I finally got it right and was rewarded with an ear-to-ear grin when he caught it and clutched it to his chest.  After 3 or for more successful passes, he took off running circles around me shouting, "Now tackle me." Both of is giggling, I chased him a couple of circuits around the swing set and then he sprinted for the fence, just before I caught him he threw the ball into the wooden planks and shouted "Touchdown!"  I tackled him anyway, actually it was more tickling than tackling.  Sure, it was a late hit, but he didn't call foul.
     Next was baseball.  He explained to me that in real baseball each guy got 3 chances.  I pitched the little plastic ball. He missed.  I pitched again, and smack the ball flew over my head. "Home run!" he shouted, "Now you have to hit me with the ball before I slide, Dad."  I chased after the ball and he ran zig-zags and figure 8's.  As I ran towards him, he slid to the ground.  "Safe" he declared,  "I made it to base."  His new position now became home plate and the same sequence was repeated a few more times.  When he missed 3 times, he told me he was out and now it was my turn. We went back and forth for a while.  There were no balls, just 3 chances.  All hits were home runs, unless he declared them fouls.  I was the best game of baseball ever.  The game ended abruptly when he declared, "Now basketball."
    In basketball, when the 4-year-old starts with the ball, he stands near the basket and dribbles 2 or 3 times, during which the parent must try to steal the ball. If the child manages to retain possession of the ball he then, holds it tightly to his chest and runs to the basket to shoot.  The parent can use any method to prevent the shot from going in including tickling the shooter.  There is a lot of laughing involved.  Once a basket is made, then Dad gets possession of the ball, and a new set of rules kicks in.  Now we are playing teams and my role is to let him run to the basket so that I can pass him the ball and he can make the layup.
     Now, I'm the kind of guy who hates the new way of playing team sports where no score is taken and everyone is the winner.  I think kids need to learn to win with dignity and lose with honor, but today was something different.  This wasn't competition, this was a moment of togetherness.  It was a chance for a four year old boy to teach a man 10 times his age to remember what it was like to be a child. With five children, I seldom get to spend this kind of time with just one of them.  Maybe I'm hoping too much, but I'd like to think that this is one of those memories we both can share, just between the two of us, far into the future.
    

Thirty dollars

    Gracie is at such a great age.  Part of me wishes I could freeze her in time so that she always tells me what she said this morning as I left for work, "Daddy, I need to give you a kiss because I will miss you so much."  I know that soon it will be more common to hear, "You are ruining my life."  All I want is to keep her my little girl as long as possible and all she wants is to grow up 'big like mommy'.  She will win that contest; she has time on her side.  I will just have to take and enjoy each day that I have with her until some lousy punk steals her away from me.
     This morning as I brushed my teeth, she walked into the bathroom with her pink pajamas and pink frilly tutu.  Walking past me she went to the scale, stepped on and stared at the digital flickering numbers for a a few seconds then got off walked over to me and said very proudly, "Daddy, I'm thirty dollars.  I'm getting so big."
    Thirty dollars?  Hugely undervalued. At that moment I would have given any price for that little girl.  Thirty dollars.  If only.  I start adding up the cost of raising 5 kids.  How much for food, for clothes, for school, for eye surgeries, for broken arms, for college, for weddings.  The practical, fiscal side of me starts to panic a little.  I look at little Grace as she dances off in her tutu.  Here is one of my five greatest treasures.  Every other investment I make will all be spent and gone once I leave this earth, but they will be there passing on to their children whatever impressions I leave on their lives.  They are the most important thing I can invest in.
    I wonder, how do you place a value on a child's life, or any life for that matter?  I ride the time machine in my mind forward a few years, and there will be a thousand voices telling my little girl that value is indeed measured on a scale.  Magazines and movies tell our little girls that weighing more or less than perfection lessens your worth as a person.  Others will tell her that her value lies in her beauty, or the clothes she wears, or the people she hangs out with or doesn't hang out with.  She will be pressured to believe her worth is based on popularity.  There will be many scales that she is expected to stand on so that others can judge her value as a person.
     I know better.  I know that she is a priceless treasure and that she should never sell herself out for any price.  How do I teach her that in the few years left in which she will listen to me?  She scares me, because she is different from my boys.  I don't know if I have the necessary skills to raise a daughter.  I know one thing though.  A daughter needs her father to love and cherish her.  I've dealt with enough families to see that girls crave acceptance from their daddy and that those who never receive it will often search everywhere to find it in some other relationship.  I've seen the broken spirits of women who have sold themselves out because they thought they finally found someone who appreciated their true worth only to find that she was just another one of his conquests.  I've seen women who have been crushed so many times that they no longer believe they have any value left.
     I won't let that happen to any of my children, but especially my Gracie.  I want to make an effort to tell her every day how special she is.  I want to nurture her strengths.  I want to love her enough to discipline her when she needs it, but always let her know that no matter what, she is my precious little girl.  That won't change even as she grows into a young woman.
    I want to strive to be a better husband to my wife because I want her to know how a man should cherish his wife.  I want to do such a good job that she will not settle for anything less in her future husband.  I will have to work at it, because I often fail at treating my wife like she deserves.  It will mean learning to listen better, learning to be less critical, sacrificing more of what I want.  I promised my father-in-law that I would take care of and love his little girl.  I believe that the  best way to teach Grace that she is valuable is to show her how much I love and value her mother.  I will fail often.  I'm not the most sensitive guy in the world.   When I do lose my temper or become to harsh or critical, I want to be humble enough to admit it to my family  and show them that the only real failure is the failure to keep trying.
    Thirty dollars?  Priceless.  That's what she is to me.  How do you put a value on a human life?  We humans are poor judges of what is valuable.  We prize what is most transient and ignore the eternal.  I want my children to know the value of their lives and to respect the value of the lives of those around them.  I want them to see past the lies of those who airbrush smiles on the empty lives of celebrities.  I want them to know that the Creator of the universe thought them so valuable as to bleed and die so that they might know True Love.  I will do my best to show them that same kind of love.  I will pray that as they grow and leave my protection, that they will ignore the meters and scales the world tries to measure them with.
     Gracie, you are infinitely valuable just because you are my daughter.  Never forget that.

Mary

     Today was one of those days that, had I been someone else, I might have been asking myself to sign a work excuse.  I sat in the room trying to focus on the nice lady talking to me.  All the while my head was pounding, I was feeling chills and sweating at the same time.  I thought there might be a twinge of nausea coming on as well. It took an act of will to keep my eyes open.  I wanted to go home and crawl back into bed.  Playing hooky for two days has its price though.  My friendly computer screen reminded me of the 80 plus items I needed to sign off on, the 20 scripts I needed to refill and the 10 questions that patients were waiting for a response on.  I also had to run to the nursing home over lunch to see patients, because no one remembered to block off time on my schedule.

    Maybe it was all the traveling this weekend.  Maybe I'm catching some bug.  All I know is that it was not turning out to be a banner day in my life.  The temperature had dropped 45 degrees overnight. I was tired and grouchy and had already snapped at my wife.  I wasn't winning any awards for Mr. Compassion today.  I pressed on though. Two hours, 4 ibuprofen, and 30 oz of coffee later, I almost felt human.

   But then there was Mary.  Mary is 93 years old and nearly deaf. Her back is warped with arthritis.  She sits in a wheel chair all day and watches The Price Is Right at the nursing home.  Mary is one of those amazing people who always smiles.  She is one of the happiest people I have ever met, and I really don't know why.  Most of us would be miserable to live the way she lives.  Many would say her life no longer has any value, that she is just an old lady who is no longer contributing to society.  Mary never seems to see it that way.

  "WELL HELLO DOCTOR!" she yells as I step into the room.  The smile on her face is genuine.  She is truly happy to see me.  She loves company.  "I FEEL GREAT TODAY", she assures me and everyone in a 300 yard radius.  "HOW ARE YOU DOING?", she asks.

     "Oh fine," I lie, too quietly for her to even hear.  

    "WELL GREAT, THAT MAKES TWO OF US THEN!" she says as she grabs my hand.

    So I spend a few extra moments listening again to the story of how well her new heating unit works in the room. She tells me with great relish of how she diagnosed why her toilet didn't flush and then explained it to the young boy they sent in to fix it.  She asks about my kids, and talks about the weather which she never gets outside to experience.  I stay a little longer, because her attitude is contagious, and I want to catch it.  She is healing me.  She is a 93 year old battery charging me up for the rest of the day.

     I leave feeling better and a little bit ashamed.  I had been feeling sorry for myself and in so doing had forgotten the joy of being alive one more day.  There are very few Mary's in this world, people who meet life head on with a joyful smile. I wonder what it is that causes the richest and most successful among us to self destruct on the front of tabloids, always miserable, always searching for the happiness they tell us comes from fame and money.  The Mary's of the world know something that the rest of us seem too blind to see.  Happiness is not the byproduct of good health,  money, fame, or success.  Joy is not dependent on anything.  You just have to live it despite what the world dishes out to you.  

     I have a lot of practicing to do.

Perspective

     What a weekend it was. My wife and I got an all expense paid trip to Seattle courtesy of Nintendo to check out the new Nintendo 3DS.  Why?  Well, as I was reminded, it was simply because we lived in "the middle of nowhere".  There we were rubbing elbows with folks who have all made a name for themselves as bloggers and YouTube phenoms, and we had the distinction of being nobodies.
     After 8 hours of cramped seating in the back end of airplanes, I realized just how much I enjoy living here in the middle of nowhere.  Seeing my little Gracie tonight reminded me of just how much I love being just a Dad.
     My wife is all nerves when she boards a plane and never manages to relax until the final touchdown.  I, on the other hand am never bothered by flying, until I'm at home tucked in bed all alone with my thoughts.  You see, I don't mind the take offs or landings.  I don't worry about bombs, or holes in the fuselage, or crashing to the earth.  There is something more metaphysical that haunts me every time I fly.  It has to do with my perspective.
     I'm addicted to window seats.  I love to watch the world slip away from me when the plane takes off.  I love to see the shape of things from 30,000 feet up in the air.  I press my forehead to the window and watch the familiar things in life turn to miniatures as if hit with some magical shrink ray.  It's Google Earth in 3D.  I see rivers and try to understand the way they have carved and shaped the landscape.  I watch the colors and patterns of the earth shift from planes to mountains to deserts.  On top of it all, I see the thumbprint of mankind, webs of roads, circles of irrigated green, and thousands of towns scattered and interconnected that stretch out as far as the eye can see.
    It is the cities that do it to me every time.  The silver lines of interstate dotted with crawling specks draw me in first.  I get a sudden vertigo.  I realize that each dot contains some mother driving home from work or a family on vacation.  That silver vein is flowing with a million dreams and stories and each dreamer or story teller is unaware of the vastness of the the world around them. 
     I see the thousands of houses lined up in rows and columns. Some full of joy, some full of sadness, some barely surviving.  From a plane window it is impossible to tell which is which.  From that perspective they are all just miniscule boxes that the specks on the highway come and go from.  Neither $150,000 or $1,000,000 looks all that impressive from 6 miles up.
     I look inside the plane.  Here are some hundred odd people.  I may not know any of them, but I can understand them, because they fit a perspective my mind can grasp.  Down below me is something too far removed from my reality to understand.  To think that I too am just one of those countless specks is too much for me.  I feel small and meaningless, and so I look back inside to plane to block out the specks and choose to focus on the hundred people around me that are on my scale.  Tonight though, I know it will haunt me, this knowledge of my true position in the grand scheme of life.
     Tonight, I will wonder if this is how God sees us.  Are we just microbes on a petri dish?  Does our greatest achievement, the sum of our life's effort appear as nothing more than a microscopic box? Would He notice if I vanished?  Even if I accomplished a thousand-fold more than I am capable of, how would I stand out in such a vast world of specks?  I struggle with despair as I see myself shrunk down to the scale of the world viewed from the window of a passenger jet.  I am caught between two worlds,  the one inside the plane and the one outside.  I can't seem to find a middle ground and I can't rectify the two.  That is the dread of flying that haunts me.
     Tonight though, as I come back to my familiar place, here in the middle of nowhere, I think I have grasped something that eluded me before.  I have a role in this world that is perfectly suited for my scale.  I am not a speck, just like no one is a speck.  This universe of ours is endlessly complex on countless levels.  Galaxies, solar systems, planets, men, cells and atoms all reflect the creativity of God.  We can appreciate that complexity even if we can only experience it personally at the level in which we live and function.  God alone can experience it at all levels.  The beauty of a hundred billion swirling galaxies does not diminish in the least the wondrous joy of being a husband to my wife or a father to my five children.  I find great solace in the fact that the Creator who spins the stars and orders electrons in there shells also cares about the burdens that I and eight billion other people carry.
     This weekend, I met some amazing people.  We all came from different walks of life.  We came from all over the country.  I'm sure that there were huge differences in our beliefs and hopes and dreams.  We shared a common experience though, and that allowed us to enjoy getting to know each other.  So as I close my eyes to sleep tonight, perhaps I won't be haunted by some paradox of perspectives.  I think I am beginning to understand that while I had a glimpse of how vast this thing called humanity really is, my role is just to reach out to those around me that I am lucky enough to walk along with for a while and do my best to understand them and work with them to make a difference in the world in accordance with the gifts God has given me.  That is enough.