Long Decembers

“And it’s been a long December and there’s reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last.” 

As December ends, so will end another year. It also begins the slow shut down of the holiday season. The festiveness felt by many will give way to the routine of every day once more. Despite all the good feelings and cheer spread this time of year, some struggle with this time of year and struggle hard.

Two years ago at Christmastime, Mom was in an Atlanta hospital recovering from back surgery. Her recovery became complicated and almost overnight a stay of a couple of days turned into over ten days in the hospital. I was there with Dad and my sister. Some family would come to visit but only for a brief time since most of the family lived outside of Atlanta. Their visits were short before they would need to leave. So, there we were me, Mom, Dad and my sister in a city away from our homes over the Christmas holiday.

With Hannah being a year old at that time, I was encouraged to go home to spend Christmas with her and Jennifer. And, I did. I left Atlanta on a foggy Christmas Eve and drove I-75 north toward Tennessee. When I arrived home, Hannah was in bed asleep and I discovered both her and Jennifer were under the weather.

For the next few days I tried in my own feeble way to help Jennifer and Hannah get back up to speed. Of course, I felt torn since I had left family at the hospital in Atlanta. But, that is life sometimes, isn’t it? Hard choices where any answer you choose leaves a lingering bit of doubt about whether you should have made another choice.

By the weekend, Mom was doing better. Other family had visited and brought back reports on how she was improving. On a Sunday, my sister returned to her home in South Carolina leaving Dad and Mom alone in the big city in the big hospital so far away from their home.

Monday morning I was on my way to Atlanta. About halfway into my trip my phone rings. It is Dad on the other end of the line. He is wondering where I am because Mom will get to go home that day and they are anxious to get going. So, a few hours after arriving in Atlanta, we find ourselves on the one hundred plus mile ride back into the North Georgia mountains. We strapped Mom into the car with seat belts, aware of her recent back surgery and said a prayer that no traffic would hinder us and that she could handle the ride without stopping. I then waded into the mess that is everyday Atlanta traffic and drove for the hills like the old timers drove with a load of white lightning in the back of their cars.

Mom was a trooper and made it without any problems. We arrived at their home; we helped her out of the car and into the house where she promptly sat down in her recliner where she spends so much of her time. I stayed an extra day so that home health care could be arranged. When I left, I left just the two of them there. When I left it was also January but it had been a long December.

There are so many things I could say about this experience and maybe someday some of those things will find their way here. I can still taste the cafeteria food we ate daily, thinking at first how it wasn’t so bad but by the end of the stay how we never quite wanted to look at it again, much less eat it. I remember how we communicated through phone calls and text messages to family and friends how things were, or weren’t, progressing. I recall it being after two in the morning in ICU and Mom, confused by her meds, was talkative, albeit in a not totally coherent manner, while it was all I could do to keep my eyes open. I remember the beeping of machines, the dull lighting of each room, the physical therapist who wore Christmas lights around her neck, the cold wind as it blew through the parking garage and even a few anxious moments when things weren’t going well at all and we had no idea what was happening or what was to occur next.

I do know our long December wasn’t as long as some had then. I also recall a family we shared an ICU waiting room with, a family still there when we left for home. Their family member had a much longer recovery ahead and one that was still uncertain.

Another family spent one night in the ICU waiting room with us. The next day they were packing up to leave. Their family member was being sent home with hospice care. Maybe, for two weeks, they told us.

Now when this time of year comes around I still join in on the fun and frivolity but all that is tempered with the memories of how the sad, difficult parts of life won’t stop for anything. The family letting go of a loved one, the older lady facing her first holiday season all alone, the child on his third foster home in six months. Decembers are long for some. Please take a moment this holiday season to think about those suffering through their own long Decembers and if you can help them in some way. And, also, take some time to be thankful for what you do have.

Lyrics from "A Long December" written by John Daniel Vickrey, Matthew Malley, Charles Gillingham, David Bryson, Adam Duritz and Ben G. Mize available on YouTube as performed by Counting Crows, watch it here.

A Numbers Game

Life is filled with lots of things. Words, emotions and reactions all come to mind. And then there are numbers. They seem to be important, too.

We all want our team to be number 1.

Apparently, if you can dance, it takes 2 to tango but an unlimited number can form a conga line.

Most kids begin school by the age of 6.

When you go to school you have to learn math and math seems fairly reliant on numbers. Well, some may say it did until common core.

You age from 12 into 13 and that means a whole new world opens up called the teenage years.

You have to be age 16 in most states to legally drive a car.

Become 17 and you can serve our country in the military but you can’t vote in an election until you are 18.

Become 21 and you can legally do some stuff you would get in trouble for if your age was determined to be a number less than that such as 20.

When you are 25 you can multiply that number by 2 and get a number associated with a half-century.

A half-century equals 50 and when you hit that milepost, AARP begins sending you mail reminding you the number you associate with your age keeps climbing upward.

Some retire from work at 62.

Some retire from work at 65.

Some never retire no matter the number they associate with their age because they consider age as just a number.

Sometimes you have to stand in line and, yes, take a number.

You wait where you are until your number is called.

Once your number is called you get to move forward but sometimes the wait for your number to be called is long and frustrating.

Maybe that wait time is why Bob Seger once sang that he “felt like a number”.

Odds are the long wait for your number to be called wasn’t as long as you imagined but odds are just a series of numbers based on the probability of something happening.

Some people are addicted to looking at the odds and then playing the numbers. Of course, someone so interested in this usually has money at stake.

We measure how much money we have in the bank by looking at numbers on a piece of paper and hope we don’t have a minus sign in front of that overall number.

The actual money we use is designated by numbers also. The bill with George Washington’s image on it has a value of 1 and so on.

The government printing our money knows who we are because at some point they assigned a string of 9 numbers to our name to keep track of us instead of using our given names. Of course, these days they track us other ways also. Some of those ways probably involve numbers.

Speaking of government, we elect our leaders by voting and then counting those votes with the agreement that the person with the most votes—the highest number--after all that counting wins which basically means we, as a country, as states and as communities are electing the most popular people and not necessarily the most capable people to make decisions about our lives. We do this in spite of the fact that we raise our children to not be concerned with being popular.

Sorry, we were talking about numbers weren’t we?

You can call me locally by punching out 7 numbers on your phone in a certain specific order.

If you are outside my area code, you can add 4 other numbers, a 1 plus 3 numbers called an area code, to those 7 numbers and try calling me then. Sorry, no collect calls.

If you have no success with the 11 numbers used to try to call me, you can end the call then push the number 0 on your phone to see if an operator can help you reach me. You can sweet talk the operator but I still won’t accept your collect call, so don’t even try.

When I am at my job, you can pick up your phone and reach me at my workplace with a different set of numbers in a different but specific order.

My office at work is even designated with a series of numbers on the wall, 206B these days.

Want to come visit us at home? Make sure to take that particular highway with numbers associated with it. At a certain point, you will need to turn on the street that begins with 4 numbers. Once you are on that street count 4 houses on the left and there we are, house number 5. There’s 1 mailbox out front with those 4 numbers associated with our street on it as a reminder. Speaking of the mailbox, if you need to mail us something make sure to use those four numbers with our street name plus our city and state to get it to us. And don’t forget those 5 numbers at the very end called the zip code.

Anyway, if you get here, you will find me, my wife and my daughter. That makes 3 of us. If you count our cat Daisy, then there are 4 of us. We love Daisy but don’t be shocked if she won’t like you. She’s probably not concerned with numbers too much either.

We mark off our time with numbers also. What time is it you ask? Look at the clock with 12 numbers and 2 hands and calculate, formulate and cipher to come up with a number that represents the approximate time it is. You may have to look out the window to determine if it’s daytime or nighttime though.

After the clock runs its circuit 2 times during 12 hours then it starts all over again. We take these 24 hour increments and call them days. We distinguish each day with a different number, 1 through 31 and then these numbers are lined up 7 to a row called weeks and these weeks fill out in columns to make a month. Get 12 months and you make 1 year. Then we place all these numbers, days, weeks and months into a calendar to mark the passing of time.

And a year marks the overall passing of these days, weeks and months and is a set of four numbers that passes only after that certain 365 days, 52 weeks and 12 months have consecutively passed. Of course, every 4 years it takes 1 extra day, or 366 of those, to push forward a year.

Why all the talk about numbers? To show in some strange way how we measure things sometimes. For instance, with this particular post this blog has had 100 postings. The first post was in 2008. 99 others have followed since then over the course of 6 years. Some posts have been great; others should have never seen the light of day. Still, many of you have spent some of your time reading the ramblings of a man muddling through life with his family alongside and provided support and encouragement. Thank you for all that. I really do appreciate it. Your good words and thoughts make you number 1 with me.

Things We Thought We Would Never Say

Since we became parents, Jennifer and I have been told countless times by others to treasure the moments having a child brings. We often hear, “your children grow up too quickly so make each moment count.” We have even been told to write down things Hannah says so we can recall them and maybe even use them to embarrass her later on in her life.

We heed these things. We understand there is value in listening to those with prior experience. So, we have collected some of the things Hannah has said and done over time. We understand there will come a time when we will miss and will want to recall the cute way she says “sparkly” (she says it “spark-a-lee”) or how she has called the TV remote control a “commote”. I know one day we will be glad to go back and read how Hannah left food in the yard for Santa’s reindeer on Christmas Eve when she was two years old or the day I put her shoes on the wrong feet and didn’t notice this until I dropped Hannah off at daycare and someone else had to point it out to me despite Hannah herself telling me her shoes hurt her feet.

Anyway, we do try to enjoy the moments raising a little girl brings. I understand from having nieces and nephews and friends with children how they turn from cuddly bundles of fun into pirates and princesses and superheroes and then into teenagers and then into young adults. That process takes time-time that seems slow until that one day when you come to this sobering realization how time really has passed by and how these moments you store away hold more value than you could claim and despite you knowing this day was coming still it has arrived seemingly out of the blue.

The here and now though is here and now. The reality of the day-to-day world with a three year old is immediate and demanding compared to the golden years of tomorrow when the bad memories are eclipsed by the good ones. So, now while we enjoy the fun and sentimental moments, we also as easily recognize that raising a child is not one Hallmark card moment after another. It is hard work. It is tiring. As often as it is can be very rewarding, it sometimes is very difficult. For every cute memorable thing she says there can be a handful of whiny, screaming fits complete with streaming tears and feet pounding on the floor---and that’s just me and her mom.

So while we are storing away the warm, fuzzy moments for a later time we understand now in some way how they intersect with those moments of frustration and despair. It’s in those moments other memorable things happen and when they do they usually reveal themselves in some spoken manner. We are storing those things away also.

No, these things are not a list of words or phrases we may say that we fear Hannah will hear and repeat, although we have that list also. It’s not a list of things our parents said to us that we vowed to never say to our children but find ourselves saying either. Instead, it is words Jennifer or I have strung together in an exasperating moment with Hannah that makes us wonder if these exact words have ever been strung together in the exact order by another human being in the history of the world.

This first happened on a trip to visit family in Georgia. The trip takes about an hour and a half to drive. We left on a late Friday afternoon but stopped about thirty minutes into the trip to eat a bite of supper at a Mexican restaurant. Hannah was probably just over a year old at the time and was beginning to be more mobile and animated. We provided her with rice and a few bites of chicken to eat while we tried to eat our own entrees. At some point eating became boring to Hannah. This is when she picked up a piece of chicken and tossed back her arm. This is when I realized what was about to happen and words that I never imagined I would put together in this order came spilling out of my mouth, “Don't throw the chicken!" I must tell you about the time the ch- of the word “chicken” bumped past my front teeth on their way out into the half-full dining room, I realized what a ridiculous sounding thing I was saying. As the tiny piece of chicken flew past my eyes I realized Jennifer and I would likely spend some time during Hannah’s life stringing together other words into phrases that we would never expect to hear or say. Needless to say, that night after the chicken throwing incident, we determined to write down these phrases as well.

Now, we share these with you. Things we have said to Hannah that we never imagined we would ever say that somehow formulate logically in the brain but escape the mouth sounding more than a tad bit silly. 

"Don't chew on the camel's foot." 

This was said one day as Hannah was carrying around a small toy camel and chewing on the camel’s foot. When I said it though I imagined the “hump day” camel from the TV commercial and started laughing almost immediately which just zapped my credibility with Hannah at that moment. I think I have hidden the toy camel so this phrase will never again have to be spoken.

"Trying to figure out what a two year old is saying is like playing a never-ending game of Mad Gab." 

This was said, likely on more than one occasion, as Hannah became more verbal and was learning to speak. If you have ever played Mad Gab and also spent much time around a two year old you get this as the game is nothing but guessing and guessing what the little one is trying to say. The difference is the game provides you with the real answer. With the two year old, you can never be quite sure you have successfully guessed what she is trying to say.

"I am trying to get the cheese out of your hair." 

Looking presentable to others is important, so grooming is a necessity. Often this task is a struggle anyway. Throw in some delicious cheese and the process becomes even more complicated. Still, we never thought we would have to say those eleven words when trying to comb Hannah’s hair one day.

"Sit down and I will give you your pancake and your monkey.” 

I must say this is my personal favorite. It makes me want to just snicker and snort every time I think of it. Sometimes, when I am alone I just say it out loud to amuse myself. Jennifer said this to Hannah once at the dining room table when Hannah did not want to sit to eat but did want to hold her stuffed toy monkey. The promise of holding the stuffed monkey while eating a pancake dangled over Hannah’s head until she finally sat at the table with the rest of us. By the time she did this we were all in tears from laughing so hard.

"If you put that under your armpit, you are still going to have to eat it."

 Dinner time in the summer sometimes poses fashion issues such as sleeveless tops. Throw an adventurous child into the mix and one would never think said child would need to be warned that placing food into her armpit area would not get her out of eating said food.

"Take your foot out of the cheese bowl." 

So many of these seem to revolve around food, don’t they? Getting Hannah to sit at the table for more than a few minutes is quite a challenge. Rather quickly, she wants to sit in someone’s lap or lean on someone’s shoulder. Sometimes, she wants to sit in odd positions at the table that sometimes allow her feet to end up in places they shouldn’t. And to think, I was really looking forward to more queso that night.

"Princesses do wear underwear." 

Potty training is fun, isn’t it? Since our three year old believes she is a princess we never thought we would be having a debate with her about how real princesses do indeed wear underwear after going potty. 

“I do not want oatmeal on the bed.” 

More food! Hannah walked into our bedroom one morning with a bowl of oatmeal just as Jennifer finished making the bed. It made sense at the time. 

“Get that booger off your foot!” 

Uh, let’s not talk about this one. 

“Well, hurry up and get your superpowers on!” 

This is the most recent addition to this list. As Hannah and I were leaving for daycare one morning, Hannah stood up in the backseat and grabbed hold of one of the supports above the car window. She then began making whirling noises. I told her she needed to sit in her car seat so she could be buckled in for the ride ahead. She then told me I would have to wait while she put on her superpowers. She then proceeded to make more whirling noises as the above phrase came spilling out of my mouth.

Yes, we are trying to remember so many of the special moments raising our daughter will bring us as we know Hannah will grow up quicker than we want. Still, in the day to day moments when life is hard and difficult for all involved, it is nice to find something funny to make things lighter and a bit easier to get through. After all, laughter > crying.

(We would love to hear other things said that made temporary sense but now just sit out in space sounding ridiculous. Feel free to share them with us if you would like to do so.)

Diary of A Dad Left Behind On A Girl’s Weekend Away

Every so often, my wife, her Mom, her sister and her niece all get together, and along with our daughter, Hannah, take a trip out of town. Usually, shopping is involved. Prior to this particular trip, I had taken a couple of days off work in order to stain our porch, deck and steps. Due to the iffy weather I had actually completed these tasks prior to their trip which meant the day they were leaving was a free day for me. So, this left me at home with time on my hands. Good thing, I documented what I did so you can see how interesting my life is:

Friday morning, 8:30 AM: Stood on the walkway and waved as I watched the van pull away.

Friday morning, 8:35 AM: Sat down in living room, turned on TV, checked Facebook.

Friday morning, 8:45 AM: Turned TV off, checked Facebook again.

Friday morning, 8:47 AM: Ate some pretzels.

Friday morning, 8:48 AM: Checked Instagram and Twitter.

Friday morning, 8:49 AM: Checked Facebook again.

Friday morning, 8:50 AM: Pulled outdoor grill next to dining room table and took a picture. Posted picture to Instagram and Facebook.

Friday morning, 8:55 AM: Checked Instagram and Facebook.

Friday morning, 9:00 AM: Drove to Wal-Mart for a quick shopping trip. On the ride, I listen to Robert Earl Keen and felt emboldened when he sings:

“Still, I get restless and drive into town
I cruise once down Main Street and turn back around
It’s crazy but God knows I don’t act my age
Like an old desperado who paints the town beige.”
Friday morning, 10:00 AM: Prepare to leave Wal-Mart but first stopped to check Instagram and Facebook.

Friday morning, 10:20 AM: Arrive home. Checked staining job.

Friday morning, 10:25 AM: Checked Instagram and Facebook.

Friday morning, 10:30 AM: Fed the cat.

Friday morning, 10:35 AM: Began reading a book.

Friday morning, 10:40 AM: Fell asleep.

Friday morning, 11:50 AM: Woke up, reached for phone to check Instagram and Facebook.

Friday morning, 11:55 AM: Check mailbox. No mail yet.

Friday afternoon, 12:00 PM: Eat lunch.

Friday afternoon, 12:15 PM: Go outside to work in yard.

Friday afternoon, 12:20 PM: Return indoors, decide to make bed.

Friday afternoon, 12:25 PM: Decide to lay down on bed and take nap.

Friday afternoon, 2:35 PM: Woke up, can’t find phone.

Friday afternoon, 2:45 PM: Locate phone in kitchen, check Instagram and Facebook.

Friday afternoon, 2:50 PM: Check mailbox. Angry because it is all bills.

Friday afternoon, 2:55 PM: Begin sorting laundry into piles.

Friday afternoon, 3:00 PM: Check Instagram and Facebook.

Friday afternoon, 3:05 PM: Go back to sorting laundry.

Friday afternoon, 3:10 PM: Go to check Instagram and Facebook but phone battery is dead.

Friday afternoon, 3:15 PM: Begin charging phone.

Friday afternoon, 3:20 PM: Check Instagram and Facebook on laptop.

Friday afternoon, 3:25 PM: Sort more laundry.

Friday afternoon, 3:30 PM: Check phone to see if battery is charged yet.

Friday afternoon, 3:35 PM: Sit down to plan which pile of laundry needs to be washed first.

Friday afternoon, 3:45 PM: Check Instagram and Facebook on laptop.

Friday afternoon, 3:50 PM: Turned on TV to watch Judge Judy.

Friday afternoon, 5:00 PM: Check phone to see if battery is charged yet.

Friday afternoon, 5:05 PM: Listen to music on phone. My favorite:

“But still, I get restless and drive into town 
My radio playing, my window rolled down 
It’s crazy but God knows I don’t act my age 
Like an old desperado who paints the town beige.”

Friday afternoon, 5:40 PM: Cook supper.

Friday evening, 6:00 PM: Eat supper.

Friday evening, 6:20 PM: Wash supper plates and pans. Make mental note to buy paper plates for next time.

Friday evening, 6:30 PM: Check Instagram, Facebook and Twitter.

Friday evening, 6:35 PM: Wonder why I have a Twitter account.

Friday evening 6:40 PM: Start first load of laundry.

Friday evening, 6:50 PM: Call my Momma.

Friday evening 7:15 PM: Check Instagram and Facebook.

Friday evening, 7:20 PM: Play Scrabble on my phone. Win again!

Friday evening: 7:35 PM: Remember laundry in the washing machine.

Friday evening, 7:45 PM: Remove laundry from the washing machine and place it in the dryer.

Friday evening, 7:55 PM: Go outside to look at the evening sky which causes the neighbor’s dog to begin barking.

Friday evening, 8:00 PM: Check Instagram and Facebook.

Friday evening 8:05 PM: Debate whether or not I could give the cat a haircut.

Friday evening, 8:10 PM: Remove laundry from dryer, fold laundry.

Friday evening, 8:25 PM: Check Instagram and Facebook.

Friday evening, 8:30 PM: Load more laundry into dryer and washing machine.

Friday evening, 8:50 PM: Wonder how the neighbor’s dog can still be barking.

Friday evening, 8:55 PM: Eat more pretzels.

Friday evening, 9:00 PM: Watch Dateline on NBC. Repeatedly check to make sure each door in the house is locked.

Friday evening, 11:00 PM: Check Instagram and Facebook.

Friday evening, 11:05 PM: Picked up the book again, began reading.

Friday evening, 11:15 PM: Began dozing.

Friday evening, 11:20 PM: Check Instagram and Facebook.

Friday evening, 11:25 PM: Another game of Scrabble on phone.

Friday evening, 11:40 PM: Check Instagram and Facebook.

Friday evening, 11:45 PM: Dozed off again.

Friday evening/Saturday morning, 12:00 AM: Go to bed.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Saturday morning, 8:10 AM: Wake up.

Saturday morning, 8:25 AM: Hear neighbor’s dog barking, wonder if it barked all night.

Saturday morning, 8:30 AM: Find phone, check Instagram and Facebook.

Saturday morning, 8:35 AM: Cook breakfast.

Saturday morning, 8:50 AM: Eat breakfast.

Saturday morning, 9:10 AM: Clean up breakfast dishes, pans. Make another mental note to use paper plates next time.

Saturday morning, 9:30 AM: Check Instagram and Facebook.

Saturday morning, 9:35 AM: Get out checkbook and work on family finances.

Saturday morning, 9:50 AM: Check Instagram and Facebook.

Saturday morning, 9:55 AM: Return grill and deck furniture to deck and rocking chairs and tables to front porch.

Saturday morning, 10:30 AM: Check Instagram, Twitter and Facebook.

Saturday morning, 10:35 AM: Again wonder why I have a Twitter account.

Saturday morning, 10:40 AM: Google phone battery life on laptop.

Saturday morning, 10:45 AM: Sweep the kitchen and dining room floor.

Saturday morning, 10:50 AM: Feed the cat.

Saturday morning, 10:55 AM: Realize there is laundry from the night before in both the dryer and washing machine.

Saturday morning, 11:00 AM: Check Instagram and Facebook.

Saturday morning, 11:05 AM: Play Scrabble on phone again. Another win!

Saturday morning, 11:20 AM: Begin laundry again.

Saturday morning, 11:30 AM: Briefly sat on the deck and hum this tune:

“But still, I get restless and drive into town 
Watch the world through a windshield as it all comes unwound 
It’s crazy but God knows I don’t act my age 
Like those old desperados who paint the town beige.”

Saturday morning, 11:40 AM: Check Instagram and Facebook.

Saturday morning, 11:45 AM: Began gathering snacks.

Saturday morning, 11:50 AM: Check Instagram and Facebook.

Saturday morning, 11:55 AM: Make the bed.

Saturday afternoon, 12:00 PM: Watch college football. Occasionally check Instagram and Facebook, eat snacks.

Saturday afternoon, 5:00 PM: Rush to complete the laundry.

Saturday afternoon, 5:15 PM: Check Instagram and Facebook.

Saturday afternoon, 5:20 PM: Watch more college football.

Saturday afternoon, 5:55 PM: Complete laundry.

Saturday evening, 6:10 PM: Check Instagram and Facebook.

Saturday evening, 6:15 PM: Straightened up house.

Saturday evening, 6:25 PM: Check Instagram and Facebook.

Saturday evening, 6:30 PM: Sit on porch and watch the van return to our driveway. Help unload the van and kiss and hug Jennifer and Hannah.

Saturday evening, 6:45 PM through the rest of the weekend: Wonder how boring my life would be without the two of them in it.

Paint the Town Beige lyrics by Robert Earl Keen, 1993.

Paint the Town Beige by Robert Earl Keen on YouTube