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

The Tale of the Table

During most of our married life one of the things Jennifer and I have never really had was a good dining room table. Both of us brought small tables in to the marriage but neither was very serviceable. Jennifer even took the table I had, stained it and it’s chairs in order to give it new life. And for a time, it was neat and interesting, speckled and green. Ultimately though, it was the same old table that wobbled and had to have screws tightened on it every week.

Earlier this year we determined it was time to go shopping for a new table. Surprise! I do not enjoy shopping. And I mean, for anything. It is just something I do not find any pleasure in pursuing. I get too easily flustrated-that’s the merging of flustered and frustrated-with myself for not really knowing what I want or not knowing more about what I want and then I get further flustrated with others for well, mostly, just getting in my way while I wander around a store totally clueless.

Jennifer is a patient wife. She is also a persistent wife. She knew all along that the thought of me coming along for the search for just the right table would be something of an ordeal for her. But she reasoned since I would be sitting at this table night after night, I should have some say in what the table we would purchase should be. This despite the fact that she knew the recipe for me being along for the ride was potentially disastrous.

After all, we would be visiting several different stores. Each store would have plenty of things to look over and then to determine whether it was nice enough or pretty enough or matched the color scheme of the room it would reside in or would be practical enough for what we need. Just the thought of beginning this search for just the perfect table with these parameters in mind began to make my temples throb from the forthcoming adventure.

Of course, once the search started other factors crept into the equation. It is wonderful, isn’t it, to be met at the front door of a business by a high pressure salesperson that senses certain desperation when you enter the store and determines to make you the next notch in his sales ledger? In reality, the desperation he senses may be from missing his own commission from another missed sale while the desperation I sense is the effort I will need to use to get away from another high pressure salesperson.

Once we are settled and shake off the salespeople and begin looking beyond colors and table height and chair backs, we are faced with another test of the table buying process. Cost. After all, that will be a factor. And with me along on this search, everything I look at is just too high priced. Everything.

Jennifer’s patient and persistent manner guide me through this as well. Soon, we have narrowed down our list. One store has two tables we find interesting. Other questions pop up though such as space and number of chairs and table height. So, despite all the good work we had done, this day would not be the day we would resolve the table issue completely. We grabbed a bite of lunch and went home to further ponder our choices and to take some measurements and plot the set-up of the room with two imaginary tables.

Once home, we discovered both tables would work in the room where we needed. Both would add a distinctive flair to the room. And honestly, either table would have been fine with me. They both had advantages for our family. One sat square and tall and had tall chairs to match. The other was a longer farmhouse-style table in the shape of a rectangle and sat lower to the ground than the other table. Despite all that it took for me to go through this process; I knew the final call on which table would become part of the fabric of our world would be up to Jennifer. And, I felt that was as it should be.

Here is why: years ago, before we were married, Jennifer and I discussed many things. One of the things she often mentioned was how important it was to her when we had a family to have that family have at least one meal a day together at that table. When it was just me and her, those meals were special but now with Hannah, these meals become even more special, and more important.

We want Hannah to understand how sitting at that table with us, together, as a family, is something that means something. It’s important. It’s meaningful. It’s who we are. It is a place where we each belong. It is sitting there after a draining day of work or school hoping these few minutes charge up the batteries some. It is sitting there with family celebrating a birthday. It is sitting there laughing and cutting up with friends. It is sitting there discussing a problem we are facing knowing that talking it out can help find a solution. It is sitting there laughing at a lame joke between bites of green beans and grilled chicken. It is sitting there with no distracting television in the background. It is sitting there with every cell phone tucked away in the next room.

The table we purchased is a long farmhouse-style table, designed to look a bit weathered and worn. It has four chairs, two for the ends and two for one side plus a bench for the other side. In many ways, it reminds me of the table that sat in my Dad’s parent’s house for as long as I can recall. That is probably why, secretly, I was hoping this would become our table. It reminded me of my Dad’s family. My Dad is one of seven children. They grew up poor but always had enough to eat. Beyond that when they were around that table they always had each other. Even now, when I close my eyes, I can still see that table in my mind.

Several months removed from the table-buying adventure, I find the cost of the table isn’t important. The trouble of locating that table has faded away into a rather distant memory now. Even the thought that this table reminds me some of my own childhood memories isn't why this table has become as important to me as it has. What remains is how I now cherish sitting at that table every night with my two girls, my wife and my daughter. I love the few moments we take to thank God for what we have and bringing us together for a few minutes. I love the clanging of the silverware on the plates. I love the way the chair I sit in feels. I love listening to and participating in our conversations, no matter how mundane or how dramatic or how exciting each one is. I love the base this table provides for helping make each one of us feel more like family, like we belong here and that the moments we share here matter. From where I sit the table and the memories we have made and will make around it are priceless and worth every bit of effort it took to make it part of our home.

Awesome

It’s the person looking at a new born baby, the apple in the eyes of others, and realizing all the potential the child has at that moment and all the hope the child brings to so many.

It’s the pre-schooler, dimples and curls, who plays alone on the playground for a few minutes before realizing she is all alone but then determines she is happy to listen to her own drummer and keeps playing before eventually drawing others into her circle.

It’s the teenage girl, self-conscious and not as confident as she lets others know, whose eyes meet that boy’s eyes briefly then dart away just as quick leaving behind a smile aimed somewhere in his direction. She notices he always seems to fumble with even the simplest words but she can’t help but notice how his quiet, steady presence in her world has started to mean something to her.

It’s the teenage boy, peach fuzz and brimming with bravado that deserts him quickly, who looks at that girl’s eyes until they meet forcing a smile on his face until he looks down at the ground only to peek back up hoping he finds her smiling back. He has always thought she is beautiful but now that he has gotten to know her a bit better, he sees that her real beauty is within her.

It’s the person who steps onto a slick floor and loses his balance and falls rump first but is then helped up by a friend and then together the two share a long, breathtaking laugh.

It’s the acquaintance who recognizes someone from their past across a crowded room and who readies to meet them and then just as they are about to come face-to-face realizes that the other person has no idea who they are but still stops the person and jogs that person’s memory until the two are reminiscing about the good ol’ days.

It’s the person who happens upon a former supervisor and while the two update one another about their lives this person struggles with wishing the other person well because of how they were treated when the work relationship ended but despite that takes the time to reach past hurt pride to wish the other person well.

It’s the person who realizes how somebody really needed to hear something that would lift them up and that person took the chance and the time to say it.

Awesome: when it happens to you, it never really goes away, does it?