The pre-homestudy walkthrough went fine. We gave her a quick tour of the house, went through yet another questionnaire that repeated a lot of questions from the initial application we sent in a month or so ago, and had a short discussion about the process going forward.
We covered one question I was dreading…
"Are there any weapons in the house?"
"Why, what do you need?"
OK, I didn't say that, but I wanted to. She sounded reasonably certain that our various precautions were sufficient in that regard.
Shopping list:
Fire extinguishers
Smoke detectors
Child-resistant cabinet door latches
About a billion (give or take) of those little plastic dealies that you put in electrical outlets
The last one gave me pause. We're probably looking at first grade and up as far as age goes, and I kept trying to remember how old my brother was when he stuck mom's keys into the electrical outlet in our bedroom. Whatever, we'll buy the stupid things and just not use them if the kids we get are old enough.
Oh yeah, and the dogs are all going for booster shots. That'll be fun.
At this point we've got about a week or two while the latest questionnaire goes through channels, after which we'll be contacted by a contractor to do the actual home study, and we'll be given contact info about how to set up our parenting classes.
The whole thing still makes me grit my teeth, but I'm maintaining my calm.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Today's the Day
Our pre-homestudy walkthrough happens today. It'll be our first real contact with our caseworker. We spent a few minutes this morning fussing over the making of the bed, fretting over whether this or that was clean enough, wondering what to do with the dogs, fretting over things out of place or looking cluttered, and so forth.
We're a little wound up.
And of course the laughable nature of the situation came back into conversation with my coworkers this morning. If you've got fully functioning reproductive organs, you can pop out as many kids as you desire, and as long as nothing gains the attention of the authorities, you never have to say or do anything. But if you're going to adopt or foster someone else's kids, you have to invite the government into your home, seek its approval, get background checked and fingerprinted, take classes on parenting, and jump through any number of other hoops I haven't discovered yet, all for the crime of being infertile.
I can already hear the protests: "but it's for the children!" If that were so, all of this would be required before you could have kids naturally. Line forms to the left.
We're a little wound up.
And of course the laughable nature of the situation came back into conversation with my coworkers this morning. If you've got fully functioning reproductive organs, you can pop out as many kids as you desire, and as long as nothing gains the attention of the authorities, you never have to say or do anything. But if you're going to adopt or foster someone else's kids, you have to invite the government into your home, seek its approval, get background checked and fingerprinted, take classes on parenting, and jump through any number of other hoops I haven't discovered yet, all for the crime of being infertile.
I can already hear the protests: "but it's for the children!" If that were so, all of this would be required before you could have kids naturally. Line forms to the left.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Grandma's Revenge
The story of kid karma is pretty well-known. You drive your parents nuts being X kind of child, and you get X kind of child when you become a parent. As one comedian put it, the goal of parenthood is to live long enough to see your grandchildren get revenge on your kids.
My brother's firstborn is stubborn as a mule, much like his dad. Our dad loves to tell the anecdote of how my brother, at around 6 or 7 years old, refused to eat his dinner and sat at the table and made himself sick rather than eat a couple of bites of something he'd probably eaten before and has probably eaten since. This is the kid who later declared he wanted to slurp a raw egg, and mom went along with it just to see if he'd actually do it, so it's not about food grossing him out. He just wasn't going to eat his dinner, and nobody was darn well going to tell him otherwise.
The nephew is now exacting Grandma's Revenge on him, and thus all is well with the universe as I understand it.
I recently started thinking of what I was like as a kid. Of course, I only have my perspective to go on, but I remember being pretty closed off, content to lose myself in a book rather than engage with anyone (including or perhaps especially family). I also preferred to learn things "the hard way". I remember distinctly being told about this or that, and why you do something this way and not the other way. I also remember thinking in each of those circumstances, "maybe someone just hasn't really given the other way a fair shot". And then I'd go off and do it "the hard way", just to find out if what I'd been told was correct.
Most of the time, it was. But I was rewarded in my endeavors often enough that I kept up the pattern of behavior well into adulthood.
I don't know if my parents ever realized that I was doing things this way consciously and deliberately, but that's the way I learn. I have a visceral need to experience the failure of "the wrong way" first-hand. For me, learning is an iterative process, and that's probably why I love what I do for a living. Granted, my wife's patience doesn't allow for as much iteration as I'd prefer, especially when it comes to doing stuff around the house.
("Why can't we just leave it like that for a while? I'll eventually get tired of looking at the crooked board and figure out how to fix it.")
But I still learn best when I have time to discover and contemplate my mistakes rather than having someone point them out to me, or worse, try to anticipate my mistakes beforehand.
We're adopting, so maybe none of this applies at all, but I can't help thinking that more than likely I'll wind up with a kid who needs to learn experientially, who doesn't process criticism (even the constructive kind) gracefully, and who would rather be left alone with a book or computer than dragged to a family function, even something as entertaining as the Christmas get-together. I could also end up with a kid who's a little too smart and a little too anti-social for his own good. I think I'm up to the challenge, but only time will tell.
I know my parents are waiting to be entertained.
My brother's firstborn is stubborn as a mule, much like his dad. Our dad loves to tell the anecdote of how my brother, at around 6 or 7 years old, refused to eat his dinner and sat at the table and made himself sick rather than eat a couple of bites of something he'd probably eaten before and has probably eaten since. This is the kid who later declared he wanted to slurp a raw egg, and mom went along with it just to see if he'd actually do it, so it's not about food grossing him out. He just wasn't going to eat his dinner, and nobody was darn well going to tell him otherwise.
The nephew is now exacting Grandma's Revenge on him, and thus all is well with the universe as I understand it.
I recently started thinking of what I was like as a kid. Of course, I only have my perspective to go on, but I remember being pretty closed off, content to lose myself in a book rather than engage with anyone (including or perhaps especially family). I also preferred to learn things "the hard way". I remember distinctly being told about this or that, and why you do something this way and not the other way. I also remember thinking in each of those circumstances, "maybe someone just hasn't really given the other way a fair shot". And then I'd go off and do it "the hard way", just to find out if what I'd been told was correct.
Most of the time, it was. But I was rewarded in my endeavors often enough that I kept up the pattern of behavior well into adulthood.
I don't know if my parents ever realized that I was doing things this way consciously and deliberately, but that's the way I learn. I have a visceral need to experience the failure of "the wrong way" first-hand. For me, learning is an iterative process, and that's probably why I love what I do for a living. Granted, my wife's patience doesn't allow for as much iteration as I'd prefer, especially when it comes to doing stuff around the house.
("Why can't we just leave it like that for a while? I'll eventually get tired of looking at the crooked board and figure out how to fix it.")
But I still learn best when I have time to discover and contemplate my mistakes rather than having someone point them out to me, or worse, try to anticipate my mistakes beforehand.
We're adopting, so maybe none of this applies at all, but I can't help thinking that more than likely I'll wind up with a kid who needs to learn experientially, who doesn't process criticism (even the constructive kind) gracefully, and who would rather be left alone with a book or computer than dragged to a family function, even something as entertaining as the Christmas get-together. I could also end up with a kid who's a little too smart and a little too anti-social for his own good. I think I'm up to the challenge, but only time will tell.
I know my parents are waiting to be entertained.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Yeah, that
Blogs like this one are the reason I want to be a parent. It's entertaining to read the blogs about stress and the funny stuff kids do, but my absolute favorites are the ones where parents just talk about the kind of people their kids are.
I've always wanted to hear what people (not just my parents) say about me rather than to me. Even when someone's giving you a compliment, there's a bit of skew in the message because they're talking to you rather than to someone else. So when other parents talk about their kids in ways that their kids aren't really reading, I just find it fascinating.
I've always wanted to hear what people (not just my parents) say about me rather than to me. Even when someone's giving you a compliment, there's a bit of skew in the message because they're talking to you rather than to someone else. So when other parents talk about their kids in ways that their kids aren't really reading, I just find it fascinating.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Phone Call!
Got a call from Tonya today. We've got an appointment for a pre-homestudy walkthrough. I think, based on past conversations, that this means our background check didn't turn up any problems (not that I figured it would).
Worries and Wonderings
One of my favorite people in the whole world is a Methodist minister named Richard. He's an expert in "family systems", which I take to mean the relational dynamics that occur within a family and also how it affects the individuals' relationships outside the family. He has a great ability to empathize and see things from another's point of view, and he is always a calming influence on me when I am troubled or agitated about something.
Richard once had a conversation with me about children. It was in the context of dealing with troubled children, but he phrased his main thought in such a way as to include all children. He said, "I almost believe that if each child has someone in their lives who values them just for being, whose relationship with the child communicates clearly 'you are valuable just because you are here', without putting expectations or judgments into the mix... that would almost be enough."
I don't know if it's appropriate for one attempting to parent to be that person or not. It seems that parenting necessarily involves some expectations and judgments, so it may be that only a grandparent or aunt or uncle can really be that person. But to the extent that I am able, this is what I want to communicate to our kids. "You are valuable just because you are here." It seems especially important to me when I consider the message that may have been communicated to them through the foster care system: "you are a burden and a lot of trouble to have around... so much so that we actually have to pay people to care for you."
I worry constantly about being able to forge a connection with our kids. My nephew knows instinctively who his parents are. He's never had to think about it, and he feels an attachment to them at a profound level. I have almost no hope of being able to reach that level with our kids, and I despair at being able to even approach it. I'm an introvert to begin with, and sometimes interaction with my wife is about all I can handle. How do I convince two or more strangers, who have likely been hurt by other adults, that I do actually care for them and want to have that same connection that my brother and his son obviously share?
Wow, suddenly my mind just shot over to the standard Christian narrative about God trying to convince us all that He loves us. I'm going to have to ruminate on that a bit.
Richard once had a conversation with me about children. It was in the context of dealing with troubled children, but he phrased his main thought in such a way as to include all children. He said, "I almost believe that if each child has someone in their lives who values them just for being, whose relationship with the child communicates clearly 'you are valuable just because you are here', without putting expectations or judgments into the mix... that would almost be enough."
I don't know if it's appropriate for one attempting to parent to be that person or not. It seems that parenting necessarily involves some expectations and judgments, so it may be that only a grandparent or aunt or uncle can really be that person. But to the extent that I am able, this is what I want to communicate to our kids. "You are valuable just because you are here." It seems especially important to me when I consider the message that may have been communicated to them through the foster care system: "you are a burden and a lot of trouble to have around... so much so that we actually have to pay people to care for you."
I worry constantly about being able to forge a connection with our kids. My nephew knows instinctively who his parents are. He's never had to think about it, and he feels an attachment to them at a profound level. I have almost no hope of being able to reach that level with our kids, and I despair at being able to even approach it. I'm an introvert to begin with, and sometimes interaction with my wife is about all I can handle. How do I convince two or more strangers, who have likely been hurt by other adults, that I do actually care for them and want to have that same connection that my brother and his son obviously share?
Wow, suddenly my mind just shot over to the standard Christian narrative about God trying to convince us all that He loves us. I'm going to have to ruminate on that a bit.
Back to the Wait
The 'rents are headed back to Ohio, bearing the news for the rest of the extended family (at least, the ones who aren't on Facebook). They really enjoyed the video that DHS sent us, and said it changed their attitude toward adopting teenagers, as it did my own.
The teenager question is a weird one. I go from thinking it'd probably be OK to thinking it'd be a disaster. Suddenly having a 16- or 17-year-old hanging around is an extremely intimidating image. At that point it feels like the best you can offer is a sort of "finishing school" to prepare them for The Real World (by which I mean, not the show on MTV). It would necessarily be a cooperative effort, and if they don't feel like cooperating I don't know how much could be done about it.
I spent thewaffling weekending weekend waffling between complete confidence and near panic about the whole thing. There's so much to talk about that I felt like I couldn't figure out where to begin, so I just kept blurting out random thoughts like a Tourette's patient. We had some good conversations, and I'm sure there'll be more in the months ahead.
Oh yeah, I left another message with Tonya, and attempted to call Gisele...
*drums fingers on table*
*twiddles thumbs*
*whistles tunelessly*
...guess that's about it.
The teenager question is a weird one. I go from thinking it'd probably be OK to thinking it'd be a disaster. Suddenly having a 16- or 17-year-old hanging around is an extremely intimidating image. At that point it feels like the best you can offer is a sort of "finishing school" to prepare them for The Real World (by which I mean, not the show on MTV). It would necessarily be a cooperative effort, and if they don't feel like cooperating I don't know how much could be done about it.
I spent the
Oh yeah, I left another message with Tonya, and attempted to call Gisele...
*drums fingers on table*
*twiddles thumbs*
*whistles tunelessly*
...guess that's about it.
Monday, March 21, 2011
The Cat's Out of the Bag
My parents are visiting, and have been told our plans. Naturally, they think we've gone and lost our minds. Wait, that's my friends. My parents are thrilled.
So now everybody's in on the secret... and feeling the pain of waiting. Dad-unit has already complained that he has to wait another 6 months (or whatever), and half-seriously suggested we might have just waited until we had a permanent placement. Of course, that wouldn't do because I'm chafing under the wait too, and everybody knows that the best way to endure misery is to spread it around.
At least, that's the theory one of my friends has been operating on for the past decade or more.
It's been a month since we've had any contact at all with the DHS folks. I probably ought to put in a call in the vain hope that it might be returned. The waiting would be a lot easier if there were only a little bit of communication.
So now everybody's in on the secret... and feeling the pain of waiting. Dad-unit has already complained that he has to wait another 6 months (or whatever), and half-seriously suggested we might have just waited until we had a permanent placement. Of course, that wouldn't do because I'm chafing under the wait too, and everybody knows that the best way to endure misery is to spread it around.
At least, that's the theory one of my friends has been operating on for the past decade or more.
It's been a month since we've had any contact at all with the DHS folks. I probably ought to put in a call in the vain hope that it might be returned. The waiting would be a lot easier if there were only a little bit of communication.
Monday, March 14, 2011
The James Lipton Interview
I don't watch Inside the Actors Studio much, and I'm not really a fan, but on the occasions I have caught it, I've always been intrigued by his version of the Proust interview. I wish I was famous enough to have him run me through it, but I'm not, so I'll just inflict it on everyone here.
What is your favorite word?
There are a bunch of them, and I'm a fan of the more esoteric ones. I like words that are used in novels but rarely seem to appear in conversation. Words like "rout", "laud", and "spoor". But every time I hear this question I remember Mr. Marquis, a teacher I had in high school, who said his favorite word was "squeegee". I think about it so often that I'd have to say it's my favorite word too.
What is your least favorite word?
Baby... I can't explain it. I've always preferred words like "infant" or "toddler" or "child". Baby just rubs me the wrong way for some reason. It seems too cutesy. I've disliked it since I was a kid.
What turns you on?
When people rise above their own expectations
What turns you off?
Thoughtless criticism
What sound or noise do you love?
Laughter, especially a woman's laughter, provided it isn't of the mean-spirited or derisive variety.
What sound or noise do you hate?
Suffering
What is your favorite curse word?
F***. It's a bad habit, and I'm sure I'll pay for it when I get some kidlets hanging around, but sometimes it just seems like no other word will do.
What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
Personal trainer. I'd love to get paid to work out.
What profession would you not like to do?
Anything mind-numbing or that requires very little thought. I once worked on a small parts assembly line for all of about an hour. It nearly drove me insane.
If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?
Everybody else is here too.
What is your favorite word?
There are a bunch of them, and I'm a fan of the more esoteric ones. I like words that are used in novels but rarely seem to appear in conversation. Words like "rout", "laud", and "spoor". But every time I hear this question I remember Mr. Marquis, a teacher I had in high school, who said his favorite word was "squeegee". I think about it so often that I'd have to say it's my favorite word too.
What is your least favorite word?
Baby... I can't explain it. I've always preferred words like "infant" or "toddler" or "child". Baby just rubs me the wrong way for some reason. It seems too cutesy. I've disliked it since I was a kid.
What turns you on?
When people rise above their own expectations
What turns you off?
Thoughtless criticism
What sound or noise do you love?
Laughter, especially a woman's laughter, provided it isn't of the mean-spirited or derisive variety.
What sound or noise do you hate?
Suffering
What is your favorite curse word?
F***. It's a bad habit, and I'm sure I'll pay for it when I get some kidlets hanging around, but sometimes it just seems like no other word will do.
What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
Personal trainer. I'd love to get paid to work out.
What profession would you not like to do?
Anything mind-numbing or that requires very little thought. I once worked on a small parts assembly line for all of about an hour. It nearly drove me insane.
If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?
Everybody else is here too.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Calling All Nerdlets
The wife sent me this article:
How "Dungeons & Dragons" changed my life
It outlines a lot of positive things that have come from the pencil-and-paper roleplaying genre of games. It passes up some of the family interaction upsides, which I was not fortunate enough to have as a kid, but I know people who did. One of my best friends gamed with his entire family, with his father usually running the game, and I find fascinating the potential for family bonding, shared creativity, and learning about one another.
I previously wrote that I'm torturing the wife with talk of running a game with the kids, but my interest is not solely fueled by my nerd-dom. I think it could be a wonderful way to allow kids to express themselves and provide launching points for conversation, not to mention being far more interactive and engaging than simply drooling in front of the TV together.
How "Dungeons & Dragons" changed my life
It outlines a lot of positive things that have come from the pencil-and-paper roleplaying genre of games. It passes up some of the family interaction upsides, which I was not fortunate enough to have as a kid, but I know people who did. One of my best friends gamed with his entire family, with his father usually running the game, and I find fascinating the potential for family bonding, shared creativity, and learning about one another.
I previously wrote that I'm torturing the wife with talk of running a game with the kids, but my interest is not solely fueled by my nerd-dom. I think it could be a wonderful way to allow kids to express themselves and provide launching points for conversation, not to mention being far more interactive and engaging than simply drooling in front of the TV together.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Let the good times (and pornbots) roll
One reader, whose feedback I enjoy, wondered generally on her own blog why some of us lock down our comment section with Captcha and moderation. Frankly for me, it's because my other blog receives a lot of comment spam from pornbots and viagrabots and dontspeakenglishbots. I figured that since Blogger is run by Google, and I don't view Google as a very security-minded company, the spamination would be orders of magnitude worse over here, and I've only got so much time in the day.
But in deference to those with more experience on Blogger, and because like any blogger I love getting feedback, I'll go ahead and ease up on the reins a bit and see where it gets me. Just don't blame me if the comments someday show acts that make you wonder "how is that even possible?!?!" I'll try to stay ahead of them, of course, but this is the internet. It's a petri dish for malcontents and misanthropes.
But in deference to those with more experience on Blogger, and because like any blogger I love getting feedback, I'll go ahead and ease up on the reins a bit and see where it gets me. Just don't blame me if the comments someday show acts that make you wonder "how is that even possible?!?!" I'll try to stay ahead of them, of course, but this is the internet. It's a petri dish for malcontents and misanthropes.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Things you can't do with (most) kids
One of our favorite vacation/long weekend activities is renting cabins, and this being the wife-unit's birthday, it's how she wanted to spend it. We have a rule that the birthday person gets to be king/queen for the day, so we're down at Beaver's Bend State Park in southeastern Oklahoma.
Since we started getting back in shape a couple of years ago, we've also started truly enjoying hikes and more adventurous activities. We used to "enjoy" "hikes", if by "hike" we meant a largely leisurely stroll through the woods on basically level ground, and by "enjoy" we meant "didn't break a sweat".
Things are much different now. We've been doing P90X and similar workouts for a couple of years, and my new approach to hiking is as follows:
1: go to park office/visitor center
2: find hiking brochure
3: locate longest or most difficult trail, and declare that this is the one we're taking
4: pack some snacks and water and get to it
This is how we wound up on Skyline Trail, which was both the longest AND the most difficult (a two for one deal!). It's an interesting trail because all of the brochures say it's 5 miles long, but the park people said it's actually either 6, 7, or 9 miles long (they couldn't make up their minds). There is cell phone service in the park, so they told us to call if we got into trouble. I wondered why everyone was so anxious to scare us off before we started.
The problem as I see it is this: most places that say "expert trail" or "experienced hikers" generally mean only that the trail is not wheelchair accessible. Or that you might have to climb a grade once or twice. The roughest trail in the Wichita Mountains at the other end of the state fits this description: it's only hard if you go on a 100-degree day and don't bring any water. So when they started waving the voodoo sticks and giving us last rites, I'm all "pfft. Yeah, whatever."
It turns out that Skyline Trail is no joke. There are climbs that would require handholds if they were any steeper, and not just for 20 or 50 feet. Worse for me are the downhills of the same grade -- something about my right knee and ankle has hated a downhill slope since I was in my 20's.
I keep a mental list of my friends and acquaintances who are "outdoorsy", either in actuality or in their own minds. I like to pretend I know when they would drop off the excursion, and the crowd gets smaller and smaller. By the time we reached the 1/3 point marked by crossing a private road, I was down to my boss and his (adult) son. A couple of friends needed to be airlifted out. One fell to the ground and screamed "leave me! Save yourselves!"
The second third of the trip started really testing us. I remember at one point we were climbing a hill, and when we reached the top we found that someone had stacked another, longer, steeper hill on top of it. Just like life.
We were closing in on the 2/3 point when we came across some other hikers headed the opposite direction. We'd been on the trail for 2.5 hours at this point, and they said there was about an hour and a half behind them. By this time we'd gone through enough downhills that my right leg was starting to complain, although it was nothing compared to the imaginary children in my head.
("Daddy, I'm tired. Are we going to be done soon? How much longer is this?")
I've already got it in my head that the kids and I are going camping at some point, and that it's going to be real "roughing it" camping, not this nonsense at a park campsite where the electricity and modern conveniences are 50 yards away. But I had to admit to myself that Skyline Trail probably has a minimum age limit -- probably 16 years old unless the kid shows signs of some serious toughness earlier on.
The final third of the trail was an exercise in pain management. I got to the point where my right knee refused to bend on the downhills, my right ankle was producing this sickening grinding sensation, and I had to crab-step down like a 2-year-old learning to negotiate stairs. I probably would have done much better had I been wearing actual hiking boots instead of sneakers, but I was more enthusiastic than prepared. I remember at one point I said to myself "I can make it down this slope if this is the last one I have to do." Unfortunately I said that with 6 slopes left to go. Once again, kind of like life.
In the end though, through determination and as they say on TV, "a triumph of the human spirit", not to mention the desire to not wind up on the nightly news (or an episode of "I shouldn't be alive"), we finished the trail and limped back to the car. We immediately went for something to eat, then raced back to the cabin to soak our beaten bodies in the hot tub. My knee is still a little sore as I write this, but I'll survive, and we've got a great memory of the day we conquered Skyline Trail.
Today we're off to Texarkana to see what they've got to offer in the way of entertainment that doesn't require grinding bone against bone. It's her birthday, after all. I probably shouldn't death march her on her birthday. It might be seen as rude.
Since we started getting back in shape a couple of years ago, we've also started truly enjoying hikes and more adventurous activities. We used to "enjoy" "hikes", if by "hike" we meant a largely leisurely stroll through the woods on basically level ground, and by "enjoy" we meant "didn't break a sweat".
Things are much different now. We've been doing P90X and similar workouts for a couple of years, and my new approach to hiking is as follows:
1: go to park office/visitor center
2: find hiking brochure
3: locate longest or most difficult trail, and declare that this is the one we're taking
4: pack some snacks and water and get to it
This is how we wound up on Skyline Trail, which was both the longest AND the most difficult (a two for one deal!). It's an interesting trail because all of the brochures say it's 5 miles long, but the park people said it's actually either 6, 7, or 9 miles long (they couldn't make up their minds). There is cell phone service in the park, so they told us to call if we got into trouble. I wondered why everyone was so anxious to scare us off before we started.
The problem as I see it is this: most places that say "expert trail" or "experienced hikers" generally mean only that the trail is not wheelchair accessible. Or that you might have to climb a grade once or twice. The roughest trail in the Wichita Mountains at the other end of the state fits this description: it's only hard if you go on a 100-degree day and don't bring any water. So when they started waving the voodoo sticks and giving us last rites, I'm all "pfft. Yeah, whatever."
It turns out that Skyline Trail is no joke. There are climbs that would require handholds if they were any steeper, and not just for 20 or 50 feet. Worse for me are the downhills of the same grade -- something about my right knee and ankle has hated a downhill slope since I was in my 20's.
I keep a mental list of my friends and acquaintances who are "outdoorsy", either in actuality or in their own minds. I like to pretend I know when they would drop off the excursion, and the crowd gets smaller and smaller. By the time we reached the 1/3 point marked by crossing a private road, I was down to my boss and his (adult) son. A couple of friends needed to be airlifted out. One fell to the ground and screamed "leave me! Save yourselves!"
The second third of the trip started really testing us. I remember at one point we were climbing a hill, and when we reached the top we found that someone had stacked another, longer, steeper hill on top of it. Just like life.
We were closing in on the 2/3 point when we came across some other hikers headed the opposite direction. We'd been on the trail for 2.5 hours at this point, and they said there was about an hour and a half behind them. By this time we'd gone through enough downhills that my right leg was starting to complain, although it was nothing compared to the imaginary children in my head.
("Daddy, I'm tired. Are we going to be done soon? How much longer is this?")
I've already got it in my head that the kids and I are going camping at some point, and that it's going to be real "roughing it" camping, not this nonsense at a park campsite where the electricity and modern conveniences are 50 yards away. But I had to admit to myself that Skyline Trail probably has a minimum age limit -- probably 16 years old unless the kid shows signs of some serious toughness earlier on.
The final third of the trail was an exercise in pain management. I got to the point where my right knee refused to bend on the downhills, my right ankle was producing this sickening grinding sensation, and I had to crab-step down like a 2-year-old learning to negotiate stairs. I probably would have done much better had I been wearing actual hiking boots instead of sneakers, but I was more enthusiastic than prepared. I remember at one point I said to myself "I can make it down this slope if this is the last one I have to do." Unfortunately I said that with 6 slopes left to go. Once again, kind of like life.
In the end though, through determination and as they say on TV, "a triumph of the human spirit", not to mention the desire to not wind up on the nightly news (or an episode of "I shouldn't be alive"), we finished the trail and limped back to the car. We immediately went for something to eat, then raced back to the cabin to soak our beaten bodies in the hot tub. My knee is still a little sore as I write this, but I'll survive, and we've got a great memory of the day we conquered Skyline Trail.
Today we're off to Texarkana to see what they've got to offer in the way of entertainment that doesn't require grinding bone against bone. It's her birthday, after all. I probably shouldn't death march her on her birthday. It might be seen as rude.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Perspectives
My wife linked me this post, which we both agree was amusing. I particularly enjoyed this bit:
This spawned a pretty typical conversation between us:
Tom: My charm has never worked on you.
Lisa: Yes it has, I married you didn't I?
Tom: I figured it was out of pity.
Lisa: Nope. (Aw, she does love me!)
Tom: I'm sure the stairs post makes you think about my laundry. I'm getting it hung up and put away every other week, so that's progress.
Lisa: Yes, but wouldn't it be nicer if it was every week?
Tom: I'm not sure what you're getting at.
Lisa: Isn't it nice to get your clothes out of the closet instead of looking through all your laundry in the basket?
Tom: Seriously, you're not making any sense at all.
Lisa: See how you are? Butthead.
He thinks he's being cute and funny when he says it, hoping to distract me with his charm. THIS IS WHY I NEED A WHISTLE.
This spawned a pretty typical conversation between us:
Tom: My charm has never worked on you.
Lisa: Yes it has, I married you didn't I?
Tom: I figured it was out of pity.
Lisa: Nope. (Aw, she does love me!)
Tom: I'm sure the stairs post makes you think about my laundry. I'm getting it hung up and put away every other week, so that's progress.
Lisa: Yes, but wouldn't it be nicer if it was every week?
Tom: I'm not sure what you're getting at.
Lisa: Isn't it nice to get your clothes out of the closet instead of looking through all your laundry in the basket?
Tom: Seriously, you're not making any sense at all.
Lisa: See how you are? Butthead.
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