more unsolicited sideline reporting
(eunuchs, unite!!!)
only nine more world cup matches to go. kind of sad, really. it's been such a grand two weeks, and the best match-ups are still to come. i have to believe that sarah and hannah are growing tired of soccer but come this time two weeks from now, serious soccer (not mls) will be put back into semi-hibernation (unless the next house we move into offers fox soccer channel...oh yeah!!!) for four years. my four year goal? to find a way to cheer on the us in person and travel with them to south africa. how awesome would that be? we'll see if it happens...
last week was the first time in eight years i had not helped out in some way with vacation bible school at humc. i didn't miss it, necessarily, but i did miss the kids. turning recreation into vacation "battle" school with dodgeball, freeze-tag, red light-green light, duck-duck-goose...those were good and fun times. what was most fun was seeing most of the kids having a blast and running around like crazy people, like kids should be during the summer. i was sad, but not surprised, when i heard that balls were taken out of the equation this year. there were excuses made. dhr was thrown under the bus. "some kids don't like the balls." "my son/daughther hated recreation." yes, i am sure your child was pining for more "reflection" time and painting t-shirts. i am certain the same child(ren) that didn't have enough "balls" to play with balls was immeasurably happy wearing home a wet pair of underwear from a busted water balloon. but what do i know?
i know this. i know children need balls. or "balls". even at vacation bible school. what's worse is having some adult or group of adults telling them that they don't need balls. or "balls". that they are better off without them. whoever executed this separation of church and balls should be ashamed. what's next? separation of church and halo? church and family guy? church and week-long mission/choir opportunites? separation of church and halloween? church and beach retreats just for the hell of it (for the fellowship of it all)? church and making eye contact with people you don't agree with? oh wait...
god bless all the people who volunteered or were drafted into vbs service. i hope to rejoin your number next year. with a better attitude and outlook on a church that once made and can still make a difference.
and god bless being able to take a ball in the face and come back for more. this should be the theme of every vacation bible school from now on.
it's soccer time.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Thursday, June 22, 2006
dateline: nuremburg
(a kneejerk reaction caused by intense disappointment)
consider this a postcard of sorts:
to landon donovan (posterboy for united states soccer): you may be more comfortable in mls. your personal life may be great, but the face of us soccer, you should not be. you could not have been any more ineffective in these three games. you did not set up one decent scoring opportunity in any of the three games. half the time you looked scared. you are now the captain of this team moving forward to 2010. at the moment, i could not be any more underwhelmed or disconcerted at this thought. worthless.
to demarcus beasley: you cannot utilize your speed unless you run hard. i can count on one hand the number of times i felt like you were giving your all. you were lucky to serve one good ball to clint dempsey in the ghana match, but otherwise, you were also a waste of talent and space.
to kasey keller: how about making a fucking save!!! only once in three matches did you make a save worth noting. anything else that found it's way into your hands would have fallen the same into the hands of an average high school goalkeeper. world class goalkeeper??? my ass. make a fucking save!!!
to claudio reyna (captain america): captain america, huh? not anymore. enjoy retirement and enjoy hitting the post in your retirement community rec. games. you are quite accomplished at this. thank you for giving ghana their first goal and the game. auf wiedersehen.
to bruce arena: you pointed us in the right direction. you really did. good job in 2002 and thank you for bringing us soccer to this point. i fear, though, that your abilities have reached their potential. you were outcoached in all three matches, make no mistake, and you have no idea how to create an attack other than serve it in to brian mcbride and hope something good happens. good luck at your next job. and thanks for the good times.
to clint dempsey, brian mcbride, eddie johnson and oguchi onyewu: thank you for playing like this was the most important tournament of your life. you all showed up and played hard. i wish for better for you all.
to the rest of the team: you are nondescript in my memory right now. not good enough or bad enough to make a mark. some of you played, some of you did not, but i feel lukewarm toward you all and spit you out of my mouth.
to us soccer: this is what it feels like to take two steps back. all is not lost. us soccer is here to stay. it just hasn't "arrived" yet. maybe soon. i hope so.
see you in south africa.
p.s. - to anyone that wants to blame the ref for the penalty kick and the winning goal...stop. please blame carlos bocanegra and his boneheaded header back into the penalty box.
(a kneejerk reaction caused by intense disappointment)
consider this a postcard of sorts:
to landon donovan (posterboy for united states soccer): you may be more comfortable in mls. your personal life may be great, but the face of us soccer, you should not be. you could not have been any more ineffective in these three games. you did not set up one decent scoring opportunity in any of the three games. half the time you looked scared. you are now the captain of this team moving forward to 2010. at the moment, i could not be any more underwhelmed or disconcerted at this thought. worthless.
to demarcus beasley: you cannot utilize your speed unless you run hard. i can count on one hand the number of times i felt like you were giving your all. you were lucky to serve one good ball to clint dempsey in the ghana match, but otherwise, you were also a waste of talent and space.
to kasey keller: how about making a fucking save!!! only once in three matches did you make a save worth noting. anything else that found it's way into your hands would have fallen the same into the hands of an average high school goalkeeper. world class goalkeeper??? my ass. make a fucking save!!!
to claudio reyna (captain america): captain america, huh? not anymore. enjoy retirement and enjoy hitting the post in your retirement community rec. games. you are quite accomplished at this. thank you for giving ghana their first goal and the game. auf wiedersehen.
to bruce arena: you pointed us in the right direction. you really did. good job in 2002 and thank you for bringing us soccer to this point. i fear, though, that your abilities have reached their potential. you were outcoached in all three matches, make no mistake, and you have no idea how to create an attack other than serve it in to brian mcbride and hope something good happens. good luck at your next job. and thanks for the good times.
to clint dempsey, brian mcbride, eddie johnson and oguchi onyewu: thank you for playing like this was the most important tournament of your life. you all showed up and played hard. i wish for better for you all.
to the rest of the team: you are nondescript in my memory right now. not good enough or bad enough to make a mark. some of you played, some of you did not, but i feel lukewarm toward you all and spit you out of my mouth.
to us soccer: this is what it feels like to take two steps back. all is not lost. us soccer is here to stay. it just hasn't "arrived" yet. maybe soon. i hope so.
see you in south africa.
p.s. - to anyone that wants to blame the ref for the penalty kick and the winning goal...stop. please blame carlos bocanegra and his boneheaded header back into the penalty box.
Monday, June 19, 2006
"he has a horrible attitude."
a funny story from saturday at the store. a lady comes in looking for some tubing for her aquarium. from my perch in the office, i watch her open a box (labeled 25 ft.), take the tube out and ask one of the other employees to help her stretch it out to make sure it's 25 ft. it is, but she deems it to short to reach from her aquarium to the outside of her house. she mangles the tube and the box trying to force the tube back in. she takes the ripped up box back to the shelf, sits it down, and proceeds to take the 50 ft. box off the shelf. she brings it back up front, pops the box open, and is about to pull 50 ft. of tubing out and ruin her second box of product in less than five minutes. i feel compelled to intervene.
"ma'am, can i help you?"
"i just need to see how long this is."
"it's 50 ft. long."
"i need to make sure."
"i promise, ma'am. you can take my word for it. it's 50 ft. there's no need to open another box."
"i can open the box if i want to."
"well, i suppose that's true, but if you are really just verifying the length, i can do that for you without opening the box. if you need a visual aid, we can walk it out along the floor."
"there's no need to get smart with me."
"ma'am, with all due respect, i am not getting smart. i am just trying to help you without opening the product up and handling it to the point that we will have to return it if you aren't satisfied."
"whatever. is heather here?"
"she is."
"where is she? she'll help me. we'll open every box in this store if i want to."
"i am sorry, ma'am. not today."
i grab heather from the office and ask her to finish helping the customer. i also give her implicit instruction to not open any more boxes for the lady. she was watching my conversation with the lady from the office and is tickled already by my attempt at diplomacy. the lady goes on to tell heather that i have a horrible attitude.
really? maybe i do. the customer is not always right. and sure, neither am i. it's struck me as incredibly odd, though, at the amount of customers that have come into the store in my two months at pet supplies plus with an attitude that can be described, in a sweet way, as entitled.
i get that people can have a bad day and bring that day in the store with them, but i also get that it's not our fault, nor our responsibility to take getting cussed at. to take having people shake their heads and snap at us. to take having soft dog toys thrown in our direction. to take that people are pissed that we aren't heath and won't give them free shit. i don't get free shit. why would i give you free shit?
as a christian, i understand that i should show patience even when it's not being shown to me. as a manager responsible for other employees, though, if i draw a line in the sand and you cross it, well, there's a good chance you are not going to get your way.
oh well.
a funny story from saturday at the store. a lady comes in looking for some tubing for her aquarium. from my perch in the office, i watch her open a box (labeled 25 ft.), take the tube out and ask one of the other employees to help her stretch it out to make sure it's 25 ft. it is, but she deems it to short to reach from her aquarium to the outside of her house. she mangles the tube and the box trying to force the tube back in. she takes the ripped up box back to the shelf, sits it down, and proceeds to take the 50 ft. box off the shelf. she brings it back up front, pops the box open, and is about to pull 50 ft. of tubing out and ruin her second box of product in less than five minutes. i feel compelled to intervene.
"ma'am, can i help you?"
"i just need to see how long this is."
"it's 50 ft. long."
"i need to make sure."
"i promise, ma'am. you can take my word for it. it's 50 ft. there's no need to open another box."
"i can open the box if i want to."
"well, i suppose that's true, but if you are really just verifying the length, i can do that for you without opening the box. if you need a visual aid, we can walk it out along the floor."
"there's no need to get smart with me."
"ma'am, with all due respect, i am not getting smart. i am just trying to help you without opening the product up and handling it to the point that we will have to return it if you aren't satisfied."
"whatever. is heather here?"
"she is."
"where is she? she'll help me. we'll open every box in this store if i want to."
"i am sorry, ma'am. not today."
i grab heather from the office and ask her to finish helping the customer. i also give her implicit instruction to not open any more boxes for the lady. she was watching my conversation with the lady from the office and is tickled already by my attempt at diplomacy. the lady goes on to tell heather that i have a horrible attitude.
really? maybe i do. the customer is not always right. and sure, neither am i. it's struck me as incredibly odd, though, at the amount of customers that have come into the store in my two months at pet supplies plus with an attitude that can be described, in a sweet way, as entitled.
i get that people can have a bad day and bring that day in the store with them, but i also get that it's not our fault, nor our responsibility to take getting cussed at. to take having people shake their heads and snap at us. to take having soft dog toys thrown in our direction. to take that people are pissed that we aren't heath and won't give them free shit. i don't get free shit. why would i give you free shit?
as a christian, i understand that i should show patience even when it's not being shown to me. as a manager responsible for other employees, though, if i draw a line in the sand and you cross it, well, there's a good chance you are not going to get your way.
oh well.
Sunday, June 18, 2006
let's beat the crap out of italy!!!
(let's go,...italy???)
what a tough transition! to root against a team, maybe even a country (considering all the primal screams and anti-italian sentiment i hurled at the television), for an hour and a half as hard as i did yesterday only to turn around and now root just as hard for them come thursday. but such is the crazy soap opera that the united states' trip through group e in world cup 2006 has now become. i am not sure i've ever watched as frustrating a soccer match as the us-italy tilt turned into. an inspired us team! one tremendous left hook to the chin and visions of the czech match when the italians scored first!! a ridiculous italian defender giving the us a goal!!! three red cards, all told!!!! more inspired us play!!!!! all boiling down to what? we have to beat the ghana team straight up and then hope that the italians can help the cause by beating the czech's. there are other scenarios that would keep the us team playing past thursday, but they all involve beating ghana by four or five goals. considering the red, white and blue have yet to score a goal for themselves in two games, the odds for these scenarios seem pretty unfavorable for anyone rooting for brian mcbride and his beautifully bloodied face.
and so it goes. up and downs. downs and ups. sarah mentioned today how much more enjoyable the rest of the tournament has to be when not involving the us team. and she's right. i can pull for a team in each game without completely losing my mind if my rooting interest doesn't perform. with the us team, though, things are different. i am invested. same goes for my crappy-ass braves (which is why i've stopped watching them for the time being). same goes for alabama football and basketball, and baseball to a lesser degree. same goes for the michael vick's in atlanta.
such a silly thing sports in my life are. but also such a necessary thing. it calls to arms passions inside of me that stir the very juice of my being. sports can remind me why i love my daughter, my wife. it can remind me why i currently loathe the idea of church at times. it reminds me of what is important and what is not when casual observers might see me and tell me that the straw (my sports) that stirs my drink is, in and of itself, trivial. it may be. it may not. i take comfort knowing that, by far, i am not the only one that suffers from the sickness that is sports. a sickness that, at times, will make me long for an espn mobile phone more than a bigger house for my family.
i can't wait 'til thursday morning or whatever time thursday when i get to watch the tape of the game. i will sit on the edge of the couch. pace around the living room. hoping for us goals. for italian goals. for fewer czech goals and fewer still ghana goals. i can't wait. for an hour and a half, i will hardly be able to breathe.
here's to the us giving me one more day this world cup to look forward to with passion. here's to sports.
and here's to the bloodied mess that is brian mcbride. you are a beast.
(let's go,...italy???)
what a tough transition! to root against a team, maybe even a country (considering all the primal screams and anti-italian sentiment i hurled at the television), for an hour and a half as hard as i did yesterday only to turn around and now root just as hard for them come thursday. but such is the crazy soap opera that the united states' trip through group e in world cup 2006 has now become. i am not sure i've ever watched as frustrating a soccer match as the us-italy tilt turned into. an inspired us team! one tremendous left hook to the chin and visions of the czech match when the italians scored first!! a ridiculous italian defender giving the us a goal!!! three red cards, all told!!!! more inspired us play!!!!! all boiling down to what? we have to beat the ghana team straight up and then hope that the italians can help the cause by beating the czech's. there are other scenarios that would keep the us team playing past thursday, but they all involve beating ghana by four or five goals. considering the red, white and blue have yet to score a goal for themselves in two games, the odds for these scenarios seem pretty unfavorable for anyone rooting for brian mcbride and his beautifully bloodied face.
and so it goes. up and downs. downs and ups. sarah mentioned today how much more enjoyable the rest of the tournament has to be when not involving the us team. and she's right. i can pull for a team in each game without completely losing my mind if my rooting interest doesn't perform. with the us team, though, things are different. i am invested. same goes for my crappy-ass braves (which is why i've stopped watching them for the time being). same goes for alabama football and basketball, and baseball to a lesser degree. same goes for the michael vick's in atlanta.
such a silly thing sports in my life are. but also such a necessary thing. it calls to arms passions inside of me that stir the very juice of my being. sports can remind me why i love my daughter, my wife. it can remind me why i currently loathe the idea of church at times. it reminds me of what is important and what is not when casual observers might see me and tell me that the straw (my sports) that stirs my drink is, in and of itself, trivial. it may be. it may not. i take comfort knowing that, by far, i am not the only one that suffers from the sickness that is sports. a sickness that, at times, will make me long for an espn mobile phone more than a bigger house for my family.
i can't wait 'til thursday morning or whatever time thursday when i get to watch the tape of the game. i will sit on the edge of the couch. pace around the living room. hoping for us goals. for italian goals. for fewer czech goals and fewer still ghana goals. i can't wait. for an hour and a half, i will hardly be able to breathe.
here's to the us giving me one more day this world cup to look forward to with passion. here's to sports.
and here's to the bloodied mess that is brian mcbride. you are a beast.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
usa? usa? usa?
(a lesson in lowering my expectations)
two months ago the world cup draw was announced. the top 16 seeds were unveiled and the us was snubbed. no worries. the us was then placed in a group of 4 more than quality teams, some calling it the toughest in the tournament. no worries. this was the best us team we had ever assembled. more depth. more talent. more speed. more experience. if four years ago was a surprise, 2006 would be a validation. leaving the czech's or italy home for the second round would prove the us was for real and worthy of their mythical #5 world ranking. for two months i listened to every soundbite, read every article, and lapped up every drop of hype about this, our best team. at 11:05 yesterday, five freakin' minutes into the match, all of my optimism was taken away. it took all of five minutes for the us to look small, slow, unorganized, and overmatched against a team very worthy or their #2 world ranking. and today is the day after.
i've been a victim of hype before. hype from others. hype from myself. raising my expectations to unrealistic levels only to take a figurative punch to the gut when the hype proves false. i've done it with alabama football, with music, movies, and time and time again with us soccer. i am so sick of always being "on the cusp". after yesterday, we have been knocked off the cusp.
and so i sit and try to manage new expectations, expectations that are far lower than this time yesterday. i have lowered my expectations in some facets of my life and it has proved to be healthy at times. when expecting the worse from family, just a little better than worse seems pretty good. when expecting a horrible sermon, fair to middling actually raises my spirits some. when expecting crappy taco bell, a relatively fresh chalupa is a breath of fresh air. and so i ask myself, should i approach everything with such a negative tone?
that seems reasonable, but it also seems very pedestrian. because there is nothing like hype proved real (see a healthy marriage, fatherhood, lebron james, etc). there is no drug that provides a lengthier high than high expectations realized. and so, i will work to keep my hopes up. for us soccer. for good music. for alabama football. maybe even for church. and i will try and work to keep the disappointment from affecting my mood and reactions and thoughts for very long.
i'll keep you, dear reader, dear hannah, updated as to how this is coming.
in the meantime...bring on fucking italy.
(a lesson in lowering my expectations)
two months ago the world cup draw was announced. the top 16 seeds were unveiled and the us was snubbed. no worries. the us was then placed in a group of 4 more than quality teams, some calling it the toughest in the tournament. no worries. this was the best us team we had ever assembled. more depth. more talent. more speed. more experience. if four years ago was a surprise, 2006 would be a validation. leaving the czech's or italy home for the second round would prove the us was for real and worthy of their mythical #5 world ranking. for two months i listened to every soundbite, read every article, and lapped up every drop of hype about this, our best team. at 11:05 yesterday, five freakin' minutes into the match, all of my optimism was taken away. it took all of five minutes for the us to look small, slow, unorganized, and overmatched against a team very worthy or their #2 world ranking. and today is the day after.
i've been a victim of hype before. hype from others. hype from myself. raising my expectations to unrealistic levels only to take a figurative punch to the gut when the hype proves false. i've done it with alabama football, with music, movies, and time and time again with us soccer. i am so sick of always being "on the cusp". after yesterday, we have been knocked off the cusp.
and so i sit and try to manage new expectations, expectations that are far lower than this time yesterday. i have lowered my expectations in some facets of my life and it has proved to be healthy at times. when expecting the worse from family, just a little better than worse seems pretty good. when expecting a horrible sermon, fair to middling actually raises my spirits some. when expecting crappy taco bell, a relatively fresh chalupa is a breath of fresh air. and so i ask myself, should i approach everything with such a negative tone?
that seems reasonable, but it also seems very pedestrian. because there is nothing like hype proved real (see a healthy marriage, fatherhood, lebron james, etc). there is no drug that provides a lengthier high than high expectations realized. and so, i will work to keep my hopes up. for us soccer. for good music. for alabama football. maybe even for church. and i will try and work to keep the disappointment from affecting my mood and reactions and thoughts for very long.
i'll keep you, dear reader, dear hannah, updated as to how this is coming.
in the meantime...bring on fucking italy.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
it's not the quality, it's the loud
(the song of my heart)
with all due respect, and i mean this with every ounce of sincerity and love i have in me, please stop. halting the congregation four verses into the five and calling out their lack of "passion" hasn't worked in the past. it did not work today. it will not work in the future. what's worse is the reminder during the pause of the reason we are gathered together. the lesson on what jesus' sacrifice "should" mean. should it mean we, as a group of mostly 50 and over's bring the house down with our voices? should it mean that the love we feel for god and each other and the community we share be measured in decibal level? or should it mean that even if we are singing to ourselves because we are sick or don't like our own voice or would rather hear the choir or our neighbor sing the hymn or because we don't want to sing out or sing at all for reasons outside of your control, that god hears the song in our heart anyway? that god hears the beautiful voice in our heads that wishes we sounded like virginia carlisle or adam wright? how did i react? like a stubborn child, and i put my hymnal down. how did others react? like scolded children that were trying to impress their disappointed father. both reactive and both only temporary fixes. band-aids on top of wounds that are already infected.
and here is the rub. you are doing everything you can, and i admire you for that. you are excited. you know why. and so you encourage others in your own way because you have seen the light and you want others to as well. i wish you luck. i really do. i wish i had the answers to all the questions in my head about my church.
but i only have opinions. my opinions that could be just as wrong. who knows. maybe they are. maybe they aren't. i doubt i will be asked. and that is ok.
i do know this. apathy cannot be stirred with a switch. only with love and time. and sometimes, even with those, it will not be stirred. and that, also, is ok.
(the song of my heart)
with all due respect, and i mean this with every ounce of sincerity and love i have in me, please stop. halting the congregation four verses into the five and calling out their lack of "passion" hasn't worked in the past. it did not work today. it will not work in the future. what's worse is the reminder during the pause of the reason we are gathered together. the lesson on what jesus' sacrifice "should" mean. should it mean we, as a group of mostly 50 and over's bring the house down with our voices? should it mean that the love we feel for god and each other and the community we share be measured in decibal level? or should it mean that even if we are singing to ourselves because we are sick or don't like our own voice or would rather hear the choir or our neighbor sing the hymn or because we don't want to sing out or sing at all for reasons outside of your control, that god hears the song in our heart anyway? that god hears the beautiful voice in our heads that wishes we sounded like virginia carlisle or adam wright? how did i react? like a stubborn child, and i put my hymnal down. how did others react? like scolded children that were trying to impress their disappointed father. both reactive and both only temporary fixes. band-aids on top of wounds that are already infected.
and here is the rub. you are doing everything you can, and i admire you for that. you are excited. you know why. and so you encourage others in your own way because you have seen the light and you want others to as well. i wish you luck. i really do. i wish i had the answers to all the questions in my head about my church.
but i only have opinions. my opinions that could be just as wrong. who knows. maybe they are. maybe they aren't. i doubt i will be asked. and that is ok.
i do know this. apathy cannot be stirred with a switch. only with love and time. and sometimes, even with those, it will not be stirred. and that, also, is ok.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
hannah and me (part eleven)
a sign of things to come?
it wasn't long ago that the suggestion of a day home from school would bring pure joy. "hannah, do you want to stay home with daddy tomorrow?" "yeeeeaaahhh!!!!" music to a daddy's ears. even if i knew that part of the day would be frustrating because, you see, hannah is still learning the english language and we do not always find ourselves on the same page, the daddy-daughter day would be one that both parties would look forward to. we would get up early and watch some playhouse disney. maybe little einsteins. and then scan around for dora or diego or elmo and in betwixt we would play or color or eat some candy for breakfast. we would then go meet mommy for lunch. or friends. or we would just go pick up some chicken nuggets from mcdonald's and share them. and then the baby girl would take a nap and i would relax and recharge. or spend some time on the computer. or work out. and then the baby girl would wake up and it would be time to play again. to go swing or to go blow bubbles. or maybe go to krispy kreme and have a doughnut. and then we would wait for mommy to get home and we would tell her all about it. and daddy would be tired. but content. and happy.
but not this morning.
this morning, when presented with two options (option A: day home with daddy...option B: go see kaykay), the baby girl chose B. it took me aback a little bit, and it made a daddy very sad. there isn't a person on this earth with a heart for all children, including my child, than kay lovvorn (or kaykay if you are down). but, still, over a day home with daddy? am i already not cool? am i already outdated? irrelevant? out of touch with the baby girl landscape? has time already passed me by? i kid with people that comment on how big hannah is that she already acts like a teenager, but really she's only 2 and a half.
and thus, i am asked to learn a very important lesson in the education of being a parent. i will not always be her first choice. my guess is there will be days that i end up being close to last. that makes a daddy very, very sad, and on a day when the world feels very heavy, it's kind of hard to swallow.
i know she still loves her daddy. i could tell, even this morning, when i dropped her off and she backed into my legs when the number of kids in kaykay's class overwhelmed her a little bit. it was easy, then, to remember that, even on days that i am not her first choice, i've got to have her back. that i've got to make sure she knows that daddy still very much loves her.
and i will.
a sign of things to come?
it wasn't long ago that the suggestion of a day home from school would bring pure joy. "hannah, do you want to stay home with daddy tomorrow?" "yeeeeaaahhh!!!!" music to a daddy's ears. even if i knew that part of the day would be frustrating because, you see, hannah is still learning the english language and we do not always find ourselves on the same page, the daddy-daughter day would be one that both parties would look forward to. we would get up early and watch some playhouse disney. maybe little einsteins. and then scan around for dora or diego or elmo and in betwixt we would play or color or eat some candy for breakfast. we would then go meet mommy for lunch. or friends. or we would just go pick up some chicken nuggets from mcdonald's and share them. and then the baby girl would take a nap and i would relax and recharge. or spend some time on the computer. or work out. and then the baby girl would wake up and it would be time to play again. to go swing or to go blow bubbles. or maybe go to krispy kreme and have a doughnut. and then we would wait for mommy to get home and we would tell her all about it. and daddy would be tired. but content. and happy.
but not this morning.
this morning, when presented with two options (option A: day home with daddy...option B: go see kaykay), the baby girl chose B. it took me aback a little bit, and it made a daddy very sad. there isn't a person on this earth with a heart for all children, including my child, than kay lovvorn (or kaykay if you are down). but, still, over a day home with daddy? am i already not cool? am i already outdated? irrelevant? out of touch with the baby girl landscape? has time already passed me by? i kid with people that comment on how big hannah is that she already acts like a teenager, but really she's only 2 and a half.
and thus, i am asked to learn a very important lesson in the education of being a parent. i will not always be her first choice. my guess is there will be days that i end up being close to last. that makes a daddy very, very sad, and on a day when the world feels very heavy, it's kind of hard to swallow.
i know she still loves her daddy. i could tell, even this morning, when i dropped her off and she backed into my legs when the number of kids in kaykay's class overwhelmed her a little bit. it was easy, then, to remember that, even on days that i am not her first choice, i've got to have her back. that i've got to make sure she knows that daddy still very much loves her.
and i will.
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