Watching the Waves

"Who's my good best friend I got?" -A question my Grandpa Sal routinely asked his 15 grandchildren, creating a very fierce competition.

My Grandpa Sal is one of my favorite people ever. Gregarious, loving, and loyal, he lit up a room even when he wasn't getting involved in everything going on in it. (We call my mom - his daughter - "Parsley" because she gets into everything. He was the original Parsley.) He and my Grandma Sylvia lived in the house behind us growing up. Our backyards connected. As a boy, I thought it was amazing to have my grandparents so close. We could eat meals at each other's houses any day we wanted. As a married man with in-laws, I realize my dad was a saint for buying his first home so close to his in-laws. And as a result he is certainly in heaven right now, having earned his place and then some.

Gramps with my niece, whose name he
couldn't pronounce. July 1985.

One of the most memorable things Grandpa Sal did was crash our swimming pool. We'd be in the pool in our backyard, and he'd stop whatever project he was working on in his, ambling through the gate between the two properties. Without saying a word, as we worked ourselves up into a frenzy anticipating the coming tidal wave, he soaked up our cheers and climbed onto the diving board. He'd proceed to perform a massive belly flop that was always meant to be a dive, swim to the shallow end while spitting water out of his mouth with every stroke, exit through the stairs at the opposite end of the pool, climb the slide and shimmy down it head first. Euphoric, my cousins, friends, and I would splash him and dunk him. He still wouldn't speak a word. The maestro of mayhem would then exit the pool, walk back to his yard, take off his swim trunks (yes, right there for all to see), hang them to dry, change back into his overalls and continue his work.

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The Guilt Trip of a Lifetime

"Every time you go away you take a piece of me with you." -Paul Young

"She's old enough," we said. That's how we justified it. She's old enough to be without us for a couple of weeks. Sure, she'll be aware that we're gone. She'll definitely miss us. But she'll be just fine. Most important, she'll still have a lot of fun. Without us.

There we are. Young and in love. Venice 2004.
(I still have that shirt.)

So My Director and I went ahead and followed through on a promise we made to each other on our honeymoon. Our favorite place on that whirlwind Italian odyssey was Venice. But we were there for just two days. "I wish we had more time here," we said at the time. So we promised each other we'd come back for our tenth anniversary. We even shook on it. Or pinky swore. I can't remember exactly. There was definitely a lot of wine involved.  Either way, it was clearly a binding agreement.

You never know where you're going to be ten years from now when you make promises like that with your spouse. Financially, physically, or professionally. You can never know. Peanut wasn't even a glint in our eyes when we made that promise to each other, and ourselves.  So as we sat on our couch shortly after New Year's this year, contemplating whether we should follow through, it was she who weighed mostly on our decision.

Every time I think about her, talk about her, choose to write about her, or do anything at all in fact, it is with Peanut in mind. And anytime I think, talk , write, or do, it dawns on me that she will be this age only once. I want to savor every last moment in time with her and of her. All through her life I've done this. Not so much lamenting. But enjoying. Documenting. Mentally, pictorially, and verbally. Beaming with pride and amazement. We recently watched some videos of her from when she was a baby. What a wonderfully magical yet simple time. How much joy she brought us. How truly blessed we are to have witnessed her discover this awesome world, and for us to rediscover it along with her. Reliving these memories didn't make me sad. It made me thankful. It also made me realize how many times I must have squealed a high-pitched, "yay!" during Peanut's babydom.

I am also thankful to have had those two weeks in Europe with My Director. From Venice we went on

Paris 2013. Still young. Still in love.
(I wear glasses now.)

to Geneva and then Paris. I like to think our marriage is strong, but I also believe all couples need time away. Alone. To reconnect, rekindle, and have an actual conversation during a meal without someone who is either complaining about their dinner or forgetting basic details of their day. All of that being said, I am sad to not have had those two weeks with Peanut. While in hindsight I do not think this trip was for her (a subject for another blog post), that doesn't mean we didn't think of her. Especially during down time and on travel days, we both found ourselves missing her a lot.

The one time we managed to connect via Skype a few days into our trip (communicating was much more difficult than we had anticipated), we could tell by the look on her face that she was so excited to see us. She was missing us, but putting up a strong front without us. That's my girl. She stayed with my sister and her family at what we called "Zia camp." (Zia is aunt in Italian.) Her second week was spent in Wildwood, NJ on vacation with my extended family. A vacation we normally attend. Besides that shaky Skype call that cut out after five minutes, her only true contact with us for two weeks was a daily letter we each wrote her, one for every day we were gone. We wrote them before we left. Some were funny. Some were informational. Some were sentimental. And some were accompanied by gifts inspired either by where in the world we were or she was. Turns out, this was a very good idea. Peanut loved her letter every day and looked forward to that little bit of interaction with us.

My sister said Peanut was very well-behaved. A pleasure. A true joy. This came as no surprise to us. She also adopted our policy of not saying no on vacation, so Peanut never had to wear what she didn't want to wear. Those dresses My Director packed for dinners out, for instance, stayed in the bag. (Peanut currently prefers an active chic look.)

Back-at-home-for-first-tim-together selfie

When we returned, Peanut looked so different from when we left her. Her hair was more blonde from the sun. She was tanned from her vacation. She looked older. Rarely one to be outwardly affectionate, she hugged us both very hard and buried her head into My Director's chest when we first saw her. And because she comes from a long line of guilt trippers, every time we asked her about her vacation she would say, "But you guys went on an adventure. I didn't get to go on an adventure." Way to lay it on thick, kid.

Later that weekend, Peanut and My Director baked a birthday cake for me. We had a belated celebration since we were in Paris on my actual birthday. Peanut knew exactly how she wanted to decorate it with icing in my favorite color - green. She wrote the names of my favorite sports teams on it and spelled "Happy Birthday Dad," too. When I blew out my candles, I told her I had made a good wish. In following tradition, I didn't tell her what I had wished for. But she was quick to tell us she also made a wish and that it was for "you to never break up our family again."

How cute is this cake she made for me?

Ouch, babe.

We had an amazing time in Europe. But I couldn't help but miss her, and I can't help but think of what I missed. And lament. She is at such a great age. An age of learning and understanding. Of critical thinking and reasoning. Of giggling and joking. Of exploring and discovering. And she's just so adorable. I feel this summer has come and gone like every other before it and all of the ones that are yet to be. Too quickly, yet jam-packed with great memories. We made the most of our time with Peanut. A lemonade stand. A dinosaur park. An amusement park. Camping in the backyard. But more often I feel her drifting away. Already.

At age six she has such a busy social life. Between after school activities and play dates, I could go days sometimes without quality Peanut time. There are days where I'll skip the gym to come home early if the weather is nice, only to find her at a friend's house or with a friend over at ours. It's our own little real-life "Cats in the Cradle." And then I lament some more. Then again, there are few sounds I enjoy more than Peanut and a friend giggling at each other in some far off corner of the house. Or even better, hearing her channel her mom's diplomacy and settle a difference of opinion without drama, making her guest feel at home.

As Peanut grows older I realize I want her involved in our once-in-a- lifetime memories from now on. Soon enough she will be making those memories on her own. Our choices cost me some of the best and most precious days of her lifetime. As much as we may try there is no getting them back. I realize this is a nice problem to have. That I am complaining about an otherwise awesome vacation with My Director. Still, no more leaving Peanut behind. I miss her too much. There will come a time where she'll leave us behind. I'll miss her then too. At least I won't have the guilt.

Oddly enough, last summer I wrote a post about being away from her for ONE NIGHT and missing her. You can read it HERE.

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: Stop on Pop

"Certain thoughts are prayers. There are moments when, whatever be the attitude of the body, the soul is on its knees." -Victor Hugo

THIS is gambling. (And creepy.)

Gambling isn't my thing. While I do enjoy fantasy football, filling out my NCAA tournament brackets, and the very occasional trip to the blackjack table, I'm no gambler. That is, at least some skill on my part needs to be involved for me to lay my own money on the line. I don't do slot machines, play the lottery, or amble up to those spinning wheels at the boardwalk or amusement park. Even if I'm going to lose a dollar, or a quarter, I want to do so knowing that my knowledge or ability had something to do with it. So I don't gamble, generally.

Except...

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: Par for the Course

Playing miniature golf with Peanut is finally fun. She's able to play on her own. She's not a sore loser. And she genuinely enjoys it. But she does have trouble counting strokes. 

Let the video replay provide the evidence. Count the strokes, then see how many Peanut says she did it in:

She clearly completed that hole in four strokes, with an impressive shot to finish it if I do say so myself. There are two other videos just like this one. And I only started recording her antics after she had done this on several previous holes. I'm not sure if summer has sapped her counting skills, or if she's a cunning cheater disguised as a diplomatic, for-love-of-the game little girl. Either way, My Director and I are now vigilant, watching her every move on the golf course. 

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A Lesson in Capitalism

"The secret of success is to do the common things uncommonly well." -John D. Rockefeller
As part of our Summer Bucket List, aka the "attempt to relieve ourselves of our guilt for abandoning Peanut while we go to Europe for two weeks" list, we wanted to make a lemonade stand with her. She started asking last summer, but we ran out of time. So I promised myself we'd do it this summer. This past weekend was the time.

I had laid out a business plan:

• Signage must be big, bright, and welcoming. (Peanut and I spent a good hour laying on the floor with magic markers, creating our masterpiece.)
• Location is key. (My Director and I actually disagreed over this. She, as you might expect, turned out to be right. Dammit.)
• Give 'em something no one else has. (We made FRESH lemonade with real lemons and mint from our garden.)
• Set a strategic price point. (At $0.75 a cup, 2 for $1, why not get two? Besides, we're the only game for miles, no? If you're stopping, you're buying.)
• Create a welcoming storefront. (We went for summer bistro.)

Here is the result:

Don't you love the handheld arrow she made?

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Making the Most of the Day

"It's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years." -Abraham Lincoln

This summer, I find myself saying, "I could have used one more day" a lot. To save days off for a two-week trip My Director and I are taking to Europe later this month, I can't afford to extend weekend trips by taking off a Friday or Monday, like I normally would. This past weekend, for example, we made the drive to see My Director's brother and his wife in Vermont. Normally I would have taken Friday or Monday off, not only to extend the trip but to ease the burden of the six-hour drive as well. For the third time this summer, I didn't. Or couldn't. Once again this prompted my, "I could have used one more day." (All of this is a nice problem to have, I know.)

The three of us, rocking the canoe.

We are also not taking Peanut to Europe with us. This is a trip to celebrate our 10th wedding anniversary. European vacations are not for six year-olds, but that's a topic for another post. So we're trying to jam in as much Peanut quality time as we can when we're all together. With that in mind. I found myself trying to relax by the lake on Saturday, sitting in my beach chair and reading my book. Peanut, my brother-in-law, and I had just returned from a fun one-hour canoe trip around the lake. (See: Jamming in fun memories with Peanut before we desert her with my sister for two weeks.) That's when I noticed Peanut had taken my football out of the beach bag.

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Vacation All I Ever Wanted

This year has not gotten off to the start I had anticipated. January was a tougher-than-expected month. While I try to embrace a renewed sense of optimism that comes with New Year's Day, some forces took hold of me shortly thereafter. A combination of work stress, winter blahs, and frustration and boredom of the routine conspired to make that month not as productive, and unfortunately not as embraced, as I would have hoped.

Then February came. I was managing to shake free of those blahs. We even faced and conquered the blizzard that dumped more than a foot of snow on us. But soon thereafter, I was struck with Man Cold. This winter is kicking my a$$. (You may have also noticed I haven't been blogging as regularly as you've come to expect.) While I don't like to complain about the weather since we choose to live here in the northeast, this winter has been the clincher, convincing My Director and I to move someplace warmer when it's time to retire. We may even start taking warm-weather vacations starting next winter. And that got me thinking of warmer times in warmer climates:

Nearly a year ago, we went on our DKL Disney Adventure.

Last summer, Peanut declared one day in particular the Best Day Ever.

One of my favorite memories with Peanut was when we decided to  Go Fly a Kite.

A whirlwind, cross-continental, two-country trip taught me a very valuable lesson. It's What I Learned on My Summer Vacation.

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: Unused Tickets

"If you think summer next year will look like summer last year, it won't." NJ Gov. Chris Christie on Friday

Tomorrow is not guaranteed, let alone next summer. Gov. Christie's sobering reality check about the long road to rebuilding the shore is just the latest hit to life as we know it in New Jersey.

Every year for Easter, my mom gets each of her grandchildren a 100-pack of tickets for the rides on Casino Pier in Seaside Heights, NJ. The tickets go on sale early - for half price - in the spring. My mom, like me, can't pass up a bargain:

Notice the Easter Bunny on the ticket book.

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A Flood of Memories, Washed Away

"When your best hopes and desires are scattered to the wind. And hard times come, and hard times go, and hard times come, and hard times go. Yeah just to come again, bring on your Wrecking Ball." -New Jersey's own Bruce Springsteen

Typing the title to this post brought tears to my eyes. I see the pictures and they're heartbreaking. Devastating. I know these are just things, places that can and will be rebuilt. But they're more than that to me.

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My March-October Bromance

"All summer long, we sang a song and strolled on golden sand. Two sweethearts, and the summer wind." -Frank Sinatra

The days are getting shorter. The air is getting colder. And once again, my days of wearing cargo shorts are over.

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: One Last Summer As My Baby

I came down with a stubborn case of nostalgia this summer. Not helping matters, one night I was looking through baby pictures. (I needed one for a blog post. This post, as a matter of fact.) As I right-clicked my way through Peanut's baby years in a matter of minutes, it hit me. Where did the time go? Where did my baby go? I remember these times so vividly. I remember her so vividly. Baby Peanut. Toddler Peanut. Demon Tantrum Refuses-to-Potty-Train Peanut. Fond memories. Mostly. I tried not to break down. Like on the first day of school, I felt myself getting choked up. But I choked that shizz right back down again.

When Peanut graduated daycare, she looked so grown up standing on that stage receiving her fake diploma. As a result of that image, I decided to call the past few months "one last summer as my baby." I knew it's where I would witness some small steps, but giant leaps for Peanut-kind. And I wanted to make sure to remember them. But most important, enjoy them. I'm glad for these memories. For capturing these moments in time. And for having one last summer as my baby:

She went night swimming with her cousin and
thought it was the coolest thing ever.

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: Adult Swim

"Peanut, why are all of these princesses naked?" 

"Because they're having a swimming party, daddy:"

Now THAT's a party.

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: The Great Outdoors

On paper, or blog site, it sounds like a good idea. Make a lasting memory and have a little summer fun at a relatively low cost. I'm talking about going camping... in the backyard. Not this:

This looks horrible

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I Can't Get Used To This

"My brain is like oatmeal. I yelled at Kenny today for coloring outside the lines. Megan and I are starting to watch the same TV shows, and I'm liking them. I'm losing it." -Jack Butler, Mr. Mom

I don't know why stay-at-home dads complain so much. Complain about their kids not eating. Complain about them not listening. Complain about all of the housework. If you ask me, stay-at-home dads have it pretty darn good.

Or so I thought after I took two days off just for myself in mid-July. My Director was at work. Peanut was at daycare. I had the house to myself. I went for a run, I got errands done, I completed some projects around the house. And those were just the mornings. In the afternoon, I made Starbucks my hangout and I got a lot of writing done. "This is the life," I thought to myself.

My Director thought the same thing, even though she was working. As I dropped her off at the train station for a second straight morning, she said, "I can get used to this."

"Don't," I replied.

I bet she can. But in reality, we both need to work. We both want to work. And even if I were a stay-at-home dad, Peanut wouldn't be in full-time daycare. Half day? Sure. I look back on those two days fondly. I was busy. I got a lot done. And I still cooked fresh meals both days. And it was relaxing.

That was not the case two other days later in the month. When it was just me and Peanut. We try to keep her out of daycare enough to save a month's worth of tuition during summer. And if we're not on vacation, I take off from work to be with her.

On the first day, we were leaving for a quick family vacation as soon as My Director got home from work. I remember looking at the clock at one point in the morning. It read just 8:30am. I was knee deep in laundry. (I needed it for the trip). Peanut hadn't eaten anything. (She "wasn't hungry.") Hell the dog hadn't even peed. (She's high maintenance.)

Some enjoy laundry. I don't

Serenity now.

I quickly tweeted my angst and almost immediately, John, stay-at-home dad extraordinaire from Daddy's in Charge? answered. "Run errands," he suggested. Oh, I've got errands. We're going to IKEA. Big mistake. The whole IKEA experience with Peanut got its own blog post.

Two things I learned in my two days as a stay-at-home dad: First, there's a lot of watching the clock. Stay-at-home dads are like football coaches running a two-minute offense at the end of the half. Budgeting their time and their time outs. Second, you need a game plan. You need activities for pretty much every minute of the day. We did this when she was a baby. How come we don't do this anymore? When did we lose control?

On my second stay-at-home day, I did have a plan. We ate breakfast and went to the playground. I followed Peanut on each piece of equipment. I noticed a little boy who couldn't have been more than eighteen months old was all by himself on one of the slides. I said out loud, "I bet your parents are paying someone a lot of money not to watch you on the playground." Then I noticed another little boy knock over a girl whose mother was busy talking on her cell phone. Mortified, the boy's mother quickly apologized. I said, "That may not have happened if she wasn't talking on the phone."

I realized then I would make very few friends at the playground if I were a stay-at-home dad. But I would discover her doing new and exciting things I'd never seen her do before. Like this:

You can see annoying, unattended little boy
invading Peanut's personal space

We came back for lunch, and I was going to take the Peanut to see the Jets at training camp. (She is a Giants fan, much to my chagrin. I'm doing what I can to subtly influence her opinion.) But they moved practice inside because of thunderstorms. Crap.

I had no backup plan. So we played princesses. We made a train out of her little chairs and I was the conductor. We watched Cinderella. We watched the same freakin' episode of Strawberry Shortcake on Netflix three times. I was going a little insane.

The train thing is kind of my specialty

At 4pm I called My Director at work. "Any chance you're coming home early?" Nope.

She then told me if I didn't let her off the phone she wouldn't get her work done in time to leave.

"Well, is your assistant there? Does she want to talk to me?" (Often when I call, My Director's assistant will pick up and we will strike up a conversation. She's very friendly.)

"No, she's not at her desk," my wife told me. "You're really struggling for some adult conversation, aren't you?"

Yes. Yes I am.

"You'd never make it as a stay-at-home dad."

No... I wouldn't. This is why I think my friend John is himself slowly going insane. And why I enjoy reading his blog.

This is also why I couldn't wait to go back to my high-pressure, deadline-filled, demanding job in television news. So I can relax.

This post originally appeared on Daddy's in Charge? last summer. Thanks to John for posting it on his site. Please check out his blog. He does awesome videos starring Legos and even did one featuring me and the Peanut right here on DKL. You can also follow him on Facebook or Twitter.

And if you want to know what happened when me and Peanut went to IKEA, click here.

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: Our New Addition

"They want you to cook the dinner; at least they ought to let you shop for some of the groceries. " -Bill Parcells

That quote is from one of the best football coaches in my lifetime, explaining why he also wanted to be general manager of the team and pick the players he was coaching. "Shop for some of the groceries," if you will. That is why I do the food shopping in our house. I cook the meals, so it makes sense that I shop for the groceries.

I have it down to a science. I go alone. I am usually in and out in 45 minutes. (Remember: I don't lollygag. Ever.) I also do my own bagging and unloading. (The kitchen is my domain. And I'm a control freak.) I keep a running list of items we need on a pad of paper hanging on the refrigerator.

The quality of my penmanship is inversely
proportional to the urgency with which I am writing.

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: Best Day Ever

We arrived for a brief beach vacation last Saturday afternoon. (Brief for me and My Director. We had to go back to work on July 5th while Peanut stayed with my in-laws.) Almost immediately, Peanut wanted to go to the beach. So after we unpacked, we suited up, lathered up, and headed up the block and over the dunes.

We played in the waves for more than an hour. Peanut was in her glory, but we had to get back to the house for dinner. So Peanut bid adieu to the beach for now by performing a "sand angel." A shower quickly followed.

The next day, bright and early, Peanut asked me every five minutes if we could go to the beach. A full day of fun in the sun was in order. Once I had eaten breakfast, inhaled coffee, and had my mandatory "reading time" in the bathroom, we left. We arrived so early, we had beaten the lifeguards. As the three of us waded in the crashing waters of the Atlantic Ocean, Peanut holding our hands either for support or to catapult herself higher over the waves, she boldly declared this "the best day ever." Already. It wasn't even 10am.

Here are some of the highlights.

Stars and stripes forever

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Cantaloupe and Prosciutto Salad with Perfectly Grilled Chicken and Potatoes for #SundaySupper

In my ongoing search for delicious and nutritious recipes to try and - if they're successful - add to my arsenal,  sometimes I hit the jackpot. That's what I did with this salad. It is a re-imagined version of the old Italian prosciutto and melon appetizer. I have already made it twice this summer for backyard get-togethers. And it's a hit. It'll be a hit for your July 4th party:

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: So Long, Summer 2011

As Peanut and I hunker down to wait out Irene (my wife is working... in the city... making sure the thousands of students she's in charge of are safe), I'm thinking about another amazing summer full of happy memories. Here are the highlights:

Drinking from the sprinkler

Pure joy

The frog exhibit at the Museum of Natural History

Ribbit

Ain't that America? Happy 4th!

Fearless

She digs the beach

We had a slight sand-throwing issue

Vacation = Dora ice pops for lunch

I'm on a boat!

She's tall enough now

Loves the merry-go-round

(In case you were wondering)

That smile makes it all worth it

All by herself

Driving on the right side... very British

Painful and tedious... I mean... a great time

Manicure.

She wiped her mouth on my white linen shirt

Then passed out with Luna standing guard

Spent

Our annual beach tradition (her name's a bit long)

Waiting for high tide in the hole we dug

My wife's favorite picture

A weekend in Vermont wouldn't be complete....

...without some Ben & Jerry's on your face

They had a face painter at daycare this day (annoying)

Loving the tea cups (I was nauseous)

We spent $15 to "win" this and she could care less about it

Going under all by herself

More ice cream...at Great Adventure...on my birthday

She's not a fan of the heat

Big lizard statues are ok though

Summer goes by way too fast, doesn't it? Which was your favorite picture? My favorite memory from summer was the subject of an earlier "Peanut Gallery." Click here to see it.

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