(She’s not too far off…)
I think everyone was like this in the 60’s
Tag: Kids
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Apple Pickin’
Apple picking is hokey, corny, and a sad excuse for city people to play farmer. We drive way out to the country to go to a “farm” and then pay to pick apples, which half of them will rot in our homes as we try to figure out what to do with 10 lbs. of apples.
I have a fraught relationship with apple picking, but after nine years of it, I have come to love this part of our Fall tradition.
The first time I went a’pickin’ was when the kid was a baby, and the “farm” was this almost amusement-park-of-a-place why out in the sticks of New Jersey. It took like thirty minutes to get into the place, the parking was so bad. The line for tickets was long, and then when you got in the joint, all the trees had been picked over. (There were pony rides!) And leaving the place took an hour. It was like leaving a rock concert, but with way more produce. I felt silly being there, like I was being conned.
The next time I went was when my parents came to visit New York, and were staying upstate, as they were traveling in a motorhome. My wonderful wife found an orchard not too far from where my folks were staying. That was a way more enjoyable experience. It wasn’t crowded, lots of apples, a large orchard to wander around, and most importantly, the kid had a good time. With the exception of the Covid Years, we have gone back to the apple farm year after year.
And as each year goes by, I start looking forward to it, more and more. It has become our tradition, and an activity that we can yardstick our year, and also gage how much the kid has grown and changed. It’s also the gateway into Autumn for us, as the drive takes us out of the City and into the woods of small town upstate. The changing leaves, and Halloween decorations sprinkled about every corner. Maybe it wasn’t as cool as it was last year, and the leaves were more yellow than any other color… but Fall had arrived for our family.
Which also included the dog.
(The dog was totes ready for some apple pickin’) -
Parent/Teacher Day
It’s Parent/Teacher Day and my kid’s school!
You know who’s excited about Parent/Teacher Day? My daughter! She dressed me up for it. She wanted me in a sportscoat, and I was happy to oblige her. Instead of having this meeting at night, which I feel is normal for most schools, our school decided to hold this meeting in the day, so the parents could see the kids… you know, in their natural environment?
For the record, anytime the Parent/Teacher Meeting comes up, I tell the kid that if she’s good, she will get pizza for dinner, and if she’s bad then it’s poison. Then she saw that episode of The Simpsons, and now she gets my joke. She also thinks I’m not that original.
The meeting was fine. The kids were well behaved, and I like the kid’s teachers as they do a very good job, and the kid loves them. We were shown the progress they have made in their subjects, and what we can do as parents to help them with their school work. All in all, it was a cute hour to spend at her school.
As I was leaving the school, just walking down the street, I had one of those moments where it washed over me how much “parent” defines my life. Most days I don’t feel like a parent, more like a pretend parent making it up as I go. I am aware that most other parents feel the same way, and in fact, the world is made up of half-assed adults faking their way through parenthood. (It really is a wonder that human civilization has developed as well as it has, being that everyone is faking it…) But on a day like today, I felt like “I am parent,” instead of “I’m trying to be a parent.” That doesn’t mean I feel confident as a parent, just that “I am” one.
Does that make sense?
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ODDS and ENDS: Surprised I’m Here, Gotta Have Goals, and Sports
(Nothin’ to do, nowhere to go…)
I’m forty-seven years old. Not ashamed of my age, and other than a slight pot belly, I think I look rather good for my age. But for the life of me, when I was a kid, like nine years old, I never imagined that I would be this old. Well, sometimes I thought I’d be really old, like eighty, walking with a cane, shuffling around, being all grandpa like. No, when I was a kid, I thought I’d be in my twenties, and then, nothing. Thirty seemed like it was so far away, let alone forty. That some how, it couldn’t be possible that I would live that long. Not that I had some death wish, or believed I was doomed. No, it was more a matter of time. It’s time, the time it would take to become old seemed insurmountable. There just was no way that I could become that old… When I think about me at nine year old, I think he would be surprised that I am still here. And so bald…
But the thing that makes getting older tolerable, is having a goal. Something to work towards, or look forward to. My Grandma Groff used to say that all the time when she would come and visit. That and it helps to have some spending money. But the goal thing, having something to accomplish, that has made a big difference if the last year for me. Not that it’s completely gone, but I don’t have that feeling of flounder much any more. That I’m just passing through my life, instead of being active in it.
Growing up, we were a sports family, and then there was me; the un-athletic kid. I mean I tried. I tried my hand at baseball and basketball up through junior high. I really did love playing baseball, but I wasn’t athletically gifted; Batting ninth and right field were my lot. I took tennis lessons in high school, as my dad believed that we should do something physical, and not be a total loaf. I was pretty good at tennis, but I didn’t have the killer instinct for me to actually be competitive. After high school, I stopped playing any sort of sport. And then I had a daughter, who now is very into soccer. Which is cool, because I really like watching it. In my kid’s mind, watching soccer must mean that I know how to play soccer, right? I had written a week or so ago about helping the kid get ready for the soccer club try out. I enjoyed that, mainly because I was spending time with my daughter, but it was good being out and active. I also see in her mind’s eye that she is starting to think I am an athletic type of person. I enjoy this admiration I am receiving from her, but I know that in a year of two, it’s going to dawn on her how awkward and uncoordinated I really am.
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In Demand Primary Caregiver
The goal over the past few days was to get the kid healthy enough to head back to school on Monday. That meant sticking to the medication schedule, no missed doses, and staying hydrated and getting enough sleep. The kid hadn’t ran a fever since Friday, but there still was a cough. The advice from her doctor was that if the fever was gone for 24+ hours, then she wasn’t contagious and she could return to school.
Mission accomplished; The kid returned to school this morning.
Unfortunately, there was a trade off, and that was the wife got sick. Not as bad as the kid, but low fever, body aches, and general exhaustion. That poor gal has been doing her best to rally, but honestly, she just needs to rest. I have her back in bed, curled up with a blanket, and I bring her coconut water, and toast.
All the while, I need to keep my ass clean and healthy. Somebody has to keep this home running.
And that is my job. I am a stay at home parent; stay at home dad; primary caregiver. And I do enjoy it. I didn’t think I would be here, and nor do I know how long I will get to be here. Two incomes would make our life easier, and though blogging and writing short stories for online magazines is one most lucrative side hustle out there, the financial windfall has yet to break my way. Putting a coat and tie on, and going out in the world and earning money still might be in my future.
But at this moment, where I am right now – I make sure people get out the door on time, and the bills are paid, and meals are planned. Lunches get made, and the kid gets dropped off/picked up. I get time. Time to be with my wife, and time with my daughter. I get time to write little ditties like this, and see if someone out there might find this a little funny.
I’m not blessed. Just lucky.
