Having kids has revealed to me a whole spectrum of emotions that I’ve never felt before.
The adoring love of a little one who is unable to express that love back (yet). The empty helplessness when your baby is coughing and feverish, but the doctor’s advice is to just wait it out. The innocent joy in the smallest of milestones.
And the other day, there was a new one that I think I could’ve lived life without and been just fine: the revelation that sometimes I can just be a piece of poop in jeans and a t-shirt.
I was enjoying what I believed was well-deserved free time, playing Super Smash Brothers on the Wii. I had just brought the Wii up from Florida, so it was fun to reclaim yet another little bit of my former less stressful life.
The boy liked to watch me play. He liked seeing the colorful characters jump and fly all over the screen, all set to dramatic music and funny sound and voice effects. However, he tired of it and got a book out of his stash and tried to hand it to me. I told him to hold on and continued to pummel Bowser a little more.
When I had my fill of the game, I turned off the Wii and put the controllers down. The boy picked them up and started mashing the buttons. He likes to see the blue lights that flash when you hit a button.
He was happily playing pretend-Wii when I decided to run a little experiment. I think I already knew what would happen, but I had to see it through. I had already judged myself guilty, and now it was time for the evidence.
I picked up one of my son’s books and held it out to him.
“Do you want to read this book with me?”
He looked up from his button-mashing and smiled. He put the controllers down and moved towards me, ready to take his usual seat in my lap during book readings. Dang.
Cool Baby was happy to put down the irresistible white with blue-blinky-lights super-fun gadgets to read a book with his daddy. I don’t think I even took my eyes off the screen when he asked the same.
I’ll leave the comparisons to how I treat God as an exercise to the reader.
Yeah, that was some raw conviction that I could’ve done without, but I think it’s better for my family that it happened. And the beautiful thing about children – and God – was that it was back to adoring love just a few minutes later.
Sometimes I feel like the shortest person in New York City. I know that I’m not, but it seems like everyone just towers over me on the subway. Guys, girls, dogs.
Two friends, both 6′2, and I watched passersby in Macy’s when one said, “I wish I was taller.”
My quick reply: “Yeah, you guys are real shrimps” as I craned my neck to look him in the eye.
Of course, being short has its disadvantages:
- trying to look cool while on my tippy-toes reaching a top shelf at the store
- having my view often blocked during movies, concerts, and church services
- constant risk of getting turned away for thrill rides at theme parks (OK, maybe I’m not that short)
Despite all of this, I’ve embraced my shortness. I don’t want to stress anymore about the way that God made me. His design truly is intelligent. For example: I’m afraid of heights, so God kept my head close to the ground (or the other way around – either way, it works).
The advantages of shortness:
- Legroom in cars and planes not that big of a deal
- My toes never reach past the foot of the bed and get cold
- I can’t remember the last time I knocked my head on, well, anything
- Clothes are cheaper in the young mens’ sections of stores (or so someone told me)
Honestly, shortness isn’t a serious “condition” at all, but it’s an example of a bodily trait that I could dislike, be ashamed of, or feel resentful for. Especially in the big, tall, competitive city.
To God’s credit and by His grace, it’s not an issue for me anymore. I’m grateful, and I’m happy, no matter how many times I get turned away for “It’s a Small World.”
I just made a goofy immature joke to Cool Mum, to which she responded, “Are you really 32 years old?”
It’s kind of painful to see it typed out like that, but I don’t feel 32. A client at work kindly told me that I looked 24 (God bless ‘im). I sure as heck don’t act 32. My salary and career advancement don’t act that age either.
I asked CM how I old I act. “22.” Hey, twenty-somethings are the coolest people in America, right?
How old do you act?
Our cool points have been taking a beating as of late, and we’re barely staying afloat at 34 cp (alright). Well, we’re still up in NYC and having fun, so that’s gotta be good for something. Here’s a rundown of what’s been going on.
- There’s a very fun place for kids to play, but the membership fee was quite steep (for us frugal Floridians). We took the boy there for a free promotional night, and I must confess, I got a little misty-eyed seeing how much fun he was having.
Here’s this amazing 1 and a 1/2-yr old who’s been lugged around the Southeastern US and Europe, and now plucked from his quiet, comfy Florida home and dropped in the middle of loud, hectic Manhattan. I reminisce about what and who we’ve left behind, but at least I understand why we’re not there anymore. Cool Baby does not have that luxury.
Cool Mum and I realized that we moved here for our excitement and fun. We needed to sacrifice a little to give the boy some fun and excitement all his own, so we bought the membership pretty much the next day. [+10 cool points]
- We’ve never seen the Food Network show Throwdown, but my co-worker told me about a bakery on the Upper West Side that won one episode for the best chocolate chip cookie. After that, I couldn’t stop thinking about the place.
Last weekend, after some time at CB’s new stomping grounds, we walked through the falling snow to the renowned Levain Bakery. Again, our cheap selves would normally balk at a $3.75 chocolate chip cookie, BUT this is how it was described to me:
“huge mound”
“crispy on the outside, chewy in the middle”
“warm with melted chocolate chips”
“like eating a hamburger”
I felt destined to patronize the bakery, so patronize we did. Some out-of-focus shots of these little mounds of heaven:
Oh man, those pictures bring me back. Anyway, I feel pretty cool for having what the Food Network thinks is the best chocolate chip cookie in New York, and that we didn’t let $3.75 each stop us. For one moment, I guess I felt like a real Manhattanite, and not a crazy weird miserly neurotic who keeps track of how cool he is using a points system. [+5 cool points]
- Tomorrow, we plan to meet friends for brunch at The Shake Shack, take CB to his play place, and CM might take a dance lesson. And none of those things involve a laptop (unless I get creative). I can’t remember the last time, if ever, we met someone for “brunch.” I feel like we should take a chopper out to The Hamptons on Sunday. Who are we and what have we done with the Cool ‘Rents?? [+10 cool points]
Just a thought after the inauguration:
Would President Barack Obama be as fervently beloved if George W. Bush had done better than what’s believed to be a bad job (22% approval rating)?
In other words, how much do you think of the hype and rejoicing is because of the end of the Bush presidency?
