Movement

I used to be fairly active...even with kids! I surfed nearly every other week, skated on days in between. We would walk a mile or two to various parks, sometimes twice a day. At the park I would climb poles and do dips on the handrails, chase Ellie around or whatever I could to do little "Dad workouts." But then we moved, and now I am probably the weakest I've been since I learned to love surfing. I like to blame it all on my lack of surfing, but I know it's not true, and today was reaffirmation of that.

My car was acting up, and in an effort to not get stranded, we walked the same distance to a park that I used to walk while in Redondo Beach (0.5 miles). I also climbed the jungle gym, hung (hanged?) upside down on monkey bars, and chased my kids around. It felt good, and I had to wonder why I quit doing those things. The answer is that the park we prefer to go to is a whopping 0.7 miles away, much too far to walk, right? And so we drive. While there, I do chase the girls around and play, but in a more subtle way with little climbing and hanging on the kid's toys, mostly because I already feel weird enough being one of the only stay-at-home dads out there, so I try to not be any weirder by acting like one of the kids. But how ridiculous is that? Caring what a bunch of gossiping moms think about me having fun with my kids...Oh well, maturity comes slow for some.

My prime dadness...so far.

Anyway, the point of all this is that I think movement escapes us slowly, and so it is difficult to realize when it is gone. I know when I first got married I took a desk job and sat in tons of traffic to and from work. Before I knew it I had gained 15 pounds and was falling asleep on the couch half the time from lack of exercise. I started taking the train to work, skating as much as I could to and from, which helped dramatically. That experience always stuck with me, as it took a realization that things had unknowingly and gradually gotten bad, so I needed to make a change. Well, today is another one of those days.

I think we will be walking much more in the near future, and I will certainly be climbing the outside of jungle gyms, setting terrible examples for my kids and everyone else's out there (sorry). As for the surfing? Hey, maybe we'll move back to California! Or I guess I could just start working out...bah.

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Ode to a Cool Dad

Kind of the whole purpose of this blog is to try to be a really good dad, while also pursuing the passions that drove me before fatherhood entered my life. I remember when Ellie was first born I had a friend who marveled at the fact that I still was able to surf every couple weeks. "When I had my kid I didn't do anything," he said. It made me feel good, of course, and hopefully not in a vain way; but I hope this whole blog relays that message well, and inspires some dads out there to do the same.

But one thing I haven't mentioned enough is where this whole drive came from: my own dad. My dad is really remarkable, and the older he gets, he still never ceases to amaze and inspire me. He taught me to surf, bringing me out when I was probably only 7 or 8 years old. I have a memory of the 80s-style heavy glassed board flying up in the air and hitting me in the head, causing me to run to the beach in tears and essentially putting a major pause on my surfing "career." He was always one to push me, probably ushering me back out into the waves (I don't remember if it was the same day though, maybe because of the head injury), but not to the point that I was sobbing in the water while he held the board and threw me into the waves. I eventually got really into the sport, of course, but had some detours along the way.

Dad, shredding at Folly.

About that same time I was into baseball, and he was always either the coach or assistant coach on my team. He also coached my sister's soccer team when she got into that. Martial arts was always a part of our household, as he is currently a fifth-degree black belt in Shaolin Kempo, and though my sister and I floated in and out of the sport, he was always teaching or bringing us along. Chuck Norris was always an acceptable figure in our household, and I used to love perusing the aisles of Hollywood Video checking out Jet Li kung fu movies that he and I would watch together. He ended up starting his own karate studio when I was in middle/high school, which is still here today, though he later exited the business to go back to school and get his masters degree.

When I got into skateboarding, he was in the driveway cruising around, showing me the skate moves he did when he was a kid in the seventies. Him and my mom let me build a halfpipe in the backyard, despite the noise, the danger, the potential lawsuits from neighborhood kids and the nest of black widow spiders it attracted. When I got into skate videos, of course he supported it, and when I decided not to be an architect and instead pursue filmmaking, he hung posters of my favorite movies around the house at my graduation party, never deterring me for a second from trying my hand at an incredibly difficult and competitive job.

Helping me move across the country.

On top of all this was teaching me to snowboard (there's a funny story there), teaching me how to work on cars (though I hated it, I know a ton now), helping me get my first car (a 1965 Mustang that didn't run until we fixed it) and then later giving me his 1986 Mustang GT convertible (more stories there as well). He can fix anything, learn anything and essentially has no limits. I know this because he is still going hard, even with two knee replacements and major shoulder surgery done in the last two years, not to mention a gnarly broken rib from a snowboarding accident not too long before that.

Our first car show together. Dad's 2001 GT on the left and my 86 on the right.

I'll wrap this post up here, because honestly this blog could be pages and pages! Camping trips, kayaking, canoeing, painting, motorcycle riding, hiking on the Appalachian Trail, building projects, mission trips abroad, volunteering at the church, playing drums, running his own business, killing it at softball and so much more. His most recent endeavor (and really a lifelong passion that is hitting its fruition) has been car racing. My dad has always been into cars, and has endless stories of street races when he was a kid and working on this car and that, suping them up and customizing the heck out of them. We nearly always had a Mustang in our household, and right now he has three! One of them is a 1999 Cobra that he has fitted for racing. Last month I got to go on a race with him and see what he does firsthand. I have to say that I cannot believe he goes this fast in a mechanical beast, surrounded by a forty other guys doing the same thing on a track that changes with the weather. Still, it very much suits him and he is very good at it. I cut together this little video compiling a few races as well as my ride along, which freaked me out so much that it was probably my last!

I'll finish this with a massive "Thanks Dad!" I know, know, know, know, know that you are the reason I pursue any of these passions that I do today, and not only that, but work hard to be a good and involved dad, just as you were. Know that you inspired, and continue to inspire me, and I'll continue in your footsteps the best I can. I love you!

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Irritation Iration

I have been very irritable with the girls lately, and asking God why it is happening. As far as I can reckon, it is a mixture of not getting enough rest and dealing with the same problems over and over again, day after day. Oh yeah, and this stupid poison ivy! I don't mean to keep writing about it, but this ivy has taken over my life! I can't touch the girls without fear of spreading it to them. It's painful and a constant irritation. I really wouldn't wish this on anyone, and as I mentioned in the first ivy post, I can't imagine a lifelong illness like this.

Anyway, I doubt this is the only reason I have been short with the girls. I remember working at a high school and about a few weeks after spring break most of the teachers were pretty checked out, along with the students. It then became a collective rally to finish the year strong, which most did; but I can totally understand why. I think I may be hitting my post-spring break slump as a parent, and I'm not sure what to do about it...

As I am writing this I had to stop to reprimand Waverly for making a big mess out of her lunch. As I told her she was going to clean it up, she started walking away. I unleashed the power of my Dad-voice: a seldom-heard boom that stops cold the hearts of children. However, this voice has been showing up more and more lately, which makes me feel like I'm reaching my wits end.

I just told the girls to go in their room because I need a break. "You're not in trouble." I said, "But I and getting upset with you and that's not what I want to do, so clearly I need a break." And I shut the the door. I doubt they understand it, or ever will until they have their own kids, but I had to do something! I guess these little quiet moments are supposed to get me by until I can find some solace on the seashore, or maybe even just some TV time later this evening.

When I think about it, the word "iration" keeps coming to mind, which I learned is not actually a word but a reggae band. Hey, maybe chilling to some reggae is the answer!

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Curandera

I wrote the last two weeks about poison ivy, and then our family camping trip. Well, it turns out the two were intertwined in a way I did not expect...

The family that came on the camp with us were some friends from Los Angeles, and so naturally they are into a more "natural" lifestyle (as is everyone in LA, right?). So when I shared my poison ivy woes with them, Anel, the wife and mother, went immediately to essential oils to try and help. My wife is into these oils as well, and we use them regularly around the house aromatically and topically. It is difficult sometimes to really say if they work or not, but it seems pretty sound to me, and is certainly more natural than Western medicine. (What is funny about it is that I can cite several couples where the female is really into this stuff, and the male just goes along with it, retaining some level of skepticism. I can see the same thing true in our household too. I guess men are just cynical sometimes...)

Before I knew it I was being doused with frankincense, lavender and peppermint, and felt like an oiled up pro wrestler afterwards. Of course I can't say for sure if it worked or not, but the itch did seem lessened (the lavender) and the wounds began to ooze and then dry up. It could have been just the right time for my body to heal, but I would venture to say the oils helped speed up the process. Anel said she had curandera in her blood, or Mexican witch doctor, and that as she delved into this world of natural healing, she felt that she was channeling that part of her ancestry. On this weekend I was certainly appreciative, and as I write this a few days later with healing sores, I must say I am grateful for the curandera in her!

What struck me most about the whole thing, however, was the timing. I was truly in despair the days leading into this trip, as my poison ivy was not healing, but spreading all over. I felt like I was fighting a losing battle. But when we arrived, Anel's husband Josh, told me he had struggled with extreme reactions to poison ivy his whole life, and was able to share some remedies, as well as express the normalcy of the route my sores were in. They were on the backend of the healing, of which he was able to assure me from his own experience, which brought an ease to my troubled mind.

I don't believe in coincidence, and so I have to conclude that God lined this up -- my poison ivy and this trip -- for my comfort. I'm not trying to make any statements about whether or not God causes pain, but rather to say that he is good in our pain. I received the comfort and assurance from my friends at just the right time, in a way I never expected, and it brought me through to the last leg of this topical illness that felt like it was never going to end. It is just another lesson in a lifetime of learning how to trust God more than my own feelings or emotions.

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