One Thing I Won't Miss

We keep a digital photo frame by our front door. My mother-in-law gave me the frame. It sits on a music cabinet that Daphne's grandpa made. That way we keep it all in the family. The frame displays pictures from Char's first day, her birthdays, her school days, our family vacations, holidays, and other fun odds and ends. 

The pictures are mostly in chronological order, and sometimes I'll get stuck standing in front of the frame watching baby pictures of Charlotte crawl by. 

It makes my heart ache with a mixture of love, pride, and loss. 

The feelings of love and the pride are easy to explain. The feeling of loss is a bit trickier. It stems from the passage of time. 

I'll use a running analogy. I used to be a runner: marathons, road races, running clubs... the whole bit. That was over ten years ago. I see people running now, and I think Man, I miss being a runner. That looks like so much fun. 

Here's the thing; it's been so long since I've run anywhere that I forgot how grueling running can be. You have to deal with unexpected injuries, sore muscles, endless hills, fighting dehydration, aching feet, and uneven pavement. I've fought my way through pouring rain, extreme cold, high winds, and even hail. It can be so exhausting. Running is not for the faint of heart. It is hard work.

The same goes for parenting. I look at those early pictures and I forget about all the tough stuff. You have to deal with unexpected injuries, unexpected illnesses, and unexpected dirty diapers. There's the endless screaming, the endless crying, and the endless nights that go with them. Your days are filled with binkies, bath times, and Bubble Guppies. And there's that real fear that you'll lose their favorite pacifier or stuffed animal, and your world will end. It can be so exhausting. Parenting is not for the faint of heart. It is hard work.

But then I walk by that digital picture frame and see baby Charlotte smiling at me. That's when all the memories of that work washes away, and I think Man, I miss having a toddler. That looks like so much fun. 

And that's when my feelings of loss kick in. I won't have a toddler again. Those days are gone. Time moves in only one direction, and each picture is a landmark that cannot be returned to. All those moments that I'll never get back flash in succession before me, and I start to fall into a rabbit hole of sadness. 

Do you know what saves me from my despair?

These damn things.

These horrible grocery carts remind me that having a little one wasn't always fun and games. 

Char had just turned three years old when we moved into our new neighborhood. She was about two years younger than the youngest neighbor living there, and she wasn't included in a lot of their playgroup games. One child had a battery-powered car that could carry two children. 

The kid would drive by our house with a passenger, and they would shout at Charlotte who was standing in our driveway. They'd yell, "Hi, Charlotte." Char would shout a hopeful "Hi!" in return, but they never stopped, and they never offered her a ride. It was just a quick wave and a giggle and off they'd go down the sidewalk. 

I hated that car. 

I also think that car was the reason we would have to get the "race car" every time we went grocery shopping with our daughter. It was finally her chance to get a ride. 

There are the three reasons why I also hated these carts.

1) The Competition. 

We usually went grocery shopping on weekends. There could be up to 15 little kids in the store and only three racing carts. Char would be crushed when we didn't get a race car and another kid in one would glide past us with a wave and a giggle. More than once I have stopped driving in the parking lot to let Daphne get out to run to the cart corral and grab a racer before some other parent did. That's way too much pressure on you when all you really want is a gallon of milk.

"Quick! Go grab it! Trip that other mom if you have to!"

2) They're unwieldily. 

Check out the wheel placement on this cart. The wheels in the middle (under the 32) are in a fixed position to roll straight. The front and rear wheels rotate. This makes the racer cart turn much differently that a regular shopping cart. It should be second nature to push one of these around, but it's not. I'd turn wildly into end caps, bang into freezer doors, and sideswipe other people's carts. Trying to turn around in the middle of the aisle was a nightmare. I could ram another customer or swipe boxes of cereal off of a shelf. It was embarrassing. I felt like an idiot. To make things worse, Charlotte would scold me, "Daaad! Steer better!"

3) They're uncomfortable. 

Look at that cockpit. There's hardly any room. If your kid's feet touch the "floor" their knees are going to be pressed right against the cart's basket. Despite her insistence, even at three Char's legs were already too long for her to easily fit in there. Her discomfort made her crabby, and she could dissolve into a teary fit. More than once I had to take our crying child out to our real car to get her to calm down. 

For me, these carts are a healthy reminder that sometimes a parent just can't win, and it's better to look forwards than backwards. 

But I'm not giving up my picture frame. 

Char's First Sleepover: Parent Edition

Char's night at Camp Sacajawea was a success for her, but what about her parents? How did we do?

We wanted to make sure Charlotte had a good meal before we got to the campgrounds, so we stopped at the Great Harvest Bread Co. in Ames. The sky was overcast and the high was in the lower 40s. A bowl of chili and a slab of cornbread made for a perfect fall lunch. The owner stopped by our table with some large, sample slices of cinnamon roll. Dipping the roll into the chili brought back memories of being a teenager. This wouldn't be the only time.

To my surprise, I began to get sick to my stomach as we drove towards the campgrounds near Boone. I knew my stomach wasn't protesting lunch. So, what was going on? What was I nervous about?

For Char, the drop off went fine. Once she found her friends, she barely took time to say goodbye to us. She just waved and turned away, but then one of the girls pushed her towards Daphne, "Charlotte, you gotta give your mom a hug. Sheesssh!" I got a brief hug, too. 

Then a funny thing happened on the way back to our car. I teared up. It wasn't a full-on cry, but I did have to wipe away tears and then blow my nose. I didn't see that reaction coming, and I made sure Char didn't see it, either.

When I left home for my freshman year of college, my dad went golfing before my vehicle was packed. I was carrying a stereo speaker to the van when he said, "Well, you take care of yourself, bud," and he took off on our old moped.

I told Mom I thought that was weird. She put a hand on my shoulder and confided, "I don't think he wanted you to see him cry."

The thought of my Dad crying seemed so out of character for him, but now I completely understand. The fact that he was on a moped, a vehicle for one, makes that memory even more sad.

The drive from Boone to Urbandale took us past many farms and through a couple of small towns. I couldn't help thinking about growing up in Rock Valley. I tried to shake off the memories when we got to Urbandale.

For our date, we went to see A Star is Born at Flix. It was a 2:30 show, and I didn't think we'd get a "Can I come home now?" call from Charlotte that early in the day. Daphne kept checking her phone for messages, though.

A Star is Born is very well made, but watching a guy spiral out of control wasn't something I was in the mood to watch, especially since I had been remembering my dad. I kept thinking, I don't want to see this again. I left for the bathroom just to take a break from the film. I was relieved to leave the warm Flix theater for the cold air in the parking lot when the movie was over.

Despite the cold and the dark, Daphne wanted to go on a walk when we got home. "I just don't know what else to do," she explained. We walked, talked, and wondered how things were going for Charlotte. 

Our dinner was meat, cheese, and chips at the table. We watched YouTube videos on my laptop while we ate. I said, "Char would be so jealous," and Daphne laughed in agreement. 

Daphne later struggled to find something to watch on Netflix, "The choices can be overwhelming." I walked from the garage to the basement and back again more than a few times, but eventually we found ways to settle down. Being a twosome at home felt strange, but we made it work. Having Charlotte is the best thing we have ever done, but parenting her is not the only thing we do.

We will all be more confident in our survival skills when Charlotte has another sleepover. The night will be easier, but not a thing I will be looking forward to.

I am also confident that when Char leaves for college, I will be crying like a rain shower.

Digital Memories

Last night we carved Charlotte's pumpkin. She used a program on Starfall.com to design it.

Here's the pumpkin she wanted.

I think I got pretty close.

Char was happy, and Maggie approved, too.

I might have had better pictures to share, but I left our digital camera in the coat I forgot at school. I'm not used to wearing coats, yet. I took these pictures with the camera we inherited from Daphne's mom. I don't use Deb's camera very often, and I'm not familiar with its settings.

I got a little choked up when I connected her camera to my computer. I had forgotten that all of Deb's pictures were still in the camera's memory. Scrolling through these pictures is not like reading someone's diary, but it is personal. These pictures are images of what she saw, valued, and loved. It's a chance to see the world through her eyes. What a great way to remember somebody.

Here are a few glimpses from Deb's world.

Usually, I'm the family photographer, so this is a rare picture of baby Charlotte and me.



Char's first haircut.

Here's one of the few times Charlotte spent the day at Grandma Deb's house.

This picture was taken during a day of baking cookies with her girls. Nice aprons, ladies.

This is my favorite. The four of us went trick or treating in Valley Junction. 

My costume is Donnie Darko, but no one ever gets it.

I don't give out much advice, but if you can take digital pictures, then I think you should as often as you can. Digital photography is one of great technological advances of our time. You can take thousands of pictures for such little money. If you have to buy extra memory for storage, then save up and buy it.

The next time you're at a family function or surrounded by loved ones, take as many pictures as humanly possible. You don't have to make people pose, either. Nothing records real life like an unscripted and candid photo (in the picture of Char's first haircut, check out Daphne's reaction in the mirror). So don't ask for permission. Just shoot away. Your subjects might not appreciate that, but someone else will.

I can promise you that.