44 & 16

As a testament to how busy our lives have become, I bring you this blog entry – a full 10 days after our birthdays – that will test the limits of my degraded memory. To be totally honest, I had more or less given up on the idea of getting around to this specific post until last night. Cole found some of the old entries and asked “do you write a blog for every birthday?” “Yes,” I said, and like 2 seconds later, I realized I had just lied to him. Ugh.

Our dual birthday landed on a Monday, that saddest of days. Cole pointed out to both Mad and me that this occurred because “it’s a leap year this year and if it wasn’t your birthday probably would have been on Sunday instead.” A wealth of knowledge, that guy. Anyway, I asked Madison if she wanted me to order pizza for her and her friends at lunch and she told me no in no ambiguous terms. I don’t think she wanted the attention or the endless line of classmates and friends and randos saying things like “I like one slice” or “Try give me one bite” or “I like your ends, then”. A good call, I suppose. I was serenaded by my AP class and tried to plow through my day. The Mets logged a comeback win against the Braves (sorry, dad), and Lynnette picked up pizza and sushi for dinner. It was a pretty good Monday, honestly.

I am 44 now and something unexpected has happened. Cole loves baseball and so far has tolerated my incessant shouts of “HIT HIM IN THE CHEST” and “HIT THE CUT” and “KEEP YOUR HEAD THERE” and “MOVE YOUR FEET” and all the other baseballspeak greatest hits. When we signed him up last year, I was concerned primarily with 2 things: would he be afraid of the ball and would he enjoy himself. The answers came back no and yes, respectively. He’s all in. And this has led to the resurgence of behavior that I have suppressed for over 20 years. I bought 2 new gloves for myself. I bought an orange Yeti bucket for baseballs. I am currently looking for a fungo bat and another glove. Don’t tell Lynnette. I will continue to gaslight her with the explanation that I need all of these gloves for different purposes when the truth is I like only one specific style of glove and I spend 15-20 minutes a night looking for 11.75 inch gloves with single-post webs. I just want as many of them as I can. I have already said to myself “we drop like $250 easy at Costco, it’s basically the same thing.” I have found two potential purchases and am waiting to see if either (OR BOTH!) drop in price. I have considered starting a GoFundMe in order to purchase a Wilson A2000 1785, which doesn’t count against the other two I just mentioned a sentence ago. I wholeheartedly confess it is insane, but…I JUST WANT SPORTS AUTHORITY BACK! I NEED TO SPEND AN HOUR A WEEK TRYING ON GLOVES I’M NEVER GOING TO BUY! BABY, I FEEL ALIVE!

Well, Madison is 16 now and she’s been getting mail from colleges since the middle of the school year. Every single time one of these pamphlets arrive, I let out an exaggerated wail. In a little over a year, she’ll be in my classroom. After that? I can’t even allow myself to think about it. But for now – right now – I am in such a deep appreciation for the person that she’s blossoming into.

She’s running for a position in student government, which is something I never thought she’d do. Mad’s kind of an introvert – at least in front of Lynnette and me. But everyone else swears this jovial clown that gets along well with everyone. “Mad?” I say. “Yeah, Madi,” they reply. I squint my eyes. She got straight A’s this quarter after a second quarter with a single B+. She said she’d fix it and she did. She expressed earlier this year that she would like to try to get into my AP Lit class during her senior year. I told her that she needed to talk to her teacher to ask what she has to do. She’s started making those moves. Ironically, tragically, she still hates reading and gets all of her information from Tik Tok, but then I have to remind myself that her GPA is almost double what mine was in high school and I have to take a couple of deep breaths and accept that she’s doing OK – better than OK. She’s thriving.

This season, Mad bumped up a weight class in judo because she wanted to challenge herself. One night I caught her at bedtime wistfully staring into the fridge. “What are you doing?” I asked. “Gotta bulk up,” she said. I laughed. Three weeks ago, she fought a girl she’d never seen before and she got manhandled. When Lynnette sent me the video, I thought I would see a usual Madison match: Mad grappling until her opponent got tired or made a mistake, followed by a counter. Not this time. The other girl attacked immediately and never stopped. It appeared Mad got caught off-guard by this approach and it was over quickly. The following week during a drive home, I asked her about it. For the next 20 minutes, Madison explained what she thought happened and all of the things she’d been planning and working on in practice to adjust. It was fascinating. I had never heard her talk so cerebrally about anything before. Last weekend, Madison finished 3rd in her weight class during the ILH Inter/JV championship. Lynnette and I are so happy for her. But Mad’s already talking about the things she has to work on for next season. She’s started looking into outside clubs. Pretty soon, she’s going to be spending 10-15 minutes a night looking for a custom gi before heading to bed. I love it.

Thank you to everyone who sent along birthday wishes. We truly appreciate them. We are blessed to have your love and support. I now know and understand the acute stress and chaos of having two children in sports. We never see anybody outside of our kids’ grandparents because we’re at a field or in a gym. But it is always so wonderful and humbling to be reminded that all of you are out there, still rooting for us too.

Brother Liam Nolan, 1939-2024

Brother William “Liam” Nolan was a longtime fixture at Damien, first as a teacher, then as a counselor. Today, the Damien community celebrated his life in our modest campus chapel. As a testament to his work and status as a beloved member of the school, many former colleagues attended to pay their respects. Such a gathering is always bittersweet. There is the weight of the moment juxtaposed with the comfort of familiar faces and the unspoken nostalgia for a past which fast fades from memory but glows in the feelings it elicits.

Brother Nolan arrived at Damien shortly after I graduated. He taught my two brothers, Matty and Paul. Once he discovered they were my brothers, he asked about Matty’s college experience and praised Paul’s brilliance in the classroom. As time went on, Br. Nolan continued to ask about them. It did not surprise him that Paul became a lawyer. “He was a good one,” Br. Nolan said. “One of the best.” He smiled broadly when I told him last year that Matty had risen to the role of a vice president at his bank. “Got it figured out, has he?” Br. Nolan remarked. “Good for him.” You read those quotes in his voice, right? I wrote them in his voice, too.

I have many memories of working with Brother Nolan. My favorite took place when I was in my late ’20s. Because I had attended Damien and had been conditioned to view the brothers’ residence as off-limits, I never really felt comfortable there. Perhaps the fear of having Mr. Aina screaming at me followed me into adulthood. Anyway, there was one day where Mrs. Lota and Mrs. Lewis assured me that I could hang out in their space – a small room – in the brothers’ residence. I was there alone one morning when Br. Nolan popped in. He sat down at the table beside me. “What are you doing here?” he asked. There was no malice in his voice, but I interpreted his question as a challenge. “I – uh – Mrs. Lewis and Mrs. Lota said it was OK,” I said. He leaned back and smiled. “Welcome to the big time,” he said, sarcastically. It is that wit and his wry smile/smirk that I will remember best.

Brother Nolan cared deeply for his students. He was not only concerned about their academic performance, but also their well-being as people. When news of Brother Nolan’s passing spread online, I received messages from many former students. In addition to their sadness and disbelief were memories of their interactions with him:

I wouldn’t have made it through freshman year without him.

I was so scared to meet with him but he was always so supportive of me.

No matter how bad I was doing, he always told me not to give up.

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In looking over Brother Nolan’s lifetime assignments, it is clear that while his time at Damien seemed like such an extended stay to me, it was merely a slice of his life of service. The places, the times changed – but never his mission. We would, I think, do well to remember his example, especially in trying times of uncertainty.

Brother Nolan,

Thank you for sharing your time, efforts, and expertise with our Damien community. I appreciate the wisdom you shared when I was a young, struggling teacher. I am grateful that you always treated me as a peer and as a friend. May you rest in peace.

Christmas 2023

PREFACE: I – along with my brothers Matty and Paul – landed back home at midday on Christmas Eve. Paul scored us tickets to the Bills/Chargers game in Los Angeles. It was my first NFL game and it was awesome, even if Justin Herbert did not play and the bad guys won. More than anything else, it was so good to spend time exclusively with my brothers. It was probably the most time I’ve spent with them since I left for college in 1998. The short trip wasn’t a Christmas gift. It felt like a life gift, if that makes sense.

Thanks for a great couple of days, hermanos! I love you both. We’ll always have meat (but not crab legs) and be able to look at the memories on our phones (but not without lines).

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My mom bought Avery a stuffed animal that Avery has referred to as “Moosh-Moosh” (the name of the actual brand rather than its proper name, “Freckles”) when Avery was a toddler, and it is among the most enduring of Avery’s favorite things. She still brings it with with her to bed every night. She gets very upset when Brookie sits/sleeps on it. But as you know, time is a cruel thing and so Moosh has been restuffed many times. Holes have been sown-up and resewn. Though we wash it, that lived-in smell never seems to completely go away. Every so often Lynnette and I would scour eBay and Mercari for used Mooshes, but we didn’t have any luck. This year, though, the company released a smaller version of Freckles and Lynnette pounced. As you can see, Avery loves mini-Moosh. She brought it with her to my parents’ house this morning. She’s lying down in bed with it right now. Lynnette and I thought we absolutely crushed it, right up until my mom said “you should have bought more now that they have them in stock.” Oh.

If you were to take a look back at last year’s post, you would not find any Transformers. That’s because Cole didn’t get his first Transformers toys until winter break last year – but after Christmas. From that exact moment in the Pearl Ridge GameStop, it’s been non-stop Transformers. We spent the back half of the year waiting specifically for this Transformer – Hound, a G1 Autobot that transforms into a Jeep. It is a Walmart Exclusive and sold out almost immediately online. We kept assuming that Hound would eventually find his way into physical stores, but he never did. Then, two weeks before Christmas, in Instagram ad popped up with a picture of the toy. I clicked on it and it sent me to the link to purchase the toy. It was somehow in stock again. Because Cole is a G1 (first generation) fan, he doesn’t buy every Transformer in the few stores on the island that carry them, he generally buys only the characters from the original television cartoon and movie. But because he frequents the Hasbro website, he knew that there weren’t many G1 toys being released during this time of year. So consequently when his aunty and uncle got him a G1 Perceptor and we got him this G1 Hound, he lost his mind. In my opinion, though, we should have gotten him a haircut for Christmas.

It was always going to be hard for us to top the iPad from last Christmas, but I think Lynnette and I did a great job of appealing to Madison’s ever-evolving tastes. Since she still likes music despite not being in band, Lynnette thought of getting Mad an Otamatone. When Lynnette first asked me about it, I had no idea what it was. Then she showed me a video of someone playing a tune from an old Super Mario game on it. It seemed to exude the same kind of whimsy and vaguely anime-ish vibe that comes pretty close to encapsulating Madison. For the moment, anyway. While I was in LA, I constantly sent Madison pictures of things I thought she would be interested in, only to be met with a simple reply in a blue bubble: No. She didn’t even include a period. The only thing she showed the slightest interest in was the pair of shoes I had already bought before her I left. So I told her they didn’t have her size. To be fair, the pair of Dunks she picked out are pretty cool. She’s already figured out our family’s song – “Hot Cross Buns” – on the Otamatone, so I think she liked the gifts. But as she as a teenager, she would never tell us directly how she feels about the gifts (or anything). I would ask her right now, but as she is a teenager, she’s taking a nap.

It is not hyperbole when I say that I have been waiting for this Christmas gift for almost 30 years. Troy Aikman is the last Dallas Cowboys quarterback to win a Super Bowl. He also wore the number 8, my favorite number. I have always wanted a Troy Aikman jersey – but not the traditional blue or white ones – I always wanted the Thanksgiving ones with the stars on the shoulders. This taste is emblematic of the human being I was from roughly 1993-2006 with regards to fashion: I wanted to wear the ugliest thing possible on purpose. And though that instinct faded away over time, I suppose my feelings for that specific jersey never died. Like Moosh, I’ve spent most of my adult life looking for the jersey intermittently. When it first released, it was as a Mitchell and Ness throwback, well over $300. Then, when throwback jerseys went out of vogue, they became difficult to find again. They’d sporadically appear on NFL Shop or other outlets, but usually at pretty high prices. But this year, all the stars aligned. The jersey showed up on Fanatics in December and its appearance coincided with a pretty significant sales promotion. I bought it for myself hastily and then announced to my family that I had bought my own Christmas gift. I tried it on the day it arrived. It is hideous. I love it. YEAHHHHH HERE WE GOOOOOOOO

SPRING 2006: Lynnette and I sit on a low wall outside the Louis Vuitton store in Waikiki. We are a few months away from our wedding. We are locked in an intense, serious discussion over whether Lynnette should purchase the Louis Vuitton purse she’s had her eye on for a while. She is still working at Kapiolani. We do not yet have a mortgage or children. I tell her that she should just buy it because we will likely start running into real adult things that we will have to take care of. Essentially, I tell her that if she doesn’t get it now, she may never. She decided against it.

I was right. Until today.

Lynnette was very surprised and very happy to receive her very first Louis Vuitton bag. “It only took me $% years!” she said. If I had been waiting for my Troy Aikman jersey for the whole of adulthood, I guess Lynnette’s been waiting for Louis her whole life. This seems insane to me. How can a person want something like this from the day they are born? But then again A) Lynnette is insane, and B) one of my students wrote in response to the video of Lynnette opening her gift – “the Filipina in me SCREAMED with joy when she saw the box. Eeeek!” – so maybe it is cultural/genetic. Lynnette’s been wearing it around the house and strutting around for no reason, with this absolutely ridiculous smile on her face. It’s 3-Drink Lynnette without the alcohol. Merry Christmas, my Love. You deserve all this and so much more.

And Merry Christmas to all our family and friends, especially those of you who still make the time to read the very, very sporadic posts in this space. I appreciate you following along with our family still.

The 2023 Inductees to the Higa Christmas Tree

We did some Black Friday shopping this morning, nothing like the old days, but enough to get the adrenaline running. We did purchase some gifts, but predictably we bought more things for ourselves. We’ll get ’em next time. Anyway, as soon as we go home and unloaded the van, we pulled the tree and lights from the garage. Madison and I made the space in the living room Thanksgiving morning so Lynnette, the Holiday Monger, could cook. We’re just clearing out so Lynnette can run an iso. I don’t even know if we’re allowed to rebound.

In order to take advantage of a promotion, we purchased our ornaments online this year. In Avery’s case, it was probably easier than picking on in-store – much less distraction for her. We showed Avery pictures of two possible ornaments: Minnie and Moana. “Which one do you want?” I asked her. “Minnie,” she said, and darted away from the table. Well, then. It has earned a place high atop the tree so as to deter Avery from trying to remove it. I don’t know how many more years that strategy is going to work because as of this writing, Avery found a stool and pulled down the Finding Nemo ornament with the seagulls that shout “MINE!” over and over. We might just have to accept that she views these ornaments as little figurines that can go with her on trips and into the shower like all her other figurines.

Initially, Cole was very disappointed that the only Transformer in the Keepsake Collection was Optimus Primal. “I’m NOT getting Primal,” he told me in a very stern voice. “Why not?” I asked. “Dad. You know I’m a G1 guy, right?” he said with more than a tinge of disdain. He was pretty disinterested until he saw Shohei Ohtani. “He’s the best player in baseball,” Cole said. “But he’s not a Met,” I said. “C’mon, dad!” he said. “Have you ever actually seen him play?” I asked. “No – but all my teammates say he’s the best!” Cole said. Instead of taking the opportunity to ask Cole what would happen if all his teammates jumped off a bridge, I showed him some highlights from this past season. “Ho, he hits bombs,” Cole said. “He’s a good hitter and a good pitcher?” Cole said. “How does he do that?” Cole asked after watching Shohei strike a batter out with a sweeper. I was honest. I told him I don’t know. I guess all of this is to say that Cole’s really taken to baseball. He works hard and wants to get better. He’s a very supportive teammate. I ordered a bucket of baseballs and a net for soft toss and tee work. I guess we’re going to find out how far he wants to take it. And – on a side note – last year, I bought the Jacob deGrom ornament knowing he was probably going to leave the Mets in free agency. He signed with Texas on December 5th. He wasn’t even on the tree long enough for a single mote of dust to settle. Anyway, hopefully we can have the opposite of that happen this year if Shohei signs with the Mets. It’s the number one thing on my Christmas list. HeY PhIl, Of CoUrSe YoU sTiLl BeLiEvE iN sAnTa ClAuS – YoU sTiLl BeLiEvE iN tHe MeTs!

Bereft of other desirable options, the only ornament that hit Madison at all was this Mushu ornament. When I asked Mad what it was about the ornament that she liked, she couldn’t say what exactly – only that it was funny to her. I have to admit, there is something striking about it. Maybe it’s his character from the movie. Maybe it’s the pose that insinuates that he is once again overpromising and underdelivering. I don’t know, but it also somehow suits Mad. It’ll probably be a few years before Hallmark is making Genshin Impact ornaments. Speaking of a few years. Some college had the audacity to send Madison a letter urging her to take some interest inventory and check out their school online. I groaned when I saw it. Actually, groaning might a little light. But I didn’t cry. It’s something in between those two – definitely closer to the groaning side. Ummm, hello? Colleges? She’s only a sophomore. It’s wholly inappropriate for any of you to be in contact with my daughter, k?

I am in total agreement with Cole and Mad – 2023 is an off year for Hallmark ornaments. As such, there wasn’t much competition for this Anakin Skywalker ornament. This is the best version of Anakin Skywalker. It is Hayden Christensen with the gorgeous long, curly hair, right before he became Darth Vader (spoiler alert). As some of you know, I think this look is right up there with Brad Pitt from Troy and Henry Cavill or Matt Bomer in anything (according to Lynnette). When aged Hayden Christensen showed up in the first season of Ahsoka (spoiler alert), I cheered. OK, it might have been closer to a squeal – but I definitely didn’t clap excitedly. ANYWAY, I texted this picture to my friend John who knows of my affinity for Episode III Anakin and he replied “now he has the high ground”, which, you know…*chef’s kiss*

As usual, Lynnette went with her penguin trio ornament. Part of the joy Lynnette derives is the discussion centered on which child is which penguin. Some years, the assignments are straightforward. In others, there is some spirited debate. At first glance, we decided that Madison was the reader, Cole was the listener, and Avery had climbed on the back of the chair. Buuuuuut, Cole made the argument that Madison hates reading and he actually likes it, so he should be the one with the list. I looked over at Mad and she puckered her lips and shrugged her shoulders as if to say “I hate that I do not have a comeback to this accusation.” So it is settled. The boy’s argumentative skills are improving!

Lynnette sat alone at the plastic bin that holds our ornaments and painstakingly removed them from their boxes and tissue paper cryo-chambers. Once freed, she affixed the hooks on each and gave them to Madison and Cole to hang on the tree. While Cole’s debate skills are growing, his understanding of spacial awareness seems to lag behind. He tried to cluster all of the Transformers together in one section of the tree before I told him to split them. He opened his mouth, then shut it before spreading them out. I know what he was going to say – something about how can they fight if they aren’t together? “Light ones higher up on the tree, heavy ones lower,” Lynnette said about 15 times. Every once in a while she’d look up at what her two older children had wrought, then repeat it again. At some point, she muttered out loud what everybody already knew: “I’m just going to fix them when you’re all asleep.” This is her doing that while her holiday support dog looks on.

We are lucky to have a Holiday Monger as the glue of our family. Lynnette so loves holidays that she just wants to them to be perfect – for her, yes, but also for us. She keeps the turkey is moist. She’s careful not to overcook the prime rib. She makes the Christmas lists and makes sure the gifts are bought. She hunts down all the best online shopping deals. She makes sure to order the custard pie I love from that place in Chinatown. All of our holidays are better because Lynnette cares to make them special for us. Thank you for that, Love.

Happy 8th Birthday(s) Cole and Avery!

Per tradition, we celebrated Cole and Avery’s birthdays on separate days – Cole on Thursday, Avery on Friday. Lynnette and I try as best we can to make both days special, standalone events for the twins by doing entirely different things. I think we did a pretty good job of that this year.

Cole explained to us in the middle of the week that it was very important to him that both Lynnette and me attend and play in the kids vs. parents game on Thursday. Lynnette had been preparing for this game since last weekend when she dedicated part of her birthday to practicing with Cole. I stretched for 5 minutes before the game and my legs and right shoulder were begging me not to do anything stupid. The three of us had been looking forward to the game for a while. Cole’s really taken to baseball. He enjoys practicing, like socializing, and most importantly at this moment – he isn’t afraid of the ball. He was intent on getting Lynnette and me out. Well, Lynnette had a couple of hits in the game, as did Cole. I pitched to both sides for the first few innings before my shoulder quit on me. I moved to shortstop and partnered with Lynnette up the middle. A Firebat hit the ball past the pitcher. I cut it off going to my left, then glove-flipped it to Lynnette who caught it for a force out. She did not throw to first to complete the double play. That’s on me. Bad coaching. Anyway, I did not know how much I would enjoy playing middle infield with my wife. That was a gift Cole gave me yesterday.

Cole also requested a steak (his favorite food) and mac and cheese dinner, so as soon as we got home from the game, I got into the kitchen. Just as I was putting the finishing touches on dinner, Cole walked over to the fridge to find a drink. His head disappeared into the fridge for a few moments. He popped out with a small grin on his face. “Since it’s my birthday, can I have a Coke?” I feel – as a Coke enthusiast – that it would have been deeply hypocritical to deny Cole a Coca-Cola. So I didn’t.

The only things Cole loves more than baseball and steak are Transformers. It all started last winter break when he found two Transformers on clearance at Game Stop. I bought them for him and eventually showed him Transformers: The Movie and he was hooked. He now knows more about Transformers than I ever did. He knows about all of the different cartoon series. He frequents hasbropulse.com to see the new toys releasing. He watches YouTube videos about Transformers lore and toy announcement from comic, toy, and pop culture conventions. Lynnette and I got him an Ultra Magnus, “Whoa! It’s a Leader-Class! It’s my first one! Look at this big boy!”; a Dracodon, “I don’t have him. He’s from War for Cybertron: Kingdom.”; and his very own Optimus Prime with trailer, “YEESSSSSS!” Cole’s currently plotting out a storyline which includes most of his Transformers. So far, he’s told me “it’s gonna be a war for Cybertron” so we’re not really looking at breaking new ground here. But he has already figured out the most important part: “all the Decepticons are gonna try to kill Prime, but he just kills all of them.” Good boy.

Happy birthday, Cole! My favorite thing about these past few months has been the red dirt on your clothes and hands. For far too long, your mother and I have kept you nearer to us than you (and even us) might have preferred. I am so glad that you are finally getting out there, mixing it up, and figuring things out on your own. I wish you so much more of that.

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We all spent Friday morning at Ala Moana Beach Park to give Avery the gift of her favorite activity: trying to swim out to open ocean while no one is looking or the water is too cold for the adults yet.

She tried it three times. I stopped her the first two times, Cole grabbed her the third time as we finished taking a family picture. Lynnette immediately scolded Cole because Avery immediately protested. “She’s trying to get away!” he said. “We were between her and the shore,” I said. “She always tries it in that scenario.” Other than that, Avery made sure to check off the boxes on her favorite beach bits. She played with her pink bucket in the sand, shot water at us with her pump gun, warmed up by plopping herself down on the hot said like a monk seal, and running up and down the beach in a race with herself. It had been a pretty long time since we went to the beach. The weather was perfect but for a few clouds. It was hot and dry and the parking lot was pretty wide open. It doesn’t get to look better than that. I’m pretty sure Avery was thrilled with her morning.

We went to dinner at Gyotaku because it provided the widest number of possibilities on the menu with regards to things Avery would actually eat. She likes noodles, rice, udon, miso soup, and a few other dishes, so it seemed like a really good idea on Lynnette’s part. Also, we didn’t want to cook. Parents, you know what’s up. Anyway, we also decided to dress in pink and purple for Avery. Madison and Cole bought in immediately. I think they sort of like to dress up because we haven’t gone out to sit-down restaurants consistently since Avery was diagnosed with autism. It used to be that as soon as she was finished eating or bored with the experience, she would agitate to get off the table and out of the restaurant. She once slipped under the table at Gen Ala Moana and ran out into the corridor between Gen and what used to be Islands. But her behavior has improved significantly since then. Avery, like her big sister, seems to revel in the idea of getting dressed up, putting on fancy shoes, and eating any kine, plenny kine food. Also like the mom, I guess, having read that last sentence back.

Happy birthday, Avery! My greatest joy this year has been the way you stop dead in your tracks and head on over my way if I call your name and ask you to. There was a time when I wasn’t even sure if you could hear me. But now you do! And we have a little kiss, some back scratches, a big hug, and I send you off on your way. That’s one of my favorite parts of every day.

Happy $%th Birthday, My Love!

Thanks a pure stroke of scheduling luck, Cole’s Saturday game this weekend was moved to Sunday to create a double-header. It also created a scenario which we’ve rarely had over the past few months: a completely open weekend day. It happened to be Lynnette’s birthday. Sometimes in adulthood, the stars do align. So when they do, you really gotta take advantage of it.

Madison, Cole, Avery, and I dropped Lynnette off for a massage at 9 in the morning. They had some birthday signage up on their front lawn. It’s like they knew she was coming! The four of us headed over to Walmart, Target, and Costco to run errands and kill time before we had to pick Mem up. When she hopped back into the van, she had those lines across her face from the massage bed face-thing. “Was it good?” I asked. “Yes!” Lynnette replied. “Looks like,” I said. “Did you fall asleep?” “Almost,” Lynnette said. She said it’s the first time she ever felt like falling asleep during a massage and attributed it to staying out late the night before. We watched the Damien win the Division I ILH football championship on Friday night. Aside from being out past our bedtime, it was a back-and-forth nail-biter of a game that makes it totally OK that the Cowboys blew the game against the Eagles today at least 3 separate times. ANYWAY, this entry isn’t about it, it’s about the woman I call “Lightning” because she’s My Queen. I had planned to send her off to a pedicure but she had other plans.

“I no like one pedicure,” she said. “Well, what do you want to do?” I asked. “I like practice baseball with my boy,” she said. “Why? No like make ass?” I asked. There’s a parents vs. kids game this week at practice and Lynnette wanted to get some reps in before then. “Yeah, why?” she said. So we left Avery at home with Madison and crossed our fingers that they would not destroy each other before we got back home. Lynnette warmed up with Cole and they caught/missed about the same amount of throws. They also took ground balls straight on, to the glove side, and to the backhand side. She and Cole Boy took some batting practice too. Cole’s got a high leg kick but Lynnette does not. She starts off in a sound hitting position then kind of just rotates her arms over without using her hips. I took this as an opportunity to slide in behind her give her some “it’s all in the hips” one-on-one coaching. I pulled her in close, wrapped my arms around hers, grabbed her hands and went through a few swings together. I think she thought I was seriously trying to help improve her swing. That’s so sweet. I asked Cole to give me a scouting report of Lynnette’s performance and he said “whatever the opposite of ‘mid’ is”. He would not pass a polygraph. But it was so cute how they took turns encouraging each other during BP. “Swing hard, mom!” Cole would say. “You can do it, buddy!” Lynnette shouted.

Madison and Lynnette visited Fighting Eel while I sat in the van with the twins. For the past two years or so, Madison has been my shopping assistant when it comes to buying gifts for Lynnette. This is how it works: I point to something or hold something up and Madison says either “that doesn’t look like mom” or “ok”. Well, we did a great job this time. We got Lynnette some Tory Burch ballet flats and a top and pants from Fighting Eel. Lynnette loved the outfit but had to swap the pants out for an extra-small. When I offered this excursion as evidence that she’s losing weight, she quickly shut down my theory, citing things like “cut” and “material”. I rebutted, reminding her that she has perfect check radius. She called me stupid. And maybe she’s right. I don’t know about women’s clothing. But I know that when I look at her, she still makes my heart pick up its pace and my stomach feel funny kine. And sometimes all of this energy and emotion is compressed inside of my body until they make their way up to my eyebrows that jump up and down when she looks at me. ANYWAY AHEM Madison says that she likes Lynnette’s style and finds that she and Lynnette often like the same patterns. Mad has also started borrowing some of Lynnette’s clothes when on the rare occasions when we go out to a semi-dressy place. Back when Mad was much younger, we used to joke that she was Lynnette’s Mini. Well, just look at them. For so long, I only ever saw Madison as a girl, then seemingly overnight she was a young woman. When she and Lynnette get dressed up, take turns with the volumizer, and stand in the garage together while looking for the perfect footwear to match the rest of their respective ensembles, it’s so surreal. I don’t think I can explain exactly why. It’s just like – there are two of them. I don’t even know when it happened. It just did.

Despite Avery’s penchant for destruction and chaos in general, she is often enamored of pretty things. Avery especially loves purple and pink dresses and shoes. This is obviously a trait she shares with Lynnette. That’s how we found ourselves at Nordstrom a few minutes before dinner. We picked up a pair of pink shoes with bows for Avery. “Do you like them?” Lynnette asked her. Avery quickly kicked off her slippers and put them on. She walked to the mirror looking straight down at her feet then smiled when she saw her reflection. Avery was so happy that she agreed to take this picture without much prompting. I would never describe Avery as the patient type, but she absolutely is if there are some cute shoes involved. I don’t know if that’s all women – but I know that’s Lynnette.

After a few mini-adventures, we drove to the Waikiki Prince for the main event. Weeks ago when I asked Lynnette where she wanted to eat, she just said “crab”. We were satisfied that 100 Sails met this very important, specific criterion and featured a little something for each of our picky eaters. I spent much of my time between sushi and sashimi cracking crab legs for Lynnette while she tried to feed Avery. Ave’s got a loose tooth so she’s been pretty fussy about eating. I figured the least I could do was have crab meat at the ready for her. It was Cole’s first time at a buffet and he did well, putting down two plates. At some point in the evening, as the sun was near setting, he asked why the restaurant was called 100 Sails. Lynnette told him to look out the window. “Oh,” he said. I told him it’s because it would take a ship with 100 sails to move us after we finished our dinner. He sort of half-chuckled. But something like 40 minutes later – after he took his final bite of dessert – he told me I was right. Lynnette said that she was happy with dinner, that she got a bit of everything she wanted to try and a lot of the things she knew she was going to love. That’s good life advice. She’s a philosopher without even trying.

And course, Brookie was waiting impatiently at the top of the stairs when we got home. When Lynnette finally got into bed after settling everyone else in, showering, and washing up, Brookie launched herself into Lynnette’s neck. She kissed and licked Lynnette, whom she hadn’t seen for most of the day. She calmed a little once Lynnette committed to scratching her back and sides. Perhaps fittingly, I would later end my night doing the same. Lynnette flipped on her side and used her last birthday wish. There in the dark, as Avery drifted off to sleep, I clawed the nails of my left hand across Lynnette’s freshly massaged back. LOLOLOL It’s Lynnette favorite thing in the world that cannot be eaten.

Happy $%th birthday, my Love! We hope it was a great one. We all had such fun sharing small moments alone with you, and of course, pigging out together. We love you!

17-Year Anniversary

Over the last two weeks, I’ve been obsessed with Immaculate Grid, a baseball trivia game that tests knowledge of baseball players, their accomplishments, and the teams they’ve played for:

This is today’s grid. This is also as far as I got. I’ve completed a few, but for the most part, I’ve gotten stuck with 2 or 3 squares left. It’s fun, it’s frustrating, and it’s also one other f-word that I will not write here. A new game loads every evening at 6 PM, and it’s legitimately one of the highlights of my day. You have to remember, when I was a much younger man, one of the ways I would judge if I had too much to drink was by telling someone “any Major League team, any position”. Insane? Yes. But possibly more insane – for a stretch in my life (COLLEGE), I actually knew every starter at every position on every team. Now? Immaculate Grid is humbling. Each square falls into one of three categories:

1. Stuff I know.
2. Stuff I don’t know.
3. Stuff I know I used to know.

It’s that last category that is especially frustrating. I know I should know it, but it’s been lost to the sands of time. If you’re still reading along, you’ve got to be asking yourself why the hell I’m leading off my 17th wedding anniversary post with this. Well, useless baseball trivia isn’t the only thing lost in the desert of memory.

Earlier this week, I took the kids to shop for an anniversary gift for Lynnette. What do you get for the woman who has everything (in the Fighting Eel lookbook and Tory Burch slipper/sandal collection)? Madison and I spent one morning looking through Lynnette’s jewelry cases to cross-reference it with gifts from Tiffany. I settled on a beautiful Infinity necklace, like the one picture around Lynnette’s neck in the picture above. I say “like” because although this picture was taken today, that’s not the one I bought her this week. This is the nearly identical one I bought for her years ago. Oops.

Look, I’m not a total moron – that’s why I looked beforehand. Madison and I went through three different cases and didn’t find it, but in my gut, I felt I had already did bought it for her. I just couldn’t find it. As soon as she opened the box this morning, her eyes narrowed to slits. “You already have it, yeah?” I said. “I think I do,” she said, without widening her eyes. She popped up of the couch, walked into the closet, and opened a treasure trove of more jewelry that neither I nor Madison knew about. I stood outside the closet and saw her lift tiny Tiffany bag after bag until she pulled it out. She laughed. “It’s tarnished, but I have it,” she said. “LET’S RETURN THAT ONE!” I joked. She laughed harder. “They’re gonna know, dummy!”

So after lunch, we headed to Ala Moana to return the second Infinity necklace. An associate sat us down. “She didn’t like it?” the associate asked. Lynnette giggled. She was absolutely aglow with glee while waiting for me to explain. Once I did, the associate chuckled and said “You’re not the only one.” “SEEEEEE!” I said. Lynnette laughed even harder. Well, what we learned today is that Tiffany has a database of everything I’ve ever bought for Lynnette. When the associate flipped around the iPad to show us, it was like a mini-trip down memory lane: images of the pieces complete with dates and costs. I felt like an absolute idiot. “Here’s my card,” the associate said. “We can make sure this never happens again.” Lynnette was virtually in tears. My only solace is the peace of mind of knowing that no single gift could have brought Lynnette more unbridled joy than this delicious combination of forgetfulness and stupidity. There were several moments during the day – in the car, during lunch, walking through the mall – when Lynnette just chuckled to herself. Sigh.

We didn’t leave Tiffany empty-handed, however. Inspired by the rediscovery of all her Tiffany jewelry, Lynnette bought a new thing of silver cleaner. She, Madison, and Cole spent the end of the night polishing up her old pieces. “Thank you for my new jewelry!” she said sarcastically. “You’re welcome,” I said.

Today’s whole ordeal is only the most obvious example of something that’s been happening to me basically since the twins were born: I can’t remember anything. I used to have a great memory. Time and the internet have conspired to take it from me. I know a younger version of myself would never have made this mistake. You know that insult that goes something like “I’ve forgotten more about __________________ than you’ll ever know?” Well, I truly understand what that means now. Because there used to be so damn much inside of my brain. But now? Man. And I’m pretty sure things will carry on this way going forward. My mind would be blown if there were anything in there at all.

On our way back to Lynnette’s parents’ house to pick up the kids, I came around on my mistake. “You know, this is probably better than any legitimate gift I could have gotten you,” I said. “What do you mean?” she said through a smile. “If I had gotten you something that you didn’t have, that would have been nice – but now we have this new, stupid memory.” Lynnette nodded, but I don’t know if she bought it. But I guess that’s how this works. I can’t hold onto everything forever. That’s what the pictures and this blog and the Tiffany’s database are for. We can polish those whenever we want. The best we can do from here on out is work at making new memories.

Happy 17th Anniversary, my love. I hope you had a wonderful day and weekend. Here’s to the memories behind us and those we haven’t yet lived. I love you.

(Belated) Father’s Day 2023

Lynnette and the kids finally got around to finishing their Father’s Day homework, completing this year’s entries to the Father’s Day Binder. As mentioned previously, it is the thing I look forward to most each year, even more – if you can believe it – than whichever Reyn Spooner Mets shirt has struck my fancy. Well, the kids are getting older, and so the answers are getting better – or worse – depending on your sense of humor.

Well, Mad’s 15 now and she’s basically decided to turn this enterprise into a roast session. Let’s start with her choice of food. She suggests that my favorite foods are dairy products which she knows isn’t true. She knows the answer is sushi, but the thing she likes to make fun of is that whenever I eat dairy food, even if I take my lactaid pills, my stomach rejects it and I end up paying a steep price for my insolence. It has happened many times this summer. Also, I can’t stand boardshorts with liners. I bought a pair of boardshorts online earlier this month and when it arrived, I discovered that it had a liner in it. When I groaned, she asked “why, what happened?” (which is only ever sarcastic). I told her the problem and she said “oh, no…not bibbers in the boardshorts”. She laughed hysterically. I have no one by myself to blame, as I have raised her as a Damien Boi since birth and have enrolled her there since the 6th grade. The last answer is an inside joke. Whenever Avery decides she needs to warm up at the beach, she tosses herself on the dry sand like a strip of beef on a flat top. As soon as she does, that’s the green light for Cole, Madison, and me to throw the football around. We run horizontal routes and throw the ball to each other. Last week (despite the degenerative state of my shoulder), I had a solid day throwing the ball. I must have hit her in the hands at like an 80% rate and of those passes, she caught them at something a 15% rate. It was so bad I started calling her “oven mitts” and she couldn’t stop laughing.

However, it is the “smart” response above that is the best illustration of who Madison is now. Just this week, I started putting her through SAT Test prep. She’s been doing OK considering she’s had no previous introduction to it, but the questions she’s routinely missed are inference questions. I’ve explained to her that more often than not, the answer will be the simplest answer that isn’t plainly stated by the text; it’s only implied. Knows “how to infer what the author is stating or something” is a spectacular troll job on her part. It’s now the basis of our relationship, ribbing each other. That’s why I chose the picture of her above. Every single time I ask her to take a picture of me, she takes a picture of herself like this first. Sometimes, I won’t know until hours later when I actually look at the pictures. Things between us are better now than they were a few years ago. Also, “don’t go kissing boys, yeah” is fantastic advice. I stand by it.

In a way that’s difficult for me to explain, it feels like Cole Boy’s done more growing and learning in the last year than all of the others combined. Maybe it’s always like that for kids his age, but I can’t tell – Mad was 7 too long ago, and Avery is her own thing entirely. I know he answered every single prompt above sincerely. He knows that every single time I go to Walmart, I have to check if they’ve broken out any new colors for the dry-fit tees that I love so much. Most recently, I bought a sea foam green one and he thought it was so cool because he’s in an Incubus phase right now, and his favorite song is “Are You In?”. When I wore the shirt last week, he looked at me and said “not the ‘Are You In?’ shirt!” at me with such a specific inflection that I was both proud and disgusted. In fact, the only suspicious answer is the “smart” one because I don’t even think he knows what dating is. I mean, Mad’s got a boyfriend, so maybe that’s where what he thinks it is, but Lynnette and I have been married for as long as he’s been alive, so I don’t know what that means. A very, very small part of me feels like he might have been fed this answer by my beautiful wife, but that seems too easy. I mean, he’s right – I do know which woman to date – but that’s mostly because he’s only ever met the last woman I dated. I don’t know if he would feel the same way if he knew all of my dating history. But those are stories for another time and a different platform because I would like to continue being married.

So yeah, Cole Boy’s in a Transformers phase and an Incubus phase, and he’s slowly started getting into wrestling. He’s excited for Money in the Bank this weekend. No one in my house has come out and said it, but I’ve already started wondering it for myself: is he too much like me? Does he have anything that’s his own? I think he does – it’s just harder to see and quantify. That last answer about his haircut is a response to the fact that I let him get a buzzcut. Lynnette despises the look and forbid him to get it since he’s been self-aware enough to understand that a person can get different haircuts. When this summer started, he was very adamant about getting this buzzcut. I told him that mom would probably not like it. He said he understood. He told me that if it went bad or he didn’t like it, it would grow back. A very reasonable argument, I thought. So he sat there with eyes the size of golfballs and a silly grin until the last of his hair fell from his head. “Do you like it?” I asked. He smiled and nodded. He raced up the stairs to show Lynnette, whose reaction was as predicted. It didn’t phase him. He loves it. I told him we can get it cut again in July. He is excited. He also says that he’s OK with growing it out for school pictures because “Mom would like that.” He’s thoughtful in a way that I wasn’t at his age. He’s also a blooming risk-taker. It used to be that he would say things like “I probably can’t even do that” before trying things as a way (I think) to spare his feelings if he failed. More recently, he’s looked forward to challenges – like the cargo net and balance wire he tried for the first time last weekend. He’s inching deeper and deeper in the pool and ocean. These behaviors are not mine. I am not a risk-taker. I hope he keeps developing this way, as I like many, more regret the things I didn’t do.

We still struggle communicating with Avery. She mostly speaks to us from a script that she’s got in her head. “What do you see?” for example, is her catch-all phrase which loosely translates into “I want to go over there” or “I want something, but you have to figure out what it is” and sometimes “There is something that has caught my attention and I will not stop asking you this question until you figure out what it is and give it to me/bring me to it”. This applies mostly to when she is hungry. She’ll walk into the kitchen and say “what do you see”, and we’ve got to figure out via process of elimination what it is she wants to eat. Recently, she’s altered the phrasing of it to “what are you seeing?”, which is hilarious for English teacher reasons, I guess. I do tell her “Mommy has to go shishi” all the time when we’re out in public because it’s the only way we can get her off of Lynnette. Avery hates all restrooms and has no interest in going there, so it allows Lynnette to go off and shop on her own. Am I worried that one day Avery will get suspicious that her mother has to use the bathroom so frequently? No. As I am 43 now, Lynnette’s fake bathroom trips number well below my legitimate bathroom trips, so it seems reasonable by comparison.

Swimming is still Avery’s favorite activity by a wide margin, but this summer she’s been agreeable to a few different things. We’ve gone hiking. She likes riding the motorcycle at Dave and Busters. Generally, she hasn’t put up too much complaint about the things we’ve done this summer, and she’ll go along with anything if we put her in swim clothes. This recent stretch of cloudy, rainy weather has been tough for us, but she hasn’t made things difficult because of it. My favorite development has been that if I ask her for a kiss, she’ll stop whatever she’s doing and come over to wherever I am. Now, she won’t actually kiss me. That’s asking too much. But she’ll lean into my arms and allow me to plant one on her. We’ve been working on hugs, too, but she likes half-extending her arms and waiting for me to “att-att-att” her into a full hug. She laughs and eventually wraps her arms around me. As always, it’s baby steps with Avery.

Thanks to Lynnette and the kids for putting together this year’s entries. I truly do enjoy reading through them. It’s a humbling experience in a couple of different ways. First, it’s a little embarrassing to be distilled down to a few in-jokes or idiosyncrasies. I feel in some ways like a caricature. But the only way they can make fun of me so damn thoroughly is if they’re paying attention, if they care.

Earlier this summer my parents came with us to the beach. There was a moment, though, when I was in the water with Cole and Avery, just the three of us. They were just kind of swimming around and I scooped them in with an arm each. Both of them tried to squirm away. “Hey,” I said. They kept trying to escape. “HEY!” I said. The both stopped and stood in the shallow water. I was surprised they stopped, to be honest. I looked down at them and knelt to meet their eyes. “I’m sorry that it has taken me so long. But I’m here now, OK?” I said. They just looked at me. “I love you guys,” I said. I hugged, then kissed them, then let them swim away. They couldn’t have understood what I meant. But if you’ve been reading this blogsite long enough, you probably do. Happy (belated) Father’s Day to all the dads trying to be better dads every single day.

My Favorite Father’s Day Moment

The traditional Father’s Day Blog post will be delayed this year as Lynnette was swamped with work upon returning from her conference trip and consequently did not have the time to put together the “All About My Daddy” Binder yet. Obviously, this is the thing I look forward to most each year, above even the delicious food and the Mets Reyn Spooner shirt I literally send them the links to. But that entry’s coming soon. We hope.

Instead, I’m going to write about my favorite moment of fatherhood this week. It actually happened a few days ago. I disappeared to my favorite McDonald’s one night to respond to a few references checks and organize a few photos I had taken earlier that day. When I got home, I was halfway up the stairs when I heard Cole’s voice coming around the corner. The boy himself had yet to emerge. “When you make the bunny ears, do they both go into the loop?” he asked. Yes, this is how he began the conversation. He must have heard the garage door open and close. There was no introduction, bridge, nothing. He just opened with that. “No, buddy, only one goes through the loop,” I said. He was talking about trying shoe laces.

I first tried teaching Cole to tie his shoes last year. It didn’t take. But a few weeks ago, he was talking about how he really wanted a pair of Air Maxes. “Buddy, they only make Air Maxes with laces,” I told him. “But I’ll tell you what – if you learn to tie your shoe laces, I’ll buy you a pair of Air Maxes.” I absolutely believed both of these statements when I made them. However, I found out this week that the first is not true. There are velcro Air Maxes. And they are significantly cheaper than the ones with laces. Ooooffff. You live, you learn. Anyway, We never spoke of shoes or laces again until the night I came home from McDonald’s. I was tired, my contacts were cooked, but it’s just one of those things – if your kid shows unprovoked interest in something out of nowhere, you kinda gotta run with it – just to see where it goes. I told him to get that pair of shoes that he never got around to wearing. He came back upstairs and slid them on. This is what I said:

“First, X, then one of them goes under X. Now pinch the ears. Give yourself long ears so you have some room to work. Now X with the ears, and pick one ear to go into the loop – give yourself space. Now pull the ears.”

He didn’t say anything. He got to the pinching of the ears part and showed so little finger coordination that I am worried he may never be able to type a single word, let alone a sentence. But he kept at it. “I think I did it,” he said. “What?” I said. I looked at his foot. First try. “waitwaitwaitwait” I said. “That might have been beginner’s luck – do the other one now.” He smiled and went to work. A few short moments later, he raised his hands and looked up. He did it again. He was so excited that we crept into Lynnette’s and Avery’s room to show Mem. “What?” Lynnette whisper yelled at us. We might have awoken her. “Cole Boy can tie his shoes,” I said. “What?” she said. “Show her,” I said. He knelt down in very poorly lit conditions and tied both. Lynnette gave him a wow – but not the sarcastic one we give out when we want to tease each other. Mad heard the commotion and came into the room. “What’s going on?”

“I can tie my shoes,” Cole said. “I like see,” Mad said. So Cole walked into the kitchen, untied the shoes, then tied them again. Mad was silent for a moment, then said “How dare you!”. Madison had a very different experience learning to tie her shoes. I laughed. “I cried in the back of a Skechers!” Madison said. Cole was puzzled. “Yeah,” I said, lost in a memory. “I think you got lucky, Cole Boy. You got Dad to teach you how to tie your shoes. Mad had Coach Phil,” I said. Madison growled. She hates Coach Phil. I can’t blame her. Mr. Higa had to cover her PE class this past school. Mr. Higa took attendance, then oversaw a volleyball game in class that day. And when Mr. Higa saw Madison serve a ball that had no chance of ever getting over the net, Coach Phil screamed “GET YOUR ELBOW UP!” in the middle of the gym. Mad raised her arms and shook her head at me as her classmates stared at us. I laughed. “I’m sorry,” I said, tapping my heart. Look, Coach Phil can never die. He’s always in there, just waiting for the opportunity to yell at people about their arm mechanics, or getting in front of the ball, or moving their feet.

ANYWAY, I told Lynnette that I wanted to spend the morning of Father’s Day at Ala Moana to look for Cole’s Air Maxes. I wasn’t hopeful. They make a lot of Air Maxes now, but most of them are variants of the originals. This is going to sound so stupid, but in my mind (but mostly heart), these variants are not “canon”. I know. I know. But the Air Max 1 is my favorite shoe of all time. Still. Today, I only own two pairs of Nikes (it used to be like 40-something): the Mets Dunk High SB and the AM1 crepe reissues. So when Cole first found a pair of Air Max 90s, my upper lip curled (I never really liked them). I guess Coach Phil and Sneakerhead Phil are both in there somewhere. They didn’t have his size. “What about this one?” Cole asked, holding out a pair of Air Max 270s. “They’re on sale,” he said, like those are somehow magic words that transform an impossibility to probability. He flicked the markdown tag extending from the shoe. “So they are…” I said.

Look, I don’t want to say how much they cost because I know he’s going to outgrow them in a year and that single thought makes me woozy. Suffice it to say that I wouldn’t have spent this kind of money on myself unless I absolutely loved them. I guess I just love my boy more than I love myself. He tried them on, tied them up, and took them for a walk. “Well?” I asked. He closed his eyes and nodded, which is something he does when he’s sheepishly overwhelmed. He asked to wear them out of the store. We tossed his old shoes in the box and headed out.

Cole Boy and I walked through the mall for the rest of the day in Air Maxes. Every time the laces came a little loose, he announced to us all that he had to pull over and retie them. He might be the only person in the world who hopes his laces come undone. A few times, I caught him walking with his head down, looking at his shoes advance, one after the other after the other. “You like ’em?” I asked. “Yeah. Did you ever have 270s when you had lots of shoes?” he asked. “No way, buddy. You’re the first.” “The first…” he whispered. He started singing “YOU GOT THE TOUCH!” and bounded off ahead of me.

He really does.

Manoa Falls (our first hike as a family of five)

Hiking was an activity that Lynnette, Madison, and I enjoyed before the twins were born. We had planned eventually to get back to it, but that proved difficult with the ever-unpredictable Avery. Perhaps feeling ourselves a little since Avery’s success on the airplane, Lynnette and I decided it was time to give it a try and we chose Manoa Falls, that most reliable of beginner’s trails.

My quick research found that we hadn’t been to Manoa falls in nearly 9 years to the day. What a crazy coincidence. Anyway, aside from not losing Avery somewhere in the depths of Manoa Valley, I was just hoping for decent weather and insect repellant that would hold up. I got both and a pretty good day with the family.

Lynnette is finally back home. She had been gone for a week and things mostly went smoothly, but there’s always a kind of underlying, unspoken incompleteness when she’s not around. I know the kids feel it. Avery waited up pretty late for Lynnette to come home that first night she was gone. Luckily, we had Madison to put her to bed. Avery got used to a new bedtime partner, and Madison said putting Avery to bed was the exact moment she missed Lynnette the most. Madison had to step up into some of Lynnette’s or my roles this past week, but she didn’t complain. Not loudly, anyway. Cole Boy was always interested to know what Lynnette was up to each day, and regaled her with some kind of Transformers-related information/update over FaceTime. We brought Brookie with us to pick Lynnette up from the airport and she was so excited when the van door finally slid open and she saw her Mem for the first time in a week. Madison held her up and all four of her legs were swinging wildly as Brookie tried to air swim/run/fly to Lynnette. We scooped up Lynnette at something like 3 Friday afternoon. By 6:30 that evening, it was like old times in the house. So much so, that I had an epiphany. “You know, babe,” I began. “I never realized before this moment, how great it was to be the final word in the house for such an extended time,” I finished. “What?” she said. “For an entire week, no one overruled me or vetoed me or reminded me of the same thing 5 times in a 12-minute span,” I said. “I going back to San Diego, already” she said. “Nahnahnah,” I said. But I gotta be honest – it was nice to be the boss for a week.

No matter what we do or where we go, Cole Boy’s always got a heel turn in him, waiting to strike at some terribly inconvenient time. For the first portion of our journey, I think he was genuinely moved by scenes of nature he encountered. He used words like “beautiful” to describe the greenery, and on more than one occasion, described the sound of the moving water as “peaceful”. But then I guess he got tired because he started saying things like “I think I’ve had enough of this nature” and “is it almost done?” When he finally came out and said that his legs were tired, we asked him how he was going to make it through Disneyland and Universal next year. He growled and stopped complaining vocally, but moved his protests to his facial expressions. This frickin’ guy. When we got to the waterfall, he refused to smile for a picture with it. Then when we were climbing out of the area, he muttered something like “you shouldn’t have brought me here, I could get hurt or die”. He’s so damn dramatic when he gets like this. And maybe this is insane, but the only way I can bring him out of it is to take his mind some place else. I had to ask him if he thought Optimus Prime would give up on the hike. Cole told me no – but Optimus Prime has longer legs and therefore bigger steps. I cannot.

Madison was a pretty good sport about the whole thing, even as her bug spray began to wear off. She posed for pictures and muttered things like “are you serious?” and “again?” through her smiles every time I tried to set the three of them up together. She was down to head closer to the falls and probably indirectly peer pressured Cole to join us. She’s going to be a sophomore in the fall and she’s pretty good on her own. I keep asking her if she has plans with her friends for the summer, but she just says that none of them drive. We’ve had talks about her learning to drive as soon as she’s able; we’ve joked about getting her a kei van, but I think she might be serious. To be fair, it is exactly the kind of car Mad would drive. Sometimes, however, she grows and changes so quickly that I feel like I don’t even know her. Case in point, she’s started eating the Chick-fil-A honey mustard sauce. I would not have believed her capable of that ever. But here we are.

Big Beef did not join us at the falls because she was too busy inhaling Funyuns. She was so hungry by the time we got to the end of trail, she practically mauled Lynnette for the snacks in her backpack. For a second, I thought that Avery might be interested in getting as close to the water as usual, but she turned away when I asked her, instead retreating into her yellow bag. When I got back to her, she had a full beard of Funyun crumbs along her jaw and mouth. I saw her blow into the bag to expand it, then hold it to her face like an oxygen mask before leaning her head back as far as possible to get every last bit of Funyun. She’s an elite problem-solver. As noted, Lynnette and I were most curious to see how she’d do on the hike, and she was awesome. By the end of it, she let go of Lynnette’s hand and was mostly interested in hiking down the trail on her own. Cole noted that every time she slipped, Avery’s arms would raise and hit strange, sharp angles. I explained to him that it was a way of balancing herself. “Like this?” he said. Then he dabbed. Brutal. Though Avery was mostly behind me on the way down, I could hear every time she slipped a little. There’d be the sound of her shoes, then a gasp, then heavy breathing or a small giggle. She loves adrenaline, after all.

Thanks for a great morning, Manoa Falls! I think it’s the Friendship Garden or Makapu’u Lighthouse for us next!