All I’ve ever wanted to do, since meeting my wife, was give her all she wanted. Easy right?

It wasn’t so long ago, just 4 years now, that we hated our home. We wanted out more than anything but like everything else money and time ruled the day and we had to wait.

Once we got serious about this “moving to a different house” thing we, well.. we got serious about it. We had a goal to be moved before our daughter was born. Somehow the pieces fell into place and move we did just four months prior to our oldest girls birth.

It’s funny how, when something is supposed to happen (meant to happen), the way is somehow cleared. I’ve always appreciated this but find I’m not always patient enough to wait for it to happen.

It seems I was doing ok with my main objectives. My wife was excited to finally be a mother to her own children. Check. She just wanted to live someplace simple where she could have her horses on her own piece of land. Check.

My wife has wanted a pony since she was a little girl. This dream never turned into reality and all these years later she still wanted a pony, except this time she wanted it for our two girls. A pony they could learn to ride. A pony they could grow with and would allow them to participate in all the 4-H events she was exposed to.

This past weekend we got a pony. It required us to sell another horse that was given to us, and sell him to a good home we did .

The Pony’s given name is Pete, but the girl calls him Peter Pan pony. Welcome to the family Peter Pan pony and if you have your own list feel free to put a check next to “making dreams come true” .

On second thought I don’t regret the guinea pig decision. You just know we would have ended up with a guinea pig AND a pony.

“They’re down to around 200 feet now.” I said.

“What kind of well are they digging?” My son interjected.

“Well, a water well of course. What other kinds of wells are there?” I said matter-of-factly.

My son said, with DUH intonation and attitude, “Wishing Wells!!!”

I laughed so hard I couldn’t catch a breath. He comes up with some good ones.

She was the kid that didn’t do well when being left with strangers, or other family members, early on. It was entirely our fault, I know, but we enjoyed keeping her all to ourselves knowing too well that they grow up so fast.

When the time came to enroll her in a daycare/pre-school, around her third birthday, we were a bit concerned with how it would go.

Lil A surprised us by doing remarkably well. There was never an issue.
Not until she encountered Mason that is.

We first heard of Mason during dinner time.

• “Mason hit me today.”
• “Mason was not very nice to me.”
• “Mason wouldn’t let me play with my toy.”

We explained to Lil A that she should tell Mason that she wasn’t very happy with the way he was treating her, and if things got really bad she should tell the teacher.

Several weeks went by and we didn’t hear much more about Mason outside of the mention of his name. No scandalous events.

Upon picking Lil A up from pre-school one day the teacher asked my wife what we had told Lil A about how to handle Mason. My wife shared our pearl of wisdom and the teacher smiled saying that Lil A had been doing just that for a few weeks now. She had apparently received such good results from Mason on her own that she began policing Mason for the other kids as well. Eventually he wasn’t get away with very much.

We did make sure that our little girl hadn’t become the bully and the teacher assured us that was not the case.

It turns out that educating Mason didn’t take much more than a strong willed little girl. Let’s hope the lesson stays learned.

When the trip fell through my wife decided we would visit them in April. I could tell she was serious about this. When you live with a woman for more than a decade you learn when not to question her, and more importantly you learn when questioning her won’t do any good. The planning had already begun.

The only issue that was rolling around in my wee brain was the fact that we would be driving some 1300 miles each way with a 3 year old and another at 21 months (the older kids had opted out of the trip. It seems this is an available option when they don’t live with you full time). The intention was to drive straight through, visit for a week, and drive straight back through to home. This scenario seemed riddled with glass half full opportunities.

My wife wasn’t phased. She had every detail of the trip planned, including the fact that she would be doing most of the driving. You see, my wife has been working a couple of days a week as a 3rd shift nurse in the RNICU. This experience has allowed her body and mind to be abused conditioned to running without sleep (even more than having toddlers has done). She decided the trip would begin around 7 PM and she would drive through the night. And drive she did. All said and done I drove maybe 15 hours of the 46 that we traveled.

But what about the kids you ask? Well, the kids are the real surprise in this story. In preparation for this trip my wife had thought of everything. She purchased seat organizers that held all new toys (nothing costing more than a few dollars; coloring books, kaleidoscopes, etc). She borrowed the neighbors dual screen DVD player. She packed food and comfort toys and books for each child. Everything was covered, except the unpredictable nature of children. No one knows who they may become, which of their personalities will be on display on a trip like this. At least that is what I thought. It turns out my wife knows the answer to this question as evidenced by two incredibly sweet and amicable little girls as we traveled west.

There was never an issue, not one. Well, maybe one. It seems that setting in a car seat for many hours does funny things to the circulation system. Every several hours we would stop and allow the girls to run and play. This always started with them looking a bit like drunken sailors, though they always found their legs soon enough. Amazingly they never complained when ushered back into the car. The girls could not have behaved better. As a matter of fact they may have even behaved a little better on this trip than they do on any normal day when they aren’t setting in a car for ten’s of hours. This is coming from a guy who thinks his kids are pretty darn well behaved.

Some incredible things happened when we reached our destination. One of these being the unbelievable bond the girls developed with a grandmother they had never met. A grandmother that is known for not really liking little kids. Another was the fresh perspective a stubborn 37 year old man was able to look through when seeing his tired 72 year old mother for the first time in a very long time.

The last of these will have to wait for another post, though it will be soon. This short week opened plenty of doors and minds. Most of which should and will be shared.

Stay tuned.

This year’s Pinewood Derby has come and gone. I promised myself not to get too worked up over the inequalities that were glaringly blatant like I did last year. My blood pressure stayed under control, and I actually managed to have a good time. I did notice however that the attendance this year was almost cut in half. I’m wondering if the missing families let the unfairness get to them.

Wave after wave of races occurred. Children won, children lost. There were poor losers and even poorer winners. I watched as a child threw a tantrum because he came in 4th place over all (yes, I said OVER ALL!). He wanted to be first. His mom just let him scream his little head off.

I watched my son and his races and we cheered him on. Although his car was much faster than last year’s, he didn’t place at all, but his vehicle speeds were right in the middle of the pack. This didn’t bother him in the least. He was just happy to be with his friends, and was genuinely happy for them when their cars did well. I was enjoying his outlook.

My son’s Den Leader was absent, and I ended up being the de-facto Den Leader for the day. One of my duties was to find a “Best Sportsmanship” recipient from my son’s den. My son had that one hands down again, but I couldn’t bring myself to put him in for it, since I was acting Den Leader. It just didn’t seem right. I watched all the other kids and found a suitable alternate, and moved on.

I watched intently as the names, scores and standings went up on the projection screen. No surprises there. Same kids (parents) from last year. I overheard the winner’s dads chatting about how one of them had the track set up in his shed for months, and how one of the other dads had their cars built midyear last year. I rolled my eyes and went about my business. I congratulated my son on his outlook, and how much better his car did this year. He was happy.

In the weeks before the race we spent time in our freezing garage using all my power tools to build his racer. He designed his own car (nothing elaborate, but still his own), and was genuinely interested in the build process this time. He got the thrill of using dad’s uber-dangerous, appendage ripping, widow making tools. I got to keep my sanity. We both had a good time. I’m chalking this derby up as a win for both he and I.