Learning to swim

  There are times as a parent when you get glimpses into the type of person that your child will become. Sometimes you cringe, and sometimes you are super proud, and other times you just have to laugh out loud. 

  Apollo has been taking swimming lessons. Melanie has been the one to take him, so I get to hear all about it from her, but I had to take time out of at least one work day to experience it for myself. This was one of the moments when I was both very proud, and laughing hysterically out loud. 

  The goal of the "Tadpoles" class, is to teach the most basic water skills and to build up the child's confidence in the water. 

  They teach them to kick their legs, stick their faces in the water and blow bubbles,....

 go on their back and kick their legs with their arms stretched out over their heads,...

 and they even play games!     It sounds like great fun and what kid wouldn't be sucked in and then go with the flow?.....Can you say, Apollo? Yes, believe it or not, it is my son that has to do things his way. What Apollo is really learning from this class is how to express himself, negotiate, communicate, and to step outside of his "shy" bubble, and possibly even how to flirt a little.
  When the instructor changes activities, the three other kids in the class follow right along with her and copy her every move. Apollo will just sit back and watch.
 "Apollo, would you like to join us?" I heard the instructor ask.
"No thank you, I am too busy right now," he replied.
"Come on, you're missing all the fun Apollo," she said, trying to appeal to his sense of fun.
"Well, I am just going to stay here and watch."
When it came time to play rings, wouldn't you know it, Apollo had a new set of reasons to do things his own way.
The swim instructor asked, "Apollo, I am going to throw this ring into the water. Do you want to go get it for me?"
 "Ummm, I only like the blue ring, so you can have the yellow one."
  Fortunately, this instructor does not take no for an answer and always gently pulls Apollo into the mix of whatever she has the class doing.

As a technique to get all the kids to join in and get their hands in the air and to help them learn to use their arms in swimming, the instructor asks all the students to use their superpowers and put their arms in the air like they are flying. Of course all the kids but Apollo did this. When, his instructor asked Apollo why he wouldn't join in. his response was, "I don't have the flying power."

"Well, what super power do you have Apollo?" she inquired.

"I have the power of fire...it's in my legs." he replied confidently.

  I laughed for the entire 20 minutes of Apollo's swim class that I was able to attend. Not only was I impressed by my sons individuality, but I also enjoyed the fact that the other students were impressed by Apollo's "fire powers". Even the instructor coaxed Apollo multiple times by telling him, "come on Apollo, use your fire powers!"
  Later that evening, I quizzed Apollo about his lack of flying powers, and tried to remind him of his dreams; "Hey, remember all the dreams you used to have about me and you flying? That means you have flying powers!"
Once again, I was schooled by my own son, "Actually dada, I only go flying with you, and it is in the mornings, in the clouds by the mountains. The kids at the pool are only pretending to have flying powers...but they can't fly in water."
Class dismissed!

The wounded giant.

  Seated on the balcony of a mission style hotel, I watch as palm trees bend and sway from the stiff wind in the courtyard below. The sound of water splashing in twin, 250-foot long, water fountains, nearly drowns out the sound of the palm fronds flapping wildly from the wind. The midnight air is comfortable, and carries a hint of jasmine and alyssum. The fountains have many lights which are changing colors in unison, illuminating the crystal clear water, causing the ripples to shimmer on the surface. It sounds like paradise, a resort in Mexico perhaps, however, if I look beyond the most distant palm trees who's trunks are spiraled with hundreds of white lights, I see two ribbons of light, red and white, moving in opposite directions.  It is interstate 5, somewhere in California's vast central valley.

  Inside the hotel room, all is quiet. Orion is passed out and Apollo is unwinding watching a movie; a sharp contrast from the car ride a few hours earlier. While driving on I-5, we watched a bright orange sun setting against a golden, cloudless horizon. The silhouettes of steel high voltage power line towers, looked like 100-foot tall giant stick-figures, marching in tandem to meet the sun where she touched pastel violet hills far off in the distance. Orion squealed with delight repeatedly from his carseat, while Apollo answered back matching pitch and decibel. The sound was deafening and almost spoiled the serenity of the setting sun which Melanie and I were trying to enjoy. This is the end result of driving nearly 2,500 miles in the past 11 days with little ones in the car.

 This last leg of our road trip was not planned but was an important one. Sixty hours ago, we left Santa Rosa for southern California, to visit my ailing father. My dad will be 82-years-old in a couple weeks. He is active and always on the go, and I have never known him to sit still for very long. He is one of the toughest people I have ever known. He never complains when he is sick or injured and has always kept moving when the same ailment would have left others flat on their backs. My dad has a giant's presence in any room and enjoys good conversation, story telling, political debates, and expressing his opinion whether you want to hear it or not. As you can imagine, when I hear my father is sick enough to be hospitalized, I know it has to be serious. I also know that he would not go to the hospital on his own, and it was my mother that dragged him there. My greek mother stands a mere 4 foot, 11 inches tall and is dwarfed by my fathers 6 foot, 1 inch frame, however, she can be very persuasive and forceful when needed.
  My father was hospitalized with heart failure, fever, loss of appetite, pain in his legs and hips, anemia, and low potassium, among other things. A whole battery of tests, and because of the perseverance of my greek mother, my dad was found to have an autoimmune disease, and is hopefully on the road to recovery. Our short trip to see him was both to be supportive and in hopes that seeing the grandchildren would lift my father's spirits. Because of some of the underlying conditions, visiting with my dad proved to be a real task. We were required to wear gloves and gowns and had to convince the nursing staff to allow Apollo and Orion into the room to see him. Fortunately, by Sunday afternoon, my father was discharged from the hospital with a diagnosis, direction, and a plan of action.

  I drove my dad and mom home from the hospital and I could tell that my dad was happy to finally be out of there and he was excited to be headed home. My parents live in the mountains. Their home is on a hillside, and consequently, there are thirty steps to get to their front door. As my father has too much pride to allow any one assist him, we watched helplessly as he climbed the steps slowly and deliberately, both hands grasping the hand rail on his right side, pulling himself up, while lifting his legs one by one. As hard as it was for me to watch, I imagine it was harder for him knowing that we were seeing him in this weakened state.
  As I needed to return home by sometime Monday morning, it was with heavy hearts that we departed my parents home and began the journey back to our own home. We would have liked nothing more than to spend a week with my parents helping them out while my dad began to mend. Alas, I find myself writing in the wee hours of the morning, instead of sleeping, trying to make some sense of our temporal existence, and our all too short visit with a wounded giant.

The Mungie

  I do not pretend to understand how the mind of a toddler works, but as I have said before, I find it fascinating! Apollo has some how come up with the word, "Mungie". How?...what?...where?...I may never know. The first time I heard him use this word or name, he was talking to a bowl of tadpoles that he had just helped to catch. "Hi lil' mungies", he would say repeatedly, "Dada, did you see my lil' mungies?" Over the course of the next few days, he started to call Orion, Mungie. I love nicknames, so as you can probably guess, Orion is now Mungie (among other things). Oddly enough, the name suites him; he is a lil' Mungie!
  June was a transitional month for our little Mungie. Orion reluctantly made the progression from crawling to walking. I say reluctantly, because as with Apollo, I think Orion has a better understanding of cause and effect, or action and reaction, than most kids his age. Simply put, the higher you fall from, the more it hurts. He has been walking around the house for months now with the aid of anything that would slide across the floor. On occasion, Orion would be preoccupied with a toy in his hands and he would forget that he was not holding on to anything and he would take a few un-assisted steps across the room. Once he noticed his error, he would squeal in discontent, and drop immediately to the floor.

 
Every day that passes, Orion waddles around on two feet more, and crawls less. How I miss his crawling already. It was like watching a mechanical windup toy crawl across the floor. Now a new era of terror has begun in the house of Miles.
    Everything sacred is in full lockdown mode. Cabinets, drawers, counters. Blender might be a better nickname for our little Mungie, as he leaves a path of destruction in his wake, that even a Vita-Mix would envy. Cant see into a drawer that is higher than your head? no problem! Just open it, stand on your tipi-toes, reach in and pull out everything that your little hands can grab, and throw it on the floor. And if you can't get a cabinet door or drawer to open, scream at the top of your lungs and throw yourself to the floor as if you just lost the world series, and then turn on the waterworks. This may not open anything, but apparently you sure feel much better afterward. (I might have to try this at work!)
  This twenty two pound baby of ours, pretty much runs the house. He is bossy, demanding, and loud.(Melanies genetic's) Those three traits are a bad combination. He wants what he wants, and he wants it now! He counteracts this with his sweetness and playfulness. If this little Mungie likes you, he will lay his head on you even if you are a dog laying on the floor or a radio playing a song he likes in the back yard. He is as much fun as he is trouble.

  The affect of Orion's larger than life presence in our home has begun to take its toll on Apollo. I believe that Apollo is feeling like he has been pushed aside and is now second to Orion. We have gone through great pains to avoid this predicament, yet we have found ourselves in the midst of it. Apollo mostly manifest this thru a bit of passive aggresive behavior, but he also will take it up a notch or two if the mood strikes him. Apollo likes to place toys just out of Orions reach, pinch his leg (unprovoked), block him from coming in or out of the house, or push him out of his way if Orion is trying to interact with him. It is challenging to find the right way to react to this type of behaviour in an effort to not perpetuate it further. Melanie has decided that the best approach is for Apollo to surrender on of his favorite toys as a consequence of his actions. The toy is placed on top of the refridgerator where he can see it as a constant reminder of the consequence until he earns it back for good behavior. This approach is working marginally well, however, I do enjoy the fact that Apollo will approach me when this happens and tell me his side of the story;
 "I am really mad at mama! She took my Finn McMissle car from me!" He will announce.
"Were you mean to baby brother?", I will enquire.
"Yes! Because he wouldn't stop looking at me! I want you to be rough to mama and put her in a time out and get me my Finn back!"
~~
  If I end up in the hospital, you will know that I tried to be "rough" with mama.

 

A Fathers day

I can't believe it has been over a month since my last post. I have tons to write about and I have attempted to write on many occasions, however, with the longer days, and two young children that are always on the go, it is hard to get a free moment to write a few paragraphs. I will finish up a post I started on fathers day and I hope to have a few more posts this month to make up for my lack of posts in June. ~~~

    Fathers Day.  I never really stopped to think about the significance of what it meant to be a father. Not that I did not spend a large amount of time weighing the pros and cons of fatherhood, because I did do that, but the great amount of sacrifice and greater amount of responsibility that I now realize comes with fatherhood, weighs heavy upon me. It is so easy, in most cases, to create life...to become a father, whether by choice or by accident. But, it is what we do with those lives that we created, that will build our legacy.
 Recently, a friend of mine passed away. Quite unexpected was his passing, and being but a few years older then I, it has left me to ponder many times into the wee hours of the morning, my own mortality and how that would affect Apollo and Orion. You can plan, make preparations, make back up plans...it really doesn't matter; at some point your time comes, and in an instant, everything changes. It pains me to think of my boys growing up without one of their parents. It is with this in mind that I approach the way I interact with my little ones. I try to envision how their last memory of me would be if this moment with them, were to be my last. I always try to leave things on a positive note. I always want to be their hero.

  I have had my fair share of loved ones pass away. For every departure, a scar remains, concealed only by the passing of time, yet deep inside, the wounds have never fully healed. I do my best to honor my dearly departed and I hope that I represent them well.
 As a 4-year-old, Apollo most likely does not have a full understanding of death, however, he understands a great deal and probably to a greater degree than I did at that age. He has had to watch some of our pets leave us, as well as wild critters (bug, mammal, fish, and fowl) that we have happened to encounter. We also discuss with Apollo about our loved ones that have departed this world. It is our way to honor their memory and keep them alive and also to keep our sons connected to their ancestors so that they will know where they come from. Apollo happened to be at his great grandpa Joe's house for the last two weeks of his life. At 20-months-old, Apollo does not remember this, however, he does remember his great grandpa. We show him pictures from time to time and talk to him about his great grandpa Joe, in hopes to keep his memories of him intact.
  It has been a few months since we have talked about Grandpa Joe, so you can imagine my surprise when Apollo approached me one day and proclaimed, "Dada, I want to go that big house by our snow house* to see grandpa Joe. I want him to see how big I got."
  I had to fight back the tears as a lump formed in my throat. This comment lead to a great conversation with Apollo about life and death.
 "Did grandpa Joe go to doggie heaven or people heaven?" Apollo asked.
"Well," I explained, "they are kind of the same place. But you have to be very special to get into doggie heaven, because only the best people are entrusted with looking after animals. I am pretty sure that Grandpa Joe is in doggie heaven right now taking care of Lucy, Nokia, and Diego (our dogs)."
"And Harold (our cockatoo), too?" he asked.
"Yup," I assured him, "and Harold too!"
"I want to go there and see him (Grandpa Joe)." Apollo replied.
"Yeah, thats not gonna happen until your at least a hundred-years-old!"

  As you can imagine, this opened up another, longer dialogue about growing old. It is in these moments that I realize my roll as a father is multi-faceted. I am a teacher, mentor, spiritual advisor, playmate, friend, and protector. These are some pretty big shoes to fill and at times I hardly feel worthy of such an honorable roll. As I stumble my way through fatherhood, I am constantly reminded of how lucky I am to stand where I am standing; whether it is Orion falling asleep in my arms or Apollo asking me endless questions about the world around him, I know that I am doing my best to build my own legacy.

(The last photo is Apollo with Grandpa Joe, Thanksgiving Day, 2008)
* Apollo refers to our home in Bend, Oregon as "our snow house". "that big house" is Grandpa Joe's house in Madras, OR.