"But gather together to greet the storm"

Our bedtime lately has felt like a nightly storm raging across our second floor, sweeping from bathroom to bedroom, cascading up and down the front hall stairs, hurtling objects (and accusations and repeated pleadings to cooperate) to and fro.

This summer, the evening storm has lenghtened in duration. It has picked up in intensity. It has caused us worry and consternation and impatience as we "gather together to greet the storm," as the song goes in Cabaret. Sometimes, the storm spins off tornadoes in the form of sudden bursts of chaos. Just when you think the Weather Channel will issue an "all clear," the storm gives a final round of noise and movement, further exhausting us.

The storm, of course, is our three children. We, Becks and I, the ones bearing its brunt. I want to document this less-than-optimal aspect of our family life, because it's such a part of our parenthood experience at the moment. Hopefully, one day soon we can look back to this approaching storm front and see it pass us by. Our kids will grow out of their bedtime shtick, right?!

Our two girls insist on prolonging their nightly routine by a factor of five. Mr. Moo? He alternates between going to bed around 7:30 and waking up later, or kicking us as we put him in his crib around 8:15, or howling when we push his bedtime later, in a plaintive attempt to exhaust him more so he'll go to sleep. He almost always sleeps through the night once he's done. But it's hard when it's 8:15, your two girls are finally down, but the trickiest one remains awake. Oh no, not done yet!

We've tried counting 1,2,3 to get their attention, to obey us when we ask them to get their pajamas on and to brush their teeth and to not stick their finger in the light socket from which Mr. Moo just yanked out their night light. Tonight, I put all three kids to bed solo while Becky got a long-deserved girls' night out. I said a prayer alone before Becky left, asking that the Man Upstairs give me more patience and not to raise my voice, to prove to Him and myself that I could be a calm, unperturbed dad tonight at bedtime.

I believe in prayer. I tried my best. But after at least a half-dozen requests that Goose get her pajamas on, I raised my voice. I used the phrase, "I'm tired of having to keep asking you." And then, an epiphany: Maybe that's part of the problem. That I keep after them to listen and obey. Maybe I should just say it once and let them decide how soon after to obey? I also have a new level of respect for the single parents and the parents whose spouse can't be home out there who do the bedtime routine without any help.

Man, it's tough. I may or may not have eaten a candy bar at work today, in a fit of nerves just thinking about my solo bedtime comedy of errors that awaited me once five o'clock arrived.

Tomorrow is another night.

Oh, and the title of this post? It comes from the movie "Cabaret," which was based on the musical of the same name, which itself was inspired by "I am a Camera," which came from the novel "Goodbye to Berlin." Phew. I first saw the movie about six years ago. As a student of European history, as someone who lived in Germany, and who spoke German, I was blown away by the scene below. The song, though fictional (and written by a Jewish man), captured the pastoral beauty that was so often the feature of German folklore, and which the Nazis then perverted for their barbarism. Okay, I will get off my nerd box now. 

The (college) graduate

Two months ago, my sister Elizabeth graduated from college. This was a big accomplishment for her, as she fit her undergrad studies into an already full life as a working mom. We were really proud of my sister, and it was great to celebrate her on this special day.
In our digital age, we watched online as the line of graduates crossed the stage to get their diplomas, and then hustled to the campus as my sister's school started processing. Saved us a few hours of watching streams of strangers, and our kids got extra time to play with their cousins in my parents' backyard.

The gang's all here! Beth the graduate with her family (Silas and their kids), my mom, and our family, a few minutes after Beth walked across the stage to get her diploma! My dad, true to form as a lifetime photographer, took this photo.

And one with the whole family! Congratulations, Elizabeth!

14 Months

Yesterday, Our Mighty Moose turned 14 months old. He is getting to be more independent, funny, stubborn, and unpredictable with each passing day, every passing week. He is making some generalizations about little boys come true for us--he likes playing in dirt; we caught him just before he slipped a dead, dry, shriveled worm into his mouth; he can be entertained with bats and balls--while debunking other myths. His nickname has morphed from Moose to Mr. Moo and a few others.

This Mr. Moo gave himself (and us) a spectacular 14-month birthday gift: He is walking now!

Over the last few days, he started walking a couple steps at a time, unassisted by us. He would walk from his high chair to the fridge, or from one room to another, to the front hall stairs, following us, etc. It's also awesomely cute to see him slowly rise to a standing position after he was sitting on the floor. He looks like a cartoon robot coming to life when he does this. His legs stay immoveable while he balances his upper half, and then his torso and back slowly arch up and his chubby arms jut out to steady himself. It's quite a sight.

He has been taking more steps with each opportunity to walk ever since late last week. Moose isn't fast enough yet to chase after our neighbor's cat who makes daily visits to our backyard. That cat can't possibly know how much more freedom she will have from our Mr. Moo, who squeals when-ever he sees her. For us, we're really enjoying the hilarity and unabashed parental pride that comes from watching one's child take such a big step, literally!

Camping, round II

We went camping for the second time this summer at the end of June, about a month after the family camping bug bit our family on our Memorial Day weekend extravaganza. This time, we left Becky and Our Mighty Moose at home. Don't worry. There were no complains from my better half. She delighted in a girls' night in on Friday with friends and a lazy Saturday.

We went along with our good friends Andrus and his daughter Chloe to Otter River State Park in central Massachusetts. It's a relatively easy, quick ride on Route 2, and we arrived around suppertime. The first photo, above, was taken at 8:33 that night. It was still very light out, even with all of the tree coverage. I set up our small tent while simultaneously trying to keep a watch on our girls as they romped through an area that might have had poison ivy. They loved every minute of their time with their best friend.

Tents done, it was time for hot dogs and burgers for dinner at about 8:45, followed by s'mores around 9:30. This was one of the latest bedtimes our girls have ever had (except when we're in Utah, with the time change), but despite our fairly regular routine at home, they did fine as the clock crept toward 10 pm. We got into our tent and they fell asleep pretty easily. Dear Old Dad, however, not so much...The campsite is located off a nondescript yet busy road. In the otherwise serene settings, you could hear passing cars coming about a minute before they whizzed past the campsite.

Then there was the moment, sometime around 4 a.m., when Goose was crying and fumbling across the air mattress on which her sister and I slept. No biggie. The three of us went back to sleep, and Mouse had to shake me awake at 8:30 on Saturday morning. I had not slept in that late in ages.  

Inside our cramped tent. We're hoping that Santa will bring us a new, bigger tent for Christmas.

Bedheads and breakfast! Our breakfast was a fiasco. Andrus and I forgot to bring a frying pan, so we bought one in Gardner en route. However, we didn't read the label and didn't notice anything wrong until breakfast time. The frying pan was non- non-stick. So, the eggs and pancakes stuck to it, and Andrus' pancake recipe didn't quite "pan" out, either. Everyone did fine feasting on graham crackers instead.

After breakfast, we set out to explore the campground. There's a pond, fields for Frisbee and other sports, and a nature center the size of an average kitchen. I wish I had brought our canoe, but as we have not yet tried to secure it atop our Blue Bomber mini-van, and the campsite was an hour away, I was a little nervous to test transporting the canoe under those conditions.

Goose wearing a plastic beetle mask in the nature center. All she really wanted to do on Saturday, however, was swim in the pond. This is the summer when she's started to try learning to swim, and she loves any chance to get in the water.

Meanwhile, Our Little Mouse kept true to her form and resisted all attempts to coax her into the pond. She would much rather sit on-shore and watch her sister and friends in the water than actually go in it herself. I snapped this photo of Mouse as she watched kids splashing in the pond with a rainstorm brewing overhead. She and I, and Andrus, sat on the shore in our chairs and talked the time away.

After the rain passed, Goose and Chloe spent about two hours in the pond or lounging near it. They had a great time. We left the camp for lunch and returned for a couple more hours of fun before heading home in the late afternoon. I cannot wait to go camping again! In my mind, an ideal family year of fun would include a minimum of 5 camping outs: 1 in the spring, 2 or 3 in the summer, and 2 or 3 in the fall. There is still plenty of time left to reach that goal this year. 

Visiting Pat

Years ago, before we became TimBeck5, Becky and I lived in Watertown, Massachusetts for a year.  We had a nice apartment on the second floor of a house, with a large living room and a sunporch at the front of the house and a small back porch, too. We had tons of friends over for dinners--any day of the week!--which seems like it would be a herculean task now with kids involved. We slept in, stayed up late, exercised, had a second bedroom for guests. I thought I saw a UFO one night while I was looking out a westward-facing window.

On Halloween night 2005, I came home to an empty apartment, clicked on our back hall light, and was halfway through our door into the apartment when the hall light and the kitchen light flickered off. (Yeah, I thought twice about stepping all the way inside our place!).

We liked this place a lot, except for the motorcyle gang of 20-something ne'er-do-wells who wreaked havoc and bombed the neighborhood with noise most nights of the week. Their shenanigans ended, sadly, when one in their clique popped a wheelie and then slammed into an oncoming car right in front of our house.

Oh, the things one remembers about a place in time. 

One of the best things about our Watertown place was our elderly neighbor, Pat. We got to know her, her son and his wife, and their two little kids through seeing them outside and talking. Pat has been a widow for decades. She is now 91 years old. And it's terrific that we keep in touch with her. We have brought our kids to her house for Halloween, gone Christmas caroling to her in a snow storm, and just checked in with calls and visits. 

Last week, Pat invited Becky and our kids over for lunch. It's funny how kids react differently to old people and people they don't know well. Goose, who has known Pat the longest, hung out with Pat's great-grandkids most of the time. Meanwhile, Mouse did the following:

Instead of playing with the older kids, she grabbed that lawn chair and saddled up right in front of Pat. Becky watched the two of them talk and listen to each other as the minutes ticked by. She thought it was a precious sight to see. I have to agree. I love Mouse's laid-back, quiet, take-it-all-in personality. I feel like she really studies a person, a book, or a situation well--as deep as a 3-year-old can, I guess. She's a thinker.

Becky got some quality time with Pat and one of her granddaughters:

Not everyone was thrilled to spend time with Pat, though! Mr. Moo was quite displeased:

"Thank you that we can stay home"

For the last six-plus months, Our Little Mouse has been eager to say prayers at mealtime and bedtime. This is a 180 departure from times before, when she would routinely shake her head, avoid eye contact, and fold into herself at the table whenever we asked if she wanted to say the prayer. Lately, Mouse has a predictable pattern to her prayers, and I wanted to record it for future laughs and just to remember.

After giggling through the customary, three-year-old stuff ("We are thankful for our bodies, thank you for the food," etc.), Mouse almost always adds, "And thank you that we could stay home today." This is oftentimes hilarious to us for the following reasons:

•  She will say this phrase in the morning, before we have done anything...including staying at home or leaving it.
• She says it even if we've spent the whole day at a spray park, friends' house, church, on a Daddy-Daughter date, whathaveyou.
• On Monday morning, hours before leaving for a 3-night, 4-day stay at Nana Camp, sure enough Mouse uttered this phrase!

We get a big kick out of this prayer routine, out of knowing to expect it whenever she says a prayer, and knowing that she generally likes being at home with us. I will try to capture it on video before she stops saying it for good!

The Moose looks like The Goose

The Moose, 13 months. July 2012.

AND

The Goose, 10 Months. January 2008.

I think the photo evidence is pretty conclusive (but not 100%) that The Moose and The Goose could be twins. Surprisingly, most people that we talk with say that Our Mighty Moose looks a lot like me. We don't really see the resemblance, and the photos above just add to my stance that our little boy looks like his oldest sister and their mommy. But we'll take peoples' opinions regardless.

When I took the photo of our little guy yesterday morning, it instantly reminded me of the photos I took of his big sister in her own pair of shades from roughly a similar age. It'll be interesting to see if he continues to look a lot like Goose as he grows up.



The Ronaele Road House

Back in April, when I took our girls to the Amelia Earhart monument in West Medford, we made a brief stop at a house in West Medford on Ronaele Road (that's "Eleanor" spelled backward). This house has a lot of special meaning to Becky and to me, and I wanted to bring our girls to it to show them that this house is where their mommy and daddy met and became a couple, eight years ago this spring. This humble home is on a quiet, shady side street and I always liked its relatively low ceilings, its bay windows on the dining room (above the driveway), and its living room. There is also a small, enclosed back porch that me and a bunch of other guys who were all dating Ronaele Road Girls at the same time (Scott Buchanan, John Payne) dubbed "the Meat Locker," where the short-lived "Meat Locker Boys' Club" hung out a couple times.

Some of my all-time favorite Ronaele Road House memories:

• In the spring of 2004, Road House veteran Randi instituted a weekly "Randi's Cafe," where she invited friends over to taste meals that she thought up and prepared. One such meal came to a sudden halt when we discovered that the Pyrex had cracked and there were shards of glass in our dinner. We also think that Randi never rightfully was compensated for all of the time and money she put into these great meals.
• A certain dinner in the winter of 2002-2003. I walked into the living room with a plate of spaghetti that was generously slathered in marinara sauce. While everyone looked on as time slowed down, we all watched the spaghetti slide right off my plate...and onto another Ronaele Road House roommate's couch.
• This is the house where I first heard the missionary discussions, in November 2002. My first, last, and several other lessons about the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints were held in its living room, with Road House friends Scott, Alicia, Kamber, Randi, and Robb. I can still remember many of the highlights of those discussions, the "by-the-book" senior missionary (Elder Eagleston, still a good friend) and the newbie, young, nervously excited junor companion (Elder Myrvang), whose infectious enthusiasm for talking with people more than made up for his sentences that were often little more than, "Wow, Tim, this is so cool that you're learning about all this stuff!"
• Staying up far too late many nights in a row in the beginning days of starting to date Becky. This was after I had been trying to win her attention for weeks...but she would head to bed by 9 p.m. to get up for teaching the next morning.
• Throwing a surprise farewell party to Randi in the summer of 2004. It was the first successful surprise party I'd ever organized and thrown.
• Hearing someone liberally quote from the temple movie in a game of "Settlers of Catan."
• Having Becky's roommate Meredith videotape me for Becky's bridal shower in the spring of 2005. In the course of asking about a defining moment in our dating, I said, "Well, there was the time Becky and I made out behind a dumpster in Montreal." [True story]. Meredith turned bright red and laughed for about 5 minutes before we both recovered and were able to resume filming.
• Pumpkinfest! (I think the Road House girls would kill me if I didn't add an exclamation point).
• Bryce and I hoisting his youngest sister through a kitchen window so we could get inside to decorate for Ronaele roommate Melena's birthday party in the fall of 2003.
• Becky's roommate Melena and I doing a lime green mud mask together. 
• Me getting nauseous there on my first Sunday ever of fasting for two meals.  

Anyhow, it's fun to remember those times and others--many great, some not so. I should have checked with Becky for her own memories of the two years that she lived here. Maybe we'll do a follow-up with her recollections.
The house had lots of old windows that looked out onto green shrubs and trees. It's the kind of house I had wanted to live in at the time that I was a chief member of its revolving door of guy friends and boyfriends. Through the window of time, whenever I think about the Ronaele Road House, I think of it often in junction with seasons: spring just seemed to smell nicer, and autumn colors seemed bolder, out the windows of the dining room or the kitchen.

It was a quaint old house made all the more inviting by the attitudes and lifestyle of new friends to me in the fall and winter of 2002, as I left a part of my old life behind (the booze, the hardly ever going to church on Sunday, etc.) and embarked on a new path as a member of the Church of Jesus Christ. Houses capture slices of time in one's life as few other things can. I know the Ronaele Road House has special meaning to many people in our life, who became good friends through our hanging-out there.  

I am glad that we still live close enough for a visit. This was my first time at Ronaele Road in at least five years. One day, our kids will be old enough to really understand the significance of this house and its time in the lives of our kids' parents, and by extension, in their own lives.