The Bitter and the Sweet

In recent weeks Gavin has now experienced the bitter and sweet of lifes' highs and lows first hand. As with any good story it's a three part play.

Act I



Portland has a rose festival. The Rose Festival fireworks show was where A and I first moved from casually knowing each other to the phase where I screaned her calls and she stalked me. Thats not entirely true. Regardless, part of the Rose Festival is a childrens 'junior' parade. I've never paid much attention to it, filing it under cheeky kid stuff. Turns out it's a big deal. Real big deal. Live TV, Beauty Queens, marching bands, the works.

One of G's friends happened to have her 4th birthday on the same day as the Junior Rose Festival Parade. The plan was for her to ride in a cupcake bike trailer/jogging stroller and for her beu, Gavin to be her escort in Thomas. As previously mentioned, I was clueless to the magnitude of the event or the fact that each of the parade entries were judged. G and I showed up, ate some PB&J with our friends then were told we won our division and awarded the Blue Ribbon while in line for the porta-potty so G wouldn't pee himself during the parade propper. What a great present to get a Blue Ribbon on your birthday. Not to mention that Brian's cupcake work was pure genious.

Act II




Busy as we've been with the details of buying/selling houses, it was a rare treat for us all to be home and have eaten dinner before the sun had set. Given the rare time we had, a family bike ride to G's favorite park and Thunderdome was the unanimous choice. Gavin was exstatic to show off for both A and I at the same time. We raced around the tarmac playground on our bikes before he lead the ride down the hill to Thunderdome, his grassy free-ride gully beneath Redwood trees.

Full of confidence and brimming with pride to show his mom Thunderdome for the first time, G raced spectacularly down the paved path on his skuut bike before launching Steve Austin style from speed wobbles and using his body to stop his inevitable impact into the chainlink fence that surrounds the public pool.

First was the shock. Then the pain. Walkers passed by and from behind his tears I could see his embarassment. Next was his anger as we walked slowly home, G on my shoulders cradling his arm and spot of road rash. Finally acceptance, "I really wanted to play at Thunderdome with you Mom."

The next morning he was still cradling his slightly swollen elbow. I squeezed and moved it, just as many doctors and medics have done to me many, many times before. A and I deliberated but weren't convinced it was that bad. We also weren't convinced it was okay. A doctors visit, X-Ray and lolly-pop later, G was the proud owner of a tiny fracture and a sling that he would wear for a grand total of 3 seconds. The next evening,we rode a lap around the block but he still lamented missing the chance to show his mom his moves in Thunderdome.

Act III




My Dad wanted to take G and I to an outdoor model train exhibit. Various backyards around town dedicated to trains. It's been planned for months. Given that G rested his arm for next to no time at all; this would be a great way to pass a day and keep him from trying to climb, wrestle, punch or othewise over-use his bad wing. G dozed as we drove from house to house and fought from leaving each one, fearful that the layout at the next house would suck.

I'll spare you the dozens of bad pictures of cool model trains and the back of one redhead kids' mellon. But the trainsets, landscaping and detailed features of each yard were all amazing.

Epilogue




The doctor said to try and use a sling if G will allow it but to otherwise let him use his arm but not to over-use it. I'm not sure how to express 'over-use' to a near-four-year-old, but I think if he can manage to swing a hammer while waiting for Mac & Cheese, he's gonna be alright. Did I mention that the new house is halfway down a steep hill?

Racer Boy

In his usual way, G wore down his grandparents today like a stage hunter in a long break-away full of lesser domestiques, before finishing solo arms raised, legs fatigued, smile full, alone in the picture.

He took them on one at a time. Divide and conquer. Feined interest in their chores, tasks and playfulness until they needed rest. He then turned to the other with the same strategy. Targeting the opponent and keeping them in the wind a little longer than himself for each rotation of the echelon. Repeating methodically until they fell off the pace; Napping, horizontal in an aged reclyner.

But then the mountains came late in the stage. Literally. He climbed me. Little hands gripping mine, little stinky feet pressed against my shins. Against my thighs, into my belly, barely stable on shoulders until finally atop my head. Over and over. "Again, Daddy, agian!"

He descended, a giggling ball of weight flopping onto the couch lacking form yet always quick to big-ring another ascent. But the scenery changed. The course profile was not as he expected. Burgers, pinball, video games and ice cream came into view over the horizon.

He approached each with the same strategy as he conquered his elders. Taking on one at a time. Divide and conquer. But the quarters ran out; his pockets were empty, energy sapped. I saw through his poker face as the finish grew near. His nodding and fighting to keep focus. Todays' would not be his to win.

Finally in the finishing straight, snuggled into the couch, for the first time since he was an infact, he fell deep asleep snoring in my arms. Midway through his favorite movie, even before his usual bedtime. Gangly, weighted limbs, any of which heavier than his whole as a tiny baby, rested against me uncomfortable, cutting off circulation to my own limbs.

He is no baby any more. He is a boy. He is boundlessly full of energy and imagination and wild adventure. As I carried him to his room, he labored his eyes open, glassy and still asleep, smiled, then closed them again. I will savor this victory.

Cold War pimpin' Dream House

As first time home buyers we were asked to make a list of desirable features. Stuff like marble ceilings, full wall mirrors in every room, an indoor swing, bomb shelter and Lion head door-knobs didn't make the cut. That stuff costs big money and try as we did, none of it was found in houses in our meager price range. Except for the swing. But that house made me feel like I picked up a venerial disease just walking in.

So the second time around we have more strategic desires. Now we know despite how Mike Tyson might decorate, marble goes on counter-tops and entry way floor, not ceilings. Mirrors go on ceilings. Duh.

All I really want is a little more shop space and not to have to make the same improvements yet again on a different house. And of course, Lion head door knobs. A would be happy with kitchen cabinets that allow her to reach the top shelf. G wants train tracks in every room and tunnels through every wall. I can't fault either of them.

So all that said, here are a few highlights of our options:

This basement was 'move in ready'. I thought it would be a good place to have an 'under the sea' prom -after party at.

The finished garage is a classic. I would put the tv facing the parked car though so as to also get that drive in feel on date night.

These were the finest ceiling tiles I've seen by far. Not a new install either! This whole house was a time machine. I kept waiting for Christopher Walken to come out from around a corner as Calvin Webber from the movie Blast from the Past.

Dew-drops along the basement stairs.

This basement was the best man-town I've seen. The downside, not pictured was the furnace which was as big as an SUV.

Seriously, the pool table matches the paneling. The poker table and matching Joker light = good times. Off to the right is the wet bar. This was the only part of the house that didn't need work!

Remember her for later...

Gavin said there was no way he could pee in a girls bathroom. So had to scratch this one off the list.

I think the dirty perv bathroom got some movie time in the 70's.



Okay, this bed...friggin RAD! Imagine the cheesecake oil painting in the same room. A and I both wanted to buy the house just to get the bed worked into the deal.