Built With Patience And Love

After building it decades ago, I still used it. It was tipped on its side in a corner of the garage and was still being used to store stuff. Every time my wife Amy and I were in the garage working out, I'd look at it and think someday I'll refinish it. Our garage is part guest room/office, part gym, storage area, and where I drum; we haven't parked a car in there for a long time. 

Over the years when I looked at it sitting on its side in the corner, I sometimes wondered why I still had it -- a wooden cabinet I had made in woodshop way back in 7th grade. As I wrote last year, I don't remember exactly why I took woodshop in 7th grade, but it was probably because my dad worked with wood and built furniture, toys, and other things. When I was a teen, our home garage was full of table saws, circular saws, jigsaws, and so many other woodworking tools.

So, I took woodshop in junior high and made a cabinet. An actual working cabinet with shelves and hinged doors. It took a lot of patience, and sweat, and yes, I guess a lot of love. Now that I think about it, I never wanted to get rid of it over the years. Again, I wanted to refinish it at some point, and I finally am now.

Because we're creating a sun room out of our back porch, Amy mentioned we could put my old wooden cabinet out there if I really wanted to refinish it. Dig it out of the shadowy corner in the garage, sand and stain it, and actually use it again as it was intended to be used in its refreshed glory. A second life of sorts. What is old is new again.

This is important to me because sometimes I feel I have no control over anything in this world. And with my business struggling right now, I feel like a failure and that I won't be able to provide for my family. That I should've done this or I should've done that instead of where I'm at today.

But that's hogwash, because I actually do have more control over what I do right this very minute. And the next. And the next. Amy and I meditate daily and those meditations remind us that we're a universe of endless possibilities and that we are always good enough. This is exactly where I'm supposed to be, and my wife and children love me and are supportive and proud of me, just as I am of them. Sure, I have no idea what will happen tomorrow or in the next six months, but again, this very moment is mine, as is the next one, and the next. 

I posted the picture of my old cabinet I'm now refinishing and someone commented, "Pretty cool you still have it! You must have made it really well!" While someone else posted, "Old world craftsmanship -- it's nice how things hold up over time when they are built with patience and love."

Patience and love. Amen. I've never really given myself enough credit for the things I've done throughout my life. Of what I've overcome to get here and where I'm going. Of endless possibilities. I built that cabinet nearly 45 years ago, and while it wasn't really all that elaborate of a design, it was simple and sturdy and still standing today. All because it was built with patience and love when I was 13 years old. That's why today when I do have moments of self-doubt and feel like a failure, they are fleeting, because Amy and I have built our family on a foundation of patience, love, and infinite potential. 

Let that be a lesson to you, kids. Blessings to us all.

Mad at Dad

I knew I should've just driven around for 5 more minutes to find an open spot on the street. But I didn't. I wasn't even that impatient this time, at least not the way I used to be when looking for parking, and yet I still didn't keep looking. Instead, I parked where it was clearly marked I shouldn't park without a permit, thinking in my head I'd get away with it.

I did not get away with it.

I wouldn't find out for hours, though. I was taking my daughters and one of their friends to the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk for the afternoon. We parked up the small hill from the Boardwalk because when it's really busy, it's tough to drive close to it and park. Plus, being a local, I didn't want to pay for parking, and a little walk never hurt anyone.

This was the dad weekend, since my wife, Amy, the mom, was away at her high school reunion. We had wanted to go together, but since it was the first week of school for the girls, we wanted them to stay close to home. Mom was having a blast, and the night before had sent me a cute video of her "mom" dancing with her friends at 11:30 pm, way past our usual bedtime. On the other hand, I stayed up late myself, watching Avengers: End Game after I put the girls to bed.

We know how to rock and roll.

The next day, after I parked the car, the kids and I walked down to the Boardwalk. The fog burned off and it was a lovely day. We rode some rides, got yummy snacks, and overall had a great time.

Until Bryce got hangry. This is a pretty common condition for those of you with kids who, when they get hungry, they get grumpy and angry. This isn't just specific to kids; adults can get hangry, too. Amy used to get hangry when we were first dating.

First, it started with a request to ride one of the rides that we had already walked a ways away from, coming close to the end of our visit.

"I want to go on Ghost Blasters!"

"I want to go on Ghost Blasters!"

"I want to go on Ghost Blasters!"

"Bryce, I said no, we've got to get back soon. We're still going to ride the bumper cars and the carousel again."

"No, I want to go on Ghost Blasters!"

"Do you want another snack, Bryce? Are you hungry?"

There's a point where hangry combines with being tired for a truly special meltdown, where no food will help. Bryce refused any new snacks, so Beatrice and their friend tried to help console Bryce and distract her, but the meltdown continued. She tugged on me and hit me with her hat annoyingly.

"I want to go on Ghost Blasters!"

"I want to go on Ghost Blasters!"

"I want to go on Ghost Blasters!"

In the past, I'd always try to fight fire with fire, threatening punitive measures if she didn't stop with the tantrum. Which, by the way, isn't easy for a 9-year-old. Or, any of us for that matter when we're tired and hungry. I lit the battle fires in my head and hands, battled for a bit, and then extinguished them. There was no point. It wouldn't make any difference. I texted Amy that Bryce was "Mad at Dad" and she texted back "Sorry". I hugged Bryce, told her I loved her and that I was sorry she was upset, and as soon as the bumper cars were over we were going home. Then I just let her burn herself out. She softened after the ride and as we walked back to the car, she held my hand and stayed quiet.

When we got to the car, Beatrice said, "Looks like you didn't get a ticket, Dad."

I saw the parking ticket tucked under the windshield wiper. "No, it's there."

"Oh, right," Beatrice said, pulling the ticket out and handing it to me. "Sorry."

Later that night before bed, I told Bryce that I loved her and was sorry I had gotten mad.

"I'm sorry you got mad at dad," I said.

"It's okay, Daddy. I know I get hangry." She giggled when she said it. "I'm sorry."

"I love you, Bryce."

"I love you, Daddy," she said, and gave me a kiss.

Damn, that was one expensive parking spot, I thought.