Running In Parallel

Hearts by Bryce

She kept saying she smelled propane. I didn’t smell it. Now, my wife Amy has Spidey sense (from the comic book superhero Spider-Man – the ability to sense things others can’t – like me), so I didn’t necessarily doubt she smelled something was wrong, but I didn’t smell any propane, so thought everything was fine.

When we hooked up our trailer camper to go on a little family trip, she again said she definitely smelled it. When we arrived at our camping destination and had begun setting up our trailer camper, she said it again.  

“No, really. I smell propane. And do you hear that humming?”

I did. Hear the humming, but I still didn’t smell propane. However, I did smell the faint scent of something burning, something acidic. That’s when I leaned over to one of the two 6-volt batteries that powered our trailer camper. 

There was the hum and there was the smell.

“What the hell?”

We quickly removed the battery covers and sure enough, the humming and smelly battery was also very hot. We then quickly disconnected the batteries and called Amy’s Uncle Brian. Brian is a retired power company lineman and extremely knowledgeable about all things electric, wiring, power and so much more beyond that (he’s helped us with many things). We had him on FaceTime and we walked through how the batteries were supposed to be connected in parallel so as to increase the amp-hour capacity with the voltage remaining the same. This way if there is a break in the circuit, the current is able to pass through the circuit through different paths. Things way above my pay-grade. I had disconnected them months earlier when we stored the camper to prevent what’s called parasitic draw (things on in the camper still drawing power even though it’s just sitting there). I set up solar trickle chargers for the battery as well that helped to keep them charged. 

But when we prepped the camper for our first trip of the year, I connected the batteries incorrectly, hence the smell and the humming. In all fairness to us, which even Brian admitted, the parallel connector cable was red. And red wire usually means positive, but that wasn't the case here, hence the parallel connection from negative on one battery to positive on the other that I didn't follow when reconnecting. Thank God for Spidey sense, teamwork and Uncle Brian. 

"Phew, thank goodness we figured that out and didn't fry our camper," I said.

"Yes, indeed. And now we know how to connect correctly," Amy said. 

"I took a picture as well!" 

"Good."

"Can we finish setting up camp now?" the girls cried out. 

After we reconnected the batteries correctly, all was well. Our daughters were off from school for a few days due to Presidents’ Day, and so it was time to take the camper out again for a little adventure. Plus it was Valentine’s Day weekend, and for us there was no better way to spend it than with our entire family – including our dog Jenny.

We went down to Paso Robles and Morro Bay and had so much fun. I got to show our girls where I spent many pre-teen and teenage summers (Morro Bay), while checking out some fun and funky hot springs in Paso Robles among other wine-tasting activities. For us, of course, not the kids. And then ending every night around our fire pit to make s’mores while the girls shared stories about growing up (dozens of them actually in the 10 and 12 years of their lives so far!). 

After nearly a year of pandemic, working from home, schooling from home, limiting family and friend interactions to our local pod few, we’re more grateful than ever that we’ve been safe and well. Last February we adopted our dog Jenny, which we never thought we would do until we involved the girls in the process of taking care of a dog. We also never thought we'd have a camper either, and that's also been a family affair, with Amy and I learning a whole bunch of new stuff in a short period of time. Still learning, too, especially since I almost caused a nuclear meltdown with our camper batteries. But we didn't, we keep reminding ourselves. We did not.

The operative world being we, because we are a team. Amy and I have always been a good team, even when nerves are frayed and I'm Daddy Goat Gruff. We don't always agree on how to get there, but we get there intact. We also both drive and back that dang trailer camper up like semi-pros now, and we ask for help when we need it (thank you, Uncle Brian!). We've also expanded our camping team to our two daughters. They pack most of their own stuff for trips, and help us pack as well. They also help us retract and extend the camper stabilizers and tongue jack, connect and disconnect the camper to the hitch ball joint, and more. Sure, Amy still does most of the list-making, planning, prepping and packing, and I still do a lot of the literal heavy lifting of packing and unpacking, camper connections and more. The girls offer to help and we include them in as much as we can. Except when they're off playing, or taking Jenny for a walk, because they are still kids. 

We are a team. This past year we've become exponentially closer – four hearts running in parallel – with our love a current continuously flowing through each other and back again no matter what we face individually or as a family. In other words, #BhivePower. 

To Run for My Life with the Love of My Life

"Wake up
Run for your life with me
Wake up
Run for your life with me
In another perfect life
In another perfect light
We run
We run
We run..."

-Foo Fighters, Run

Wow. She actually told them. I knew we weren't hiding it from them, but it wasn't something to date that had come up in any context or conversation.

Until now.

I'm not even sure of the context actually; the Mama (what I lovingly call my wife) just said it out loud.

"You know, Daddy was married to someone before me."

Wow.

"What?!?" said Beatrice. Bryce just stared at me.

"Yes, he was, but they didn't have any children," said the Mama.

"What happened? Did she die?"

Kids, they simply say whatever comes into their amazing little heads.

"No," I answered. "She didn't die. We broke up and got divorced."

I knew they knew what that meant, going to school with other kids of divorce.

"Where is she now?" Bea asked.

"I don't know," I said.

"Are you guys going to break up?"

We laughed. "No, honey. We love each other and love you both."

"Okay. Love you, too."

"I can't believe you told them that," I then said to the Mama. But I wasn't mad, just surprised.

"Why not?"

I know, right? Why not. But what they don't know yet is that our life wasn't all romantic neat-and-clean happy endings. It's much messier than that. Overlapping with of failure and sorrow and poor choices and sometimes we have to be pushed really friggin' hard to get moving in the right direction.

They don't know that, 20 years ago, when the Mama and I were already seeing each other and very much in love, that I was only separated from my ex, not divorced yet. I knew then that I wasn't going back; I was done and very unhappy with me and the relationship I had with my soon to be ex, no matter how good of a person she was. And she was.

Instead, I wallowed in limbo, not willing to pull myself out of the self-loathing sludge and get on with life. I wanted to, but wasn't willing.

At least not until the Mama inspired me with a little fight or flight adrenaline. I had wanted her to go with me to meet my entire family for my sister's birthday, which just happened (and still happens) to be the day before Valentine's Day.

She went to work one day and left me a note in the apartment I had at the time, basically saying she wasn't going with me anywhere until you get your shit together and move on with your life if you want to be with me.

Damn straight. She had shared a lot more passionate words than that in making her case, which was crystal clear to me. And so I moved on with my life.

Wake up.
Run for your life with me.

For weeks since we told the girls about my past, the above song has been full-throttle volume in my head. Although not really a romantic song to say the least, the very essence of it struck me as representative of that moment in time, to stop feeling sorry for myself and get on with living and being me. To run for my life with the love of my life. With all the stumbles and skinned knees along the way.

In another perfect life
In another perfect light
We run...

"Ooooo, why do you guys have to kiss all the time?" said Bea.

"Because we love each other," said the Mama.

"Indeed we do," I said. "And we love you, too!"

Happy Valentine's Day!

Why We Celebrate Our Crazy Little Thing

“This thing (this thing)
Called love (called love)
It cries (like a baby)
In a cradle all night
It swings (woo woo)
It jives (woo woo)
It shakes all over like a jelly fish
I kinda like it
Crazy little thing called love…”

—Queen, Crazy Little Thing Called Love

I didn't really get it until days later. Yes, it was our Valentine's Day family date afternoon/night, and we did spend quality time together as a family, for the most part.

First, the girls and I needed to get our flu shots, being overdue in that department and still in the throes of flu season. Plus, I'm going to be traveling again soon, and will be exposed to all sorts of bugs Americana. The Mama (what I lovingly call my wife) had already gotten hers months earlier since she works in physical therapy and helps older, more susceptible patients who live in assisted-living facilities and also those who have home health care.

Kaiser Permanente is new to our area and now has a downtown office in Santa Cruz, so that's where we went for our flu shots. We switched to Kaiser recently due to the rising costs of health care for families (don't get me started) and the fact that their services are more reasonable (by far and so far) compared to what we had (which had increased by over 25%), along with us having Direct Primary Care, all of which is a whole other Get Off The Ground article for another time.

The shots didn't take very long -- I went first, and then Beatrice, and then Bryce -- but before the nurse practitioner had the needle ready and poised for Bryce's arm, Bryce erupted in tears. She's never been a fan of the shots. Who is, right? She cried and shook her head and said she didn't want the shot and cried and shook her head.

We all told her it would be a quick pinch, but she just kept crying and shaking her head while the Mama held her. Finally she stood still enough for the nurse to give her the shot, and then Bryce wailed and cried even louder. The nurse left and came back in with rubber duckies for both girls and that perked Bryce up.

Then we were off to Bookshop Santa Cruz to buy books the girls had earned and for a Reading Flash Mob -- of which I had no idea what that was. Bookshop Santa Cruz has been an iconic community bookstore for over 50 years now. I came to learn that the reading flash mob was a gathering for kids and adults alike to come and literally read any book in the store for about an hour, whether purchased or not.

What I didn't know about the event (even though I'm sure the Mama told me more than once) was that the Live Like Coco Foundation, a Santa Cruz-based nonprofit, and the Santa Cruz Playground Project launched this series of “Reading Flash Mob” fundraisers to fund literacy panels at Leo’s Haven, the county’s first playground for children of all abilities.

And so we read for a great cause. Wait, two great causes. No, three great causes that included our own love of reading. We also found out that the Live Like Coco Foundation's executive director had a daughter named Coco who had died in a car crash at age 12. And so the foundation was founded to celebrate her spirit and for us all to "do good things" in our lives and in our community. Right on.

Out of all the amazing books at the bookstore, Bryce of course chose Dog Man Unleashed, another silly graphic novel series for kids from the creator of Captain Underpants (tra-la-la!). I read nearly the whole book to her during that inspirational hour while the Mama and Beatrice read to each other.

After that we were off to our family Valentine's Day dinner. All of us were hungry and we had a wonderful time -- until we didn't. Well, not the girls, the Mama and me. This is what happens sometimes in the adulting world. Life trips up your mindful happy along the way and fall flat on your fallible face. We both started worrying about our work and our commitments and the weeks aheads and all the other American crazy breaking down all around us, and then when one of us nearly dropped a plate at the end of the meal -- ka-boom.

We both got angry with each other unnecessarily and it deflated some of fun Valentine family we'd been having since the flu shots. For us at least, but thankfully not for the girls. The Mama and I survived the adulting fall and apologized, reminding each other that it's okay be get mad sometimes as long as we acknowledge it, own it and reconcile it. It still takes longer for me than the Mama, and yet we always get back to the heart of each other.

I didn't really get it until days later. Yes, a family bond is a crazy little thing called love, no matter how mad we may sometimes get with one another. And we will. And there will be more ka-booms between all of us as the girls get older. And more tears and shouts and laughter and love. And yet I cannot imagine, do not want to imagine, if any one of the ladies in my life -- these suns that rise in my heart each and every morning -- were gone.

This is why we stay in our moments as much as we can, hold fast to each one and each other, and celebrate our crazy little thing.

A Little Tooth Fairy Lidocaine Love

“Can't you see
It all makes perfect sense
Expressed in dollars and cents
Pounds shillings and pence
Can't you see
It all makes perfect sense…”

—Roger Waters, Perfect Sense II

It had been hanging there for weeks. It wiggled, it jiggled, it bent, but it wouldn't budge. Only a few millimeters of gum tissue held it in place. We coaxed her every night to pull it out, but she wasn't biting. Even Bryce kept urging her big sister to pull it out so she could share the Tooth Fairy booty.

This last week it was in, Beatrice allowed the Mama to try and extract it with floss, and while it moved and bled, the front tooth did not come out. And then the morning I was away on a work trip, the tooth did come out while Bea drank her milk. She beamed proudly with her toothless smile during our FaceTime call together.

The next morning after I had come home, the girls were buzzing over the previous night's Fairy visit.

"Beatrice, where's your tooth?" I asked.

"I left it for the tooth fairy."

"What did you get?"

"I got a bag with two gold coins."

"Where are they?"

"One's in my bed and one's in Bryce's bed."

"Yes Daddy -- I got one, too!" exclaimed Bryce.

"Of course. Bryce, you'll loose some teeth soon enough, you know."

Bryce thought about that for a moment, then added, "Well, when I loose my teeth, I'm going to wait until I have three so I can get a big bag of gold coins."

Of course. When you run the numbers, even at one dollar per tooth, that's twenty dollars after all the baby teeth fall from grace, which isn't too shabby for a seven-year-old. We can make that go a long way at CVS.

However, I'm not even sure why we continue to perpetuate the Tooth Fairy mythos, giving money to children for losing body parts. There is pain and fear experienced and associated with losing one's baby teeth, so I get that maybe there's comfort in believing in a sweet fairy who visits in the middle of the night and gives money for the lost tooth is a reward for surviving that pain and fear. Especially if the tooth is in good shape without cavities or decay.

But still. It's a little bit of a disturbing rite of "economic value" passage, isn't it?

I'm not suggesting that we don't do it; the Mama and I received that sweet milk enamel money as well growing up and couldn't wait to put those teeth under our pillows. Although the exchange rate at that time 25 cents per tooth, not a dollar. That's a 300-percent increase in exchange rate (at least the one we honor). Not a bad return over time. And we certainly didn't get a bonus dollar for being a sibling either. Bryce certainly knows how to work the system. And we let her, of course. She just may have a bright Wall Street future.

Either way, from Wall Street to Main Street, we can all get kicked in the adulthood teeth enough worrying about how we're going to stretch a dollar into two, so no harm no foul with a little Tooth Fairy Lidocaine Love.

Right?

So Due For Some Afternoon Delight

For some reason the Valentine assembly line on the table made me think of Rosie the Riveter, except it was Mama the Pragmagical Maker, investing hours in putting together the girls' Valentines for school. Beatrice helped more with hers, writing her classmate names on each small paper heart, but Bryce's efforts were short-attention-span-theater lived, wanting instead to invest in other forms of Bryce-craft, making unicorns or interactive monkey houses.

I watched the Mama in fleeting moments throughout my busy work week -- and there she was putting tiny candy hearts in bags and sealing Valentines with red sticker hearts, complaining lovingly of the time invested and that next year she was not going to make such a production out of it, but I knew she would do it again and again and again...

...and then you go back in the way back day when you handed your Valentine's Day goodies out to your friends, and super excited to get yours, with "Be My Valentine" and "Sweetheart" and "You Are Too Cute" written all over the cards and candies and tiny gift bags...

...to years later in high school when you asked that super cute girl to the Valentine's Dance and she said yes and you danced close for the first time, so wonderfully and uncomfortably close, while your internal negotiations of whether you'd kiss her to not raged on...

...to years later in college and beyond experiencing torrid love and heartbreak and making mistakes that you promised yourself you'd never, ever make again...

...to years later one day at the beach and the buzz of the long run with kids and work and bills and family tragedies and drama and one thing after another that leaves you beat up and tired with a libido ground down to sand washed away yet again for another night...

...to the now of early morning when you wake up and imagine your wife as Princess Leia in the gold bikini thing in Return of the Jedi, except she's actually still Rosie the Riveter, or more like, Leia the Riveter, and then you find an off-centered picture of her the Bryce-crafter took and your heart beats fast because she's your super hot wife and you love her and miss her and...

We are so due for some afternoon delight. Happy Valentine's Day, Sweetie. 

Happy Valentine's Day, Hot Stuff

This morning I hugged Mama and whispered in her ear:

"I love me."

Wow. Daddy's still the selfish romantic after all these years...

*sigh*

For those of you significant others with kids, you know what I mean about what it takes to keep the fire stoked over any length of time -- a day, a week, a month, going on 14 years...

But take it from me, if you want love to remain, you'll pay the love piper and not count the cost, because nothing says nothing like a love grown cold.

And it really isn't that much work when you dig the other every day.

I remember when I had a painting commissioned on behalf of my love for Mama, long before she was the Mama (shortly after we met). It was based on a poem I had written her:

Sketch Pad

I trace neck
curves to belly dip bottom rise,
your back to my front in summer evening glow
as dim dusk light drains out your window.
You moan thin
gasp through full mouth eyes shut away,
love scent chants our sides with blanket trance
as cool night breeze slips in your window,
we draw the other in.

I'm telling you, after all these years and two gorgeous little girls later, through thick and thin and from sugar-daddy thriving to day-to-day dollar thimble diving, you've got to remain entwined heat.

Happy Valentine's Day, Hot Stuff.