A Meeting to Remember

Kelly and Beckett have their ears on and they're watching our every move, too.

Just as Pebe was serving up homemade mini-pigs-in-a-blanket for her trio of beloved grandsons, I dismounted and clomped in the door in my tap shoes. I washed my filthy hands (I had been fixing grimy bikes at the Trips for Kids shop) and joyfully grabbed a seat at the table with my three sons.  I delighted in observing Kelly carefully eat his meal, dissecting each savory morsel, first, picking the doughy “blanket” off with his teeth before chomping the juicy “piggy.”  Beckett and Rhys enthusiastically joined in and beamed as I, for reasons unknown, halfway through dinner, belted out a few verses of Annie’s “The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow.” (Dinner is always better with show tunes, don’t you think?) With our chins up, arms raised and hands shimmying like a true Broadway chorus, we all shrieked, screamed, and sung, as best we could muster, the crescendoing finale, “It’s on-ly a day aaaa-waaaaaaay!” and gave ourselves a rousing round of giggling applause. 

It had been a busy week.  It was already Wednesday and the boys hadn’t sniffed a bar of soap since their pre-Easter dunk and delousing on Saturday.  At some juncture, while chowing on mass quantities of piggies and their tasty blankies, Rhys crapped himself.  As she frenetically cleaned the kitchen, Pebe could smell Mr. Rhys’ ripe britches from the kitchen sink.  Collectively, we stunk like an old man farting in a mud puddle.  After cleaning their plates, the boys enjoyed one small piece of Easter candy each.  With a fresh layer of chocolate film smeared on their chins, the boys where served orders to march and "get soapy."

Rhys and his hot load of something special, a bit shower-phobic these days, was assigned to take a bath with Pebe. I led Kelly and Beckett into the master bath for a shower.  Beckett was a bundle of energy after sucking down a bite-size chocolate Easter egg for dessert.  He was crowing about subjects unknown and was wiggling his naked little ham hocks and doing dangerous silly-spins, I call them, on the slick glass tile floor.  In an effort to save him from additional head trauma, (see the blog entry Beckett: Small, Human, Crash Test Dummy) I snatched him mid-twirl and plunked him down in a seated position next to his mostly naked big brother.  After Kelly pulled off his last sock, ready to shower, he turned to Beckett and said, “Let’s have a meeting. Here’s your wine. Here’s mine.  Drink up.” Kelly tipped his head back and drank from an imaginary wine glass.

For the record, I enjoy a beer or two every so often, but I don’t really drink wine.  Catherine has, actually, been on a health kick and for the last 6.2 weeks has not sipped a single glass of wine or consumed anything containing alcohol.  We both, on a regular basis, host “meetings” for our various charitable causes where wine and beer keep the agenda flowing and attendance higher than without. While this tale of Kelly’s micro meeting, like a punchline devilishly delivered by an edgy comedian, is humorous it also uncomfortably conveys a jolting shock factor.

I try to teach the boys something new everyday – helping them discover new worlds in a book, introducing them to unknown neighborhood flora and fauna, or simply coaching them to, triumphantly, remove their own muddy shoes.  Kelly’s comments to his little bro certainly taught me, for better or worse, we teach them unintended lessons with every word, gesture, and action we make in view of their observant eyes and attentive ears.  I hope I can teach them, both with my actions and words, directly and obliquely, the right lessons they need to grow, thieve and be happy young men.   With consolation, I conclude, I haven’t ruined them, yet.

 

Rhys, before....

And after.

Beckett: Small, Human, Crash Test Dummy

Our camera recently disappeared, I fear, with a few megabytes of yet to be downloaded video footage and priceless pics of the boys.  I was home for a visit to GR over the weekend - just me - and had a spare two hours before flying home to Denver that I  luxuriously spent shopping with my mom.  I picked up a sharp new suit for a song, an ample stack of books for the boys and, most importantly, a new handy pocket Canon to capture amusing moments while on monkey safari.  I returned and filmed the Goodwillie monkeys back in their natural habitat performing stunts on bikes and scooters, and, in Rhys' case, barking like a loony tune.

My original cut of this video included Beckett face planting, hard (his signature maneuver) on the scooter with a track of the Pixies "Broken Face" layered over the primary audio of giggles - ass-over-apple cart, thunk on the sidewalk - and then Beck's delayed cry, but that seemed a bit over the top, even for me.  All the video below is after Beckett's face plant, so he was, actually, just fine.  We all had a blast horsing around this afternoon, albeit with a few boo-boos.  Lucky for me Catherine fell asleep with Kelly at bedtime, so I had an hour to edit the footage and write up a proper introduction. 

Enjoy the show and let me know if you'd like to see the director's "Broken Face" cut.

TFK Challenge Ride: Pedaling 140-miles for pennies, dimes and dollars.

Trips for Kids connects underserved youth to cycling and the outdoors.

I'm leading a group of adult Trips for Kids supporters on an epic, three-day, 140 mile, mountain bike adventure on the famed Kokopelli Trail May 20-22. The three huge days of riding will challenge our crew of supporters, much like our youth mountain biking program rides do with the young people we serve, to push themselves to do something they thought they couldn't do.

The other element of the "Challenge" is to make a similar deep effort to the ride, fundraising on behalf of Trips for Kids Denver/Boulder.  My goal is to raise $10 for every mile I pedal, totaling $1,400.

Please consider making a contribution of $140 or $70 ($.50/mi), or $35 ($.25/mi), (or more or less!) in support of my Kokopelli Challenge Ride and help me connect over 1,000 underserved youth to the health and confidence building sport of mountain biking this year.

Click this link to make a contribution via Giving First secure, processing fee free site: http://www.givingfirst.org/kokopelli_agood



Or contribute via traditional means by sending your contribution to:
Trips for Kids Denver/Boulder
2840 S. Elati St, Unit #4
Englewood, CO  80110

Thank you for your consideration!  Anything you can give will help sooth my sore bones (and butt) after this giant-size ride.


Cheers,

Andrew

The Scouting Report

So, with three boys one of the lame, tired jokes others quip and I sometimes regurgitate because I am lame and tired is, “We have ourselves the front line of a hockey team.”  This joke is so lame it must be punctuated with a news anchor foe laugh or, at least, a forced smirk.  Lame but true. Here’s the scouting report for my future mighty mites hockey team.

Kelly (4): The slight, skilled, crafty, veteran center man. Kelly works the angles and his relative speed and agility advantage to improve his position and gain the limelight.  He tallies penalty minutes for boarding, slyly throwing elbows when he thinks the refs aren't looking, line jumping, and spitefully grabbing toys before his little bros can reach them.

Rhys (2 1/2): Defensmen. The team enforcer with a decided mean streak.  He’s not afraid to hit, kick or head-butt the opposition – big bro Kelly or little Beckett, it makes no difference to number 33, he’ll take on all comers.  Due to poor vision, the big bruiser occasionally takes himself out, careening head long into cabinets, chairs or, the other day, the tailgate of a stationary SUV in the Safeway parking lot. 

Beckett (1 1/2): Old school, helmet less goalie.  Beckett can fearlessly take a puck or punch to his big-ol’, melon head and stand his ground.  80% of the time, the poor kid has a black eye or other major hematoma somewhere on his body from absorbing ruff housing abuse from his upper weigh class siblings or from his signature move of late: injuring himself while trying to keep up with K and R.  He always wants to do exactly what Kelly and Rhys are doing.  Examples: Running as fast as he can to keep up and falling face first on to a hard, coarse surface, screaming.  Trying to hoist himself up on to a big boy swing next to Kelly, gaining the desired altitude for a singular, triumphant moment, and then falling face first into the wood chips, screaming.  Refusing to use the booster seat with a handy safety belt, like his bros did at his age, and dropping from the dinner table at random intervals, you guessed it, on his big old head, screaming.

Beckett is a small, courageous, man-child, that Catherine and I fear may whittle us to gray, bent nubs, before our time is up.  

Kelly Update:

“Are you cussing with me? Don’t cuss me.” Kelly quoting the tile character from the Fantastic Mr. Fox movie (a movie that is played over and over around these parts), as Ana our brand new Colombian au pair helps him into his snow boots.  Ana had no idea what he was talking about (I’m not sure Kelly did either) and the reference surly escaped her, but I quickly quashed Kelly’s inappropriate quip. (Jan. 2011)

Kelly is identifying words: Chapter, On, Boston, zoo. While reading The Trumpet of the Swan, he stopped me while he found all insists of a particular word repeated on the two open pages.  He found Boston in five places and then I tricked him with Boatman.  He thought it was hilarious, when I told him the word was Boatman not Boston and then found all the Boatmans in about ten seconds.  

Art by Rhys from the fall. 

Random Rhys Tidbits:

The other morning Rhys was sitting on the counter stool at our kitchen island, amusing himself as I cooked breakfast.  He was singing under his breath,  “Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to me.”  Then he muttered something about mixing and ovens and candles.  It seemed to me that he was baking an imaginary birthday cake for his little one man 2 1/2 year-old birthday party. 

Rhys is starting to memorize books like his big bro Kelly.

A funny little tale from boys night last night. 

Me: “Hey, everybody! Guess what? I decided we’re going to a pizza place for dinner tonight.” 

Kelly: “That’s awesome! Guess what, Rhysee? We’re going to a pizzeria for dinner!” (Kelly has picked up the phrases "That's awesome!" and "Oh my God!", lately.)

Me: “Hey, Kelly what’s a pizzeria?”

Kelly, not answering me directly but imparting his vast knowledge on the subject to his little bro, “Rhys, a pizzeria is a place that makes pizza.”

Me: "Yes, Kelly a pizzeria is a place that makes pizza. Kind of like a bakery is a place that bakes bread or, remember the word from the new Fredrick book Rhys?  The granary is a place where grain is stored.  

Moustache Madness 2011 - Final Photo

Rhys: “No, a pizzeria is a big, giant rhinoceros.  Rrrroarrr! Rrrrooarrr!” 

Alrighty, then.  We had a blast eating pizza at the big, giant rhinoceros place.

I need to come up with some great moustache photos for the boys in the morning.  Here's my final photo.  I'm going for the "Creepiest Moustache" category.  Check out our website in early April to see the boys' final photos and the overall contest winners.

http://www.tripsforkidsdenver.org/moustache-madness/

Maple Syrup Mohawk

Per Kelly's request, I made a fat stack of fine cinnamon kissed french toast.  I cut the slices in squares for Beckett, parallelograms for Kelly, and triangles for Rhys. With two cups of strong brew nudging me into the swing of things, I plated the toast with a shallow pool of dark amber maple syrup and fat, fresh strawberries.  Kelly finished first and slipped away from the table to inspect a book. As I turned to the sink to fill the kettle for a second pot of coffee, Beckett grabbed Kelly's plate and inexplicably dumped remaining puddle of maple syrup on his head.  Rather than worry about the sticky mess, I gave Beckett a maple syrup Mohawk, took some pics, and handed him off to Catherine for a shampoo and buff.  Some days, we are nothing more than the parental equivalent to the zoo keepers assigned to monitor the mayhem and manage the mess on monkey island.

Powder Sushi Blog

I'm in Japan skiing and made a video about our favorite beer.

http://powdersushi.blogspot.com/2011/02/sapporo-time-video.html

What makes you happy, Kelly?

 

This morning I was a grouch. Sleep issues, followed by a steaming cup of ass-monkey brand coffee (we ran out of the good grind), zapped the jingle from my jangle and had me thinking about moving to Australia. 

This afternoon was another story.  I was out riding my bike, again, of course.  Correction: I was out riding my spectacular new red and white, carbon, Specialized Epic 29er full-on, race rig on a ribbon of white, snowy, icy, slushy fun that is the normally mind-numbing South Platte bike path. I was loving life on this unexpectedly righteous ride and thinking: "This makes me happy. What else makes me happy?"

Of course, The Kelly, Beckett and Rhys show instantly flashed on in my mind movie. I'm a lucky man.

Then, I thought about one of my long held, simplistic, personal values: I'm pro happy people.  I believe people should do what makes them happy, when possible, and as long as it doesn't unreasonably impact the happiness of others. "Are Kelly, Beckett, and Rhys happy?" I wondered,"What makes them happy? I should ask them."

So, I did. I marched in the house and still dress in my soggy, silly cycling gear, I sat the boys down at our dinner table. Not trying to take too serious a tone, they are tiny little dudes, after all, I said, "Boys, it's important to me that you are happy. Are you happy?"

I planned to type their, "What makes you happy?" responses into the good ol' laptop but the battery was dead. The Post-Its turned out just right, I think.  Kelly, Rhys and I all had a laugh with Beckett's babbled answers.  He was trying to say something, I assure you that, but all I could make out was, "Deed do wait.  Ha do do. Yah."

Rhys didn't really get my drift, at first, but after listening intently to Kelly's loving replies he did a great job (Rhys loves to say, "I did a great job, Daddy!?). His answers where so sweat and concise and stated exactly as I recorded them.         

Kelly did say, "And Pebe! (his grand mother)" at the end but Beckett, sitting on my lap with Rhys, started licking the table. Rhys took exception to this discourteous act and a minor dust up ensued at my midline. So, without noting Kelly's last happiness, I nabbed the sticky notes, told Rhys I need his help pushing buttons and dragged him into the office to help me scan away. Kelly selected the photos and Beckett edited my horrifyingly poor grammar and fixed numerous typos that littered the text.  It was a team effort. It was a happy day.

My next post, titled the Common Loon, will examine Kelly's odd obsession with bird books.  Stay tuned.