Yesterday will be a day that I don’t soon forget.  I had yesterday off, but even among vacation days, yesterday was a banner day.  I don’t know that any one event was the root cause of yesterday being so wonderful, but some of the events definitely set the mood for the events to follow. 

If I had to choose one thing that set up the day more than everything else, I think that perhaps it was the frustration and concern Carol and I are feeling because we don’t yet have the letter we are expecting that will allow us to get married in the temple.  This concern about something that is now beyond our control created opportunities for us to talk about something that is really important.  I think I fell in love again when I recognized how well we are able to communicate even when we are talking about stressful things.  Life will be full of stressful things.  I hope we are able to continue to talk about them.

The day its self was spent packing, repairing sprinklers, and otherwise working hard.  By 5:00 in the afternoon I was ready for bed but the work was not complete, and in fact we had saved the hardest chore for last.  All the moving, packing, cleaning, digging, even going to the courthouse to get a marriage license was nothing compared with the ordeal of shopping for a suit.  Carol has been looking and looking for a dress to wear to the reception and now that she has found the perfect dress, and a perfect tie to match the perfect dress, I need to find a perfect suit to match the perfect tie to match… you get the idea. 

The perfect suit would be brown, but brown is a ‘seasonal’ color in suits and no one has more than two or three brown suits total.  We went to four different stores in an attempt to find the perfect suit, but even when we could find a suit in the right color, no one had one in a 44 regular.  I looked pretty silly trying on a 44 long, but that is the depths of the desperation Carol and I were feeling. 

So, here is the running total:  We have a license, but we don’t have the permission for the temple.  We have the dress but we don’t have the suit.  We have to move Carol’s house to the new one on Saturday, but we don’t have it packed.  We are looking forward to the future, but unsure about getting through the next two weeks.

Yesterday was a wonderful day and Carol and I grew closer because of it.  I am glad that we had the experiences of yesterday because the trials of today seem intent on tearing us apart.

   *  *

Last night presented a challenge for the Brady Bunch in that there were two different ball games on either end of town.  Of course they were at the same time.  We all went to Cindy’s game but before it really got started we had to get Peter to his game.  Bobby, and Sam went with Cindy to Peter’s game while I stayed with Alice to watch Cindy play.  I chose the best game because it was at least close – tied score, home team at bat in the final inning, two outs and bases loaded; Peter’s team lost 25 to nothing, Cindy lost 5 to 4.

I am proud of both players because they remained good sports despite losing.  Cindy made me even more proud when she was hit on the leg by a pitch but decided that rather than take her base, she would try to hit.  Hitting has been her challenge this year, and at the beginning of the season she struck out several times in a row.  This put her at the bottom of the batting order (when you play only two innings, the people on the top bat more frequently).  Cindy could have taken her base, but she really wanted to face the pitcher and the chance that she would strike out so she stood up there for a couple more pitches before she was hit again.  This time the umpire did not give her a choice and she took her base.

Yesterday was also Carol’s birthday.  I had big plans to take the day off and spend it with her, but she had things that she needed to do so I went to work in the hope that I can take Thursday off instead.  This is the second time that I have had big plans for a birthday celebration with someone I love but have not been able to make them happen.  I still owe Cindy a daddy-daughter day because her day with me was cut short by other things that I had not planned on, and now I owe Carol as well.  These obligations press on me heavily.

There are only 13 days remaining until the wedding date and I am sure that this is adding to the pressure that I perceive.  I am not getting cold feet about getting married or about getting five new children, but there are so many tasks that need to be done before then that I am starting to feel panic set in.  I am not one who can easily compartmentalize stresses so the work stress, the home stress, the birthday stress – it all gets dumped into the same bucket.  Right now that bucket is too heavy to carry.

Carol is aware of the stress I am feeling, mostly because I complained about how long it has been since I have really had any ‘down time’.  She is supportive and wants me to have some time to myself, but I can’t release my grip on that bucket!  I keep feeling that I must first empty some of the stress before I can set it down to go do something fun.  It is just the way I am wired I guess.  Last night I was unable to do the birthday thing like I wanted to but once I got some laundry done, the toilets scrubbed, and the kitchen floors swept, I started to feel a little better about my life and I could feel my death grip I keep on my stress load begin to slip. 

Unfortunately, I was not able to shift enough stress quickly enough to rescue Carol’s birthday.

   *    *

It is funny, at least to me, that people will go to such an extent to see themselves reflected in these fictional characters here in this blog.  I don’t know what to think – should I be flattered?  Oh, Cindy discovered the Great Brain books this weekend so in honor of that, Tom Fitzgerald moved in as a neighbor.  He was a great friend of mine when I was a boy so I am glad to see my daughter so quickly find a friendship with him.  Tom is just a likeable guy.

I, on the other hand, am not a likeable guy.  I am also not a very good father.  Annie, with her lists, her records, and her files, has ample proof of my shortcomings and outright failures and I am sure she would be happy to set anyone straight on that issue.  Carol does not yet understand despite having a long weekend to watch me; Carol is still very much in love so she can be forgiven.

If I missed the chance to raise my voice to any of the eight children, I don’t remember it.  It seems that I was yelling all weekend.  I am sure that there were moments of peace, but I can’t recall them right now. 

Saturday was spent at a 6 Flags, and despite my focus on making the day a good one for everyone, I did not keep my cool very well: Greg very nearly got left before we even got started because he got under my skin.  It was not so much what Greg did or said as all the things that led up to it.  Carol sometimes talks about how worn down she can get and that is the best way I can explain the feelings I had as we prepared to go.  All morning it was just one problem, one fight, one child with hurt feelings, all just right after the other.  There was no time to even step back and see how things were going before another child was screaming “Dad!”  (or “Mike” – Carol’s children don’t call me dad).

The park was overcast and cool once we got there, and it was actually a very pleasant day for a park; the water rides were not a huge hit, but everything else was very nice.  We were lucky to be able to go at all because work could only pay for tickets for dependants and that left 6 people without tickets.  I tried to come up with the money, but with all the other expenses Carol and I had decided that we could not do it.  There was an option to just take the three kids that are my dependants but that was not much of an option.  Someone in Human Resources asked why I had not picked up my tickets, and when I explained the problem they provided tickets for those who are not dependants for another two weeks.  It was a test I guess, a test to see if we could actually make this big family work for activities like this.  One thing is for sure, I have a lot to learn before such an event is a ‘success’.

I have a lot to learn, but I don’t have much time.  This summer we are taking everyone to Monterey California for a family reunion at Grandma’s Beach House.  Of course we can’t all stay at the beach house, but we have all found lodging nearby.  Not only will we spend a week together at the beach house we are renting, but we are driving down and back.  It is a very long drive, and it will seem a very long week if we can’t get along.  I have been looking forward to this summer vacation, but after the park Saturday, I have second thoughts.  I am not sure that I want our first vacation together to be staged in front of all the relatives because that can’t help but add another layer of expectations and stress.

    *   *

I want to tell a story here.  It is absolutely, and totally a story.  It never happened to me or to anyone else I know.  Don’t even assume that I would talk about something that really happened in the real world – Annie would not approve of such.

It happened a long, long time ago at a ball game where a man was watching his daughter play softball.  He was there alone, but at the same time he was not alone – He was obviously divorced and it was clear that his Ex wife was there with another woman.  His children split time between the two groups but there was little communication between the man and the two women.

The man seemed happy to play with his children and he seemed proud of his daughter.  It was a cold day but he was kept warm by playing catch with his son and with swinging, lifting, and tickling his youngest daughter.  Perhaps this man has to work and has missed some games in the past.  If that is the case, he seems the kind of father who would feel badly about the missed games.  What ever the past might have been, he was happy to be watching his girl play – it was evident in his face.

Toward the end of the game his little girl began climbing the fence that separated the spectators from the field.  This dad went over to her, extracted her from the fence and told her not to climb it again.  This sweet little girl who always does what daddy asks then ran around behind her father and began climbing the fence in a new location where daddy would not see.

I watched this dad (in my mind anyway) go over to his daughter and remind her that he had asked her not to climb the fence.  Her reply wilted me even at a distance “You can’t tell me what to do – I am with my mom today.” She said.  I can’t imagine how this must have affected the dad.

I watched him grab his girl by both shoulders and firmly remove her from the fence.  He then turned her around and still holding her shoulders he stooped down until he was looking his daughter in the face and I heard him say:  “It does not matter whose day it is, I am still your father and you need to respect that.  If I tell you to stop climbing the fence, you need to stop climbing the fence.  If your mother tells you to do something when it is my day, you need to listen to her too.”

The dad released his girl and said “I love you Alice, but I expect you to mind me.”  The girl’s eyes filled with tears and she turned and ran right to the waiting arms of her mother’s girlfriend.  This farther then watched with distaste as his daughter was picked up by this surrogate mother who kissed and teased the tears away. 

I felt this man’s pain as the discipline he was trying to maintain with his daughter was countered by this woman.  I wondered where he would go from here and what he might do – this situation is real for him even if he is only fictional, so he needs a plan because his Ex and her girlfriend are going to be part of his family formula.

What might you say to this man if he were real?

   *   *

I first apologize for having to spend these entries setting up my neighborhood.  There are some who are looking to find anything that looks like real life so this is necessary to the survival of this blog.  There are other things I would much rather spend my time and effort on and hopefully I will get to those things soon.

A blog has certainly become a part of who I see myself, but I did not understand that until I shut down my old site and moved here.  It was a painful move but this site will offer me much more creativity, and will also allow me to shed the past and begin anew.  Of course knowing this and feeling this are two separate issues:  Last night I dreamt that I was stuck in here with only Annie’s house, Mayor Matt’s house (and I have not even introduced him yet) and me.  There was nothing but a black void beyond this and I spent my dream looking for a way out.  I felt that there should be more out there but I could not get to it.  Once I realized that I had to build everything to bring it into reality, the alarm sounded and the dream was shattered.

Building a neighborhood should be easy enough, but in practice it has not been easy.  Right now the neighborhood (such as it is with three houses) is totally flat – as if it was all constructed on a sound stage – and I don’t know what to put beyond the three houses.  I know that there is going to be something out there but I don’t yet know what it will be until the creative juice kicks in and tells me.  I expect Sheriff Andy Taylor will move here from Mayberry eventually, but just as in the Brady Bunch episodes, he won’t show until he is needed.  There is no use feeding people that are not presently needed on the set after all!  Gomerr Pyle, Floyd and Opie

And now that I have put all that to bed, let’s get on with today’s Episode and the introduction of Mayor Matt.

With only three houses so far, is it any surprise that the mayor lives right next door?  He moved in the same day as Annie did, but where Annie has been nothing but trouble, Matt has been a wonderful neighbor.  He even went out of his way to mow the lawn when he saw that I was busy trying to move in, and that one labor was enough to secure him the title of friend.  There is no fence between our properties so I hope we can remain friends.  I don’t expect remaining Mayor Matt’s friend will be any problem at all if I can keep the kids from climbing in his apple tree and stealing all his fruit.

I wanted to repay Matt by mowing his lawn yesterday while I was mowing mine, but it is a good thing I did not get the chance because somehow one of the back wheels got bumped when I was mowing over toward his yard and my lawnmower began to mow very unevenly.  Now that the job is done and I can step away and look at what I did the streaks are very evident from where that tire dropped and allowed the blade to cut too deeply.  My lawn will recover, but I am glad I did not mar the neighbor’s lawn.  His lawn is dark green, thick, and well tended and he obviously takes great pride in it.  His lawn only contrasts the weedy, thin grass on my side of the property line – a product of a house that has been vacant too long.

Recently I have been a student of unintended consequences so I am very aware of how a good idea can become a nightmare so quickly.  I think about how close I came to marking my neighbor’s yard because with the fatigue I was feeling after mowing my own yard, I would not have noticed the mistake until it was too late.  The only thing that saved me was that Matt began mowing his own yard and he started at the edge bordering mine. 

I told him I owe him a lawn mowing, but when he sees what I did to my yard, he might not sleep with that threat hanging over him.

   *  *

Annie has a dog that fits her exactly:  She calls it Tiny, but the only thing that would suggest it had ever been tiny is its annoying yap.  It has been well fed and now waddles more than it walks.  This dog has obviously seen better days – it is so flea bitten that it has lost most of its hair giving an unwelcome anatomy lesson in dog epidermis – no one needs to know that a dog’s skin is mottled and flaky under that coat of hair.  It does not help that what ever patterns this dog might have once had on its fur are mirrored on the skin beneath.  In general it looks like the winner of an ugly dog contest.

I don’t think that Annie sees anything but beauty for her mutt, and this stands as a testament to how much a person can love a dog; I certainly don’t share this affection.  Despite the fact that it is missing teeth, and that the ones it has left are old, stained, and rounded, I don’t trust it around my children.  I was once bitten by a dog and I don’t want that to happen to the children, so I got concerned yesterday as I saw this dog lumbering over to one of the kids.  I needn’t have been concerned (this time) because the dog simply wiggled its maggot-like body in pleasure and then waddled back to its owner.

I know I am over protective of my children, but that is the right of a father.  I know that Annie does not believe her little pet capable of doing any harm, and it is obvious that the kids actually like the ugly thing.  All I can do is be aware of what is going on and hope my fears are unfounded.

   *  *

Yesterday had me really up tight with the new neighbor and all.  Today I am much more relaxed as I realize that Annie can’t come into my yard unless I let her.  She can say and do what she wants in her yard if I can just learn to ignore her.  Yesterday seemed bleak while I was living it but now that the stress is gone I can see that it would have been more fun if I had let it be.

Marcia had a performance yesterday so we took everyone to go see it.  Unfortunately we don’t yet have a vehicle that will seat 10 people so we had to take two cars.  That actually worked because the ones who were ready were able to go with Carol and Marcia while I gathered the slowpokes and went a little later. 

Once we arrived at the park where the performance was to be held, the kids scattered like startled roaches.  It then became a chore to keep them focused on the reason we were there.  This problem with focus was magnified by all the inchworms that were infesting various bushes at the park.  It took no longer than a moment for all the kids to find them and for several to begin collecting inchworms.  Little Alice, who speaks to all animals, became the care taker for these suddenly transplanted creatures.

A plastic water bottle was soon found to house the countless inchworms that varied in color more than I would have imagined.  Many of the more remarkably colored ones were named and Alice was able to come up with names almost as quickly as the inchworms were dropped into the bottle by the others.  Most of the names she seemed to remember and once she was truly upset because she could not remember the name she had given one of her pets.

Alice is a special child and she cares about everyone and everything.  More than once I have found her scrounging in the kitchen only to see her later sprinkling food on an ant hill.  It is pointless to chastise her because her answer “But Dad, those ants were HUNGRY!” always silences me.  I can’t tell a hungry ant from a well fed one so I find it difficult to argue.

When we all got home – we went to our separate houses again – I was working with Bobby and Cindy but I stopped in to check on Alice.  I was glad that I did because I found the sheets pulled off her bed and an inchworm circus in full swing atop her bed.  I was feeling out of sorts still, but when Alice smiled at me and said “Hi daddy.  My inchworms just needed some exercise before I put them to bed.”  I softened a little.  At least I did not scream at her but instead asked her quietly to put the bugs to bed.

She seemed to do a good job of cleaning up her bed but suddenly her desire to trade beds with Bobby makes perfect sense.  Especially if she did a head count and came up missing a few inchworms.

Smart girl.

   *  *

Annie Wilkes is a wonderful neighbor.  Annie is my favorite person.  I think that Annie is better than ice cream in a heat wave.  I am her number one fan.  I am a prisoner (but a willing one!) to Annie and if I am going to write, I will be forced to write the stories she wants to hear.  That is just fine with me because I am her number one fan!  I am her number-ONE FAN!

OK, I think she is gone for the moment, but she will be back to see what I have written.  I need to be careful because one comment out of place will get Annie angry and no one wants that.  It is going to be difficult not to say anything negative about her but that is exactly the kind of thing she is looking for.  Everyone seems to enjoy what I write except Annie but right now Annie is in control.  What I need to do is find a way to talk about her without her knowing that I am talking about her…  What to do, what to do?

Err—eh—cough—cough—she’s—cough—back.

Annie would not hurt a fly.  Annie would never raise her voice.  Life is bliss with Annie in it and we are all so lucky to know her.  I especially like the way Annie treats my parents – she met my mother just today and my mother can not stop talking about how memorable the experience was!  Annie is everyone’s friend.

I love to write.  I will continue to write because I love it.  I will write only what makes Annie happy if that is what it takes, but I will write.  Somehow I will find a way to get my stories out of my head but it will take creativity.  I will not be run off by an unwanted neighbor (it is a good thing I don’t have anything like that around here!  Right?). 

What some people fail to understand (and Annie has never, ever, had this problem) is that when you are fictional, everything that you write about is fictional.  If I write about someone yelling at my mother in front of my kids, it never happened!  Kids you ask?  That is just an imagination of mine too.  Annie Wilkes is only real because she insists that she is.

   *  *

The problem with living in a fictional world is that I don’t have any more control over who moves in around me than I do in the real world.  If I had my choice of neighbors, I might have chosen any number of people who were ‘eye candy’.  Television and movies are full of beautiful, charming characters like Queen Amidala or Princess Buttercup so it came as a surprise when Annie Wilkes moved in next door.

It will be interesting living with such a neighbor always looking over the fence to see what I am doing.  Of course, I could move again.  I only just got here but I could move again – leaving no forwarding address and no evidence of where I have gone.  Annie would eventually find me because that is the kind of woman she is and because the world of fiction is a small one, but it would allow me several years of relative peace until she did.  Of course, I would spend that ‘free’ time constantly looking over my shoulder and wondering if I had been located yet, and that is not true peace.  It is better to remain here with Annie right next door… always watching… always waiting.

I am not sure I can continue to write with her as a neighbor, but I will pretend life is normal until I find out.

   *  *

This morning I awoke to banging on the front door and found my neighbor there because I had a sprinkler line break in the night.  He had been trying to fix the problem by turning off the water at the main and then even digging to find the secondary valve, but he had been unsuccessful.  Apparently he knocked when he first found the problem but did not awaken me so he just went about fixing the problem on his own.  After working for half an hour, he resorted to knocking again.  He had no other choice – he lives downhill so my water line break is a huge concern to him.

I am glad that he heard the water running and recognized it.  I am already in debt to several of my neighbors – they have been wonderful to me.  Together we were able to get the main shut off and now I have another project for tomorrow.  I went out to look in daylight and it does not look as bad as I imagined it was, so that is a relief.  My day was already looking rather full.

After turning off the main (fortunately we have secondary water for outside so shutting off the main did not affect the water inside), I had the luxury of climbing back into bed and listening to the world come awake.  I opened the blinds so I could soak up that pale blue light that announces the coming of a cloudless dawn and I listened.  I ruined my hearing with loud music and guns, but I listened intently and forced my broken ears to their limits. 

An owl was returning home after a night’s hunt and I could hear it hooting in the distance.  I miss having nature as close as it was in my previous house where a stream and a green zone of trees brought nature from the mountains right to my back yard so hearing this owl was comforting.  Nature is still to be found at this new house, just not in the density I would like.

As the owl quieted down, the other birds began to awake.  This being spring, they were all eager to announce their presence and claim their territory or mate.  Again, the display was not the riot of sound that living on the stream offered, but in some ways it was even better.  A symphony can produce a sound that is moving for its intensity, but sometimes a quiet solo is just as powerful.  The stream produced a symphony of sound where this new house provides solos.

I did not expect to fall back to sleep, but the quiet birdsong lulled me.  I awoke late enough that it seemed wasted effort to rush so I lay half asleep for another twenty minutes just enjoying the opportunity to relax.  Once I had decided I was going to be late to work, that concern left me and there was little to motivate me out of bed.  This new house is nestled against the eastern mountains so daylight comes to the sky long before it touches the ground, but when the eastern windows finally filled with the yellow light from the rays of the sun, I shrugged myself out of bed and into life.

I am awake, working, and productive, but despite eating breakfast I can find no energy.  I want to be back in bed and listening to the birds.  I know I won’t get a chance tomorrow because the neighbors have organized a work crew to help move the larger furniture items into the house… and of course, there is a sprinkler line to repair.

   *  *

I feel truly refreshed today.  I am at peace with myself and with the world so the sun is shining brighter, the air feels cleaner, and the flowers are more fragrant.  It is a wonderful feeling and I am going to enjoy it because it can not last: Nothing gold can stay.  Actually, I feel a lot like someone in love!

After work yesterday, I met up with Carol and we went together to the temple.  The temple is a Mormon Church building but the work done in the temple concerns the life after death; our regular services and church buildings focus on getting us through this life, so it makes sense that you don't go to the temple until you have some kind of tenuous control over the trials of life first.  When you find someone that you really care for, and you believe that there are steps you can take to make sure your family unit is recognized in the next life, you want to make sure that you are doing what you need to get that wonderful promise. 

The temple is such a beautiful, peaceful place and it begs contemplation to be there.  I find myself open to the quiet instructions from God when I am there. This time I came away knowing that God is pleased with me.  I also came away knowing that there are things in my life that I could be doing more to correct.  I was reminded that a marriage to Carol will work out in God’s perfect way because this is a union approved by Him.  I left feeling more love for myself, for Carol, and for the Savior, and that is perhaps the best test of a religious experience.

Have I mentioned that Carol loves me?  If I had to make a list of “Things I know for sure” the fact that Carol loves me would be right at the top.  I love her as well as I know how to love, but my love seems made of cheap tin when compared to the love she has for me.  I am learning a lot about love from Carol.  I understood the depth of her love a little more yesterday and I am euphoric for that new understanding, just as I am every time I discover that her love for me runs deeper than I could ever imagine.

Yesterday evening was wonderful, and it certainly sets me up for a wonderful day today, but today is a different day and it is already filled to capacity with duties and obligations.  Today is a day for work, for running here and there, and for caring for our children.  There will be very little time for exploring or building the bond between us today, and there is a real possibility that we will not see each other beyond the moment we shared this morning when I went to collect my cell phone that was lost last night.  I lost it while reading to the boys at bedtime just incase you were wondering – I am not taking any cookies from the cookie jar until they are given to me so you don’t need to wonder if my activities last night were appropriate or not.

In many ways I am like the little boy who wants a cookie so badly but has been told he must wait until after dinner.  I am certainly hungry for a cookie and it seems that dinner is so far away (26 days I think), but I know if I touch the cookie jar I am going to be in big trouble.  So, I spend a lot of time looking longingly and begging.  I don’t know why I think it will make a difference – the begging certainly never worked with my mother, so why would it work with God?

*  *

I feel… thin.  Sort of stretched, like… butter scraped over too much bread.  Yes, I stole that from Bilbo Baggins, but it fits.  Actually, I don’t so much feel stretched as recognize the stretching that I need to do.  I am going to need to be creative to manage.  I think I am up to the task, but I am concerned because I know how important it is to succeed at this.

Yesterday evening, after dinner, after Carol had taken her children home to their house, after baths, – the time of evening when things usually begin to quiet down – Cindy got lost.  She was not really gone but she was not there either.  I was trying to find my cell phone, so I did not immediately notice that I had not seen her around, and in fact it was not until I became frustrated by my lost phone that I returned to the present and noticed what was going on around me.  It took me a litter longer to understand.

When I asked Alice and Peter if they knew where my phone was, they replied that Cindy had it.  When I asked where Cindy was, they told me that she had locked herself in the bathroom.  Sure enough, when I checked the bathroom at the end of the hall upstairs, Cindy answered my knock and admitted to taking my phone.  She was upset with something and was trying to get past the password protection on the phone to make a call to have her mother come and get her.

I knew that Cindy was upset, but I was annoyed by her looking to her mother to solve the problem.  This was my evening with her and it was my problem to solve!  I was further annoyed when she would not tell me what the problem was.  I was beginning to think that the problem was one of a feminine nature (and beginning to panic) when the truth finally came out:  Cindy was upset because I have not been spending as much time with her as I used to.

I told Cindy that I was around just as much and that all she had to do was come to me– I reminded her that she was invited to help Carol and I fix dinner and that after Carol left she was invited to help me build shelves in the pantry.  She did in fact help me with the shelves for a moment, but only to pull the trigger on the nail gun a couple of times – then she was off to play.  I think I reminded Cindy of these opportunities to spend time with me because I recognized that it has been different lately and I was trying to make myself feel a bit less guilty by shifting some of the blame.

Spending time with me is great, but everyone needs quality time too.  I have been spending time with everyone but Cindy reminded me last night that there is spending time, and then there is spending quality time.  I have been so focused on the task of bringing two families together that I have neglected the important things all too often.  The shelves are important so we can have a useable pantry, but in the end I will not care that the shelves were in place nearly as much as I will care that sweet Cindy feels loved in this period of transition and uncertainty.  In the rush to get the house ready for a family of 10, and for the open house we will have on June 10^th, I have forgotten that it is the people who make up the family that need to come first. 

It is the nature of life to by cyclical and rhythmic.  Fear and uncertainty are contagious.  I recognize a wave of need forming that has not yet crested.  Cindy's need will fuel the needs of everyone else, and she will become more uncertain as she recognizes the unmet needs in the others.  This problem is set to compound unless I can get it under control.  There is an old Polynesian adage that says: Never turn your back on the ocean.  It is valuable advice for those living on an island, but it has just as much relevance for a father desperately trying to provide for the needs of his family. 

I won’t be caught off guard again.

*  *

This blog is only a continuation.  I have been blogging here under another name since April of 2005, but my previous blog was too personal.  I was comfortable with the details I was sharing, but others were not.  It was no surprise then, when the Ex finally came across a link to my blog and was not happy with what I was sharing.  I called her ‘the mom’ or ‘my wife’ or ‘the ex’ in that other blog, but I did use the real names of my children, and she was concerned that the things I was writing would hurt her or the children.   

She even hired an attorney to make sure I closed it down.  This step was unnecessary because I complied with her every wish – at least as far as that other blog went.  Since there was nothing to gain by hiring an attorney, she must have just wanted to make me spend money that would have been better spent on the children.  Maybe she is reading this new blog and maybe she will provide an answer in a comment.  Her mind is a mystery to me despite the years we spent together.

This site gives me the chance to start over without any identifying information; somewhere in the midst of tearing down the old blog I came to understand that people were reading because of what I was writing and not because of who I am.  The names I choose to use will not fundamentally change the things I write about or the way I choose to address them, so hopefully people will continue to find what I write interesting now that my name is Mike Brady. 

That blog was the best thing I could have possibly done.  I was messed up when she decided to run off with a girl from my Sunday School Class, and it took me a very long time to get over it.  I should say ‘it is taking me a long time to get over it’ because I sometimes find that the wound is not yet healed.  Blogging allowed me to share my feelings and to get input from total strangers in a way that I would never have done face-to-face. 

Blogging was confession for me.  I am sure that the reason people call up radio talk-shows and spill their guts on the air is that they get a feeling of peace and closure from doing this; I am sure of this because I have experienced that feeling myself.  How lucky I have been to have a confessional righ here on my desktop.

It is a good thing to shut down a blog and start over as someone else.  It is a good thing to change addresses, schools and jobs on occasion.  I am not the person I was three years ago; I am not sure I am a better person, but I know for sure I am not the same person.  Changing environments gives a chance to change how people perceive us and I find that valuable. 

I have a wonderful opportunity to recreate myself here.  I have shed my old name and my old personality.  I have shed all the baggage that I carried with me in that old blog and I start here fresh.  I still can’t spell, but this limitation aside, the horizon beckons me in so many different directions that the possibilities for this blog seem almost endless.  I feel invigorated – I feel like someone who has stumbled out of the trees to find an unexpected and unknown vista stretching before them.  I can see mountains, plains, deserts, lakes, rivers, and beyond the things that I can see is the promise of more!  The terrain before me is beautiful in its variety and I can’t wait to begin exploring.

I don’t know where this new blog will take me, but I do know I am not going to take that path back into the trees; I have come too far to turn around now.

*   *

Mother’s day is truly wonderful.  I am glad that the U.S. has set aside a Sunday to honor mothers – especially as I might not do it on my own.  This mother’s day was perhaps the best ever because Carol is the type of woman to be truly appreciative when something is done for her, and beyond just being appreciative, she shows her appreciation.

Mother’s day started early this year – it actually started Friday evening with another sleep over.  This time I slept on the couch and this time we had all 8 children and a guest to chaperone: Nothing happened that should not have.  The reason we had a sleep over at all was so that Carol could go to a seminar while I stayed and cooked breakfast for the kids.  Funny enough, I don’t even remember cooking breakfast right now but I know it must have been done and I know I must have done it.  I hope it was good food!

Ah, yes.  Breakfast was French toast. 

After breakfast the kids shattered into smaller units and each group went about doing things that interested them.  This gave me a chance to work on the household things that needed doing but I found I did not get done as much as I wanted for a couple of reasons.  The first reason was that I had so many things on my task list that I bumped from one to another without any clear focus.  I worked one thing until another became more important.  I left lots of tasks undone.  The second reason is that there was hardly a decision made on Saturday that did not require adult input before it began.  I have never been in such constant demand.

I did find time with Marcia to get out and get some big pots for the front porch and even to fill them with lovely plants.  This was a mother’s day gift for Carol but also something that really livens up the front porch for the open house.  I got some of the other kids – mostly the younger ones Sam and Alice to help weed the front yard with their grandma but at that age they were far more interested in the bugs crawling around the weeds than they were in any actual weeding.  There were several overgrown bushes in the front that I just pulled out to provide places for annuals and it is incredible how different the house looks with just that little care. 

I wanted to mow the lawn, but I never got to it.  Fortunately the neighbor came over and mowed it for me.  It was a wonderful thing for him to do.  I am looking forward to an opportunity for returning the favor.  I am sure he is going to be a wonderful neighbor.  He is one of those guys who has been involved in everything from church service to being the mayor of the city.  It took us a while to figure out that the reason his name was so familiar is because of all the things that he has been involved in, and he is the kind that would not say even when Carol asked him “Why does your name sound so familiar?”

Sunday was also wonderful.  I hope that Carol really understands how much she means to me.  I tried to make the day especially nice for her and I am sure that this is the reason I enjoyed the day so much.  At other times I have tried hard to please a wife, but have not felt the same level of gratitude.  Having someone truly able to express their thanks for the effort I made this a different mother’s day than those in the past. 

To top the day off, we had my parents come over for dinner, and then later we went to Carol’s parents for pie.  The kids really wanted to have another sleep over – I guess it is a good thing that they like the new house better than their present one – but we had to say no.  Instead I went to Carol’s house and helped her put everyone to bed; I was able to do that because my three children had gone for the day with their mother. 

When everyone else was in bed, we even got a little parent time together.  That was the perfect end to the day.

I count only 29 more days until we get married.  Would you understand if I said it would not come fast enough?  I sure love that woman.  Funny, I love her children too.

   *   *

There is so much that needs to be done in preparation for a wedding, and unfortunately most of it is work.  Since we are also planning an open house for friends and family the evening after the wedding, there is just as much inside work as outside.  I sometimes wonder if it is possible to get it all done.  The house has been (mostly) vacant for a long time and the yards show it.  If I spent every Saturday between now and June working on the yards, I would still not have them ready.  Likewise if I spent every Saturday working on fixing up and putting away the inside, I would not be ready.  Surprisingly, I do not yet feel panic.

The events of my first marriage were traumatic enough that I have not forgotten them.  I remember well my father-in-law having a life threatening brain hemorrhage just days before, I remember the stress and drama from a fiancé for whom a wedding was a competition and for whom everything had to be perfect.  I did not enjoy this time and I spent far too much time worried about how I was going to screw it all up.  This time around has been different.

This time around there is no competition at all: This time everything will be very low key, and as simple as family will allow.  Everyone wants to do something so it is getting bigger all the time, but it is still very simple-ish.  What ever you want to label it, it is comfortable and even enjoyable.  I am beginning to trust that what my fiancé says is truly what she means so if she says she does not want something, it means that she does not want it (rather than that she wants to be surprised by me getting it anyway).  There are all kinds of women out there and I feel lucky to have found this one.

The learning takes time.  Both of us have on occasion fallen into the trap of assuming that we are dealing with our Ex spouses.  It is hard not to forecast based on past experience but we are learning.  I frequently have to be reminded that I am not dealing with my ex and I know that I have caused pain by trying to shelve Carol into boxes that I have built for the ex over the years.  She has done the same to me, but I would have to say that I am by far the more guilty party.  I guess I am just a slow learner.

Again, we are just talking about more work that needs to be done, but this work promises better and longer lasting rewards.  I wonder if I will be ready for Carol to move into my life before the house is.  I doubt it, I think there is more work to be done on me than there is to be done by me.

    *  *

The mediation yesterday went about as well as non-binding mediation could go.  Nothing was really decided but the mediator collected her $400.00 with the pride of someone looking at a job well done.  I wonder what it was about that particular mediator that my Ex found so attractive when she set up the appointment…

Because I had to take three hours out of my day for mediation, when I was finally done at work and ready to come home, I was exhausted to the point that my whole body, including my head, just hurt.  I just wanted to find a dark, quiet place to curl up.  It would have been a luxury to have started a fire in the fireplace, pulled up a chair, and to have spent the evening reading a good book.  Unfortunately, I am too frugal to indulge in such luxuries often.

I view life as a candle burning.  I know that there will be an end to the candle, but I don’t know where it will be.  It could be right in the middle of this sentence, or the next one.  It might just as well be when I am 111 (I want to live to see my eleventy-first birthday like Bilbo Baggins).  It really does not matter how long the candle lasts as long as it is used for good.  When my candle begins to sputter and dim, I hope to know that it was burnt up raising children. 

There are lots of other things I could spend my life doing, some might slow the rate at which the candle burns, others would speed it.  It seems likely that child rearing is an expensive activity and that it consumes the candle at a faster pace than many other activities.  This thought is backed up by observing nature where litter size and frequency is in direct proportion to life expectancy.  I remember reading a study about opossums in the south that found that the opossums living on protected islands that were free from predators had smaller litters, and had them less frequently than the opossums living only a short distance away on the mainland where life expectancies were shorter.  Because the opossums on the mainland were dying younger due to predators, they burned up their shorter lives giving birth.  Since they were going to be eaten anyway, it made no sense to reserve strength for a long life. 

I might increase my chances of seeing my eleventy-first birthday by choosing less demanding tasks – by rationing my candle carefully, but that carefully rationed life is not what I seek.  The opossum makes no conscious choice in its parenting – evolutionary pressures (yes, you can believe in God and evolutionary pressure at the same time) have positioned it to maximize its lifespan and its surviving offspring – but I have a choice and I would be happy to find that there is nothing left to spend once the children and grandchildren are raised.

After all, even those who are miserly with their lives can find their candle does not burn as long as they planned; Best to burn while you can.

*  *

Last evening we got the kids together for dinner at the new house.  There is so much more space there than the kids have been used to – even my old house had an unfinished basement that limited the useable space – but despite the increase in space, for some reason the kids felt they just had to poke each other.  We had kids frustrated because someone kept opening their bedroom door just to be annoying, we had others upset because of name calling, we had pouting, screaming, crying… but we also had moments of peace where everyone got along.

I know that going from three children to eight children is going to exhaust me at times.  I am probably no better prepared to take on eight kids than if I were taking on two or three with no experience in being a father at all.  These next two or three years are going to stretch my limits but I look forward to learning how to manage.  I want to be a better father and the expanded family is going to force me to learn more quickly than before.

I can see that there is a real potential for me to become frustrated when it seems that no one can get along; with eight children there I have doubled the chances that someone will be feeling out of sorts at any particular moment, and will need parental intervention.  Fortunately I will be also gaining someone to help me dish out that intervention too.  It seems that the secret to survival is going to be to treasure the fleeting moments when everyone is at peace with themselves and those around them.  Last night provided some very short periods of true peace, but that is a start to build from.  I can take those moments and hold them in my memory until the next peaceful moment.

After all, gems would not be precious if it did not take moving a lot of dirt to get to them.

   *  *

I am getting married on June 10^th.  At least I hope to be married then.  The problem is that I am Mormon in belief and I feel strongly that being married in the Mormon temple, in a rite that I believe extends the marriage commitment beyond death, is a better choice than a simple civil ceremony.  I also have 8 children who will be watching my choices and who will hopefully use my choices to help pattern their own. 

Being married in the temple (or Sealed) requires more than just a decision to do so:  Temple attendance is based on a commitment to certain standards of conduct and chief among these is a strict moral code.  Carol was recently discussing this moral code with a co-worker who was shocked to find out that not only is premarital sex forbidden, but all of the sexual acts that Bill Clinton labeled as “Not Sex” are also forbidden.  After several replies of “Nope” to this ladies continuing questions, “How about ……” the co-worker finally groaned “That poor man!”  I don’t feel a poor man, I just feel fortunate that a good back rub is allowed because I have sure come to enjoy these.

Carol and I have kept to this moral code and we can feel proud of that.  Other than being Mormon, we are completely normal adults and we definitely have the appetites, desires, and passions that scream to be sated.  It takes constant thought, planning and diligence to insure that we keep ourselves within the boundaries of this moral code. 

Oh, I know this code sounds restrictive and unfair, but we choose to keep it – no one is forcing us, so if you were considering a comment about how unfair this is, you can keep it to yourself.  I don’t expect everyone to agree with the choices I have made, but I do hope that they will be respected even if they are not understood.  This is, after all, my life and I choose to let you read about it.

Saturday evening Carol’s children wanted to have a sleep over at the new house.  It seems simple enough, especially to children, but to Carol and I, it was a tough decision to make - a trial or a temptation if you will.  I think that we were both in agreement with the children about how fun it would be to have a sleep over but we were also concerned about how the parents would end up spending those long hours after the children had gone to sleep.  Carol tried to gain the help of the oldest child (who is aware of boys and feels the first youthful tugs of attraction) by telling her that if we had a sleep over she might end up sleeping in my bed.  The 13 year old had an immediate response to this “What is the problem with that if all you are going to do is sleep?”  It is all so easy when viewed through innocent eyes.

The sleep over happened.  Carol and I survived and remain morally ready for the temple.  Carol made a bed a whole floor below me, but I knew she was there all night and I did not sleep very well at all.  Despite the lack of sleep, I loved the feeling of unity that having the woman I love sleeping so close provided.  For the first time, the house felt alive and healthy. 

Remember I said that I hoped to be married on June 10^th?  Morality has nothing to do with choosing a date, but it illustrates how much this temple sealing means to Becky and me.  The problem with the date is that I was married in the temple before, and now, despite the civil divorce, that temple ‘sealing’ is still in place.  I am trying to get everything in place to allow Becky and me to marry in the temple, but one piece is lacking and is in the hands of someone else.  Despite their assurance that they would respond to this one easy task, time is running out for us.  If we do not have everything submitted, and if we have not recieved a reply before June 10, we can not marry in the temple.  A civil wedding would still be open to us, but with the blessings of temple marriage and all those young eyes watching to see what our decision will be, I am reluctant to settle.  This is countered by my reluctance to put off the wedding – especially as everyone is making preparations and expending time and money for a wedding on this date.  A wedding is not something that is easily postponed for a couple of extra weeks.

My life, it seems, is destined to be one of constant worry.

   *  *

I have been called many names in my lifetime, some have been hurtful, others playful.  A short list should illustrate:  Alpo, Squirrel, Mouse, Chipmunk, Mouse Meat, Chip, and Bonehead.  Somewhere along the way I came to the understanding that I would always have an alias, and it seemed to my benefit to choose one I could live with.  Chip was the name I chose, and that name stuck with me through college and died slowly after I took this job and wanted to be a bit more professional than a Chip can pull off.  I should have stuck with Chip…

Shortly after beginning here, I was in a meeting where I jokingly referred to the members of my team as Boneheads.  I thought nothing of it – it was said in friendship and I included myself in that group.  Only later did I realize that a member of the team about 7 years my senior really disliked the name and was bothered every time he heard it.  It would have been different if he had spoken to me about it but instead he told someone else.  I felt it my civic duty to toughen up his thin skin and I began to use Bonehead at every opportunity.  I even chose that name for my moniker when we played computer games after work.

It is fitting that the name stuck – to me.  Along side the work-approved name outside my cubicle door hangs an unofficial name plate declaring me “Bonehead”.  This company has over 2,500 employees, and not all of them know my nickname but enough know it that I am called Bonehead frequently.  On occasion it will lift an eyebrow from someone overhearing my name for the first time, but for the most part it is just accepted.  The name fits me.

I know mom.  You hate it.  I know.

There is one name that I am regularly called that can either melt me or freeze my blood in my veins.  That name, of course, is Daddy.  I love being called daddy when someone needs something and they are being as sweet as they know how, but when it is screamed almost incoherently by someone running into the house, my heart stops for a moment as my mind imagines all the horrible things that a scream can mean.

I don’t know what my five new children will be comfortable calling me.  I imagine that the older ones will never get their lips around calling me dad, but the youngest began calling me daddy by accident some time ago.  Then he transitioned for a while to constantly asking if he could call me dad or asking if he could call me dad yet (since I have not married his mother yet), but more and more he is slipping into just calling me dad.

Eventually I expect that being called daddy will be as natural for me as it is for him to say it.  For now though, hearing him call me dad is a badge of honor I wear proudly.

    *   *

This week has been a real rollercoaster of emotion and I am feeling a substantial drain because of it.  I was off work yesterday, but was not able to recover any strength so I am feeling like a nice, warm, dark hole would be nice – but only if I can take a flashlight and a book.

In preparation for a family of 10, it became necessary for me to sell my house and move.  This alone was stressful because I loved my house, the wild woods, the pleasant brook, the neighbors, and the beautiful library.  My house was large enough, and for $30,000.00 we could have added custom bedrooms and a bathroom in the basement and had plenty of room for everyone.  I was content there.

The problem was that I was the only one content there.  Becky’s children did not want to move from their familiar location and Becky got panic attacks thinking about moving the 10 miles from her house to mine.  I had a choice of course:  I could remain single with my house, or I could move.  The choice was not hard to make once I got my mind around the fact that those were my only choices. 

I will miss that house badly.  The woodpecker was out tapping away on the light post as I left for the last time and his cadence seemed a mournful drumming.  Perhaps I should have paid more attention to that bird because the transition from that house was not an easy one.

Tuesday afternoon I went to go close on the sale of my house and the purchase of a house close to where Becky and her children have been living.  This new house is comparable to my house in size, but it is on a corner lot, has a tiny yard when compared to the old one, no forest, no stream, and no library either.  It does have ready-made rooms for 8 kids and most importantly, it is in the right area.  It is a very nice house on the inside, and the price was right.  I am sure that I will be happy there.

The problem on Tuesday was that although my house closed and became the property of someone else, the close of the new house was held up because someone finally got the payoff and found that there was not enough money coming in to pay the bank what it was owed!  I left the closing in despair because not only had I given up the house I loved, the house it took 18 months of searching to find, a house I will never be able to replace and where I was comfortable in the knowledge that I could provide for my kids, but even though I had given all this up I had no where to live and no promise that I would have a place any time soon.

Options were presented to me.  None of them were good ones.  It seemed a real possibility that I would be forced to move my belongings from the garage and into storage somewhere while I  rented something and looked for another house or until the bank reviewed my option to buy on ‘short sale’. It seemed a good idea to stage all my belongings in the garage of the new house because the new owners of my house were eager to have me out.  In fact, this staging really put me in a hard place.  I could imagine the fight with my ex if she did not think my temporary lodgings were adequate for the needs of the children – they have already been living with her instead of me while I have been staying in the guest bedroom of my parents and I dreaded this continuing.  Her logic is sound: Why shouldn’t the kids stay where they are comfortable and where they will get a good night’s sleep – especially on school nights.  I felt like I had made a huge mistake and put everything in jeopardy by giving up my house to buy this new one.

I had resentment to spread liberally – I resented the seller for not knowing how much was owed.  I resented the Title Company for not finding out sooner.  I resented Becky for being the catalyst of my move.  I even resented the people who had purchased my house.  I was at odds with the world for the curve I had been thrown and I was despondent, without goals.

Fortunately, everyone involved was willing to make concessions and we made it work.  I offered more for the house, the buying and selling agents cut commission, and my loan officer cut the loan origination fee.  With everyone working together we managed to salvage enough money to pay the bank in full so it looks as if I will actually have a house. 

It is snowing today so it will be a good day to try out the fireplace at the new house.  Perhaps we can find a chair or two that we can unbury from the garage so we even have a place to sit.  I also need clean clothes.

I was not a pleasant person to be around while everything was working its self out, but the relationship seems to have survived.  Becky must really love me to put up with someone as caustic and negative as I became.  I am sure that I one many people apologies for my short temper but I will start by apologizing to her.

   *   *