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Ida Maria – Queen Of The World

G and I got into a BIG fight.

The cherry topping on this giant pile-o-shit cake was that it came after rock climbing class. G is on Fall Break, and we did not clue-in to kindergartners actually having an actual ‘Fall Break‘ in time to avoid 5 days of Hurricane G to the chest. Her climbing coach said it was her best ever day. I’m sure, rested and antsy and ready to blow. After class I climbed with her.  She became  the teacher. She has 4x the hours on a climbing wall I’ve ever had; six months weekly has made her hands and forearms powerful. and i’m coachable.  G said ‘look up, don’t look down.’ The extra effort i spent flailing my feet were easier on my body then the drag from pointing my head down. On the second run i started remembering where the toe-holds were, or getting the most out of a quick glance and sticky climbing shoes. Suddenly it made sense how carelessly she hops up the walls flopping on only 2 contact points; she is good. And my 3 runs were so much easier than they looked from the bottom, a milestone for me…thanks t.Human!

I was about to ask the staff for the next belay class when G baked the pile-o-shit cake. Suddenly she was kicking and screaming and writhing on the floor about tying her shoes. *boom* Welcome to Genevieve’s meltdown.

It was so obvious, when I look at it now.

The day before,  Alana — also being vagrant due to teacher career enhancement training at Kinder Care (which *groan* i wholeheartedly support) — threw a too-expensive-for-toddlers bowl of peas into the wall. I shrugged and ever-so-mildly berated myself. Saw it all coming, saw her not-nap, nod off in the car, slide into bitchiness. I was too very weary to care, it was just a bowl.

I got beatdown at work, beatdown by housewifing, beatdown by my house and wife, and blown from 30 minutes climbing and an hour lifting. I may still have been feeling dt’s after Tuc Fxs.

It was so obvious, when I look at it now.

But in the moment, it was an insult, her personal grudge against all the work and patience i’ve given her, a submission to her lazy self-indulgence. She knows…KNOWS…i can take just about any of her bullshit anywhichway…except shrieking, too many years of that.  “oh no you didn’t!‘ I thought while my inner angry black chick waggled her neck.

I felt awful all next day. tummy-twisting awful. don’t-look-in-the mirror awful. be-nice-to-awful-coworkers awful.  move-out-failure-as-father-&-husband awful.

Things are not as bad as they seem, and blogging is dramaqueenization. Focusing on improvement is my best effort at closure on pile-o-shit cake mistakes. Words hurt, and i’ve always been too good with them. When you make a nearly-6 yr old cry for 5x longer than when she ate shit on this big hill, i don’t need to be told twice a correction is required.

Sometimes i hate my wife for my burdens and bondage. Then, her comprehension of my dynamics awe me, remind me of all that’s genuine between us. She said: G’s not a bad kid, she’s tired, sometimes she needs help, sometimes you punish her. I chapped Beckie a few days prior for letting Alana faceplant when she 75% knew it would end in a faceplant. Touche, thanks Sweet Honey for the knowledge.  ‘

I apologized to G an hour later, while she was washing her hands. M’eh, the moment was there. I’m sorry i got cranky, i was tired. you know how it gets when your’e cranky?

Then Beckie went away for 2 days. and G was still off school for 2 days. Genevieve, Alana, and Paypal – i was monster-herding every second, i dreamed about my stress. Thursday was luau night at the Fishbowl! G spun nearly 3 hrs nonstop, exploding from a good day of movies and cooked-to-order meals and Starfall. ‘May I have some broccoli‘ = parenting heroics. Alana was much the same. At the Fishbowl, I looked for it, saw it, caught it also in myself, then loaded us all into the car and got the fuck out, before any vampires feasted. All night i calibrated on helping, not pushing. The return of positive-dad [insert estrogen joke here]. I explained it to G when i was starting to lose it, and she said ‘i’m gonna take my cranky face off too’, then passed out in the car. Alana was so jacked on candy she yapped nonstop, but i finally got her to lay down and sleep without yelling 2 hrs later. By Friday i was hungover and drunk, kept marching on, brought G to my office and the library and Fresh&Sleazy. She ate everything in sight, she spoke to me and i listened to her, she was beautiful for 6 hrs. I finished my work day at 12:04am.

Parenting is probably better both hard and soft. The positivity of going soft is immeasurably easier.

Climbing on the Bird is finally less-than-utterly-pathetic. My legs and balance are coming around. There are ~10 big ups on Somo from Javalina to Buena Vista, and each ride for nearly 10 years their ticks have located a climbing performance meter in my head. I think i got 4 last ride, which was 3 more than the first time on the Bird. Coupled with a vigorous pace chasing Chongoman up the mountain, i declared myself a winner!  40 minute sprints up the McDs and 2 days at Rancho are paying off in enough balance and strength to power over challenges, and enough confidence to commit to finishing them. Each of the last 5 rides have been better than the one before it. Descending is so copacetic it hardly merits the attention to type. I’m developing a trust in the big fat fork and the stiff sticky rear end, learning to jump safely jump into chunk. I got the s-curve on 24th St. for the first time in far too long, and on Highline let the bike take me down through danger by going faster. Paradise Wash time trials are pushing me into new comfort zones of speed. Last run was 7:59; descending the AZT in Flagstaff was a rainbow of emerald and olive and moss and malachite.

I’ve started again picking the girls up from their school(s) with the bikes and Kila. I slam a beer on the ride over, its like happy hour, where fatigue and anxiety slip away in adventures with my pack. G’s climbing gets stronger, less sprinting and more spinning. Sometimes she zig-zags lazily up the hill while we talk about her school day.  She too unwinds, kindergarten happy hour on 2 wheels. At the Hill Park she followed me down a 5-stepper. She stopped and asked before trying it — can i do it? When i told her no problem, and reminded her how, her body language spoke her understanding to unweight the front and trust gravity. Summer PT days have sharpened and relaxed her to  ride out the momentum.  She can climb every table at Rage and knows which to avoid at McPump, absent are the out-of-control backward flops, finding her comfort zone between attacking and retreating from a big up. She finishes our sessions filthy, shweaty, unscathed, and starving!  The last time rolling home from the Hill Park she shot off the front, stopped and looked at every intersection, and then pulled out of sight on the long descent. I half-expected to find flashing lights and twisted metal at the bottom, but I found G waiting for me before crossing Thompson Peak, just like she knows to do. A 2o yard skidmark led up to the intersection. She said she made it on purpose. Gnar junkie unleashed, the downhill is what inspires her to climb.

Alana can barely reach the pedals, has no balance, and the slightest shift of the front wheel knocks her over, but she can’t wait to ride bikes. Sometimes riding means dressing up in helmet and pads, sometimes its cheering wildly from the back of the trailer, sometimes its standing around holding her bike and admiring the fresh set of streamers that to a 2-yr old make it all seem brand new.  It seems fanboy and voyeuristic, but its not her fault she can’t fit the 12 incher yet. She’s still 6 months ahead of where G was on that bike. She’s happy to get propelled around the pump track, barely a dozen laps for me hurts a lot more after pushing Alana around another 15 times.  She cheers and squeals and diabolically giggles when a tumble almost happens. Someday she will pedal, sometimes she goes down the street and back, her psych is the triumph that presupposes all the others.

Dara invited us to join her, Troy and James for camping and hiking. The camping was too much effort, but we got up early and deep into Rim Country by 9:15. Dara said it would be a hike down to a river with friends, dogs, and ‘a few steep spots‘.  If Facebook only had a icon, it would have been all over her message. No worries, none at all — the Cballs represent. Beckie hauled Alana in the carrier, along with Dara hauling her 3-yr old McKenna. G hiked all 45 minutes and ~600 feet down, through rockfall and broken trees, along the river, and back up again. After two times freelancing and thumping herself on rocks, she began listening to exactly what i said and followed my path precisely. She dropped into steep down-climbs saying to herself ‘just like rock climbing class…just like rock climbing class‘. If I wasn’t proud enough of her strength and saavy when we got down to the river, I was blown away when she swam behind me through a 10 yard pool along the trail. The way out I could hardly pace her, her fatigue offset by excitement and empowerment rocketing back up the wall.

Alana and McKenna almost thinking about being friends

stupid slow-focusing auto-focus, this pic was so kewl

dogs can’t walk on skinny log crossings

back up the wall!

kids passing out allowed adult time

be Johnny Rotten!!

More awesome pics over on James’ site.

sunset bike ride to the grocery store for treats

1st day of school

2nd day of school

GrowAZ is a newish grassrootsy collective of bike geeks who think acting with one voice might get us somewhere. Black Power and whatnot. The park manager of McDowell Mtn Park is extremely bike friendly, recognizing the majority of daily traffic in the park are bikes. The PT got built last year, tucked into a corner where no one but other bikers go. Ahh…fences make for good neighbors, even the equestrians kvelled when i paraded G out at a planning meeting and said how free-riding is family-friendly. Props to LateDropBob and others who have been working hard to make things happen with powers-that-be.  Today was our first rebuild workday, and hopefully the first of several cool features added to the Park. The Park matched our 20 volunteers with a water supply and a loader.

First samples on the backside were gnariffic. I can’t wait to try the jump line after it dries.

Kiefer and G alternated riding and DVDs. Somewhere is Kila who wandered around and about and under the EZup for 4 hrs. and look, its my laptop sitting right where i left it! Thanks KennyB for saving it, and building your S-curve.

KIDDIE BIKE PORN BELOW!
you’ve been warned…

This summer has been the hardest i know. So many large projects and siteeations, no willpower to get up or get out. The only place I refused to yield is getting the kids to the pool.This likely contributes to my beatendownednessocity.

Its like this: we are soon heading to my nephew’s bar mitzvah, and G asked if we would go talk to god. No baby, no. I don’t want you  to ruin the service, or it to ruin you. You and Alana and Mommy will dress up and give hugs pre-service, then vanish to the playroom for 1.5 hours while Daddy takes 4 slugs of God to the chest for the family.*

That is like taking kids to the pool.

I enter my zen, my dragon, my prePainCave, getting ready for clawing and ripping and 4-footed kicks in the junk, meatbombs crashing from out of the sky, kickboards cracking me under the chin.

Its amazing i haven’t bitten my tongue or had a seizure this summer.

I love my kids. really. keep repeating

We play fighting games, wrestling, basketball and racing. G is a long-haired dress-wearing tomboy. She took out 4 boys at a Pump It Up party, 3 of them twice. Each day she asks to do laps, cause she likes ice cream, and she likes challenging herself, and seeing her progress.  I know this about her, she does not yet.

Alana is a completely different swimmer from barely a month ago. No fear of the water, comfortable under the surface for 5 seconds at a time in ways G never was. She  discovered goggles. The first time she freaked out and howled til i stuffed her under water and screamed ‘LOOK!!!!’ Two eyes were full moons, trying to find teenytiny words to describe what she saw. On the way home i bought her a pair of her own. Now she can’t jump in fast enough, learning to cannonball, and yesterday for the first time embracing the autonomy of water wings. I embraced the 20% fresh bandwidth in my throughput.

They usually crap out after about an hour. So I can timebox my suffering, and force myself to keep smiling and playing their games. I get raked down the back, a knotted quad, and choke held. How the fuck did that only take a minute and a half!!!! A minute and a fucking half! Its like sex-time.

*no offense to my religious friends, who if you are reading know and respect our differences

G grew up during the last moon. I realized it when i realized i was comfortable sending her alone to the the ladies locker room before her climbing class. She’d run purposefully down the hall, and return with clean hands and an empty bladder and an eagerness to impress me and scamper up the rock wall. Its the first I’ve let her out of my sight with no other adult around to tag in.

On recent rides, she’ll roll a mile straight downhill, unafraid, in control, stopping at intersections, just having fun. A fragrance of consequence finds me, i imagine her crossing up her wheel and sanding her beautiful face clean off skidding down Bell Road. There is nothing I can do but talk to her once she gets up to speed. Its going to happen eventually, i must work with it.

Last week we were practicing addition, writing it out, counting numbers and fingers. She didn’t understand 2+1 vs 21. A week later she was playing with my phone, seeing numbers, counting, reading, saying 19 is 1 and 9; her largest cognitive leap in a long long time.  Maybe ever, just riding along on the way to the gym.

This summer she’s been in a school&camp program, and spends the day with other 5s and 6s she’s known over a year, going on field trips and working on projects. She hasn’t brought her blankie to school in days. She just up’n decided it was time to leave it at home. She still sleeps with it every night.

Fridays are Water Day. Its a new experience sending her to school packing a suit and water shoes and a towel and something for Show & Tell. For her to remember it all, use it all, and get herself dry are a trifecta i could not imagine a year ago. Last Friday she made it clear she wanted to be ready the moment Water Day began. Its 108, i appreciate her enthusiasm. She wore her suit under her surf shirt, under her dress, with her flipflops. If she’d had a field trip that day she’d have had her Field Trip shirt on too. We had to run back upstairs on the way out so she could get a simple hair band instead of a scrunchy, which stays wet all day.

Each weekend comes round, and I tick it off: not going to Flag, not riding 6 Shooter, not exploring the high country. Going to a birthday party, going to the pool, going to the zoo. Is it acceptance, or numbness, that I mostly care not and only want to be with my kids? They are beautiful, and I can not be away from them without feeling incomplete, vulnerable, terrified.  I took them to the pool twice after work this week. Twice for Alana, actually, while G began rock climbing classes at the gym.

I read about the Mighty Mud Mania, and our plan for this weekend began.  The pictures and descriptions explain the details, fed G’s stoke. But Alana is complex, her enthusiasm builds slowly, so used to getting drug along, drug out of her comfort zone, always eyeing a defensible position.  As we expected, Alana warmed up slowly to the mud, preferring the safe comfort of walls around her. After a few hours, she rallied, and ended  as filthy as the other kids.

G suffered no such hesitation, only the minimum age requirement to run the large obstacle course.  We worked through that too.

Me: G, how old are you?
G: 5
Me: G, how old are you?
G: 7, Daddy

Some kids crept through the obstacle course, timid in body and mind. G smoked the older kids in her heat, sprinted end-to-end. I had not doubts. The biggest challenge was keeping her from redlining while waiting in line.

We needed to run her around, until the race started

she is on the far right, the one blowing up the field

After some time at home, snacks and a nap, we followed through on a promise of a kitten and headed to the Animal Shelter.

Well, not a kitten, those got flushed by a (shitbag)coworker, so with heavy hearts we vowed to save another life. We hoped to find an adult who would otherwise soon be gassed, but this guy at 9 months fit our needs of a male who would not threaten Turtle.

G named him Cybro. How she pulled that name out of her ass I do not know. She forgot it several times, but I kept reminding her, cause it is so much more unique than Max or Stripe, just like her. We goto pick him up in 2 days after his nards are whacked. Today we went to PetSmart to buy him litter and toys.

saw this out the porch window! Alana skipped the tricycle and the strider bike. Almost a year ahead of G

night-blooming cactus

a trip to the movies to see Rio!