IMR: Entries: 2003: May: 01 — Thursday, May 01, 2003

Lei Away Ramen and Wheat Thins for dinner, and Howard Stern on the tube. Ah, bachelor life.   THE KIDS IN-LAWS IN HAWAII EASTER WEEKEND FAMILY TO FLORIDA Nineteen days to go before Jen, Katie and Zac return home. With no one waiting for me at the end of the day, with only my own laundry and meals to worry about (thus the special diet), I have grand plans to get a thousand things done, to get out and see some movies or hunt down some geocaches (a new hobby). For a guy who spreads himself too thin, juicy chunks of free time are like heaven. But while the productivity window is now wide open, the motivation is gone. It's weird. It's not like my wife and kids care about or are involved in most of my little projects and obsessions. (Some of them are outright annoying.) But even when presented with the chance to burn through things in high gear, I'm suddenly thinking, "Why bother?" I have work outstanding on three jobs for which, unusually, I'm actually being paid. But I just spent the last two hours watching "C.O.P.S." After I got home yesterday, I laid down to rest in the middle of the living room, and ended up sleeping there the rest of the night, even though I'd brought home a four-inch binder full of policies and procedures I should have finished reading last month. My world is just too quiet. It feels like a vacuum. I want to pop my ears. When I go to bed, I close my eyes and step through the daily rituals that used to end the day. Jen doing her sit-ups to cheesy '80s music. Katie reluctantly climbing out of the tub, complaining that it's cold. Zac climbing over me in bed to push the alarm clock off the dresser. I can hear the soapy water gurgling down the drain, and feel Zac's hands and knees on my ribs. I almost feel like I should read Fametracker on Jen's behalf... then make fun of myself for doing so. Monday night, the first night they were gone, I lept up from my computer and burst into the bedroom the same way I'd done so a thousand times before when — it turns out — a neighbor's kid started crying. I was looking for Katie on the floor against the window before I remembered I was alone. This trip came up pretty suddenly. Back in June, the same month Zac was born, we learned that Jen's brother Michael — a submarine welder with the Navy — was going to be stationed here. He came out here a few months ago for training, but his wife Diane and their kids Erik and Alaina weren't able to join him until last month. Their arrival meant that all four of Jen's parents' grandchildren would be in the same place. So Jen's parents decided to come out to see everyone. Now, Jen's occasional and understandable bouts of homesickness are fairly well documented. She's incredibly devoted to her parents, and her mom came to town when Zac was born, but Hawaii's no Florida. (Thank god.) And she hadn't been home since April 2001. Try as I might to sell her on the unprecedented family reunion coming to Hawai`i as a cure, she desperately wanted to go home again. Even offering to bring everyone to Orlando, Florida, when I go over for a banking conference in August was too long to wait. And with her having just filed our taxes for a decent refund, and with her impossibly sweet face, I couldn't resist. The flight reservations were made mere hours before her parents touched down at Honolulu International Airport. It was nice to see Jen's parents again, and to meet — however briefly — her brother's family. Dealing with in-laws is, in the realm of love and marriage, one of the universal, reliable sources of stress, chaos, and comedy. If you subscribe to that school of thought, I'll be the first to admit I got a sweet deal in our marriage. Jen is surrounded by in-laws, and saw at least one at least once a week. All my in-laws, meanwhile, were an ocean and continent away. She says she loves my family, and I know she does, but... simple geography unfairly shifted things. I love her family, too. (But I know it's easier to say so when you don't see them that often.) Jen's mom has always been absolutely fabulous, Jen's aunt is feisty and has a great Boston accent, and Jen's dad is a pretty endearing amalgam of Homer Simpson and Archie Bunker. Sure there were a couple of moments when I bit my tongue so hard it bled, but compared to the incredible things said to Jen over the last nine years, that's nothing. I'm glad Jen's parents enjoyed their trip. They continue to gush endlessly about Hawai`i, despite my attempts to essentially overemphasize the downsides, the harsh realities of island life. They're smitten. There was quite a bit of talk about their possibly moving out here, at least for as long as Jen's brother's family is here too, which would certainly even things out quite a bit. They were reading the real estate listings, and asking about various neighborhoods, and sometimes seemed pretty serious. On the other hand, the lottery is a core part of that strategic plan. As for Jen's brother, sister-in-law, and nieces and nephews, they spent most of the month getting moved into their new place. (With opposite-sex kids, they landed a three-bedroom unit — positively vast compared to your average local domicile.) We had long planned to get together regularly, allowing the kids to play together and taking them to see the sights. Unfortunately, that bonding will have to wait for a little while. Though, if I start to miss my own kids too much, I just might call 'em up and ask to borrow theirs for a while. Jen and Katie called me while I was at work today. I could hear Zac shrieking happily in the background. The first question I ask every time we talk is, "Is Zac walking yet?" The one thing about the scheduling of their trip that bummed me out was the fact that Zac seemed right on the verge of some pretty big milestones. He's going to be eleven months old on Saturday, and he is this close to walking, and this close to his first word. (He already claps and waves and plays surprisingly well with his five-year-old sister.) Even Jen's mom observed while she was here that Zac seemed to be holding onto us more out of habit than for balance when pulling us around the room. Being the father I am, I'd often pull my hand away suddenly, and Zac would stand for several seconds before figuring out what happened and calmly plop down on his butt. It might just be my fate, to miss these things. Katie, after all, quite reliably made big jumps in development only when I was out of town. And Katie? I have to say, first of all, that she is a talker. Talk talk talk talk talk. She carries entire conversations by herself, and can make you breathless even if you don't say a word. In a way, I think, her happy chattering had become a standard part of life at home. That's why the apartment now seems to be filled with a deafening silence. So I guess because I haven't really talked to her in a while, I was positively floored by how well she spoke on the phone this morning. She sounded so articulate, so animated, so... grown up, it was almost as if I'd really never chatted with her before. I heard so much of Jen, it made my heart ache. She told me she lost her tooth, and how and where. She reported dutifully on what Zac was doing that instant, what they did all day, and what they had planned for tomorrow. Most amazing to me, though, were the little things. "You know, dad, I really can't hear you very well right now," she said when my cell phone was fading in and out. "Are you still there?" And the kicker? She kept asking, "So how are things? Are you okay?" I can hear her voice now, talking to her imaginary friend the ladybug, making up a song to tell her custom, happy-ending version of "Goldilocks and the Three Bears." I think I'll let her talk me to sleep tonight.

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