One of the hardest things for Brooke and I to do is carve out time just for us. We have to really work at it to have time where we aren't distracted by life. I'm sort of proud that we are getting better and better at this, and I think it has been really healthy for our relationship. It was just a few weeks ago, when we were just sitting around talking when I had an eureka moment.
Here is my confession. I was not a good husband early on. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't awful, but I have come to realize that I was not as mature as I thought I was. I still sort of had the college mentality, but I was living in "the real world." Brooke and I were too young when we got married. Well at least I was. I have only recently realized this, and its not an admission that I am proud of. When I got married in 2003, I didn't actually have a true grasp on what it meant to be a man. I certainly didn't understand what it meant to be a husband. Without question, I didn't know what it meant to be a true partner. Would I do it all over again? Absolutely. Ask Brooke the same question, she might tell you something different. That's a joke, I think. In retrospect, would I do certain things differently and handle life differently? Absolutely. Truth be told, I didn't start growing up until Reagan came. Then we moved to Lexington and Caroline came. Then Baylor Grace, then Hadley Blaine. At that point we moved to Chicago and we were really on our own for the first time. This is significant because it made me realize how much I lean on Brooke, and how important she is to me. Ive heard the saying that kids make a good marriage better, and a bad marriage worse. It is absolutely accurate to say they have made our marriage better. However, I think a reason for that is because they made me better. They made me realize I needed to grow up. The girls made me realize I needed to be more careful with how I acted. The girls made me realize I needed to be better with how I was to Brooke. The girls made me realize how important my conduct really was. I now know I need to take better care of myself physically, mentally, and spiritually. They are always watching me. While I am proud that Caroline thinks its fantastic that she farts like her Daddy, I realize now what I need to do for them. The greatest thing I can do for my girls is love their mother.
I have no idea why I was the way I was back then. For the record, my parents raised me better than that. I am probably harder on myself than anyone else is, but I am deeply disappointed in myself for those early years. I can never have those years back, I can never give Brooke those years back. I guess it is all part of life's maturation process, even the parts you are disappointed in. I'm lucky to have survived those early years when I was not the man I should have been. I am even luckier to have Brooke be blessed with the patience of a Saint. Life isn't about doing it perfectly. Its about doing it better than you did the day before.
I thought I would go way back for my #TBT (throw back Thursday) today. This picture is one I am particularly proud of, one that probably guides me in my everyday work more than I realize. It is a picture from the late 1940s in Kentucky. What you are looking at, is a restaurant that my Great Grandfather worked at. Delbert (who is in the foreground) worked at this place with his brother in law, my Great Great Uncle (who is in the background). It was that side who owned the store, not my Great Grandfather. This picture might not mean much to you, but I ask that you to put the picture in its historical context. This was in the segregated South, during the height of the Jim Crow laws. Not only was "separate but equal" rarely enforced, it was often ignored. My GGF had no reservations about serving African-Americans. In fact, as a result of their reputation, 90% of their clientele were African-American. All my ancestors in this picture were raised on the Tennessee border. They are just removed from grandparents who fought for the Confederacy. I don't claim they were perfect, but at a time when it was excused by society to treat a particular section of the society as second class citizens, my family did not. I am very proud of that.
The next decade, late 50's early 60's, their business interests moved to more of a general store. It was a store in the front of a "shotgun" house. Again, my family's reputation preceded them, and much of their loyal clientele was African-American. Not only did they proudly serve any person who came in the door, they even offered credit to the African-Americans. This is something else that seems routine in today's world, I assure it was not back then. They knew their clients, they treated them with respect, and they trusted them. In return, my Great Grandfather was trusted, treated with respect, and had a loyal customer base. He also had very little problems collecting on the debts that were owed to them. That is what happens in a reciprocal relationship built on trust.
Again, they weren't perfect. While Delbert served in the Navy during WWI and fought off the Kaiser's men, I am told he liked the ponies a little too much. Despite all that, he didn't tolerate someone being treated as a second class citizen. Delbert's daughter in law was a fiery red haired Irish Catholic (God rest her sainted Irish soul). Her family knew all too well, both in the homeland (Ireland), and here in America, how poorly Irish Catholics were often treated.
I can't tolerate it either. I don't care if you're African-American, Homosexual, Hispanic, Muslim, Jewish, or even a pledge. Second class citizenship in America, in SAE, is unacceptable. We are better than that as Americans, and we are better than that as SAEs. Many of y'all may think I am crazy, maybe I am? You may also think that its a leap to make some of the comparisons in the above sentence. I assure you it is not. At some point in time you have to take a stand, even if it makes you uncomfortable, even if it leaves you vulnerable. At the end of the day, there is never a wrong time, to do the right thing.
It has been a while since I last wrote a blog, I feel it is time to blow the dust off this keyboard and get to blogging. Brooke asked me why I hadn't blogged in a while, I told her its because I feel like my mother is the only one reading them. She is probably 50% of the people who regularly comment. Regardless, I realized that I probably need to get cracking, I have a lot of stories to tell.
I have been extremely busy with work lately, we are on the cusp of doing some amazing things. The holidays came and went, and I had a fantastic time with my girls (and family). We even got (another) trip to Disney, and the girls were surprised by Aunt Brooke, Aunt Callie, and Baby Brayden joining us. It has been a crazy few months since I last wrote. Not too mention, its literally snowed about 70 inches here in Park Ridge. I have not seen the ground here in Chicago since prior to Christmas. Seriously. Im not sure grass even exists any more. We have to google image "grass" just to prove to Hadley that grass once did surround us all. Im not really sure there is light at the end of the winter tunnel, I feel like we moved to a prison camp run by the Gulag. Welcome to "Chiberia."
Speaking of Gulag, there are a lot of reasons to dislike Sochi. I don't care much for the Winter Olympics to begin with, but Sochi is terrible. Not only do they have a ridiculous anti-gay law, they are going around killing all the stray dogs. On top of that, the hotels are not finished, the infrastructure was never completed, they have practically manufactured a city for this Olympics. I can't imagine what it will look like 6 months when the circus leaves town. I also love NBC's converge of this charade, as they mentioned the "pivotal experiment" of Soviet Russia. It is all a sh*tshow. Below is a picture of the tap water, don't drink it or wash your face with it. Seriously. You can get really close to the person using the toilet next to you, and don't worry about that live wire in your shower.
Here is the funny thing about the Winter Olympics....as much as I loathe the vast majority of sports (anything having to do with cold weather except maybe a hot tub), I have a soft spot for the entire ceremony. Why you ask? It is because of two nights spent 8 years ago. If memory serves me correct, the Olympics were in Italy that year. Due to the time difference, a lot of the live action was shown at night. I remember I couldn't sleep those two nights in February. You may think that is normal for me, since I suffer from sever anxiety and can't sleep now. Truth be told. that wasn't always the case. I used to be able to sleep with relative ease, and not spend my nights worrying about everything. Those two nights, I couldn't. Not only was it nerves, it was also because I couldn't get comfortable. I feel like I was sleeping on a plastic chair, that every time I moved, sounded like polar bear chewing on a gigantic rubber tire. Truth be told, I was actually "sleeping" on a plastic chair, and the tv was my only company. Well, I also had the regular, somewhat hypnotic, beeping from Brooke's machine. We were in the hospital waiting for baby Reagan. I had no idea what to expect. Being a parent for the first time, having a little girl, I wasn't sure exactly how much my world was about to be turned upside down. I can recall watching so many horrible sporting events those nights because it was (literally) the only thing on. Those Olympics that I once hated, actually helped pass the time. I can't watch them now and not think of those two nights. I actually have grown to appreciate the WO, and its all because I feel like we bonded for about 48 hours. No matter what, when you associate something with such a positive emotion like my love for Reagan, how can you not have a soft spot for it?
Brooke once told me that Reagan would be the best thing to every happen to me, I've blogged about that before. Yesterday, we went to downtown Chicago for breakfast at The American Girl store to celebrate her 8th birthday. This past Friday, I watched Reagan dance her butt off with her friends, as if I wasn't even there. It hurt a little bit, but thats okay. She is getting to be a young girl, but she would eventually come back to me at the dance (I hope she always does, come back to her daddy). No one was more excited for me winning the dance off as Reagan was. She thought I roped the moon that night. I couldn't get over how big she looked on the dance floor. I can't believe how fast the time has flown by. I would give anything to hold my baby Reagan again, or have her yell out "sit next to me Daddy" as soon as we get to the restaurant. She is changing, and if I want to remain part of her life, I must change, too. I consider myself Lou Gehrig for having those 4 girls, and it all started with Reagan.
This morning we watched Father of the Bride together, I warned her it was going to make me cry. She said I cry a lot, which is true. This scene gets me no matter how many times I watch it. I told her I will probably embarrass her on her wedding day, I'll be such a mess. I love seeing Reagan come downstairs in her princess dress in the morning, just as Steve Martin talked about in the movie. I will cherish those little moments forever.
So here we are, the week that my BFF turns 8. It has been an incredible 8 years. I am a better man because that little girl is in my life. I know that in the same amount of time that has already passed, I will be teaching her to drive. Im not ready for her to grow much more. We want her to stay little forever, and we know that can't happen. So, I will embrace the fact that I have a front row seat to the greatest movie I have ever seen. Thanks for letting me be your Daddy, Reagan. I love you "more than all the stars in the sky, and fish in the sea." Happy 8th birthday, my love.
This past Monday, the coldest day in the history of the world, I went downtown to have surgery on my eyes. I chose to have PRK instead of the commonly selected LASIK. I didn't want to go the rest of my life with two flaps on my eyeballs that could at any time be reopened. Most people choose LASIK because that prior mentioned possibility will probably never happen, and because there is a lot less pain. I admit to have a very low tolerance for pain, but there were some tense moments after the surgery. The first 36 hours were the worst. I just had to keep the end goal in sight, so to speak, that by the end of the week I would be able to see.
The first night was interesting. I had to spend most of my time in the basement where it is always dark. Reagan wanted to sleep in the bed with me down there, she wanted to take care of me. She knew that I couldn't watch the BCSNCG, so she sat down there with my iPad and gave me the play by play. That was pretty interesting in of itself, having a 7 year old tell you whats going on in a football game. Every time I would move in bed, even at 2 in the morning, I would hear Reagan say "are you okay, Daddy?" The next evening, when the pain was at its worse, she would sit on the couch with me and just rub my back. As I rocked back in forth, my eyes literally unable to open, watering uncontrollably, she sat there in silence and comforted me. It would probably be worth a blog on its own. A father being taken care of by his little girl.
As the week went along, I could see better and focus more. I still have a hard time with small print (like computers- so yes this blog is a struggle), but I can see big picture pretty well. On Thursday I could finally watch TV again which couldn't have come at a better time.
One of my favorite books of all time is Lone Survivor. I read it about 2.5, 3 years ago. I have even given the book to people I work with as a gift. I gave it to my father this past year for his birthday. Its a book about leadership, sacrifice, belief, love, and loss. I cannot tell you how excited I was for the movie. I have waited, and waited, and waited for it to come out. I was excited that Lone Survivor would be the first thing I tested my new eyes out on.
So I went to the movies to see it by myself. Keep in mind I know what happens (as if the title didn't give it away). I read the book so many times that I remember a lot of the specific details. I knew I wasn't watching a biography or actual footage of the battle. I knew the actors from different movies. I knew it was filmed in New Mexico. I knew that everyone in the movie would actually be okay. I knew all this, but I was still completely lost in this movie.
I love history, I love war movies, as much as you can love movies about war. This one hit home, this one was different. This wasn't a movie about a war fought long ago, by people who I couldn't really relate to. I realize that this was the first war movie with people my age. People who were married like me, people who had kids like me. People who looked like me. People who had a lot more courage than I could ever dream of having, some who gave their last full measure of devotion for our country. Its the first war movie where many of my friends, ex roommates, and fraternity brothers, had been over there (are currently over there) doing very much the same as what I saw on the screen. I take a lot of pride of saying I know people like Cheno, Joey, Truelove, and Seth. All SAEs who served our country over there. Here am I at the movies, by myself, knowing the outcome of the movie, and I found myself crying at about 4 different times in the movie. Not an ugly face, snot waterfall sob, but a cry just enough to pull at the heart strings. I didn't care who saw, I wasn't the only grown man who this happened to. I couldn't help but laugh at myself for the "pain" I was struggling with earlier in the week, versus what I was watching on the big screen. I wanted desperately for those men to make it out of the valley. I wanted desperately for those men to return to those who they loved. I wanted desperately for those men who were suffering to have it end quickly. For the most part, that didn't happen. I knew going into it that it wasn't going to happen, yet I hoped it would anyway.
I cried at the end of Field of Dreams. I get emotional during Gettysburg when Lou Armistead is talking to Longstreet about his friend on the other side. Other than that, I don't get too emotional with movies (Old Yeller aside). This one got to me, and I knew what was going to happen. It is a rare time when even if you have read the book that the movie enhances the experience. Maybe someday I will be fortunate to meet Marcus, the Lone Survivor. You never are out of the fight.
Its been a strange week. It started with my 7 year old acting like a parent for her Daddy, and ending with the Daddy getting lost in a movie he had waited years to see. When I got home, Brooke asked (in a somewhat sarcastic tone) "was it all you wanted it to be?" I told her "you have no idea."
I got new eyes this week, and in some ways I am seeing things differently than I ever have before.
I don't normally talk politics or religion on my blog, I don't wish to anger people with something I really want to be a positive and emotional journey. Please excuse me for talking about religion today.
I have to say, I have been rather impressed with Pope Francis. He has been a total breath of fresh air. From the very start, he made it clear that he was a normal dude. He refused the massive Papal apartment. He doesn't wear the funny Pope shoes, or generally any other of the Liberace like garb. His car that he drives himself around in has over 300,000 miles on it. He once swept floors for a job, and he was even once a bouncer to earn a little cash. He is challenging the local establishment, and apparently has a belief that there is changes within that are needed. Working for a fraternity, I understand the desire for men to resist change (sometimes), and we are only 157 years old. The church, being thousands of years old, REALLY resists change. Im excited about where he is going to lead us.
There have been a lot of mistakes, and some tragedies, caused by the Catholic Church. One new Pope, won't change (or erase) all that, but he is off to a fantastic start. Outside of the US military, I believe the Catholic Church is one of the greatest forces for good, worldwide. Despite the mistakes that have been made, when done right, few can rival the positive impact on poverty that the Church has had. I think they have a man at the helm who will go back to this original focus. He seemingly wants to return the Church to the Catholic mission of love all, peace, and servitude, no matter what.
I travel a lot because of work and meet a lot of fantastic people. I was traveling somewhere recently when the conversation of Pope Francis came up. My friend is very opposite of me in a lot of ways. If not for SAE (which this is one of the great aspects of any fraternity), Im not sure he and I would naturally be friends. Our differences are most extreme by our politics. My friend, is also a homosexual. One thing we do have in common is we are both Catholics. A while back I asked him what he thought of this new Pope. His answer was "Boomer, I love Pope Francis." Which for me, was a very powerful answer. I felt moved by this because I thought that if Pope Francis can make us (who are very opposite) agree on something, he must be doing some good things. Shoot, even my brother is taking notice of Pope Francis. I was watching a morning show this morning, and they were even talking about how "cool" Pope Francis is. The words "let me tell you how much I love Pope Francis" were used. Church attendance is up across the world, and much of has been attributed to Pope Francis and his common person views of things.
Who knows what will happen from here? The Church is an organization that has been very important to my father (my hero), his mother, and is with Brooke and I. Its so fulfilling to have someone at the top who says things that we have said for a long time. I believe that every organization, regardless of the scope or size, needs a leader they can believe in. They need someone who they have faith will make the right decisions no matter the difficulty. They also have to believe that leader will remain calm during stormy waters. Pope Francis is someone I can look up to. I think he is someone, regardless of your faith, we all might be able to look up to. Lets hope so anyway, thats why they call it "faith."
Monday was a big day in the Ayers household, Hadley Blaine got her ears pierced. For the most part, this isn't a huge day in many households. Heck, this was the fourth time we had done it in ours. Well fifth if you count mine, its a long story. Anyway, we sort of decided on the spur of the moment to do this. It would be made even more special with one set of her grandparents there. That didn't work out so well, apparently Pop is somewhat squeamish. At 2.5 you never really know if your girls want their ears pierced or not. One minute they tell you yes, the next they say no. They want sparkly ears like their sisters, but they really have no idea what it takes to get them. She was so calm and trusting in that tall chair, she sat in the chair like a champ. Thankfully, she had both ears done at the same time. There was a half a second delay, when she got this shocked look on her face. How could we do this to her? She then scrunched her face and almost began to cry from the pain. That is when someone, perfectly timed I might add, shoved a bowl full of lollipops in her face. She immediately forgot the pain in her ears, and then began picking suckers out for everyone. She was the Oprah of suckers...."AND YOU GET A SUCKER, AND YOU GET A SUCKER!" Well, perhaps it wasn't that dramatic, but close. In her handing them out, she ignored her pain. That was it, she was ready to move on.
The real pain of the night, I think, belonged to her mother. I know how she feels, I felt it once too. I vividly remember the day when Reagan got her ears pierced in Lexington. I remember being a little sad on that day. To me it meant my first big girl was growing up. I figured it was the first of many of these moments, that will prove to me that my time as her first/greatest love is on the clock. Like many other seemingly minor moments with her and her sisters, I was reminded that all of this is limited. We live like there is an infinite well of life's precious moments which is ultimately one of the greatest mistakes we can make in life. Despite all that, I was happy for Reagan, sad for her Old Man. I remember the sting that day, Brooke felt it today.
Brooke is always the brave one with the girls. She can let them run off the diving board at the pool like flying squirrels. I prefer to be out of the state when this happens. She lets go of the bike when they are driving it. I prefer to turn my back and cover my head in the dirt. I want nothing but to protect my girls, and not ever let them get run over by life. We are actually a good combination for the girls, like with most things, Brooke and I are a good team. They get a lot of their toughness from their mother, and a lot of their compassion from their Dad. This is good though, when it comes to emotions, they will expect a husband to be empathetic, sympathetic, and passionate like me. They will grow up to be disciplined, organized, and dedicated, like their mother. Anyway, when the idea came up for the earrings on Monday, I was all about it. I didn't think twice. Brooke on the other hand, was a little sad. She was sad because this was her last baby. Her last one to get their ears pierced. She has carried her children in her for close to 40 months, or well over a total of 3 years of her life. She has fed them with her own milk for a longer amount of time than that. Sometimes she was pregnant with one, while feeding the other. She has changed an uncountable number of diapers, she has gotten up in the middle of the night more times then she would care to admit...and here was one of those moments for her. One that sort of kicks you in the gut. Its a little, unplanned moment, but a moment nonetheless. Her last baby was getting her ears pierced. I felt bad for Brooke, more than I did for the actual pain that Hadley was unaware she would get.
In the end, not much has changed. Hadley woke up on Tuesday and was pretty much the same kid she was on Monday (Lord help us). We will go on with our routine, and the girls will get a little older. It depresses me to know that with each passing day this holiday season, it might be the last for Reagan to have that special sparkle in her eye. One that only a kid who truly believes has. It will make me sad when that day comes and she wants to know the truth about the season. Brooke (of course) is prepared. She has a letter ready for Reagan and fully knows how she is going to tackle the issue. She will be the stronger one of us two. I wouldn't be surprised though, when that day comes for Hadley, that it is me that is the strong one. I guess that says a lot about the differences between the both of us.
In the old days, it is believed by some that Pirates got their ears pierced because they thought it gave them better vision for the horizons in front of their sails. With each passing day, Brooke and I see those horizons a little clearer. We are doing our job as parents, so that one day those girls can set sail on their own. I have heard that the only way to discover new oceans is to have the courage to lose sight of the shore. Its nice to have a good co pilot (and many times be a co pilot myself) to navigate those waters, especially when you have an unruly crew.
Reagan will be going through her first communion this May. She goes to church school every week in preparation. One of the things they (her and Caroline) are learning, are all the Catholic prayers. This week The Lord's Prayer was the prayer to learn. She caught on pretty fast, and she wanted to show Caroline she knew the prayer.
Reagan: Our Father, Who art in heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name. Thy Kingdom come. Thy Will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, WITH LIBERTY AND JUSTICE FOR ALL!
