It's All About Me

Last week was rough. I was left to care for the children every night, without the presence of my beautiful and extremely talented wife. How is one man supposed to be expected to care for 2 children by himself for more than one night in a row? Or more than one night?

Like anyone, I have a list of things I wanted to accomplish...last year. But I am still trying to get started on the first one. I was thinking I might finally get a start on some of those things this past week.

Nope.

Before I continue the rest of this story, I would like to point out I am fully aware of my selfishness. I appreciate your desire to set me straight on the many things I did wrong and how my selfishness was the center of it, however. Thank you.

So it was a long (and extremely rainy, by the way) week by the time Thursday rolled around.

Thursday afternoon, I drove through a puddle and came out the other side with an annoying, repetitive sound in the front end on the driver's side.

Friday morning, I inspected my tire and discovered that there was a bolt was stuck in it. "I will take it to Big O Tires tomorrow," I thought.

Friday evening, I left work a little early so I could stop by a dealership, on my way home, to look at a new car I have been thinking about for a while. I really like it. I do. "I wants it. My precious."

In the 2.7 seconds we had together on Saturday morning, I showed Nicki the various analysis I had done regarding the affordability of a new car payment (remember I am an accountant). She agreed that we could do it and gave me the green light, if I decided it's what I want to do.

"I wants it."

"You should take your car to have the tire fixed before you go."

This wasn't any ordinary old random thought. I recognized that at that time, mind you. "But," I reasoned, "It's held this long...I can still get Matti to her friend's birthday party back on this side of town by 3 pm. and then to help my friend move into his apartment at 4 pm."

In other words, "I must have it. I wants it." And we were off.

Do you have an 11-year-old daughter? Every mile I heard, "The Santa Fe is not this way. We have passed the Santa Fe. Daddy, I am going to be late!!"

Gollum said some things to my children on the drive over to Findlay Chevrolet that I regret.

Then, at the point where the concrete meets the asphalt on the off-ramp to Rainbow, the bolt was thrown loose causing the tire to almost instantly go flat. I was so close, yet so far away.

This off-ramp is far too busy to stop right on it to change the tire. So, I was forced to limp up and to the right into the first parking lot. Naturally, Nick wanted to help and it was fun for him to help get the tire out of the trunk and get the lug nuts off - after I had loosened them, of course. I'm strong enough to do that, you know.

Half an hour later, we were mobile again - except I had never used my spare in the 6 years I owned that vehicle (check your spares, folks!). With just enough air in the spare to get to the gas station next door, we drove over and I filled it and checked the other tires in the process.

"Well," thought I, "I'm this close. We'll just go look real quick."

"I wants it. My precious."

I looked at the car while the kids entertained themselves in the lobby (with a TV and, as I was about to realize, a soda fountain) and we left with enough time to get around the beltway and back to the Santa Fe Bowling center - it should only take around 25 minutes. Unless...

For those of you who have (or have raised) young boys, you may be aware of the necessity to ask a certain question before going anywhere in the car. I did not ask that question and no sooner had we entered onto the 215, from the back seat, "Dad. Um. I need to go potty." Also from the back seat, "What?! No, Daddy! We are going to be late!!"

Smeagol had started to regain some control over Gollum by now. I pulled off the very next exit and drove through to the frontage road where there is only empty dirt. We left the empty dirt with a small patch of mud.

We proceeded to make good time, with my constantly never-over-dramatic daughter assuring us that she was going to be late and miss the entire party. I chose to drive Summerlin Parkway to the 95, figuring it would be faster. As we approached the flyover to northbound US-95 from Summerlin Parkway, from the back seat, again, comes, "Um...Dad. I really have to go potty again."

"What?! No, Daddy. We are going to be late!!"

I asked, "Buddy, can you possibly make it another 5 minutes?" We tried some diversionary tactics - songs, etc. - for a very brief 2 minutes (probably less) and I pulled over just past the Rainbow on-ramp before the Cheyenne exit. A perfectly safe place to stop.

I had managed to have my son relieve himself on two different highways within 20 minutes. Worry not. There were two more to go.

I dropped off Matti at 3:04 pm. Unfortunately, the party that started at 3 pm had ended by then, so she was left to go bowling by herself. To her relief, however, she found that all her friends had decided to stay a little longer.

The story continues...

Number Two

Get your brain out of the gutter, not THAT Number Two.

I will admit that this may be one of the most difficult entries I will write. See, Number Two is only 14 months younger than I am. For whatever reasons, by the time we were teenagers, we did not get along so well.

I'm not going to air out all the things that happened over the years, but there's been a lot of ugliness - on both sides.

The most important thing to me, however, is seeing how he has made some changes in his life to the point of baptizing his daughter and blessing his son. I know there are many people praying that these changes will continue, myself included. Again, don't expect me to tell him personally - far too much pride going on here.

To this day, we still don't have really extended meaningful conversations, but I can tell you this:

For all the difficulties then and now, I truly love my brother Brian.

Happy Birthday.

Number Six

I am the oldest of eight children. To many in the world, that sounds like a really big family. However, growing up in the heart of Mormondom in Provo, Utah, my family seemed an average size to me. One thing that did set my family's size apart, though, was that all eight of us are boys. What are the odds?

That was a rhetorical question. Being a nerdy accountant-type, I figured out the answer a long time ago. If you really want to know the odds, go ask a statistician friend. If you don't have a statistician friend, be thankful.

Growing up, little brothers are a pain. They get into your stuff, hang around when you have your friends over. Just annoying. Can anyone with little brothers disagree - really? I think not. Yet now, as I am getting older, I am starting to appreciate all of my siblings, regardless of their quirks, neuroses, and other idiosyncrasies.

Perhaps another way to say that is I love them even though they all have habits or personality traits or pets that bug the crap out of me.

Today is the birthday of Number Six. (He's the one on the left.) He has moved away from Utah, for the time being, to attend law school. Law? There's one in every family. To make things worse, he seems to be interested in taxes. And people think I am boring as a CPA. He wants to be a tax attorney.

Wes (Number Six) was the first of the second group of boys. The first 5 of us were each born about a year apart. After that, my parents took a 5-year break (from having kids - I won't guess as to anything beyond that).

Then, Wes came along. How exciting!! Now we had a little brother we could ALL pick on, even Number Five. Without a doubt, he got teased mercilessly throughout his life. Probably more so than even Number Seven and Number Eight. Actually, it hasn't stopped yet, all these years later - including from Seven and Eight. And, because of the teasing he has endured all his life, he has developed a little bit of a complex. You know the one - all actions and comments are always meant to hurt or demean him. More than likely, if you have a large group of siblings, you have one or more in your family.

Yet, for all that, I am thankful I have Wes for a brother. He's been working really hard to become someone who can go and be independent and provide for his family today and in the future. He's striving to raise his family in righteousness. He presses on (despite his complex) and works hard. People who are patient and get to know him, and look past annoyances, or whatever, find him to be a good friend. Heck, Melissa (his wife, pictured above - on the right) seems to love him.

Don't ask me to tell him all that personally, though. My pride is too great for that. But, he can go ahead and read it here. That will have to suffice for now.

I love you Wes. Happy Birthday.