A Never-ending List of Firsts

As I get older, and as I watch my kids get older. I begin to think about all the firsts that my kids are going through and all the firsts I went through. My daughter's first tooth. My nephew-in-law's first snow storm. My son's first interest in a superhero, although he seems to really be attached to Spiderman despite all my efforts to get him interested in Superman (But, let's be honest, the Spiderman movie was just a lot cooler then Superman Returns.)

I think of all the firsts I've gone through. First kiss, first and only wife, first really bad haircut, first public humiliation. It gives me chills to think about all the things that my kids still get to go out and do. It's times like this that suddenly the old-man's adage about how youth is wasted on the young suddenly rings true. I guess I could just take that I am now old and uncool, all I need now is for one of my kids to roll their eyes at me for something. Then it will be official.

Nevertheless, in my old age I still find myself in a situation where there are still firsts out there. The latest one is that my best friend had his first kid. "How in the world does that relate to being a first for you, you selfish pig?" You ask? Well, as I was sitting with my friend in sacrament meeting I saw him struggling to try and calm his son down. He looked nervous, self-conscious and insecure. I wanted to say something to him to make him feel that it's normal. I am a two-time father so I know that every parent out there just smiles and understands when they hear a child going meltdown in the middle of sacrament meeting. Nevertheless, how do you communicate that to a new parent? Let's be honest, before we had kids we all thought about how rude those parents are that can't keep control of their children, but once we have kids we suddenly realize that keeping children quiet is like juggling chainsaws. I told him that it's all part of being a father, and I felt like a goon spouting off platitudes. I really want to be a good friend, but I really don't know how to go about it. Then again, sometimes all you can do is be there and be yourself. Although I really don't like the second answer because I do a lot of that. It really is times like these when you really need to keep the line of communication between you and the Lord open. That way if he can send a some inspiration he can.

Doing the right thing.

There never seems to be a clear way to right thing. Okay, maybe I am exaggerating. I haven't been on my most spiritual best behavior lately. Which would probably explain the reason why I am not quite so sure about how to make the right decision. I suppose that God had his reasons when he said hold fast to the rod. If you're not holding fast, then things get a little fuzzy.

Anyway, I find myself on the fuzzy end of spiritual guidance. Unfortunately, I can't postpone all my decisions until I get my spiritual feet back on the ground, so here is to being taught by goodly parents.

One of the problems that comes with being married is in-laws, and the problem with having foreign in-laws is that you are the hotel when they come into the country. Picking up on what I'm about to reveal? You'd be right, I've got some of my wife's family living with us. Oh, sure, I could have told them to stay with some other family here in the US, on the other side of the country. The situation would have been better for me, I like my space, but I couldn't ignore my wife. She didn't really push the idea. Okay, maybe she did, but she sure made it feel like she didn't. Nevertheless, she has always wanted family to live a little closer and her family that is currently living with us aren't freeloaders. In fact my house has never been so clean, and since they've moved in they've already applied for several jobs and a mountain of other stuff that my wife knows about. I've been taking Pres. Hinckley's approach to dealing with the affairs of women, ie. stand back and marvel.

With more people at the house it is of course adding a bit more of a financial drain on out current strapped budget. I decided, or at least my wife let me think I decided, that we should help these people out and do the best we could. I usually don't take risks like this but sometimes you just have to do the right thing. Although I still am not sure how right it was.

What I did during my summer vacation

Okay, it's been a while since I've written. For the most part all of my posts over the summer were pre-written and just scheduled to post themselves during the summer months. So in my own way I took the summer off to pursue other endeavors. And, although my pre-scheduled posts stopped over a month ago I've been facing a kind of writer's block. Okay, it's not been so much that I haven't had anything to say but more that I didn't feel confident enough to say it. Now, I have enough confidence or at the very least have suspended my feelings of insecurity long enough to sit down and write.

Geocaching.

A new hobby that I copied from my brother. Well, it's a new hobby to me. Pretty much it's treasure hunting but without all the trial and error and most of it being error. With Geocaching you are pretty much given the spot and have to do a little searching around. I have no idea why I really enjoy this, I do it almost every day with my keys. Although with geocaching you get to see places you never knew existed and you are also able to show others your favorite places. Our kids love it because it's a little adventure and for the most part they will always walk away with a toy of some kind. Look into it if you are an outdoorish kind of person or just want a reasonably cheap hobby. I love the idea of buying one piece of equipment then not having to buy anything after that. Although the website does want you to pay $30 a year for a subscription so you can get extra search features, but compared to the crap you have to buy for cycling, it's chump change.

Alone Time

The big thing that happened this summer was that my family went to Perú, without me. As I have stated previously it was mainly about the money and secondly about the time. My wife wanted to spend a month down there and I couldn't get the time off. So, I thought I would be a supportive husband and tough out the month alone.

Bad idea, oh, I'm sure every husband dreams of having so much time to himself. I can't think of anything worse. Well, at least now. The first couple of days were kinda fun, but, as soon as the novelty of it wears off then it's like living my own private hell. Suddenly, I realized that the only reason why I was getting up in the morning was to go to work. Not a good realization. My wife didn't communicate with me as often as I would have liked, after all she was now surrounded by family that she hadn't seen in years, therefore was easily distracted. To be perfectly honest, my wife is easily distracted by anything that has the hint of being shiny. So that added to my already weakened emotional state.

Suffice it to say, it was not fun.

Ay Chihuahua!

Last year we had a wonderful dog named Shelby. We had him for about four months and he was the best dog a family could ever ask for. Since I am not a dog person that says a lot. Ever since poor Shelby got ran over my family has been wanting to get a new dog. There is something that a pet brings into a home that you can't really describe. Before my wife and kids ran off to Peru for a month a neighbor of ours had a litter that she needed to get rid of. She has like 15 dogs, 8 of which are chihuahuas. She usually breeds the chihuahuas but a terrier got with one of the females and she didn't really want to sell those so she offered one to us when they got old enough to leave the mother. After my family got back my wife went over to our neighbor's house to see about the puppy, and as my wife is always surprising me, she came back with two.

My wife told me that our neighbor wasn't planning on giving us both of them, in fact my wife didn't even know about the second one. When my wife went over to check on the puppy that we were going to get the neighbor couldn't bear separating the brother and sister pair. So she offered my wife both. So my wife brought both of them over to me and asked me if we could keep both. I think only a statue could have said no. There is my beautiful wife holding two cute, baby chihuahuas. I had to say okay, I really didn't have a choice.

So here I am, trying to recover from my summer and get back in the swing of things. I have so much more to say. But I think the fact that I lost the habit has really been dragging on getting it written down. So I think I will post this as-is in an attempt to get back into the rhythm.

My little latin love story, Part 14 of ...

We began to plan the wedding; actually it was my mom who began to plan the wedding. My mom always wanted to be either an interior decorator or a wedding planner, but because my father is the kind of person that likes steady paychecks and doesn’t like the idea of trying to start a business, she gave up the dream. On the other hand when a moment came along to plan a wedding or decorate a room, my mom would show up without being asked. I was very grateful that my parents offered to pay for the wedding because there was no way Mili’s parent’s were going to be able to or be able to come to it for that matter. Mili arrived on the 28^th of November and we were going to be married on the 19^th of December. I remember clearly that day because my best man left early so he could catch opening night of Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. He said, “This is a once in a lifetime thing.” I didn’t want to badger him by saying “same here”, so I let him go, and because of that movie Mili and I were among the last to leave.

From the time Mili came to the US we spent every moment I wasn’t at work together. It was fun taking her around town and showing her what life was like in the US. Mili marveled at all the things we had that helped us be even lazier than we already were. One button washing machines, a garbage truck with a mechanical arm that would come out and pick up the trash can and dump it, and an enormous array of computers and computer parts.

Well, for now I am going to call this a wrap. Of course there is so much more, but for now I think it's time to get back to business.

My little latin love story, Part 13 of ...

The first problem we encountered was the fact the Mili didn’t heed my warnings (something she does to this day, a trait that jumps back-and-forth between endearing and irritating) of how cold Utah gets. I had told her that she should concentrate on sweaters, wool and alpaca (a member of the llama family who’s fleece is a very good insulator, even better than sheep’s wool).

She said, “I thought this jacket would do,” referring to the long sudo-leather jacket. I laughed.

First we hounded my sisters for spare winter clothing. My older sister despite her middle class upbringing, her middle class parents and her perfectly comfortable middle class siblings liked to live the high life. Or at least look like it. I wanted my girlfriend to look and feel like a million dollars so we went to her first. She only had a jacket, but it was a place to start. My younger sister unfortunately had very little as far as clothing that would fit Mili. Mili is a small, petite Latin woman and my younger sister a very strong and intimidating white woman.

Next stop was the best thing to come out of the Mormon Church since the gospel, the DI. My parents were always willing to help out by buying things for Mili, but I wanted that almost married feeling of being able to do things without my parents help. I was surprised to see exactly how far I could stretch $8.50 an hour. Nevertheless, my parents on more than one occasion took her shopping for clothes. Sure, I have my pride, but I like to think I am humble enough to know when I could use a little financial help.

My little latin love story, Part 12 of ...

I had more or less of a plan. According to the INS we had 90 days to get married, after we got married we had to fill out a whole new set of forms, pay $200 and she would get her conditional permanent resident status for two years. After that we would pay a whole new fee and fill out a whole new set of forms and that would be the last hurdle for the next ten years or was that two? Then it would be something completely different if she decided to get her US citizenship. That was my plan as far as the INS.

Reality was different, as is usally the case. In preparation for Mili’s arrival, I had moved out of my parents home and rented a one-bedroom apartment. I didn’t make very much money so I took on a roommate. He had a futon so his room was the living room. I had checked with the INS and they said with the kind of Visa Mili was coming in on she would be able to work, little did I know that the work visa she was getting was a mini-work visa that only lasted ninety days and didn't just renew itself when we got married. I like to think this is one of the many jokes the INS plays on immigrants, 'Hey, we're going to give you this visa that lasts 90-days! Gook luck finding an employer that is going to hire you for only 90-days and oh, yeah. To get a work visa that lasts a year you are going to have to pay $250' Ha ha, I'm sure they laughed themselves to sleep every night over that one.

I had made arrangements with a girl from Argentina that I worked with so that Mili could stay with her until we could get married. I think she had the hots for me and was still betting on the fact that things wouldn’t work out when she made the arrangement but when things worked out I called her on it. My original plan was to have her live with my parents but Mili and my parents didn’t want to work around the language barrier. I could understand that because my very first companion on my mission didn’t speak a lick of English and it was very difficult, I mean drag a man to tears difficult.

My little latin love story, Part 11 of ...

It was November and it was the first time I had been to the airport since 9/11 and the new excuse for violating human dignity (and civil liberties) came into play, they called these excuses 'increased security'. At least people didn't have to take their shoes off at the security point yet, that was still a couple of months away. I was nervous, worried and filled with a scary new hope. Her plane was delayed in Denver for over an hour and I didn’t have a cell phone, so I just had to hang around and wait. I wanted to sit down and rest, but I guess chairs were only good enough for people beyond the gate and the lucky 10 who got to the chairs between the escalators. My mom wanted to come but I told her that I really wanted to be the only one there. As always, my mom understood.

Before, a person could walk all the way to the door that connected the plane to the airport and only have to see the people on the same flight as the person you were waiting for. I really hated this new everybody-come-though-the-same-gate thing. I mean planes are coming off all the time so there is a constant flow of people, you never know when the people from the plane you are waiting for are getting off. I felt a little like a gumba, in my semi-formal shirt, my very clean and ironed jeans, my mostly clean winter coat and holding a bouquet of flowers asking people “Are you coming off the flight from Denver?” Weird looks were abound from the groups of families that were awaiting returning missionaries. I just tried to blend into the background while still being close enough to see who was coming off and not being part of any grouping of people. There were mixed results.

She was wearing the same long black sudo-leather jacket that she had on the first time I met her in Perú outside of the mission, which for me was the first time I really met her. She said good-bye to the sister missionary (who's family had been looking at me the whole time wondering if they should say something to this lonely and obviously nervious/anxious person) that just so happened to be coming home from Peru that she had been traveling with and we embraced.

Emotions raced around my body like a Nascar race being shook up in a snow globe. Happyness, love, exaltation, relief and all other complex emotions smashed into each other or along the walls of my being. She seemed so relaxed. Her hair, as she usally wore it, was hanging loose and falling about her shoulders. She had on a grey shirt that pressed the limits of temple worthy low cut, a pair of blue jeans and a pair of black boots that added at least an inch to her height. Her wonderfully white teeth spread out in a heart-melting smile in contrast to her dark moca skin.

“I missed you so much, heaven.” She whispered as we continued our embrace.

“I missed you too.” I was still a little unsure about the whole new list of pet names available to me and didn't know which one to use. So, my brain ran around the emotional and mental chaos and handed me silence.

When we tore apart I gave her the flowers that I had brought with me and we hugged again, this time with a long, drawn out kiss. In hindsight I get the image and feeling that you get when watching a movie and suddenly the whole world speeds up while the couple in the middle remain, slow and in real time. At that moment, the world felt like it had left the sun like a bad lover and began to orbit around us. Fireworks exploded, angelic choirs sang and God probably took his attention from something important to look at us for a moment and give an approving nod. Sure, I'm exaggerating but it sure felt that way.