A steak dinner, fireworks, and Dick Clark; what are you doing for New Years Eve?
New Year’s Eve. A time to make changes in your life, look back on your previous year and let loose for one night.
I am not a big party person. I don’t enjoy large gatherings unless I know most of the people attending. However, I think that New Year’s Eve parties are an exception to my skewed way of thinking.
This is a time that we are not expected to be 100% on our best behavior. We can have an extra drink, eat what we want and shoot fireworks off at midnight. Nothing says fun like fireworks at midnight after a night of partying!
It has been a long time since Leigh and I have gone to a good New Year’s party. Lately, by the time the 31st rolled around, we were so tired from the holiday festivities that we’ve just wanted to sit at home and listen to Dick Clark slur in the New Year.
Being tired is no excuse for not having fun. Being in our mid-thirties and being tired is no excuse either.
When we were childless and living in Boston, we went to some nice parties.
The city was always decorated and lit really nice. Christmas was still everywhere you looked. There was normally snow on the ground, the subway (called the “T”) ran into the wee hours of the morning and we could walk everywhere.
There were usually a few people that we knew that were throwing a New Year’s Eve party on that evening. We would go to The Capital Grill and eat a real nice steak dinner and have a couple of drinks at the bar. Figuring out which party to attend first, we were off. Either in a cab, on the “T” or by foot, we made our way to the first party.
Most of our friends were like us, they lived in small fourth floor walk ups and depending on where they lived and to which side of the city their windows faced, you might be able to see a beautiful city skyline lit up for the holidays from one end to the other.
A good game plan that we tried to employ was to schedule our stops so that at midnight, we were at someone’s house that had roof access. Having the ability to walk up a few flights of stairs and emerge onto the rubber coated roof at midnight was key to a memorable evening.
Boston and surrounding towns would always set off fireworks at the turn of the year. If you could get up high enough, fireworks could normally be seen in all directions and for miles around.
Back to large crowds.
I was always pleasantly surprised at the people that I met. Some of my good friends were found at these events. Once in, conversation was good, spirits were always high and everyone always seemed to be just a little easier to get along with.
My favorite was when we went from 1999 to 2000. I’m sure everyone remembers where they were that night. It was a milestone New Year’s.
The party that we attended was huge. The building was a three story brownstone in a rough part of Boston called Jamaica Plain. Known to locals as J.P.
The building was inhabited by three sets of friends that lived on all three floors. Basically the entire building was a large party. Food on the second floor, music on one and two and friendly people on all three.
I only knew a handful of people that were helping to keep the party alive. I was a little bit nervous about going and being around so many people that I didn’t know, but I figured that there were some other people just like me attending the soiree.
Everyone there had a great time. There was great conversation, interesting people and everyone was there with the sole purpose to have a good time.
When Dick Clark was counting down from ten, everyone was as quiet as a study group in a library. When we all reached “One!” the building erupted in cheering, hugging and general jubilation.
I think part of the excitement was because everyone was expecting the world to blow up and planes to fall from the sky because of “Y2K,” and it didn’t happen, but mostly because we had all, throughout the night, become friends and surprisingly had a wonderful time together.
It just goes to show, you never know when you’re going to have the time of your life. Unless you let yourself do different and unfamiliar things, you won’t ever know.
Bryan Pinkey can be reached at bpinkey@nccox.com.
Monday, February 2, 2009
12-11-08
Two children are company, three are chaos
Leigh and I have two children that let us live in their house with them.
Lately, one of us has been talking a lot about having a third. Mexico is looking very good to me right now.
I grew up with a younger brother and sister and Leigh is an only child. You would think that I would be all about having more kids. I think it would be wonderful for Ethan and Nash to have another person to play with and torment. There is a certain comfortable chaos that grows from multiple siblings.
I don’t remember being the only child. I was five when my sister destroyed the quiet life that me and mom and dad had been living in. My sister and I got used to our new life together when four years later, my brother just messed everything up!
Everyone who knows us knows that I am joking. Jessica, Josh and I all get along so well and would do anything in the world for each other.
Growing up, we were either all for one or two against one. There were times that we all played great together and there were times that we should have been arrested.
Mom and Dad worked all day and, when I was old enough, I took care of my brother and sister after school. I remember one day I did something to get Jessica mad enough to charge at me with a butcher knife. This was the same sweet little girl that would stick up for me and Josh no matter what. There was a little girl that lived next door to us that got mad and decided to throw rocks at me. I was taught not to hit girls so I went in and told my mom. Jessica overheard and went running out the door, rang the neighbor’s door, dragged the little girl out and beat her up. The girl was older than Jess, just so you know.
When Josh was in middle school, he had a couple of boys on the school bus that were bullying him. Jess decided to wait at his bus stop. When the double doors opened up, she ran into the bus and chased the kids out the back door and proceeded to hold one down and beat the other one up with her free hand.
My talent was to scare the life out of Jess and Josh. I was pretty good at it and often put a lot of thought and preperation into bringing them close to heart failure.
We had a central vacuum in our house. If you are not familiar with one of these, it is a setup that allows a person to have a vacuum container fixed in one spot in the house and all you had to do was take a hose around the house with you and plug it into a connection in the wall.
The hose that we used was always laying around the house. Sometimes it was in the living room, sometimes we would walk over it for a week as it sat outside of my bedroom door. One morning I saw great opportunity. I placed one end of this long hose under my brother’s bed and left it there all day. That evening, when he went to bed, I took the other end down the hall where he couldn’t hear me. In a deep scarey voice I started calling his name and making moaning noises. I heard him jump up in his bed. In my scarey voice, I then said, “Don’t get out of bed. I am under your bed. I will pull you under and eat you if I see your feet.”
You would have thought the devil was sitting right next to him with the blood curtailing scream that came from his room.
Jess and Josh were pretty clever when they put their heads together. I got a cordless phone for Christmas one year. Somehow they figured out that their walkie-talkie head sets were on the same frequency as my phone. When I would get on the phone with a girlfriend, they would turn on their sets and listen. When I got off of the phone, they would come in and laugh and recite my conversation and make kissing noises.
When we were on the same team, Mom and Dad had to look out. We were either playing good together or running around the house full bore. Things were broken, holes in walls... just general chaos. We were having fun together.
These days we are all the best of friends. We talk on the phone regularly and look forward to holidays when we can get in the same room together. We reminisce about the trouble we caused Mom and Dad and even to this day, still continue to cut up and make them sigh and laugh.
Mom and Dad love to watch my sister and I pull our hair out at the antics that our kids do. They sit back and laugh and revel in the fact that they have the opportunity to see it all come full circle.
From time to time, my parents will ask, “When are you and Leigh going to have another child?”
I like to reply, “Dad, do you think I want to be as gray and crazy as you are when I am your age?”
“No” he says, “But when you are my age and you are sitting in your son’s house, watching him pull his hair out from chasing his kids, you’ll be a happy man to have had all of this chaos in your life.”
Bryan Pinkey can be reached at bpinkey@nccox.com.
Leigh and I have two children that let us live in their house with them.
Lately, one of us has been talking a lot about having a third. Mexico is looking very good to me right now.
I grew up with a younger brother and sister and Leigh is an only child. You would think that I would be all about having more kids. I think it would be wonderful for Ethan and Nash to have another person to play with and torment. There is a certain comfortable chaos that grows from multiple siblings.
I don’t remember being the only child. I was five when my sister destroyed the quiet life that me and mom and dad had been living in. My sister and I got used to our new life together when four years later, my brother just messed everything up!
Everyone who knows us knows that I am joking. Jessica, Josh and I all get along so well and would do anything in the world for each other.
Growing up, we were either all for one or two against one. There were times that we all played great together and there were times that we should have been arrested.
Mom and Dad worked all day and, when I was old enough, I took care of my brother and sister after school. I remember one day I did something to get Jessica mad enough to charge at me with a butcher knife. This was the same sweet little girl that would stick up for me and Josh no matter what. There was a little girl that lived next door to us that got mad and decided to throw rocks at me. I was taught not to hit girls so I went in and told my mom. Jessica overheard and went running out the door, rang the neighbor’s door, dragged the little girl out and beat her up. The girl was older than Jess, just so you know.
When Josh was in middle school, he had a couple of boys on the school bus that were bullying him. Jess decided to wait at his bus stop. When the double doors opened up, she ran into the bus and chased the kids out the back door and proceeded to hold one down and beat the other one up with her free hand.
My talent was to scare the life out of Jess and Josh. I was pretty good at it and often put a lot of thought and preperation into bringing them close to heart failure.
We had a central vacuum in our house. If you are not familiar with one of these, it is a setup that allows a person to have a vacuum container fixed in one spot in the house and all you had to do was take a hose around the house with you and plug it into a connection in the wall.
The hose that we used was always laying around the house. Sometimes it was in the living room, sometimes we would walk over it for a week as it sat outside of my bedroom door. One morning I saw great opportunity. I placed one end of this long hose under my brother’s bed and left it there all day. That evening, when he went to bed, I took the other end down the hall where he couldn’t hear me. In a deep scarey voice I started calling his name and making moaning noises. I heard him jump up in his bed. In my scarey voice, I then said, “Don’t get out of bed. I am under your bed. I will pull you under and eat you if I see your feet.”
You would have thought the devil was sitting right next to him with the blood curtailing scream that came from his room.
Jess and Josh were pretty clever when they put their heads together. I got a cordless phone for Christmas one year. Somehow they figured out that their walkie-talkie head sets were on the same frequency as my phone. When I would get on the phone with a girlfriend, they would turn on their sets and listen. When I got off of the phone, they would come in and laugh and recite my conversation and make kissing noises.
When we were on the same team, Mom and Dad had to look out. We were either playing good together or running around the house full bore. Things were broken, holes in walls... just general chaos. We were having fun together.
These days we are all the best of friends. We talk on the phone regularly and look forward to holidays when we can get in the same room together. We reminisce about the trouble we caused Mom and Dad and even to this day, still continue to cut up and make them sigh and laugh.
Mom and Dad love to watch my sister and I pull our hair out at the antics that our kids do. They sit back and laugh and revel in the fact that they have the opportunity to see it all come full circle.
From time to time, my parents will ask, “When are you and Leigh going to have another child?”
I like to reply, “Dad, do you think I want to be as gray and crazy as you are when I am your age?”
“No” he says, “But when you are my age and you are sitting in your son’s house, watching him pull his hair out from chasing his kids, you’ll be a happy man to have had all of this chaos in your life.”
Bryan Pinkey can be reached at bpinkey@nccox.com.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
12-25-08
All I want for Christmas is a handful of coins and a hot glue gun
This past weekend, I had the joy of spending the last weekend before Christmas in the malls between Wilmington and Durham. What joy!
Actually, I don’t mind being at the mall during the holiday season. There is something enjoyable about being in the frenzy and watching the mass of humanity scurry around with their bags of gifts and checking their lists.
Leigh and my son had gone into a store leaving me with my daughter in her stroller which was loaded down with shopping bags, a pocket book and large Chick-fil-a cups full of tea.
While I was walking, I couldn’t help but watch all of the mall employees. Some were taking breaks and texting friends, some were eating a quick lunch in the food court and there was the occasional conversation from one store to another that walkers-by inevitably became a part of.
Taking all of this in reminded me of my days working at a local mall in Maryland.
When I turned 16 and got my drivers license, I quickly learned that it took money to fill up the gas tank and pay for the insurance.
A job at the new local mall was quickly applied for. I not only drove now, I proudly jockeyed a register at a T-shirt shop.
One year, a friend of mine asked if I wanted some part-time work for the holiday.
His mom and dad had bought into a little craft business, rented a Kiosk in the mall and needed cheap, unskilled labor. We were just the people for the job.
We made signs that were constructed of a wood backing. Painted wood letters were hot glued to the backing and would spell out last names, catchy sayings or titles like “Mom’s Kitchen,” “The Smith’s House,” “John’s Golf Shack,” “Ronald’s Rumpus Room.” Anything that could be spelled and glued down, was.
During the week, business was slow and two of us usually worked the stand together. To break the boredom, we would read, have friends come by to visit and sometimes we would just get creative.
For a 17-year-old, boredom and a glue gun are a dangerous combination. One night while the evening was dragging, my coworker and I came up with something new to keep us amused.
A glue gun was heated and a few quarters and dimes were pulled out of our pockets.
We spread a small amount of glue to one side of a coin and when no one was around, we would quickly adhere it to the floor in front of our kiosk.
Like giggly little girls, we waited for people to come by and try to pick the coin up.
I don’t know exactly what makes it so entertaining, but watching people from three to eighty-three years old try to pick up a glued down quarter will make anyone double over with laughter.
Most adults would give it one good try and realize that they were tricked, laugh, and walk away. Children, on the other hand, took it personally.
Once a child and father walked by and the kid just about dove for the glued quarter taking his father with him. “Com’on!” the father said, and the little boy hurried along, looking back over his shoulder at the beckoning coin.
About twenty minutes later, the same child came running down the corridor and with the grace of an NFL punter, kicked at the stuck coin while in full-run. It didn’t budge.
The father yelled at him, the boy stomped away in defeat and my friend and I were laughing so hard we were crying.
I had a lot of fun and many carefree moments working in that mall.
Watching the young people, this past weekend, working their jobs, and taking their breaks, took me back in time and I think helped in calming my nerves.
As I sat in a black massage chair in the middle of the mall, I took in all of the action while listening to the mall Mu-zak and wondered how hard it would be to talk one of those kids into gluing a quarter to the floor while I waited for Leigh and Ethan.
Bryan Pinkey can be reached at bpinkey@nccox.com.
This past weekend, I had the joy of spending the last weekend before Christmas in the malls between Wilmington and Durham. What joy!
Actually, I don’t mind being at the mall during the holiday season. There is something enjoyable about being in the frenzy and watching the mass of humanity scurry around with their bags of gifts and checking their lists.
Leigh and my son had gone into a store leaving me with my daughter in her stroller which was loaded down with shopping bags, a pocket book and large Chick-fil-a cups full of tea.
While I was walking, I couldn’t help but watch all of the mall employees. Some were taking breaks and texting friends, some were eating a quick lunch in the food court and there was the occasional conversation from one store to another that walkers-by inevitably became a part of.
Taking all of this in reminded me of my days working at a local mall in Maryland.
When I turned 16 and got my drivers license, I quickly learned that it took money to fill up the gas tank and pay for the insurance.
A job at the new local mall was quickly applied for. I not only drove now, I proudly jockeyed a register at a T-shirt shop.
One year, a friend of mine asked if I wanted some part-time work for the holiday.
His mom and dad had bought into a little craft business, rented a Kiosk in the mall and needed cheap, unskilled labor. We were just the people for the job.
We made signs that were constructed of a wood backing. Painted wood letters were hot glued to the backing and would spell out last names, catchy sayings or titles like “Mom’s Kitchen,” “The Smith’s House,” “John’s Golf Shack,” “Ronald’s Rumpus Room.” Anything that could be spelled and glued down, was.
During the week, business was slow and two of us usually worked the stand together. To break the boredom, we would read, have friends come by to visit and sometimes we would just get creative.
For a 17-year-old, boredom and a glue gun are a dangerous combination. One night while the evening was dragging, my coworker and I came up with something new to keep us amused.
A glue gun was heated and a few quarters and dimes were pulled out of our pockets.
We spread a small amount of glue to one side of a coin and when no one was around, we would quickly adhere it to the floor in front of our kiosk.
Like giggly little girls, we waited for people to come by and try to pick the coin up.
I don’t know exactly what makes it so entertaining, but watching people from three to eighty-three years old try to pick up a glued down quarter will make anyone double over with laughter.
Most adults would give it one good try and realize that they were tricked, laugh, and walk away. Children, on the other hand, took it personally.
Once a child and father walked by and the kid just about dove for the glued quarter taking his father with him. “Com’on!” the father said, and the little boy hurried along, looking back over his shoulder at the beckoning coin.
About twenty minutes later, the same child came running down the corridor and with the grace of an NFL punter, kicked at the stuck coin while in full-run. It didn’t budge.
The father yelled at him, the boy stomped away in defeat and my friend and I were laughing so hard we were crying.
I had a lot of fun and many carefree moments working in that mall.
Watching the young people, this past weekend, working their jobs, and taking their breaks, took me back in time and I think helped in calming my nerves.
As I sat in a black massage chair in the middle of the mall, I took in all of the action while listening to the mall Mu-zak and wondered how hard it would be to talk one of those kids into gluing a quarter to the floor while I waited for Leigh and Ethan.
Bryan Pinkey can be reached at bpinkey@nccox.com.
12-18-08
Hard times and Robert Earl Keen; nothing else needed for Christmas this year
Around this time of year I find myself STRESSED.
I work a little extra to make money for Christmas and then finding myself with no time to go shopping for gifts because I have spent all my time working to make money to go shopping. Phew!
Since I moved my family down here, it has been a struggle. We sold our house in Maryland so that we could stake our claim and be close to family.
From the start it was tough. I couldn’t afford to pay someone to build my house and we didn’t have a house to go back to. It was being lived in by a young woman and her new white Corvette.
We did get help from family who put us up and put up with us for a year and a half while Jim T. Norris and I built my house and shop. Bless that man’s heart for helping me.
Yes, I said shop. I closed a lucrative motorcycle painting business in Maryland to move it down here.
Well, we completed the construction, my family and I moved in and the house hasn’t fallen down... yet. All of the hard times have been forgotten and the real tough spots are being laughed about these days. I was probably crying about them during that time, but everything is good now.
We have been in the house for three years now. The walls are still white, no trim and one bathroom still needs some tile work.
By the end of the first year living in the house, my son had grown into a four-year-old going on 20 the economy tanked, I had to close my shop and my wife and I had another child.
When I had to close the doors on my shop, I was fortunate enough to get this job with the Times and my wife found a teaching job. Did I mention that she was going to school full time to finish her teaching degree while we were building?
We begged, borrowed and wiped out all we had saved and depleted my 401k to be able to move into our house. There was also a lot of sweat and a nail shot into someone’s kneecap from a nail gun, but that’s another story.
To this day, I wouldn’t change a thing. Talk about things making you stronger; I’m the Hulk at the early age of 36.
Now, to the point of my story. (Better late than never.)
I was listening to a Robert Earl Keen album the other night and yes, I remember LPs. It was a song about a man that was working his life away to send all of his money back to his poor family and this was the only way they could live.
Listening to the song, I quickly realized how good I have it. I have a ton of things to complain about but my family and I have a roof over our head, my wife and I have jobs and my kids have no idea that we are stretching every single dollar to make sure that they have no idea that times are tough.
I watched them playing with toys that have been handed down from my sister’s son. They were having so much fun with each other, not knowing that things could be better and not caring that they weren’t.
At that moment, I realized that I didn’t need a single thing for Christmas. I already have it.
Bryan Pinkey can be found setting up smoke and mirrors for his kids or at bpinkey@nccox.com.
Around this time of year I find myself STRESSED.
I work a little extra to make money for Christmas and then finding myself with no time to go shopping for gifts because I have spent all my time working to make money to go shopping. Phew!
Since I moved my family down here, it has been a struggle. We sold our house in Maryland so that we could stake our claim and be close to family.
From the start it was tough. I couldn’t afford to pay someone to build my house and we didn’t have a house to go back to. It was being lived in by a young woman and her new white Corvette.
We did get help from family who put us up and put up with us for a year and a half while Jim T. Norris and I built my house and shop. Bless that man’s heart for helping me.
Yes, I said shop. I closed a lucrative motorcycle painting business in Maryland to move it down here.
Well, we completed the construction, my family and I moved in and the house hasn’t fallen down... yet. All of the hard times have been forgotten and the real tough spots are being laughed about these days. I was probably crying about them during that time, but everything is good now.
We have been in the house for three years now. The walls are still white, no trim and one bathroom still needs some tile work.
By the end of the first year living in the house, my son had grown into a four-year-old going on 20 the economy tanked, I had to close my shop and my wife and I had another child.
When I had to close the doors on my shop, I was fortunate enough to get this job with the Times and my wife found a teaching job. Did I mention that she was going to school full time to finish her teaching degree while we were building?
We begged, borrowed and wiped out all we had saved and depleted my 401k to be able to move into our house. There was also a lot of sweat and a nail shot into someone’s kneecap from a nail gun, but that’s another story.
To this day, I wouldn’t change a thing. Talk about things making you stronger; I’m the Hulk at the early age of 36.
Now, to the point of my story. (Better late than never.)
I was listening to a Robert Earl Keen album the other night and yes, I remember LPs. It was a song about a man that was working his life away to send all of his money back to his poor family and this was the only way they could live.
Listening to the song, I quickly realized how good I have it. I have a ton of things to complain about but my family and I have a roof over our head, my wife and I have jobs and my kids have no idea that we are stretching every single dollar to make sure that they have no idea that times are tough.
I watched them playing with toys that have been handed down from my sister’s son. They were having so much fun with each other, not knowing that things could be better and not caring that they weren’t.
At that moment, I realized that I didn’t need a single thing for Christmas. I already have it.
Bryan Pinkey can be found setting up smoke and mirrors for his kids or at bpinkey@nccox.com.
12-4-08
Rain and dirt; the only ingredients needed for a successful cook out
A month of planning and preperation; but all I really needed was a little bit of mud
This past weekend I had some family and friends over for a little cook-out. It has sort of grown into a tradition that started a few years ago.
When my family started to move to different areas of the East Coast, we only had a few times a year to visit. Thanksgiving seemed to be that time that everyone was in one place.
The day after Thanksgiving was always the best time for everyone to come over to my house and just enjoy the day. My father, brother and I would cut down dead trees from around my pond and clean fallen limbs from the woods. A nice roaring fire would provide us with enough heat so that we would only need a flannel shirt, jeans and boots. This, to me, is an ideal fall day. My mom, wife and sister would watch the children play and watch us work. They also do a great job of providing us all with a good helping of sandwiches and chips at break time.
This year we decided to take it to the next level. Friday was going to be for the fore-mentioned boys to clean the woods and pond to supply enough wood for a large bonfire. Saturday was going to be the cook out day.
After working well into the evening cutting wood and generally burning everything in sight, we had a nice pile of coals to start the next day’s fire.
Five a.m. Saturday came awfully quick for my brother and me. We woke up to start the grill, prep the pig and throw it in the heated grill. It was raining pretty good, so we knew that it was going to be a party confined to the shelter and my shop.
The coals in the fire pit were still so hot in the morning that a few pieces of wood were thrown on and the fire reignited. In between rain showers, we stoked the fire and kept it going all day.
Everyone that was expected to show, did. One-by-one the cars and trucks made their way up my muddy driveway. I forgot how bad my road could get with a combination of rain and traffic. It was like four-wheeling through the rain forest.
With all of this rain, I thought that the kids were going to get bored and restless. Somehow they kept themselves entertained and stayed out of trouble. They were all actually very good. I didn’t see a single fit being thrown or any fighting. The only pouting was when a few of them had to go home.
At about 7:00 p.m., the children found their gold mine.
Without warning we heard, giggling, shouting, and a ton of deep-down-belly-laughing. A large mud hole had been found by the little-ones and no adults had seen them playing in it.
One little boy was stomping in the mud with his new hunting boots. Another was high centered on his bike because the training wheels lifted his back wheel from the ground. He was spinning a rooster tail of black, wet dirt up the front of an unsuspecting little girl who happened to be standing behind him.
By the time parents realized what was going on, it was too late to do anything about the mess. The children were having the time of their life and there was no point in stopping them.
This is what being a kid is all about, those brief moments when you can make your parents and family laugh at something that you would normally get in big trouble for.
With all of the toys, guests, food and planning, the mud hole was the biggest hit. Next year we’re going to make it an even better party, even if it means I have to truck in a load of mud.
Bryan Pinkey can be reached at home cleaning muddy toys or at bpinkey@nccox.com.
A month of planning and preperation; but all I really needed was a little bit of mud
This past weekend I had some family and friends over for a little cook-out. It has sort of grown into a tradition that started a few years ago.
When my family started to move to different areas of the East Coast, we only had a few times a year to visit. Thanksgiving seemed to be that time that everyone was in one place.
The day after Thanksgiving was always the best time for everyone to come over to my house and just enjoy the day. My father, brother and I would cut down dead trees from around my pond and clean fallen limbs from the woods. A nice roaring fire would provide us with enough heat so that we would only need a flannel shirt, jeans and boots. This, to me, is an ideal fall day. My mom, wife and sister would watch the children play and watch us work. They also do a great job of providing us all with a good helping of sandwiches and chips at break time.
This year we decided to take it to the next level. Friday was going to be for the fore-mentioned boys to clean the woods and pond to supply enough wood for a large bonfire. Saturday was going to be the cook out day.
After working well into the evening cutting wood and generally burning everything in sight, we had a nice pile of coals to start the next day’s fire.
Five a.m. Saturday came awfully quick for my brother and me. We woke up to start the grill, prep the pig and throw it in the heated grill. It was raining pretty good, so we knew that it was going to be a party confined to the shelter and my shop.
The coals in the fire pit were still so hot in the morning that a few pieces of wood were thrown on and the fire reignited. In between rain showers, we stoked the fire and kept it going all day.
Everyone that was expected to show, did. One-by-one the cars and trucks made their way up my muddy driveway. I forgot how bad my road could get with a combination of rain and traffic. It was like four-wheeling through the rain forest.
With all of this rain, I thought that the kids were going to get bored and restless. Somehow they kept themselves entertained and stayed out of trouble. They were all actually very good. I didn’t see a single fit being thrown or any fighting. The only pouting was when a few of them had to go home.
At about 7:00 p.m., the children found their gold mine.
Without warning we heard, giggling, shouting, and a ton of deep-down-belly-laughing. A large mud hole had been found by the little-ones and no adults had seen them playing in it.
One little boy was stomping in the mud with his new hunting boots. Another was high centered on his bike because the training wheels lifted his back wheel from the ground. He was spinning a rooster tail of black, wet dirt up the front of an unsuspecting little girl who happened to be standing behind him.
By the time parents realized what was going on, it was too late to do anything about the mess. The children were having the time of their life and there was no point in stopping them.
This is what being a kid is all about, those brief moments when you can make your parents and family laugh at something that you would normally get in big trouble for.
With all of the toys, guests, food and planning, the mud hole was the biggest hit. Next year we’re going to make it an even better party, even if it means I have to truck in a load of mud.
Bryan Pinkey can be reached at home cleaning muddy toys or at bpinkey@nccox.com.
11-27-08
Sometimes the best entertainment is in the theater of your own home
Last week I promised my wife that I wasn’t going to write about our family for a little while. I agreed. I do write quite a bit about us.
However, I have to tell this one last story.
The other day, I came home from work and the house smelled of a dinner that I needed really bad, and Nash and Ethan were running around playing. Actually getting along. Quickly I stepped back out and checked the number on the house.
Leigh was working at the stove and my son was playing at his play cook stove pretending to cook his own meal. I stepped in and tended the pots and pans for a bit and Ethan kept on “cooking.” He would occasionally bring over a brightly colored plastic pot with a plastic turkey or plastic hot dog in it and ask me or Leigh to test it to see if it needed more salt or if it had to much garlic.
Where does he get this from? Oh. Us.
After a little while of playing this out, he got bored and upped the “playing” field. “I have a table for Leigh, Bryan and Nash. Your table is now ready,” Ethan announced.
Well, who couldn’t resist that. So we put the lids on our pots and pans, turned the temperature down on the real stove and walked over to have our wonderful plastic smorgasbord. I told Ethan that he was the best cook and that there was no need for Mommy and Daddy to even finish cooking dinner.
He disagreed.
After we finished our plastic meal and cleaned our plastic place setting, we went back to cooking our real meal.
Nash stuck around to chew and lick on all of the plastic food that she now found.
Ethan was being really nice and was trying to pull back anything that he didn’t want her to play with so that he could cook our plastic dessert. Nash started to get upset because she couldn’t have all of the newfound toys.
After a few minutes of them going back and forth, I noticed her pulling the entire stove and yelling at Ethan. I wasn’t sure how this was going to turn out but I figured they would work it out.
Her yelling and whining escalated into full on screaming.
Without missing a beat, I hear Ethan call out to Leigh and me, “Excuse me. You forgot your kid!”
I was telling my brother this story and he reminded me of another.
My nephew, Justin, was visiting with my mom and dad and was playing with a toy cash register he brought along. This toy had buttons, bells, a drawer that slid open and a little microphone that he could talk into.
My dad sat down to play with him for a few minutes.
”That will be $5.00 sir.” Justin said. Dad handed him a ten dollar bill from his wallet.
Justin responded with a “Thank you.”
Opening the drawer, he slid the bill in and closed the drawer back up. “Have a nice day, sir.”
“I need my change.” Dad retorted. Justin quickly replied, “Sir, you will have to come back tomorrow.”
Justin got up grabbed his toy cash register and began to leave the room.
“Justin, give me my money back.”
The little clerk quietly turned around, set down the register, leaned into the toy microphone and calmly said, “Security.”
Bryan Pinkey can be reached at bpinkey@nccox.com.
Last week I promised my wife that I wasn’t going to write about our family for a little while. I agreed. I do write quite a bit about us.
However, I have to tell this one last story.
The other day, I came home from work and the house smelled of a dinner that I needed really bad, and Nash and Ethan were running around playing. Actually getting along. Quickly I stepped back out and checked the number on the house.
Leigh was working at the stove and my son was playing at his play cook stove pretending to cook his own meal. I stepped in and tended the pots and pans for a bit and Ethan kept on “cooking.” He would occasionally bring over a brightly colored plastic pot with a plastic turkey or plastic hot dog in it and ask me or Leigh to test it to see if it needed more salt or if it had to much garlic.
Where does he get this from? Oh. Us.
After a little while of playing this out, he got bored and upped the “playing” field. “I have a table for Leigh, Bryan and Nash. Your table is now ready,” Ethan announced.
Well, who couldn’t resist that. So we put the lids on our pots and pans, turned the temperature down on the real stove and walked over to have our wonderful plastic smorgasbord. I told Ethan that he was the best cook and that there was no need for Mommy and Daddy to even finish cooking dinner.
He disagreed.
After we finished our plastic meal and cleaned our plastic place setting, we went back to cooking our real meal.
Nash stuck around to chew and lick on all of the plastic food that she now found.
Ethan was being really nice and was trying to pull back anything that he didn’t want her to play with so that he could cook our plastic dessert. Nash started to get upset because she couldn’t have all of the newfound toys.
After a few minutes of them going back and forth, I noticed her pulling the entire stove and yelling at Ethan. I wasn’t sure how this was going to turn out but I figured they would work it out.
Her yelling and whining escalated into full on screaming.
Without missing a beat, I hear Ethan call out to Leigh and me, “Excuse me. You forgot your kid!”
I was telling my brother this story and he reminded me of another.
My nephew, Justin, was visiting with my mom and dad and was playing with a toy cash register he brought along. This toy had buttons, bells, a drawer that slid open and a little microphone that he could talk into.
My dad sat down to play with him for a few minutes.
”That will be $5.00 sir.” Justin said. Dad handed him a ten dollar bill from his wallet.
Justin responded with a “Thank you.”
Opening the drawer, he slid the bill in and closed the drawer back up. “Have a nice day, sir.”
“I need my change.” Dad retorted. Justin quickly replied, “Sir, you will have to come back tomorrow.”
Justin got up grabbed his toy cash register and began to leave the room.
“Justin, give me my money back.”
The little clerk quietly turned around, set down the register, leaned into the toy microphone and calmly said, “Security.”
Bryan Pinkey can be reached at bpinkey@nccox.com.
11-20-08
A father needing a fellow father to lean on at just the right time
I strongly believe in serendipity. There are times that things happen for no reason other than it was supposed to happen. Sometimes it can change your world.
A few days ago, I was picking my daughter up at day care and crossed paths with a fellow father who I often talk with briefly in passing. Normally the conversations are quick, to the point and are lacking deep purpose. Not to sound shallow, that is just how early morning conversations at day care go.
I am sure most “day care conversations” are like this. Parents in a rush to get to work give the courteous “Hello” or “How’s it going,” followed by a quick weather update and a “Well, gotta’ run!” They are as common as tater-tots and apple juice.
I don’t even know this father’s name but we talk like old buddies when we see each other. He is just a pleasant person to talk with.
Not too long ago, he and his wife had an addition to their family just as Leigh and I did. They already had a child that went to school with ours. I remember him in the mornings dropping off his kid and trying to get to work. He was stressed because his wife was still in the hospital and he was taking care of everything that he normally did and what his wife wasn’t around to do.
A lot of you women out there are probably saying, “Wimp, we do that every day plus a hundred other things and never complain.”
Yes you do, but the male species just can’t do it. We were not programed for that kind of multi-tasking. Women are like a Mac computer and men are pretty much an Atari 2600 at best. Women can multi-task without overheating and men struggle to do one thing at a time and have a hard time doing that very well.
I guess what I am saying is he was doing a great job by fellow man standards.
I saw him across the parking lot, the other day. He was strapping his children into their car seats. Raising my hand, I said, “How’s it going?” As I got closer, we began to talk. He was obviously stressed.
He began to go right into how he was worried about his oldest child’s misbehaving and was on the verge of a nervious breakdown. I could tell. I’ve been there.
I knew that lost look in his eyes. In front of me was the husk of a strong man that had been slowly beaten down by the blackjack of raising a four-year-old child. I’ve been there.
He was going on about how every time he turned around he felt like he was reprimanding his son. They were yelling and fighting all of the time. He said that there was just an overall feeling of chaos and disrespect between them. What really hit home was when he said that he just didn’t know what to do anymore and didn’t know what he was doing wrong. I could hear the ugly sound of defeat in his voice. I’ve been there, too.
I stayed and talked with him for a good twenty minutes and tried to let him know that I had and still go through the very same thing. Dealing with the verbal beating that the kids like to give out is no reflection on parenting skills. This is just what kids are programed to do and they are a streamlined supercomputer at doing it.
When we finished talking, or I should say, when the kids decided we were finished talking, I could see a slight calm had come over him. I think that just knowing that he wasn’t the only parent going through this made everything fall into a peaceful place in his world.
I didn’t give any groundbreaking advice to him, but I think at that moment in time I was supposed to be right there crossing his path and ready to listen. Sometimes that is all it takes to make a big difference in another person’s life. Just listening. I know because I’ve been there.
Bryan Pinkey can be reached at bpinkey@nccox.com.
I strongly believe in serendipity. There are times that things happen for no reason other than it was supposed to happen. Sometimes it can change your world.
A few days ago, I was picking my daughter up at day care and crossed paths with a fellow father who I often talk with briefly in passing. Normally the conversations are quick, to the point and are lacking deep purpose. Not to sound shallow, that is just how early morning conversations at day care go.
I am sure most “day care conversations” are like this. Parents in a rush to get to work give the courteous “Hello” or “How’s it going,” followed by a quick weather update and a “Well, gotta’ run!” They are as common as tater-tots and apple juice.
I don’t even know this father’s name but we talk like old buddies when we see each other. He is just a pleasant person to talk with.
Not too long ago, he and his wife had an addition to their family just as Leigh and I did. They already had a child that went to school with ours. I remember him in the mornings dropping off his kid and trying to get to work. He was stressed because his wife was still in the hospital and he was taking care of everything that he normally did and what his wife wasn’t around to do.
A lot of you women out there are probably saying, “Wimp, we do that every day plus a hundred other things and never complain.”
Yes you do, but the male species just can’t do it. We were not programed for that kind of multi-tasking. Women are like a Mac computer and men are pretty much an Atari 2600 at best. Women can multi-task without overheating and men struggle to do one thing at a time and have a hard time doing that very well.
I guess what I am saying is he was doing a great job by fellow man standards.
I saw him across the parking lot, the other day. He was strapping his children into their car seats. Raising my hand, I said, “How’s it going?” As I got closer, we began to talk. He was obviously stressed.
He began to go right into how he was worried about his oldest child’s misbehaving and was on the verge of a nervious breakdown. I could tell. I’ve been there.
I knew that lost look in his eyes. In front of me was the husk of a strong man that had been slowly beaten down by the blackjack of raising a four-year-old child. I’ve been there.
He was going on about how every time he turned around he felt like he was reprimanding his son. They were yelling and fighting all of the time. He said that there was just an overall feeling of chaos and disrespect between them. What really hit home was when he said that he just didn’t know what to do anymore and didn’t know what he was doing wrong. I could hear the ugly sound of defeat in his voice. I’ve been there, too.
I stayed and talked with him for a good twenty minutes and tried to let him know that I had and still go through the very same thing. Dealing with the verbal beating that the kids like to give out is no reflection on parenting skills. This is just what kids are programed to do and they are a streamlined supercomputer at doing it.
When we finished talking, or I should say, when the kids decided we were finished talking, I could see a slight calm had come over him. I think that just knowing that he wasn’t the only parent going through this made everything fall into a peaceful place in his world.
I didn’t give any groundbreaking advice to him, but I think at that moment in time I was supposed to be right there crossing his path and ready to listen. Sometimes that is all it takes to make a big difference in another person’s life. Just listening. I know because I’ve been there.
Bryan Pinkey can be reached at bpinkey@nccox.com.
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