I love my children.
No, seriously... Despite the fact that they drive me crazy and I blame them for retroactive hair loss (that's making me so stressed that my head started losing hair before they were even born), my two boys are my world.
Yes, they run around and scream and yes, I did schedule training 600 miles away just to get a break from them (kidding, wife, kidding!!!). When you get down to it, though, they are the best parts of me.
While on the hotel treadmill last night, I looked through the window of the gym (such as it is) into the pool area. Inside was a mother, sitting at one of the tables, clearly tired, while her son, whom I'm guessing was around 7 or 8, was running around in the kids play area. A bucket would fill with water, after which he would pull a rope, resulting in the water pouring over his head. The kid got the biggest kick out of this, doing it over and over again. Seeing the smile on the kid's face was infectious and his absolute joy was palpable. No matter what was going on with his mother (was she tired, depressed, going through a rough patch, regretting not following me on Twitter??), this kid was having the time of his life in a 5x4 plot of water.
It reminded me instantly of my kids, of the sheer joy they get anytime we go to Great Wolf Lodge and stand under the massive bucket that dumps water over everyone. The water drops, they laugh their asses off, and skitter off to do something else. Once the warning bell rings that the bucket is going to dump again, they come screaming out of where ever they were hiding and promptly stand under the bucket again.
Scenes like this always bring to mind the innocence and love that these kids feel, not knowing how terrible people can really be, how the world outside truly functions. Even when my oldest comes home and tells us that someone was being mean to them, images such as the bucket still remind me that a certain purity still exists; he hasn't yet been jaded by the perils of real life.
I want my boys to hold on to this as much as they can, despite my often yelling at them to do bigger things like clean their room, clear off the table, stop punching each other. Because of this desire to remember the good things in life, I find that I would do nearly anything for them. The exceptions are minimal and yes, I do have limits (they're not getting a Ferrari before me!!!). Which is why, while at training 600 miles away (yes, this is a slight exaggeration), I brought with me two of their stuffed animals. I did the same thing the last time I came here, but the animals were a bit smaller and more subtle. This time through, they wanted slightly bigger animals. Thankfully the two foot long Charmander was out of the question.
Bringing these animals with me allows them to share my journey while I am away. As a child my parents separated early and with my dad traveling so often (and moving out of state when I was around 8), I always felt as though I was missing a connection with him. Sharing my journey with my children allows me to maintain that connection for them. They know I am always there, even when not in person, and that my thoughts are always with them no matter what the circumstance. Skyping with them once an evening is definitely something, but having their toys with me during my time away allows for a persistent connection.
All of this, of course, results in me walking through a training center with a stuffed monkey puppet and a miniature lion named "Louie". It's for my kids, everyone else can bite me. I'm still cautious, of course; I can't have everyone staring at the Data Architect with stuffed animals, so I keep them stuffed away (pun intended) in my bag. It's their special little spot while I'm working.
Today, I brought these little guys to look at the snow, otherwise known as the white evil that's haunting me every time I come to this particular training center. To be fair, there was a little snow when I arrived. Now there's a lot. I hate snow (but that's a topic for another day).
I love my boys. Throughout all the crazy, I wouldn't trade them for the world!
No, seriously... Despite the fact that they drive me crazy and I blame them for retroactive hair loss (that's making me so stressed that my head started losing hair before they were even born), my two boys are my world.
Yes, they run around and scream and yes, I did schedule training 600 miles away just to get a break from them (kidding, wife, kidding!!!). When you get down to it, though, they are the best parts of me.
While on the hotel treadmill last night, I looked through the window of the gym (such as it is) into the pool area. Inside was a mother, sitting at one of the tables, clearly tired, while her son, whom I'm guessing was around 7 or 8, was running around in the kids play area. A bucket would fill with water, after which he would pull a rope, resulting in the water pouring over his head. The kid got the biggest kick out of this, doing it over and over again. Seeing the smile on the kid's face was infectious and his absolute joy was palpable. No matter what was going on with his mother (was she tired, depressed, going through a rough patch, regretting not following me on Twitter??), this kid was having the time of his life in a 5x4 plot of water.
It reminded me instantly of my kids, of the sheer joy they get anytime we go to Great Wolf Lodge and stand under the massive bucket that dumps water over everyone. The water drops, they laugh their asses off, and skitter off to do something else. Once the warning bell rings that the bucket is going to dump again, they come screaming out of where ever they were hiding and promptly stand under the bucket again.
Scenes like this always bring to mind the innocence and love that these kids feel, not knowing how terrible people can really be, how the world outside truly functions. Even when my oldest comes home and tells us that someone was being mean to them, images such as the bucket still remind me that a certain purity still exists; he hasn't yet been jaded by the perils of real life.
I want my boys to hold on to this as much as they can, despite my often yelling at them to do bigger things like clean their room, clear off the table, stop punching each other. Because of this desire to remember the good things in life, I find that I would do nearly anything for them. The exceptions are minimal and yes, I do have limits (they're not getting a Ferrari before me!!!). Which is why, while at training 600 miles away (yes, this is a slight exaggeration), I brought with me two of their stuffed animals. I did the same thing the last time I came here, but the animals were a bit smaller and more subtle. This time through, they wanted slightly bigger animals. Thankfully the two foot long Charmander was out of the question.
Bringing these animals with me allows them to share my journey while I am away. As a child my parents separated early and with my dad traveling so often (and moving out of state when I was around 8), I always felt as though I was missing a connection with him. Sharing my journey with my children allows me to maintain that connection for them. They know I am always there, even when not in person, and that my thoughts are always with them no matter what the circumstance. Skyping with them once an evening is definitely something, but having their toys with me during my time away allows for a persistent connection.
Today, I brought these little guys to look at the snow, otherwise known as the white evil that's haunting me every time I come to this particular training center. To be fair, there was a little snow when I arrived. Now there's a lot. I hate snow (but that's a topic for another day).
I love my boys. Throughout all the crazy, I wouldn't trade them for the world!
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