There was a big thunderstorm last night, and I guess it might be to blame for our loss of Internet access. So there’s no post for today. Well, no post other than this. And since this, technically, is a post, this is today’s post.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com

A few weeks ago there was a wildfire in our state, and it took firefighters a week or more to put it out. It was about 100 miles from our city, but for a couple of days we had smoke in the air. I took the below picture at 10:00 in the morning in the parking lot of a local shopping center.

It’s an eerie sight to see it live, and the smell, though not overpowering, was bad. Having seen this little example around my home, I can only imagine what the folks in California are seeing. And I won’t even try to imagine what those with homes in harm’s way are feeling.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com

Yesterday was Calfgrit7’s first day of 2nd grade, in a new school, on a new year-round calendar. He was nervous, as was expected, but he took to it all just fine. We were all in the van to take him in, but we couldn’t find a parking spot — everyone was doing the same that first day — so Cowgrit (who was driving) dropped CG7 and me off. I carried his school supplies in a Target bag, and CG7 hauled his backpack.

The local TV news crews were on hand, filming and talking with the principle and teachers. When we walked in the front door, there were eight women in school t-shirts in the main hall greeting everyone as they entered. We (Cowgrit, CG7, and myself) had visited last Thursday for the open house to see the inside of the school, find the classroom, and meet the teacher. So CG7 and I made our way directly to his classroom without delay.

Other parents were in the room with their 2nd graders, and we all hung around and talked for ten minutes or so. We talked to the teacher, again, and eventually CG7 was comfortable enough for me to leave. He gave me a big hug and I left him. I snapped a picture of him talking with his classmates and teacher as I walked out the door.

One of the fun things about living in America is the wonderful diversity that keeps you from making assumptions. CG7’s teacher has a Spanish first name, a Scottish last name, but is of Asian decent. At first, we had only known her last name, Mrs. Scottish-name, so when we met her in person, it was a fun surprise to see that our natural expectation was completely wrong.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com

It had been a rainy weekend, and I and the boys really needed to get out of the house. And I needed some time without the boys all over me, needing me every minute of the day. Sometimes it seems like the children are just crawling over me — and sometimes they literally are. So I had the idea to take them to Jumpin’ Beans, an indoor, blow-up, play ground.

I had never been to Jumpin’ Beans, but Cowgrit had taken the boys there a couple of times over the years. The place is great. There are tables set up around the play area, and the mesh “windows” let parents see right into the area. There’s even a big-screen monitor set up showing a high-camera view of the play area.

There were less than a dozen other kids in the business, so there was less potential for crashes between running and bouncing children. I took two bottles of water for the boys, and a PC Gamer magazine for me. I expected to be able to sit in peace — though not in quiet, but I can tune out the roar of the play — and read my magazine for a little while. We got there just before 4:00 Sunday afternoon, and the business closes at 6:00. I hoped I’d get the full two hours of relaxing time while the boys played out all the energy they’d had bottled up all weekend.

But it seemed like every few seconds one of the boys, especially Calfgrit3, came out of the play area and wanted my attention. CG3 wanted a sip of water, wanted to tell me something “awesome” that just happened, wanted to give me a high five, wanted to run over to a different part of the place (so I had to get up and move to keep him in my sight), etc. Every time I tried to read my mag, he interrupted me. Or Calfgrit7 came to the nearest mesh window to tell me something.

I’d read a few sentences, and then be interrupted. When the CG went back to his play, I looked at the magazine page, looked for where I had left off, and read another sentence before being interrupted again. Oh my God! Can’t they just play and leave me to read for 10 minutes? I love my boys, and I love it when they’re excited, but for the love of sanity, I just wanted a little non-daddy time this weekend.

To see if the reality matched my perception, I decided to test the situation. When CG3 ran back to play, I noted the exact time. When he or CG7 came back and wanted my attention again, I noted the exact time. I ran this test for 15 minutes, and I found that my perception was exactly reality.

The longest time I was left alone was 2 minutes, 30 seconds. The shortest amount of time was 45 seconds. That means, during that 15 minute test period, I was interrupted from trying to chill out and read about 10 times; about once every 90 seconds.

Well, at least Jumpin’ Beans burned out most of the energy they had bottled up. It probably would have killed me to have to wear them out that much, all by myself.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com