Wifegrit and I have decided to take an adults-only vacation this year instead of the usual family Walt Disney World trip. It’s been a very busy and pretty stressful year so far and we need to get away from everything, (and everyone under 13), for a few days.

We considered whether we wanted to go back to Walt Disney World again, and chose not to. We’ve kind of hit a “been there, done that” feeling with WDW. None of the rides or attractions really excite us as much anymore, and although there are favorite spots that give us warm fuzzies, getting to those spots requires too much effort for what we want and need in a vacation right now. We want this vacation to be a do-nothing-but-relax event. We’re not interested in getting out and walking through parks all day, (or riding on shuttles or waiting in lines). So, we started brainstorming on where to go.

I brought up the Bahamas, but Wifegrit wasn’t interested in something that far away. So I looked into some NC and SC beach resorts. We both love the beach, walking along the waterline, laying out under the sun, smelling the salt air, hearing the roar and crash of the ocean.

In my youth, living just an hour from the coast, I spent a good many weekends at the beach with my family. Then when I went to college at UNCW, I lived less than 15 minutes from the beach, and that allowed me to go so much more often, (sometimes daily). The beach is where I feel most relaxed, easy, and free.

For our vacation this year, we decided to go back to the Wilmington area — Wrightsville Beach. It’s a great area, and Wifegrit and I know it very well. We met and first started dating in Wilmington, (20 years ago). So not only will this vacation let us relax on the beach scene, it will let us revisit some of our old stomping grounds. The last time we went cruising down our memory lanes, our boys were with us, and they weren’t the least bit interested in letting us enjoy any reminiscing in peace. (They wanted to play on the beach.)

So, we’re now counting down the days till our week off from all our responsibilities and stresses and worries.

Bullgrit

So, this pigeon flew down into our backyard. We’ve had many kinds of birds in our backyard, but never a pigeon — especially a white pigeon, with black splotches. We usually get wild birds, and only see common gray pigeons in cities.

This little birdie came down while Wifegrit was in the yard, and showed no concern about a human being near it. When Wifegrit came back inside, I went out to check this feathered visitor. It still showed no fright when I got up very close to it. I was quite surprised. I got up within about 12 inches of the bird; I could have touched it. It posed perfectly for me to snap pictures with my phone. I crouched down on the ground, and it walked around me, eying me up and down.

Eventually the Calfgrits came out with me. Still the pigeon stayed calm, and continued walking around the yard. We talked about how cool this was, and then Calfgrit12 noticed the bird had a band on its leg.

It says how bad my eyesight has gotten that I didn’t notice the band even though I had gotten so close to it. Both Calfgrits could even read the code on the band: NPA 8 10 BS 308.

Wifegrit got on her computer and started searching the Web about this situation. Apparently this bird belongs to someone in the National Pigeon Association (NPA). While I sent an email to the association and called the secretary, Wifegrit put some rice and water in small bowls for the boys to place out in the yard for the bird. I left a voice mail message, and then went back outside.

The bird would drink the water, but wouldn’t eat the rice. Calfgrit12 then took some bread outside, and the little fellow tore right into it. The boys named the bird “Luke.” After about half an hour, everyone was over the initial surprise factor, and the boys played while Luke just wandered around watching the boys. I laid down in the hammock and watched everyone.

We weren’t sure if we needed to do anything about the bird, like capture it. Some Websites gave instructions to box it up and contact the owner, so we started talking about what box we could use and how to go about getting the bird into the box. But other Websites said to just feed and water the bird, and then let it fly home on its own. (Its home could be up to hundreds of miles away.) In the end, Luke made the decision on his own.

He flew up to the roof of our house. He walked around up there for a while, looking down on us as if to say, “Thanks for the food and water. I’m all good now.” A few minutes later, he flew off.

Bye Luke. It was a fun evening with you as our surprise guest.

Bullgrit

I just bought a pack of socks, and when I opened them:

I’ve never seen left and right socks.

Bullgrit

Regular readers have probably noticed I haven’t been posting nearly as often as I used to. And when I have posted recently, it has usually been something short — sometimes just a picture. This slacking on my web site is partly because of new complications in our life, (like my mother-in-law having surgeries), and partly because I’ve wanted to spend more time with my family in general. My family is very important to me.

My boys, my sons, are my first duty in life. When I agreed to bring children into our life, I made a solemn promise that they would take precedence over all else. There was no official swearing in, or oath to recite. There was no sign or marker to show exactly when and where “things changed.” I can’t even point to a birth date on a calendar to identify where my responsibilities shifted from just the two of us to this little one or these little ones. I think the change actually happened before the first birth. Things just kind of “became.”

It seems that one day, you and the wife are out on a quiet, peaceful dinner, then the next day you’re walking out of the hospital holding a bundled, tiny, new life in your arms. A new life that completely, totally relies on you for absolutely everything. Regarding raising children, my family and friends have heard me make this observation a few times: the years go by so fast, but the days are so long.

Kids can try your patience every day, all day. Every hour, every minute. But it seems like every time your blink, they reach a new stage in their life. After bringing them home from the hospital, the next thing you know is they’re walking, talking, going to school. They advance in grades. They join a soccer team, start playing an instrument. They stop holding your hand, they start having interesting conversations. They graduate. They move off on their own. And slowly, over all that time, stop relying on you for absolutely everything.

I’m not to that point with my boys. They still rely on us for everything. They have other people in their world now, new and close friends, but we, their mother and father, are still the base and foundation of their world. The unspoken promise we made sometime before or after they were born is still sacred and strong. I would give up anything and everything for the well being of my children. I’d give up my own life and happiness to protect and ensure their well being. The sacrifices that parents make for their children are more than just sleep and money, time and sanity. It’s impossible to describe or enumerate what a parent gives and gives up for their children, (like it’s impossible to describe “love”), but it’s no less real and tangible to the parents and to the children.

On this Father’s Day, tell your parents — both father and mother, and other — that you appreciate all they’ve done for you. I’ve lost both my fathers, but I still have my mother, and I hope she knows I now understand what she has done for me and my brother. I understand the love and care and sacrifices and gifts she has given for her children.

My boys mean the world to me. Being their father is the greatest gift, the greatest responsibility, the greatest love, the greatest sacrifice, the greatest adventure I have ever undertaken.

The above photo is from the first day of school last June — 2nd grade and 6th grade. They’re tracked out, (year-round schedule), right now, so we’ll get a new pic for this year in a couple of weeks.

Wifegrit called me at my office Friday to ask me to run an errand on my way home from work.

“I’ve been so busy with the boys tracked out the past couple of weeks,” she said, “that I haven’t been able to get to the store over there.”

“What do you need me to do?” I asked.

“I need you to pick up your Father’s Day gift.”

We both burst out laughing.

“Seriously?” I said.

“Yeah,” she answered, sheepishly. “I’ve researched it, and the only place it’s in stock is over there. I just can’t get out that way. And since I work this weekend, I won’t have a chance before Sunday.” [She is a maternity nurse every other weekend.]

She told me what the gift was — something I’d been talking about wanting for several days, ever since she mentioned seeing one on Pinterest.

“OK,” I said, “I’ll get it.” And I did.

When I got home afterward, she was out on the front porch when I drove into the driveway. I stopped in the driveway, rolled down my window, and casually dangled the bag out the window while looking off the other way at something. She hustled up to me, quickly snatched the bag and ran inside with it. Then I pulled on into the garage. I’m looking forward to the gift. Maybe I’ll post a review of it later.

Bullgrit