Jack and Liam had to make their birthday party list. They gave me a yes, no and maybe as I called out each of their classmates names.
Jack: wanted to invite EVERYONE. Especially the girls.
Liam: “no. no. no. no. no.” and then just when I was about to get worried that he’d have no one to invite, he said yes to a few names. Very selective of who was invited. Picked all boys.
I’m telling you, the list of differences I started in their “memories book” is soon becoming an entire chapter of it’s own. These boys are total opposites!
I then went through Jack’s list with him again to pare it down (I can’t have 45 kids at this party, sorry!) and when I got to the last name, I saw him stall a bit before saying, “okay, yes”.
After seeing him be more selective the second time around (knowing that he could only have 20 friends there), I asked him what made him say yes for this little boy. I knew something was going on in that little mind of his.
“Well…he’s always a bit sad and I think he’ll be really happy at my birthday party so he should come.”
We just passed the one-year mark of life in America.
To be honest, it’s a mixed-bag.
Working for Apple – very cool.
Working in Information Systems & Technology dept. – very lame.
Plenty of sunshine – awesome.
Having a car – fun.
Driving everywhere – depressing.
Cheap consumer goods – helpful/frightening.
Violent crime in neighbourhood – alarming.
Proximity to extended family – blessing.
Surrounded by English language – useful/dull.
“Wild” wilderness – amazing.
Bankrupted state/federal governments – frustrating
It’s very difficult not to compare it to both our life in Canada and our (brief) time in Switzerland. There was much that we loved in Europe, but there are aspects to California that also inspire and excite us.
We’ve always thought in sound bytes. Only difference now is that those sound bytes become our Twitter feed as we broadcast our inner thoughts to the world.
Even when sometimes they really should have stayed inside.
As I traveled to Europe this month for a friend’s wedding, I couldn’t help but miss having Tim there — I voice most of my inner thoughts to him (okay, I voice all my inner thoughts to him) and without that release, I had to start jotting things down in my iPhone for fear they would burst out at the most inopportune moment. It just didn’t seem right to not share the experience with someone, even if only in tweet form.
The first time Jack went down this hill (before Tim and I even knew what was happening!), Liam blindly followed. At the bottom, Jack celebrated with hoops and hollers of “THAT WAS AWESOME!!”, as if a whole new world of awesomeness has been opened up to him.
Liam, on the other hand, bailed on the nearby grass and was thankful to still be alive. There would be no repeat performances for him!
Of course Jack decided he would do it over and over again — until mommy freaked out and said enough! I’m pretty sure all the other parents in the park were giving us the evil eye as they watched us let our son do something pretty dangerous (the hill was steep, scattered with loose tree branches, and he’s on a flimsy little scooter that is not meant to go so fast!). But hey, gotta let boys be boys.
About six months ago, I watched a movie about a man who has to raise his boys alone after his wife dies. I actually turned the movie off half-way through because it was so depressing but the premise of the movie really hit home with me. The father realizes one day that saying no to everything and getting uptight about all the little details of life has seriously strained his relationship with his sons. It made me think of all the things we say no to. Our kids have these crazy imaginations but what if our own limited (adult) imaginations are actually robbing them of the creativity of childhood? So I vowed to just say yes. As much as I can.
And here’s an example of just what that looks like…
And while we’re at it, click here to see another hilarious throw-back!
When I told my European friends and co-workers that I was going to move to California, I asked them for a list of “classically” American experiences that they think I should try out. Here’s what we came up with:
Monster Trucks
Nascar Racing
Hamburgers the size of my head
NFL “football”
MLB
Shooting guns
Obviously, there is much more to the American experience than this limited and fairly crude list, but it was an entertaining place to start.
…and now I can knock the last item off of the list.
Over Christmas supper with some new friends, I found out that most of them had guns, and that sport shooting with shotguns is quite a popular activity. I almost burst out laughing – sort of like when I met Swiss who would gush about cheese fondue. For real?
Last week I got an invitation to join a few guys for some skeet shooting at an outdoor sporting club south of San Jose, so I jumped at the opportunity. The last time I fired a gun was in 1999, and it was an automatic assault rifle, as I was getting my final certification with the Canadian Armed Forces. And when I finished my service, I promptly forgot the whole thing.
The fellow with the new shotgun – Alex – was really excited. He’d only had his new gun out once before, and he was eager to try it again. The other fellow – Ryan – is from Nebraska, and had grown up with guns, but didn’t have one now. So we loaded a backpack full of shotgun shells ($6 for 20), arranged for the skeets, and set out on a walk.
It was a lot like golf, only more awesome, because you get to shoot things and they explode. Much more satisfying than dropping an egg into a hole.
We walked from station to station – eighteen in total – and assessed the challenge at each one. Would the skeets travel from left to right? Would they be floaters or quick? Would they coast over the ridge directly to you? Would it be a “rabbit” that skitters and rolls across the ground? Regardless, you just needed to point the gun and waste ‘em.
So. Much. Fun!
So scratch one from my list of American “To-Do”, and chances are good that I’ll take Tasha out do enjoy that experience next time.
I thought it would be nice to give Tim the Swiss country code sticker in his stocking. The other day we drove past a store called “The Swiss Shop” so I gave them a call to confirm they had one before making the drive. A man with an Indian accent answered the phone and I couldn’t quite make out the name of the store when he rattled it off. Nevertheless, I continued on…
“Hi there. I just found you on the internet but I wanted to know what kind of products you have before I drive out to you.”
“Uh…what are you looking for?”
“Well, I’m actually looking for the CH sticker,” I replied.
<awkward pause>
“What sticker?” he asked, totally puzzled by my request.
“Um…you know, the Swiss country code sticker…that says CH…”
<more awkward pause>
“Oh…no, we don’t have that…we just have the Portugal one.”
“Oh. So…is this The Swiss Shop?” I asked, perplexed.
“Yep, it is,” he replied.
“Okay…so…um…what kind of products do you sell?” I asked.
“Mainly touristy things…and many of our customers are Portugese so we have lots of Portugese items, too.”
“Sorry…so, you said that this is The Swiss Shop?” I am SO confused by this point.
“Uh…yah,” the man’s voice gave off a not-so-subtle hint of annoyance.
“Okay, well, thanks anyway…” ….click….the man had hung up before my words were even out of my mouth.
timmyd
Natasha (Domestica)
