He's Almost Ready for the Tour

My husband, Juan, has another love, and her name is Golf. She has been in his life for three years now, and for the most part, I tolerate her.

Since we married, my husband has had several extramarital involvements. When we lived in Chillicothe, he belonged to a bowling league. He bowled on his league night and practiced at least one other night a week. He watched tournaments on ESPN when he happened on them. He had all the proper equipment: his own balls, fancy shoes, top-of-the-line bag, a stylish towel. He even travelled once to a tournament in Marysville, OH which was an hour and half away from our home. After a successful night of bowling he would say, "Emily, I am almost ready for the tour."

Eventually, he lost interest in bowling, and for a time, when the stock market was a happy place, he loved to research stocks and play with a relatively small account we had for investing. He would come home and tell me all about this company or that and how it was going to revolutionize this or that. Sometimes when he was full of confidence about his financial savvy, he would say, "I think I have missed my calling. I should have been a stock broker." When the market began to go South, his love for it cooled and he turned his attention to other pursuits.

Then he started working on his MBA with his company footing the bill. He went to class every Wednesday for 18 months, during which we added a fourth child to our family. He was a favorite in his class of other professionals because he is smarter than the average bear and could help them through tough courses like Statistics and others that were math-intensive. His study group named themselves Juan.com. When the time to choose a focus rolled around, he chose entrepreneurship. One project in particular consumed him. Each of the groups in the class had a fictional bicycle shop that they built from the ground up in a computer program. There were five or six groups in the class, but Juan.com had 61% of the market share. My husband, who never has trouble sleeping (he could tell me things like, "The mill announced lay-offs will be made in the next few weeks," roll over, and start snoring in seconds), would wake in the middle of the night to work on this fictional bike shop. Needless to say, he was ready to start his own business when he finished the program. We just couldn't think of anything we wanted to do.

Then there was the hand-held "Texas Hold 'em" my mother gave him. His amazing electronic success, paired with the constant airing of poker tournaments on ESPN, had him threatening to break in to the World Series of Poker. Thankfully, that interest was short-lived. Although, he does enjoy the "Texas Hold 'em" application on his Blackberry.

Now, his obsession is golf. He never had much interest before a few years ago when he was asked to join his company's league. He did have a cheap set of Wilson clubs he had had from his days right after college. These clubs embarrassed him, so he bought a set of clubs that were not so embarrassing as the Wilsons but definitely did not convey the message that he was a serious golfer.

He began doing research on the best irons, putters, woods, the best shaft materials, the best shoes, golf bags, golf balls, etc. and bidding on E-bay. For a few years now, we have been receiving long skinny packages in the mail containing my husband's finds and bargains on E-bay to improve his game. He also frequents Golf Galaxy and knows the manager quite well. Now he has an impressive set, complete with a Notre Dame towel (to show his team spirit without being obnoxious) for wiping his dirty clubs. He has two bags, too. He finally got a walking bag so he can get more exercise out of his play.

We have golf balls, golf tees, divot-replacers and clubs all over our house. We have miniature putting green in our living room. He gets Golf Digest every month, watches how-to videos on the web, and watches the Golf Channel. Yawn. He has a player development membership at a local course in addition to the golf league that plays every Monday from April through October. He often hits balls before coming home from work. Sometimes he comes home saying, "Emily, I had an 'ah-ha' moment."

Sometimes he plays so well he says, "Next year, I am joining the tour."

Returning from a Hiatus: A Few Stories About My Youngest Children

I am still trying to figure this blogging thing out. I am used to being able to type in my word processing application and then cut and paste to Caring Bridge which is nice when I don't have internet access. I can't do that here, or at least, I can't make it happen. I am sure it's user error. I have had so many things happen that I have wanted to post here, but haven't had the time to sit down and write. After time passes, so do the ideas.

A few of the times I considered blogging include:

One day in the car, I realized that every time Kate (age 4) starts a conversation with me she says, "When I am mom, I am going to..."
"...chew gum and drink Coke."
"...live in a tree house."
"...have two dogs and one is going to be a weiner dog."
"...have candy in my house."
"...bake cakes and pies."
"...have babies but no kids and no dad."
John says, "The thing about babies, Kate, is that they grow up to be kids."

Another gem:

John's (age 6) pre-K teachers from last year asked him and his friend in jest if they wanted to teach class one morning. John's friend giggled and said, "Oh, you're so funny," to the teacher. John said, "Sure. Why not?"

He walked to the front of the class, introduced himself, assured them that he knew what he was doing because he had been to pre-K and proceeded to teach them all about fog. It reminded me of a college public speaking course I took. One day the instructor sent us the the front of the classroom one at a time and gave us each a topic. One topic I remember was dust bunnies. The student who could speak the longest without using um, er, like, you know, etc. won the admiration of the class and instructor. John would have excelled.

One last story for today:

One afternoon a few weeks ago, Kate and I were reading in my bed. I was so sleepy, I asked her if she wanted to rest with me and to my surprise, she said, "Okay, Mommy." She was no fun to sleep with as she kept tossing, turning, kissing me, and touching my face with her hands, including the one with the finger she sucks.

I asked her if she would like to rest in her room and she said, "Okay, Mommy." And she headed down the hall to her room where she made no noise and let me rest for 20 minutes or so before I shook off the fog enough to remember that Kate does really naughty things when she is quiet.

I walked down to her room and the door was opened. Her room was neat, and she had set up a little office with a V-Tech computer and lap desk. My heart was so warmed. It was one of those sweet moments a mom holds in memory. I asked her if she wanted to play with Play-do on the back stoop, and she was so happy because I truly don't like the mess she makes with Play-do. I was high on good feelings. She sat right outside the door while I read my book just inside the door at our big kitchen table. I could hear that sweet child singing her made up song about pink and rainbows and princesses and candy.

Just before the big kids walked in the door from the bus, I peeked out another window to the back yard and noticed a scarf that Julia had worn when she had cancer and no hair. I thought "That's odd," but the weather had been so nice, and the kids had been playing out so much, and I was so feeling so happy and content that I just thought, "Oh well, they've been playing one of their make believe games called 'Poor Little Girls Who Don't Have a Mother' (I know this bears some explanation. Another post...) so I won't say anything. I'll jut have them pick it up when they come in this afternoon."

When the big kids walked in, I asked John to run out in the yard and bring in the scarf. He went out with no argument but did not come back in. I threw open the back door to find out what was taking so long. He was laughing a big, deep belly laugh with his arms loaded with not only the scarf but hats, dirty undies, socks, uniforms, doll clothes, gloves, etc. I could not figure it out at first. How had all of these things ended up in the yard? Then I looked up and saw a hole in the screen. Remember when I said the weather had been nice? We had the windows cracked open to let in fresh air.

Kate denied any wrong doing. "I didn't do it. It wasn't me." I put her in her room with the door open and Mary (age 13) posted outside. Before I left her, she admitted that she had helped along a small tear in the screen and shoved the clothes out while making her office tidy. I told her that she could have been hurt and that screens were there to keep bugs and critters out of the house. That may have been a mistake because after she had taken full responsibility with me and Daddy, she recanted and blamed the squirrels. We keep her windows closed now.

There is always a price to pay for every moment of peace I steal.