Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned / Nor hell a fury like a bored child.

William Congreve, the playwright of "The Mourning Bride" (1697), would probably consider my flippant alteration to his famous proverb a bastardization of his work, but he’s long been dead and I doubt his surviving relatives have logged-on recently to read my tiresome musings. Never the less, since my singing, guitar playing, and play acting skills are less than spectacular, and I would rather not drive too far or too often with the kids to visit various sites around the state– hey, we should all do our part to protect the environment, especially since the county we live in does not recycle and the idea that littering is okay seems to be bequeathed from one generation to the next– I am constantly looking for new and interesting adventures to take the kids on. So, it’s of little surprise that I was beside myself with glee the other day when my suspicions were confirmed and I learned that we have a private walking trail that goes right through our backyard and travels at least two miles south of us along the creek. (I have yet to explore the northern portion of the trail.)

Around 18 months ago, my parents bought us our first child carrier backpack, a Chicco: A seven-pound, 40 pound maximum weight, eighty-nine dollar pack. Overall, it has served us well. My one complaint with the unit is that after two hours of hiking the pack’s straps feel like they are tearing into my shoulders and the middle of my back feels like someone has stuck an assassin’s knife between the T8 and T9 vertebras. The pack, as I would find out after our first hike, was made for someone a little shorter. Luckily, my wife appears to be a perfect fit for it and it won’t have to be replaced.

A couple of days ago we picked up a new child carrier backpack at a local store. When I called them in the morning I spoke with a monotone sales person who told me they had “many different” packs we could look at. Two hours later, we found that the store carried one pack, a KeltyKids FC 3.0– so much for their selection. Yet, little did we know that this pack is one of the best-rated packs, and most expensive, on the market.

I tried the pack on. I love it. I mean, I really loved it! From the 5-point harness to the auto-deploy kickstand, the pack was a perfect fit for me and for either kid. The difference between the Chicco and the Kelty would take too long to describe– it would be like describing the differences between a BMW motorcycle and a scooter. Needless to say, before I even knew the cost I knew that pack would be coming home with us. Thank God it cost just a little over the maximum I was willing to spend.

Last night I took Taylor out for a stroll down the walking path by the house. She loved it. In Vermont we spent hours upon hours hiking in the heat of summer and in the dead of winter. One of our favorite pastimes was hiking. (Not to mention Grandma got the biggest thrill of walking through the woods with her granddaughter.) This morning I took Simon out for an hour. He loved it, too. I’m in heaven! On Adrianne’s next day off we plan to hike a good portion of the trail abutting our property.

We might be broke. We might not have a lot to show for the sacrifices we’ve made these last several years. But darn it, we are going to give our kids the best experiences and foundation we can. They deserve it.

Running.

This morning marks day two of consistent running for me. Adrianne and I have decided to run together again after a three-year break from the sport. While the initial reason for stopping had little to do with our lack of desire or motivation to continue, the point is that we stopped, virtually cold-turkey, and have missed it terribly so ever since. Now, 156 weeks later and 30 pounds heavier, we are, once again, committing ourselves to hoofing a whole lot of foot mileage. Adrianne already has her eyes set on running a 5K, but I just want to be able to take my shirt off at the beach without worrying about blinding others with the whiteness of my chest and belly from wearing a shirt all summer long.

I once thought that the worst part of beginning an exercise program is starting out, the aches and pains that go along with using muscles in ways they have not been used for a period of time. I’ve discarded that theory for the grim realities and limitations parenthood places on those whom wish to exercise. Besides finding the spare time, there are four realities parents with young children must face and overcome if they are to sustain an exercise routine.

Reality 1: For every action there is an intended and unintended consequence. Just because I want to put in a three-mile run with the double stroller doesn’t mean that the kids want to go or that my body will enjoy pushing the incredibly heavy Phil and Teds Sport Buggy plus the additional 60 pounds of children, toys, and foodstuff. In this case, the intended consequence is that my body had one heck of an anaerobic workout; the unintended consequence is that I’ll be sucking down copious amounts of water and Tylenol for the next three days in a vain attempt to recover!

Reality 2: The smaller the muscle, the more pain it’ll cause you. I think anyone would rather have a Charlie horse than a lower back that feels like a six-fingered man with calloused hands has packed it with shards of glass¬– like mine feels like right now.

Reality 3: Despite one’s best efforts, if the kid’s are hungry, have to poop, or are just plain bored, the workout is going to have to wait or end earlier than anticipated. (Despite what others may say, or say they did when their kids were young, kids have needs. And when those needs- as reasonable or unreasonable as they may be- are not met life quickly becomes a headache for all.)

Reality 4: A good or bad night’s rest is a greater determining factor for the day’s exercise than even the best intentions, yearnings, or goals. For example, two nights ago, after a full day in the warm sun with family and friends, a five-mile run, and a busy night, I was exhausted and elated when Simon fell asleep at 8 pm. I was a little bit more than surprised when he woke an hour later. And, I was less than excited when he woke six more times after that. Who could have guessed that he’d be teething on the very day my body needed the most rest it’s needed in months?

At some point this summer I hope to blog about a foot race I participated in. Until then, I just hope to survive the few miles I can put on pushing one or both kids up, down, and around the hills by our home. Maybe I’ll see you out on the road? I’ll be the one red-faced and bent over a baby jogger struggling with one hand on the jogger’s handle and the other one fumbling between holding a Ritz cracker and a water bottle all while trying to catch my breath.

This I Believe....

I believe that angels are God’s messengers whom reveal themselves to believers at appointed times. The Christian bible refers to angels 237 times. In each case, a male angel has an assigned role: Worship and praise (God), revealing messages from God, guiding, providing needs– such as food; protection, delivering man from danger, strengthening and encouraging, answering prayers, and caring for believers at death. Even the word “angel” comes from the Greek word aggelos, which means messenger. In Hebrew the word “angel,” mal’ak, has the same meaning. On the night my son was born an angel, in all his glory, revealed himself to me and delivered a message from God. The message was straightforward, succinct, and profound.

The weeks leading up to my son’s birth Adrianne and I could not agree on his name. Throughout this time, at least once or twice a week towards the nine-month mark, we would sit at the kitchen table with our 40,000 baby names book from Barnes and Noble between us and write down every name which caught our attention, beginning with the letter A and progressing to the letter Z, until we choosing about 20 or so names apiece. Rarely did we select the same ones. Rarely did we compromise.

On the day Adrianne was to be induced we still could not agree on a name. Driving to the hospital, about one-half mile away, I reminded her that we should at least agree on a couple of names– “just in case” our son was born prematurely. We did. For the life of me I can’t remember the two names, insignificant as that detail is today, but I do remember agreeing that if one felt strongly about one of the names then the other would not object to his or her choice. And that is how we left it.

Adrianne’s inducement did not go as planned. Every doctor, every nurse, family member, friends, and strangers that heard the stories of Taylor’s birth unanimously agreed our son would be born within three hours’ time. Stubbornly, he wasn’t. After hours of backbreaking pain, our OB/GYN chemically stopped labor and allowed Adrianne’s body a much-needed overnight respite.

Lodging at a hospital is never comfortable. Our birthing room suite, despite the duplicitous name, was not an exception to the rule. Besides the hospital bed, the room contained a couple of worn out waiting room chairs from the nervous pants of other expecting fathers, a brown faux leather recliner, and a state-of-the-art foldout chair that transformed into a cramped, slim single bed. I tried to sleep on the recliner to no avail. A nurse, sensing my difficulties, showed me how to unfold the chair and I soon drifted off into a restless sleep.

Sometime in the early morning hours, I estimate around 1 am, I was awaken by a feeling, a sensation. There he stood before me, regal, proud, surrounded by an unearthly light. He was tall, dressed in golden adornments and a white robe, stately. And he spoke … to me! His announcement was simple. “His name is Simon,” was all he said as his knowing gaze shifted from my eye onto my wife and our unborn child still in her womb.

I was conscious during these sublime moments, fully coherent and awake. I knew what I was seeing. I know what I saw. I know what I heard. The angel stayed in our room until I looked away and lay my head down on my pillow. At that moment I was certain of three things: First, angles are real. Second, God is real, and, third, Simon’s soul had just been delivered into the body of our baby.

Hours later I tried to figure out how to approach Adrianne with what I saw and heard from my supernatural late night visitor. Gently, I began by suggesting we name our son Simon. Visibly stunned, she immediately shot back, “You told me last night ‘his name is Simon,’” and I agreed. “You were sound asleep, laying right there in the recliner, when you woke up, sat up, and told me.”

I was speechless. I never fell asleep in the recliner, I couldn’t. I never spoke to her in the middle of the night– she was too exhausted. Right then and there we both knew the angel had revealed himself to Adrianne too. Ironically, Adrianne’s labor started moments after our bewildering conversation.

For months I have revisited these moments asking myself why God choose to reveal himself to us? Why us? The bible holds the answer. God is a personal god. He takes great care to tell us so. We just have to listen– and believe.

Our Walks.

With the advent of warmer weather, we are spending a lot more time outside. The words a lot maybe an understatement; we are spending every available minute outside. The kids love the fresh air. I love the fresh air. And the fresh air has done wonders for all of us. Simon is coming alive more than ever. Being with the kids virtually every minute of every day it is sometime hard to see them making small steps in their physical and cognitive development. But in these last couple of weeks, boy has Simon changed! Physically, he is desperately trying to walk. He is up to four steps now. I think he has put a little extra effort into walking because he’s tired of sitting on the sidelines while Taylor plays on the various slides and jungle-jims at the park. The look he gives me when he’s sat down and buckled into the wagon seat goes right to my heart. Oh, I want him to be up and about! Cognitively, he is awake. It’s not that he slept through the last ten months but to see him fascinated to take in all of the sights and sounds around him is enlightening and encouraging to the soul. His spirit, more than ever, is shining through!

I try to rotate where we go and what we do every couple of weeks to keep the kids from becoming bored with our outside routines. These last two weeks I’ve stopped taking the kids for walks around the block. It’s not that I’m sick of our walks. I love them and the kids like them, too. Actually, I think I like the walks more than the kids do. Walking not only allows me an hour or more of exercise, it allows me to listen to my iPod. For my birthday last year Adrianne bought me a nano. But unlike most iPod users, my nano is filled with my favorite podcasts and audio books. For emergencies, I might have half a gig of music on the device, but I doubt it’s that much. My favorite podcasts are from NPR. In five minutes’ time, I can listen to more newsworthy stories than two hours’ worth of national televised news from ABC or CBS. Free time is the one thing I just don’t have; being able to stay on top of the latest news a few minutes a day is a substantial benefit. The reason I’ve stopped taking the kids for walks is because they’ve started to fall asleep minutes after we leave our driveway. While this may sound like a good thing, it isn’t. Having them fall asleep in the morning not only adjusts their regular nap schedule, it makes them cranky the rest of the day because they’ve substituted a full two-hour nap for a 45-minute catnap.

By the end of this week I’ll begin taking the kids for a walk again. I’m not sure, however, if I’ll take them first thing in the morning or waiting until after their naps so that they will not have the opportunity to fall asleep. The mornings work best for me: the temperatures are cooler, I prefer to exercise in the morning, and I can get my daily dose of the news at relatively the same time as everyone else. Then again, the afternoon would probably work best for the kids– so long as it doesn’t get too hot this summer. Not only will they already be rested, there will be little chance of them falling asleep, and right after the walk we can either run around the yard, or cool off under a tree in the backyard in the swing set or jump in the river for a quick dip. (Yes, I know it is still spring.)

Whatever I decide to do with the kids, I know we’ll be outside and having fun doing it.