Last Firsts

Yesterday we gave our last first haircut.  I held the baby on my lap and Nancy went at his amazing blond curls with the scissors.  It was awful. 

I kept asking if she was sure she wanted to do that now.  “I love his hair,” I moaned.  “It’s not too long.  Does this really need to happen today?  I’m not ready.  Can’t you wait just one more week?”

With children, firsts are generally a great thing.  With five children, we have had the opportunity to experience many wonderful firsts through the years: first tooth, first Christmas, first birthday, first steps, etc., etc.  But now, with the youngest, and most likely the caboose experiencing all these firsts, they are as melancholy for me as they are exciting. 

Just this past week our baby started walking.   He’s been taking a step here and there for a few months.  But, with so many people willing to carry him everywhere, he wasn’t overly motivated about walking.  Then, all of a sudden he was no longer a crawler.  Literally overnight, he went from scooting around on all fours, to walking. 

Not only that, now he’s Mr. Independent.  Yesterday, I helped him up the stairs, and then, holding his hands, set him down on his feet.  He shook me off like I had the cooties or something and toddled off in search of something fun to do.  Never once did he look back at his daddy, standing there, trying to figure out what just happened. 

With his new skills, all his new independence, and now, with his new hairdo, I’m suddenly wondering why we even call him our baby.  Yesterday he was a little fat baby – POOF! – today he’s a big fat toddler. 

The last of the firsts.  A few months ago we celebrated our last first birthday party.  Yesterday was our last first haircut.  Tomorrow could easily be the last first, “Why?” 

Before we know it, we will celebrate our last first trip to the emergency room, our last first day of kindergarten, our last first swim lessons, our last first day in Jr. High School, our last first driving experience, our last first date, and our last first broken heart.  

But I’m getting way too far ahead of myself.  We still need to experience many of these things for the first time.  Why should I lament the lasts of the firsts before we actually enjoy the firsts of the firsts?  And why am I getting all hung up on life being all about the firsts?  Sure, the first kiss is great; you waited your whole life for it.  But the second kiss, and the third, and thousandth kiss are all just as great.

And so, I’m reminded of, and will try to be more thankful for all the firsts we have already experienced as a family.  And, I will also look forward, with great anticipation, to all the many firsts still ahead of us – and seconds and thirds and fourths and fifths . . .

This entry is a repost from my old blog that is no more.

Stocker Hands

 This is a repost from my old blog that is no more.  I wanted to get it back up here.

First posted May 24, 2009.

Yesterday I dropped our baby.  On my part, it was a stupid overestimation of his ability, combined with my lack of attention for what is most important. 

Like he’s done a thousand times before, he was sitting on my left arm.  We were in the yard and I was trying to set up his playpen.  He doesn’t love the grass yet so I didn’t want to set him down.  He’s always pretty good about staying up there.  But, he’s also still a little young, so I normally hold onto his leg with my left hand to help him with balance.  For some reason I wasn’t doing this.  I’m not sure why.  Maybe I was using both hands on the playpen.  It wasn’t opening up correctly and I was getting frustrated.  I admit it held more of my attention than it should have.  The reason I know this, is I have no idea exactly how he fell.  I assume he moved one way at the very same moment I moved the other.

In a split second he was completely airborne, his stretched out body falling toward the ground.  His eyes opened wide with surprise.  Instantly my attention shifted from the playpen to the baby.  I needed to act fast. 

After high school I worked in a grocery store as a stock clerk, or stocker as we were called.  There I would drop things all the time: cans, boxes, jars, etc.  Over time, I learned a few things about falling objects: one, catch it if you can, two, if you can’t catch it, get your foot under it, and three, if you can’t get under it, kick it before it hits the ground. 

Obviously catching is ideal.  But, because everything happens so fast, catching it is also the hardest of the three options.  In the 18 months I stocked groceries, I worked hard to develop what I’ve always referred to as, “stocker hands.”  Stocker Hands need to be quick and accurate or product will be wasted. 

An object pulled by gravity falls the first 32 feet in one second.  In a fall of three feet, you have just over 2/5 of a second before it hits the ground.  At four feet, an object will strike the ground in just over ½ a second.  Adding to the complexity of catching, normally your hand is above the thing when it falls.  You have to get under it quickly, or you have to grab it from above.  To catch from below, you need to be faster than from above.  But catching from above is preferred because it is safer and more accurate than grabbing.  Decisions, decisions.   

If you can’t catch it, stop with your foot.  One thing to keep in mind, especially with hard or heavy objects, is that your foot may get smashed in the process.  But if you lift your toes, it keeps them from being compressed between the object and the ground.  This takes some of the sting out of the impact. 

And if all else fails, kick the falling object just as it hits the ground.  This absorbs and transfers the downward motion laterally, usually saving the item from being dented or breaking.  One word of caution here is to be careful to not kick the object too hard, as this can do more damage than good.

So my son - my baby, who trusts his dad completely and, through no fault of his own - is falling.  He’s about 3 ½ feet from the ground and will land squarely on his back. 

Time slowed down as I recognized he was gone.  I dropped the playpen, turned my attention and my body to face him, assessed the situation, bent down and reached toward him.  I extended both hands under his little falling body, and caught him about 18 inches off the ground.  A little help from the calculator tells me all this happened in about 1/3 of a second. 

Over the years, for one reason or another, I have appreciated stocker hands on numerous occasions.  I’ve dropped tools, jars, chainsaws, whatever.  But, if I only caught one thing in my life, and let fall everything else I ever dropped, this was the one catch I am so, so thankful I made.

Clark

Fall – Photo Set 2 of 6 – Pumpkins

It snowed all day today.  Suddenly my planned entries featuring photos of fall colors seem just a tad bit dated.  After another storm tomorrow, the weatherman says it will be in the 50’s next week.  I rarely believe what the weatherman tells me, but, in this case, I will hope it’s the truth.  Either way, I will keep posting as planned.

The first two photos are of a pumpkin patch I passed a few days ago.  I actually pass by this way every couple weeks or so.  I had noticed the field a few times in the past, with its expanse of vines and huge, green leaves.  If I looked carefully, I could occasionally make out the orange shape of a growing pumpkin.  The last time I went by, someone had cut back the vines a few days before in preparation for the big harvest.  I had absolutely no idea there were so many pumpkins in there.

While I was taking photos, a group of men were filling large pumpkin delivery boxes.  The boxes were loaded on long, flatbed semi trailers, about 14 boxes per trailer.  They had a long day of work ahead of them.

Ohp, how did this one get in there?

A fun shot of one of my pumpkins, up on the table, spinning his new toy on the lazy susan.

How about you?  Besides spinning pumpkins, of course, what do you enjoy most about Fall?

Clark