This Old House

Our little house is almost always undergoing some type of remodel. One room at a time, the house is evolving into what we want it to be. The utility room is currently being completely gutted and rebuilt, so consequently we have a layer of fine white silt on everything we own.

It was built in 1953. We are the fourth occupants in the house's history. Decades before we bought it, it had several major remodels. A one-car garage became a study at some point, then a two-car garage was added, the kitchen was redesigned, central heat and air was added, a master bathroom was added. The list goes on. Still, the house wasn't even close to what Blythe and I wanted when we bought it in February 2003.  Much of the work done on the house was of very poor quality, probably done by a brother-in-law rather a than a professional. It was just a basic, entry-level starter home – a total fixer-upper.

There are times when I imagine being an old man, maybe in one of those assisted living facilities -- hopefully, a nice one.  I imagine sitting on a veranda, pondering my life's work.  I'll probably smell like Ben-Gay ointment.  Jakob and Elliot may drop by from time to time to visit.  Among other things, I often wonder what my two boys will think of the house where they grew up.  Both boys came home from the hospital to this house.  What will be their overall feeling of the house?  Will they remember the yard always being green and (mostly) weed-free? Will they remember the hard work their mom and I put into it?  Children generally have it better than their parents, so will their own homes be larger and nicer?  There has been an interesting personal shift in the last few years.  I've noticed that, as I grow older, I am increasingly focused on what kind of home I have for my family rather than for me, or to be envied by my friends and neighbors.

While the remodels we have done are important in making the house nicer and more comfortable, I hope what my family remembers is the love that circulates throughout the house. I want my boys to remember doing their homework at the kitchen table and watching movies in the living room sprawled across the sofa. I want them to drive by the house with their families someday and feel the warmth they felt as children when the house was bathed in white lights at Christmas time. Maybe if they're sentimental like me they'll remember their mom and dad standing on a ladder decorating a Christmas tree just inside the large living room window.  Or see me mowing the lawn on a hot summer afternoon.

The opening sequence in the Pixar film UP will always make me cry because it is so similar to the life Blythe and I have with each other.  Everything we have, we've built or earned slowly with a lot of work.  I just hope our boys know that.

Doctor for a Day

"Daddy, you really should come with us on Saturday," my eight-year-old son said emphatically one last time before I turned off his bedroom light.  "I think you would like it."

He was talking about the the Annual Mock Surgery Day in Austin.  This is Jakob's second year to attend the event, which provides kids and visitors a chance to participate in make-believe surgical procedures.  For a kid who says he plans to become a doctor later in life, putting in a tracheotomy is a great way to spend a Saturday.  He's been talking about it for weeks.  While I stayed at home with our 21-month-old, Jakob and Blythe went to Austin. 

The event is held at Brackenridge Hospital every year, which is nice since Blythe works there.  So, Jakob gets some personalized introductions to the doctors she knows.  Pretty cool.

While Elliot and I played with his wooden train set, I heard the familiar chime of an incoming text message.  Blythe sent a photo of Jakob looking at the camera wearing a surgical mask and a scrub cap.  I beamed, wondering if his fancy for science and anatomy would stick around for the long haul.  I texted back, 'Dr. Cone, paging Dr. J. Cone.'

     I think it's pretty normal to have visions of my son walking the halls of a hospital in scrubs or in a white lab coat.  But that's where I force myself to stop.  I've watched enough cheesy CBS Afterschool Specials to understand the dangers of pressuring my kids into things they don't want to do.  So, I just pretend he's enjoying a day of childhood entertainment, like going to a movie or to the zoo.

I suppose all we, as parents, can really do to help our kids along is to introduce them to as much as possible.  Then we support and foster their interests.  It can be awfully easy to go too far.  To push too hard.  But that's why it's so important to watch cheesy Afterschool Specials or the Lifetime channel.

At the end of the day, I just feel lucky to have an eight-year-old son who has such a strong interest in being a doctor, even if it doesn't last.  He already has me beat.