Sundays with Sienna - July 8

The always adorable Cubs were in town for the latest game. Definitely a strange world where Cubs are cute - at least to Sienna's eyes - and I refer to Queens as a town - it is definitely a city.

Right now Sienna is digging on her favorite stuffed toy, a plush leopard who we not-so-creatively named Spot. This tidbit plays into the story since a child will naturally be drawn to a team that has a cute animal name, a cuddly bear as an icon, and a tradition involving terrible singing.

Thankfully this past week Sienna pointed at the Mr Met fat head that I stickered about her crib the week before she was born. A child's natural curiousity is always amusing to behold, especially given that it has been there over a year. Sienna pointed at it as though she had never seen it before and gave a quick "Gah?" - which is toddler for what-the-hell-is-that?

I am guessing she noticed it from her changing table directly across the room though depth perception being a relatively new concept she is trying to figure out how an object so small from a distance is nearly indecipherable from so close. Some fans may also think this relates to baseball in general but I digress.

Onto the Car...
Sienna is now a master of taking mostly only one nap a day. This allows for a much more robust parenting experience in that when she now gets up from her 9:30 - 11ish nap odds are she will make it through the rest of the day. When she deems a second nap necessary - meaning she ignores her 1 pm nap - she usually goes for a 3 or 4 pm nap, which is parent speak for saying we will have her in the car at the time hoping she falls asleep.

In one of the many hand-me-down Mets outfits she received from Danielle's co-workers Sienna looks like a pink assassin of baseball. Ths pink assassin also has parents who have finally figured out how to not rush her to the ballpark.

Either way I want uneventful and we get uneventful. Which we do, well before the game so Danielle can get some work done.

Now the Park...
Sienna still resists walking at this point. There are two ways to think about this:

1. The first time parent perspective - Ohmygodmychildisn'twalking!WhatamIdoingwrong?


2. The second time parent perspective - Enjoy it since the little buggers get into everything once they walk

We claim we lean toward perspective 2, though really we are more perspective 1.

To Sienna though the ballpark means looooooooooooooooooooooong hallways which she can ply her trade of knee walking. This consists of moving down the hallway at a high speed using on her knees. I happen to believe this shows a higher degree of intelligence since the knees offer a much wider base of support. Okay that is complete justification but whatever.

Sienna seems all prepped for her hallway manuevers as I release her from her stroller. She pops into the hallway and...

...backs away because Buddy the Dog is at Danielle's office doorway. Yes, Buddy the golden retriever really exists and Sienna is face-to-face with him.

Sienna has shown an affinity for small dogs. The toy poodles. The boxers. Anything that is Scudder-cat size really. Buddy the Dog is decidedly much larger than Sienna. Sienna wants nothing to do with the dog.

Danielle's new intern pops in to meet Sienna for the first time. Okay, not specifically to meet Sienna; she has no idea my child is going to be there. However she is fantastic with Sienna. Not in a fake sort of put up with you child way but actually having experience deadling with children.

Sienna is happily playing with her toys at the ball park though. Her Mr Met doll, her soccer ball, the meal I'm feeding her. This gives her enough energy to recheck that hallway to ensure that Buddy is gone and to start crawling around.

The Crawl...

Sienna took off down the hallways as Danielle was busy at work. To Sienna the place most likely resembals a limitless plain for her to crawl down. The the crawl always begins the same way, Sienna stops and looks inside John Ricco's office from the hallway. Thank goodness he has kids since he has been non-pulsed whenever he looks up and sees her staring at him.

After that Sienna takes the tiled hallway toward the executive offices. The tiled hallway must feel cool on her hands and knees since she picks up speed in her most determined crawl. If long distance crawling was an Olympic Sport then Sienna would get a gold.

At least if it took place in the one hallway.

Sienna also has the most interesting habit of hearing a toilet flush, heading for the sound then looking expectantly for someone to come out. What confuses her is when Danielle and I are next to her.

After the trek to and from the long hallway.

The Seats. The Seats. The Seats.

We actually made it to the seats for game time! Sienna is showing more interest in baseball when something happens. That is the key for her. People standing around = boring; people running around = interesting.

Also interesting is the chicken fingers & krinkle fries. Sienna enjoys baseball much more while eatting the fries. The people in front of us as extremely patient, most likely since it is blazing hot out and everyone is escaping to rows further back to be out of the sun. I say most likely since no one is in his or her correct seat.

"We're supposed to be in row 12," someone says.

We're all in about row 25 at this point.

Sienna plays tag, or at least her version of it, using my legs as one base and Danielle's as another. She may not know baseball is going on, however she certainly knows baseball means hanging with Mommy & Daddy.

Sienna also takes her time switching between our laps, sometimes looking at the field, glancing around at the people in the area and generally being a well behaved child. I even actually explain a little more baseball to her.

She takes it with good humor. Especially when she starts drinking her water.

We introduce our daughter to the "strategic moveback" and set a horrible example climbing over seats to the rows behind us. As always, we endeavor not to drop her. Sienna is unconcerned save for the location of her yellow hat and her kninkle fries.

She could probably go for a few more innings. Mommy and Daddy last three.

Caesar's Club

All Sienna baseball games must pass through the Caesar's Club. Besides getting our child used to Vegas/AC style rooms it provides air condition, room to roam and pizza! In this case two slices from Two Boots.

Whoever decided to put Two Boots in a ballpark is a genius. The Larry Tate and the Mets Meatlover. Sienna nibbles at Mommy's Larry Tate.

Sienna must also be getting used to Gary Cohen's voice since she hears it coming through the TV and starts paying attention.

We spend the next three innings hanging out watching the game. It is glorious and our child may not understand baseball yet she does understand food.

The Exit

It takes us two more innings to get out of the ballpark. Saying goodbye to co-workers, navigating the parking lot. The game is on the radio and Sienna...

...she naps all the way home with a delighted smile on her little face.

Wayne

The Last Month the DL and the return to baseball

I haven't been to any baseball games with Sienna as my hip surgery required actual RECOVERY TIME. Who knew? Okay, my Doctor.

The surgery was May 24 with the first two weeks leaving me unable to even have my daughter sit next to me on the couch. Sienna is a firm believer on using Daddy as a jungle gym whenever possible. No doubt her little hands would have honed in on the stitches

I am pleased that I am now able to actually carry my child again. My original intent was to take Sienna to games on Sundays with Grandma's help except Danielle (smartly) nixed the idea. EPSN took the final decision away by turning June 3rd into a night game on ESPN. I found myself laying on the couch pumped up with pain killers muttering about how the Mayans were right.

Or something like that. Moral of the story: listen to Danielle.

The Mets v Yankees series at Yankee Stadium also afforded us a chance to attend. Though Danielle would have been left to the actual work of carting Sienna around hostile territory while I was on crutches. My wife is smarter than I, declining the offer of us attending the game.

Around then the stitches came out, Sienna being able to join me on the couch. This is where my loving progeny displayed her most recent sign of independence: sliding off the couch to play with her toys while the Mets played. Yes I tried to turn my daughter into a couch surfer and failed.

I can't blame her. Her toys are pretty cool.

I'll admit father's day hurt. I was planning on running the bases with Sienna. Okay, I would have been on crutches and I wasn't even medically cleared to hold her. It would have been watching Grandma Trudy take care of Sienna at Citi Field while father's enjoyed a day with off spring.

Instead we spent the day in Queens (Danielle had to work) where Grandma Trudy took Sienna and myself to a park. I watched my daughter learn how to use the slide that day. It was awesome.

ESPN took any decisions out of our hands by turning the next Sunday day game into a Sunday night games. I might have been able to attend though it was Mets v Yankees round 2. I don't know if I would have subjected Sienna to that atmosphere yet.

Late-June rolled up on us faster than we expected with Danielle doing super mom duties of picking up, dropping off, being a happy person during all of this and threatening me a reasonable amount of times. Grandma Trudy lent a more than helping hand on the night's Danielle had to work relate or just needed a break.

Now we find ourselves in July and...game on this Sunday as I am now clearned to carry my daughter for short periods of time, she likes sitting in her seat and oh, she has been climbing onto the couch again lately.

Wayne

Lazy Man Review: TV shows '12

It is the end of the spring '12 TV viewing season which means it is time for a check in on all the shows that Danielle and I are currently watching. Or sometimes watching. Or taking off our DVR list.

On with it

Alcatraz (C). I will be shocked if this show returns next season. I had such high hopes for a science fiction/mystery/fill in the void left by Lost. Instead it is a show that was decidedly average at best, poorly written at worst, and managed to lose over 50% of its initial audience.

Storage Wars (A+) Possibly the best show on television right now and once again showing the initial casting plus luck makes a huge difference. How big a difference is casting? Storage Wars: Texas is awful compared to the original because you cannot overcome how vicious Dave Hester, Jarrod (& Brandi), Barry and Darrel are to one another. Okay, Barry isn't really mean to anyone - but the contempt the others have developed for one another borders on awe inspiring due to the sheer arrogance involved. It is beautiful television.

Grey's Anatomy (B). This show leads my list of "WTF?" on season finales. A season finale setup involving a plane crash that made Danielle so angry she remarked on it to the receptionist at our pediatrician's office. The rest of the season has been fairly awesome due to the de-emphasis of Meredith's Grey character and the heavy lifting done by Sara Ramirez and Sandra Oh. How good is Sandra Oh? She was in a storyline where she aborted her child because she didn't want kids and by the end we were cheering for her.

RAW is WAR (C). Since this is live professional wrestling fare Danielle and I have developed a surprisingly accurate prediction system: if the opening promo is good then the show is good, if the opening promo is bad then the show sucks.

Glee (D). We used to love this show. Now we have no idea what is going on. That is despite watching the first half of the entire season. Danielle doesn't even watch the DVR'd episodes.

30 Rock (B). After nearly being taken off our DVR list after last season's debacle this show has become must-watch again. I am still unsure whether I am pleased or horrified at the continued attempts to shoehorn Tracey Morgan and Jane into scenes together. Okay, I am pleased since they kill me.

How I Met Your Mother (F). A season finale that out did Grey's Anatomy for horribleness. Does any viewer like any character on this show anymore? It is like finding an honest man in whatever that biblical story about finding the honest man is about. This show has one more season to run though no one is going to care about how the mother is anymore since no one is going to like the characters.

Modern Family (A+). Oh yeah, hello Best Show on Television! Consistently funny, consistent character growth, consistent gratuitous shows of Sophia Vargas's cleavage. Ed O'Neill has been killing it as the patriarch in the family since it slowly being revealed as a really bad parent for his first set of kids.

The Big Bang Theory (A). A show with a wedding that WASN'T THE FINALE! Mega points just for that. This show started out about four nerds and now it is about four nerds and their friends and families. I can't say enough about this show as it also has a rare bit where people are actually good at their jobs! I know, strange though making people competent.

Person of Interest (A). I admit to loving number driven crime shows. PoI has perfected the weekly episode connecting into an interesting overall story. I am afraid to talk to much about this show as I am afraid it would start sucking too much.

So there is 2012 Spring in review. We probably should remove a show or two from the DVR, though habitual viewing is a terrible habit to have.

Wayne

13 Baseball Sundays with Sienna: Game 3 - Kids Dash

Nobody wants to be "that guy" when it comes to a kid.

You hear or read about stories involving parents and children. The type of stories that you read and you think "that guy with the kid is an idiot." Whenever I am about to do something dumb when Sienna is around I think about how the newspaper article would read and whether the reaction would lead to "that guy with the kid is an idiot."

That very thought crossed my mind as I considered testing whether I could physically put the gas pedal through the floor of my Jetta. I could practically see my car going warp three up the BQE.

Sienna was in the backseat oblivious to my momentary day dream of a Star Trek engine in our Jetta. What was most likely on Sienna's mind was that Grandma was providing closeup entertainment in the back of the car. I could hear Grandma making various high pitched talking noises that resulted in high pitched squeals of joy from Sienna.

On the radio the Mets mothership - at least that is what I call it - informed me that the Mets were up 3 - 1 in the top of 9th with the Mets having a pitching change. A few extra minutes of time for me.

Important time. I wanted to get to the statement. I had a couple of VIP passes for Sienna and myself, specifically obtained so we could participate in the Kids Dash. That is if I managed to get to the stadium before the game ended.

I really wanted to speed.

25 YEARS EARLIER - BOSTONBathroom usage in Boston might as well be a VIP privilege. When the designers of the city created its spoke-like street setup, it not only foregoed common-sense design, it foregoed (forewent?) having bathrooms in the known universe.

Which was unfortunate as I told my brother, "I need to use the bathroom, Brian."

My brother and I were outside Fenway Park, clearly within range of hearing the roar of the crowd. Not that we had tickets. Not that we had actually planned on being anywhere NEAR Fenway Park that day. I don't know exactly what we were doing in Boston that day. Just that is was extremely hot and from the noise of the crowd...something was happening.

All of those facts had minimal impact at the time. The most important fact was I really need to empty my bladder.

The bathroom situation in Boston is so bad that in  college my friends an I would be forced to turn an alley into a urinal. That is even though we could afford to go into a restaraunt and buy something, or into a bar, or into one of the millions of pizza places.

At thirteen I was too young to go into a bar, no way I'd be let into a restaurant, and I had no money for a pizza place. Which left the Boston Red Sox official team store as my last best hope.

"I'm going in there," I told my brother Brian. With that I wandered into the store, my brother informing me he would stay outside Fenway, his sixteen-year-old hormones satiated by watching girls.

10 MINUTES EARLIER - BROOKLYNI was behind a girl. A three-year-old girl to be specific. A slow moving three-year-old girl to be as specific as possible. It wasn't her fault I had left my tickets inside, thwarting my own plan to drive down the street as quickly as possible.

My neighbor was teaching her three-year-old daughter to navigate the steps of our apartment complex. A younger me would have a) jumped over both of them, or b) pushed on by them. The older more mature me with the hip injury that requires surgery can a) not jump over a phone book at this point, or b) risk being hip checked down some steps.

I waited with as much patience as I could muster. Knowing I had come so far with my Sunday adventure already and also that it would be ironic if I was late to the Kids Dash because a little kid walking in front of me was decidedly NOT dashing anywhere.

15 MINUTES EARLIER - BROOKLYN"I just need to use the bathroom and then we go." Grandma Trudy was rushing through the door into our apartment. She rightfully wanted to use the bathroom, after all she had just spent three plus hours stuck in traffic thanks to some sort of bicycle event that had taken over New York.

Sienna was adorable in her Sunday Mets best. Okay, Sienna was adorable in her Sunday Mets best half asleep in my arms, having just waken up from a long afternoon nap. Freshly changed it was about the only part of the plan that had gone correctly all day.

"I hope you haven't been waiting long." She adds the thought after she finishes using the bathroom.

"No, she has only been up for three minutes. Let's go." Grandma Trudy did not mentioned that I looked like an extra from some MLB souvenier commericials: Mets jersey, Mets hat, Mets t-shirt. Yeah, fandom gets a little crazy sometimes. Especially since most of the gear was due to Danielle's influence.

I needed backseat Grandma to feed Sienna though. One does not abandon his partner in crimes no matter the circumstances. Well, sometimes the circumstances do warrant it.

25 YEARS EARLIER - BOSTONThe circumstances warranted the ditching. I didn't intend to ditch Brian. It just sort of happened.

"Hey, you guys have a bathroom I can use?"

I'm inside the souvenir shop. My mouth waters from being surrounded by team gear I would never be able to afford. There is no one else in the shop, which accounts for the guy at the counter not even looking up as I enter.

"Yeah, go through the doors back there, take a right, top of the stairs."

I bolt in the direction of what he has given me. Through the doors...take a right...top of the stairs.
Suddenly I find myself along the third base loge INSIDE of Fenway Park. The crowd is on its feet cheering wildly.

The guy sent me into a bathroom INSIDE of Fenway Park. It is like a hidden trail that I am sure much wiser people than myself know about. How I didn't know about this is beyond me.

Though it doesn't matter to me. I am definitely in a place I am not supposed to be.

It is incredible what you can plan and execute in fifteen seconds. It was the seventh inning of the game with Boston at bat. People were up cheering and a Red Sox player was rounding third and heading for home. Less than fifteen feet away from I could see...seats.

Blessed empty seats a couple of people in from the aisle. That is if I snuck past the usher who was paying attention to the field, get past two people with seats next to the aisle.

Not a problem and approximately eight seconds later my full bladder and I were nestled into our seats. Two seats. Two bad Brian didn't come in with me.

30 MINUTES EARLIER - BROOKLYNI as nestled into the seat of our couch as I read the email from Danielle. She doesn't think I'll make the game. RA Dickey is a fast pitcher on a slow day. On a fast day RA Dickey resembles a sprinter who happens to pitch. Catch the ball, nearly runs to the mound, fires a pitch in.

RA Dickey is now ruining my afternoon. RA Dickey is personally screwing up my planned afternoon with my daughter. As a fellow parent I figured the man who have some sympathy for my plan.
In my mind RA Dickey also has a clue of existence and who I am. I can't always say I am firmly in reality.

I call Danielle.

"Maybe I should wake up Sienna."

I credit Danielle that she didn't just hang the phone up on me. No parent ever wishes a child wakeup. Ever. You just don't do it. It is unthinkable even as the words escape my mouth and reach my ears.

25 YEARS EARLIER - BOSTONThe words reach my ears. An undeniable klaxon of enjoyment interuptus. "I'm with him!"

There are words you don't want to hear and times you do not want to hear them.

As a younger brother I have been trained to react to my older brother's voice no matter where I am. In this case I'm in my seat at Fenway Park. I have no idea how my brother even spotted me. What I do know is he is arguing with the usher in the section where I am sitting in my illegal seat.

I have about six seconds before I'm about to lose my great seat at Fenway Park.

I turn to the guy next to me - I haven't even look at him since I sat down - I don't even care about his existence until this second. A guy in his mid-20s, his eyes are glazed over from too much beer, though to his credit he is sitting next to a super attractive blonde.

"I need your ticket stub," I say to the guy.

"Huh?"

"Ineedyourticketstub." It comes out twenty times faster than I'd like.

The guy is completely useless. Luckily the super attractive blonder is NOT.

"Here," she says, reaching across her useless date and handing me her ticket.

I turn toward my brother's direction and yell, "Hey, moron, you left your ticket stub!"

That gets the usher, my brother's, and pretty much everyone in the sections attention. My brother gives a "what can you do?" shrug to the usher then quickly joins me. We go play the farce to the end with myself handing him to the ticket as he sits down next to me.

"Were you planning on coming out?" Brian asks me.

"No," I tell him.

It's only the 7th inning. A few more innings of baseball to watch. I really would have left him outside. Business is business.

60 MINUTES EARLIER - BROOKLYN
Business is business. Grandma Trudy calls to give me an update. She is now less than a mile from the house. Traffic is crawling. At this rate Sienna will wake up and I'll have to make the decision on whether to wait for Grandma or not.

When I got married my father told me, "You aren't just marrying Danielle, you're marrying her mother too."
Realistically I won't leave Grandma behind. Really. I swear.

Okay, maybe I will. If she just drove faster then I wouldn't be left to the decision. I look at the baby monitor that is pointed at Sienna's bed. My daughter really loves her weekend sleep. All will be well. I ponder what sort of cosmic craziness would put Grandma late and Sienna awake.

90 MINUTES EARLIER - BROOKLYNMy Iphone buzzes with Danielle on the other end of the line. Her mother is stuck in traffic going on a trip to New Jersey. Do I care if she stops by the house?

Sure, no problem I tell her. Since I have an extra ticket I can even bring Grandma to the game with us. It isn't a completely altruistic maneuver. Depending on what time Sienna wakes up my daughter may be hungry. I know I'm going to want to get to the ballpark, though there is no way I'm NOT feeding and changing my child. If Grandma is around to help then I can change Sienna and Grandma can feed Sienna in the car.

I tell Danielle my reasoning. Just to make sure I'm not crossing over some unknown son-in-law line. I'm not.

I call Grandma Trudy. She is indeed stuck on the BQE, trying to get to New Jersey. She is grateful for the confirmation of a place to stop and yes, if she gets to me in time she will happily join us for the end of the baseball game. Grandma Trudy loves her Mets. She also loves her granddaughter Sienna.

One door closes, another one opens, or some sort of cliche like that.

2 HOURS EARLIER - BROOKLYN
I'm not watching the Mets game. I consider it bad form to spend one of the 13 Sundays watching baseball with Sienna not actually watching baseball with Sienna. The DVR is my friend. I have a lot of catching up to do. Since I'm irresponsible I choose to play video games instead.

25 YEARS EARLIER - BOSTONSince I'm irresponsible I try not to brag to the people around us. My brother gives me a withering look. The flirt shamelessly with the blonde, completely ignoring the drunk guy. I am thirteen, I am on top of the world.

2 HOURS 30 MINUTES EARLIER - BROOKLYNI am thirty-eight, I am on top of the world.

I put Sienna down for her nap. Her Sunday nap is usually just over and hour. Ninety minutes tops. We will get to the game, catch the final three innings, finally get her to see some live baseball this season, and importantly enough participate in the Kids Dash.

Sienna, looking glorious in her pink Mets onside that I've supplemented with a pair of her jeans, snuggles up to her stuffed leopard Spot and closes her eyes.

I laugh as I exit Sienna's bedroom and close the door.

25 YEARS EARLIER - BOSTON
My brother and I laugh as we exit Fenway Park. Three innings of baseball. Three innings of what-an-adventure enjoyment. I suddenly remember something.

"Brian, I still gotta take a piss."

CITI FIELD - THE PRESENT"And that's the ball game!"

No, I didn't time it perfectly. We pulled into the spot seconds AFTER the game ended. As we opened the door I could hear "Taking Care of Business" blaring out of the stadium.

I had seen the line that snaked around the outside of the stadium. Filled with people waiting to get in.
From last year's Kids Dash I knew that the field takes about 30 minutes to set up before people are let onto it. I loaded up Sienna into her baby bjorn in record time. Even with my injured hip I moved across the parking lot at a pretty good clip.

Danielle met us near an entrance - people streaming out as we tried to stream it. The toughest part will be getting people to understand we have a valid ticket. That is the toughest part.

The ticket.

Unlike 25 years ago I didn't need to sneak in the bathroom door this time. It was a matter of Danielle getting us to the correct person to zap our passes so we could go in with the VIP people. I can't even say my wife got us the passes. It didn't hurt that a beautiful woman once again kept me IN the ballpark once I was there.
And then Sienna and I ran the field together. Actually, that part isn't true. I carried Sienna around the field.

That part needs further explanation. Sienna did a koala hold - arms around my next, squeeze as hard as possible - as I carried her around the field. Even the Pepsi Patrol Party Girls remarking on my daughter's cuteness did not make the experience any more enjoyable.

That is until we reached home plate. At that point Sienna smiled, pulled her arms away from me and...reached out to Mommy who was waiting for her. I have a smart daughter. One who keeps me from driving too fast.

Kids Dash indeed. I am the guy carrying his child around the field. Nearly one year to the day that I carried her around the field.

I get to the be that guy.
Wayne

13 Baseball Sundays with Sienna: a sad week

1981 - a Little League field somewhere in Framingham, Ma 
"Someday you'll round those bases, John. Just not today. Now lets get some ice cream, kids." Mrs. Thomson to John Thomson and myself after a Little League game.

May 5, 2012, in a Brooklyn apartment
Sienna is down for her early morning nap as I try to arrange her schedule to make "dash" part of the Mets game. It is also as good as time to talk about the events of the past week.

Sunday, April 30, just past brunch in Prospect Park
 I knew why John was calling, which is why I didn't answer the phone. I admit there are times when I am very human, most likely cowardly, and not wanting to face such awful news. So I let the phone go to voicemail.

Sure, I was hanging out with Danielle and Sienna in Prospect Park watching Jason and Emily's son play Little League baseball. One of those ridiculously beautiful New York days where the weather forecast calls for rain, it stays sunny all day, and a pre-game brunch takes the event from wonderful to I'll-remember-this-day.

Turns out there would be other reasons to remember the day.

John is my oldest friend in the world. I met him when I was six years old, or maybe five, the exact date lost to lore, though the specifics that we were playing in the dirt with big digger trucks part of the narrative. We grew up a mere four houses away from each other, in a time when you could turn to your parent, tell them you were walking down the street and nobody would worry that you would not get there. The narrative includes Johnathan Maynard school, Brophy school, Farley Middle School, Framingham South High School, University of Massachusetts at Amherst, a business together, he and his wife being Sienna's Godparents, and a million other events and incidents.

Framingham - 1981
John and I had been excited when we were put on the same Little League team. Though not as excited as our parents - the same team meant an easier car pooling situation, which is the holy grail of suburban parenting.

Mrs. Thomson and my mother were a strange match. Mrs. Thomson a first generation Catholic woman from Scotland who had come to the United States at 24, and my mother a second generation Jewish woman. Mrs. Thomson was probably 5 or 6 years older than my mother, which I'm sure bothered my mother - though I would never know why.

Over the years I would discover that they both had adventurous streaks that manifested itself in travel, defending their children, and a stubborn streak. What was most important was that John and I were friends and that everyone was comfortable when the kids were playing together.

And in this case car pooling.

Since it was a week night game Mrs. Thomson was driving. Which meant she was watching when John was at bat.

Brooklyn - 2012
I still ignored the phone call though. Other than turning to Danielle and saying, "Damn, it's John."

During our childhood, I ended up a pseudo-extension of John's family. His younger brother Rob, his younger sister Jenny, his father John and his mother Jan. Which is why I didn't pick up the phone. His mother had Alzheimer's disease and four years early had been hit by a car.

She hadn't been expected to survive the accident. Danielle and I went up to visit with the family as they waited in the hospital with Mrs. Thomson. What the Doctor's did not account for was that Mrs. Thomson was a first generation Scottish woman - part of the generation that had been forged in various tragedies and automatically would not quit. Ever.

The Doctor's had to sedate her because Mrs. Thomson instinctively tried to rip the tubes from her body as she lay on the bed.

No, Mrs. Thomson never got better. The Alzheimer's had made everything awful, the accident sped everything up.

1981 Framingham
John was already about five inches taller than me at age 8. A wonderfully gawky age where he was all flailing limbs. Naturally he was awful at baseball.

Natural selection is a funny thing. John became quite a great soccer playing - both parents being from Scotland is merely a coincidence, I'm sure - a snow boarder, and yes, even a softball player.

At 8 he was awful though. He had not gotten the ball on the bat the entire season. Now, these days he would get a trophy for such an effort - in 1981 he got picked on by teammates. Hey, we were 8, what do you want? It had passed the point of mockery though; we didn't even joke about it anymore.

He was Casey at Bat sans all the success.

It was late in the game with two outs when John came to bat. Someone was on somewhere. It didn't matter, a strike out was on its way.

The father (father's pitched) tossed the ball in, John took a mighty swing and yes, he made contact. The aluminum bat made a noise unlike anything we had ever heard before.
 
2012 Brooklyn
My phone buzzed as a text message from John arrived. "I have bad news."

I still didn't want to call. Danielle, Jason and Emily all encouraged me to call. It wasn't surprising news, it was just too real. That was actually a Mrs. Thomson specialty - taking something that was raw and too real for me and making offering solace and wisdom.

She did it for me when I was twelve years old and my mother had died from cancer. A few weeks after the funeral John and I got into a fist fight. I mostly likely started the fight as I was furious with the world. Mrs. Thomson came out of nowhere to break up the fight.

I was crying, I was furious and Mrs. Thomson was understanding. I am not sure exactly what she said, I do remember the points she made. That I had a right to be upset, but there would be no fighting and that no matter what I would be welcome at their house whenever I wanted.

No questions asked. That is what you do.

1981 - Little League
John was rounding second base when the ball finally landed. It was like someone had put a jet rocket on the ball before launching it into the air. It was a little league TOWERING SHOT - all caps, no doubt about it, our entire team jumping up accordingly.

Unfortunately John had hit the ball almost straight up.

As John later graduated with an Engineering degree I am sure he could explain the physics of the ball. At eight years old, all we knew is that the ball nestled easily into the shortstop's glove - the only time all year John would make contact.

He was crestfallen as we made the way back to the car. Mrs. Thomson was left to pick up the pieces of an "almost" like moment. She put her arm around her son and did some parenting.

"Someday you'll round those bases, John. Just not today. Now lets get some ice cream, kids."

She looked at me and added, "and don't tell you Mother, Wayne."

My mother never would have believed that Mrs. Thomson of all people a) suggested the ice cream, and b) was willing to risk the ruining of dinner. So I kept it to myself.

Framingham until now...
Over the years Mrs. Thomson always made sure to have John ask me whether I have a place for various Holidays. Just knowing the offer was there made a huge difference. Of all the people of the people outside of my family who made promises when my mother died Mrs. Thomson was the only one who kept any of them.

When she had moved to Framingham with her husband they had made turned various friends into family for the children - for her I was another friend who was now family. To her there wasn't a reason to do it, other than that is what you do.

I finally called John back and he gave me the "official" news. He called it bittersweet and I certainly understood - there is a point where you don't recognize your parent and it certainly isn't the shell that you are visiting in the hospital. I had understood it from 25 years before. Like Mrs. Thomson had been there for me, I would be there for John and the rest of the Thomson clan - because that is just what you do.
 
Today
I can hear Sienna in her bedroom making noise. I've told her stories about Mrs. Thomson in the past. I've told her the difference Mrs. Thomson made in Daddy's life. I've told her that the reason Daddy plays so well with Sienna is because Mrs. Thomson reinforced how family is so important and that you can make your family where ever you are. That on top of everything spending time with your children - and other people's children so they know they are important and loved can be the thing a parent can do.

I'll tell Sienna again and again because these things are important. Mrs. Thomson would have liked the family time together. She also would have laughed that Sienna looks exactly like her Daddy. Today though - we're running the bases.

Wayne

13 Baseball Sundays with Sienna: Game 2

13 Baseball Sundays with Sienna: Game 2

MANY YEARS AGO
I was pissed at my father. He knew it, I knew it, and at the risk of avoid the entire "I knew that he knew" conversation, let me just say there was no doubt between my Mother, Father, brother and myself that someone was in danger of losing his life that day.

Most likely myself since I was around seven years old.

There are several possibilities for the source of such as a tumultuous father-son moment. Girls. Money. Work. Or for a seven year old boy it would be leaving a baseball game during a rain delay that was in the third inning.

ME: DAD! WE'RE NOT LEAVING!

FATHER: We're leaving if I have to pick you up and carry you!

ME: NO!

We were standing under the Fenway Park bleachers, which during a rain delay doubled as a hide away cave with all the amenities that ancient caveman would have thought were terrible. The sun had long ago set along with the time when I was usually put into bed.

This was a special day though. A night game!

FATHER: Wayne!

I sat down at that point. Luckily my pants were already soaked from the rain delay so I didn't give too much thought to the sticky liquid that was suddenly seaping through my courderoys.

My Father turned a color that is best described as Fatherly Rage Red. Crayola could have made a million dollars off the color.

FATHER: The game is going to be called off.

ME: Then we can wait.

By now a small crowd had gathered. Mostly glaring at my father for daring to take his child away from a baseball game. I squeezed my eyes shut to make my father go away. At least that is how I remember the story.

Yes, I was ticked off. This was my birthday present. My first baseball game ever and my father - hater of sports - was ruining it for me!

Since my eyes were closed I felt his hands first. One on each shoulder. My eyes burst open long enough for tears to flood them as he bodily carried me out of Fenway Park.

Oh, where was my Mother during all of this? Shaking her head in disagreement as I was carried off.

FATHER: The ticket will be good for the makeup game.

The next morning I woke up to find out the game HAD been played. I didn't talk to my father for two weeks.

TWENTY SOMETHING YEARS LATER...ON A SATURDAY
Danielle was shaking her head in disagreement against me.

It was a gorgeous sunny day as we pushed Sienna through the cobbled streets of Cobbile Hill on our way to a play date with her daycare friend Tristan. Sienna was keeping a sharp lookout for dogs while she munched on her ever present cheerios. I was rehashing a conversation Danielle and I had been replaying for three days now.

There would be no Sunday baseball game for Sienna and myself.

On Danielle's side: weather reports, that she had been fighting a cold for nine days, and common-sense.

On my side: twenty years of fury at my father and a tiny bit of logic.

My logic was that Sienna would have to get used to inclement weather at some games. What better time than early in her life to teach her? We could layer her in rain gear - she loves the rain I had pointed out.

Danielle was not budging on this. I said a tiny bit of logic.

Danielle changed the subject to which bodega to get water from on Atlantic Avenue. I looked back at my daughter. Our children never know the battles we attempt to fight for them.

What we are willing to sit through.

A FEW MONTHS AGO
"I got enough sitting in the cold in Buffalo that's why."

My father was on the other end of the phone as I picked on him about not wanting to stay at the game. How I would never do that to my child.

I asked him what we was talking about. He never went to a sporting event in his life until my brother and I started sports.

Turns out not to be true.

When we lived in upstate New York the company he was Vice President for had Buffalo Bills season tickets. In the name of corporate synergy and happiness my father would go to the games with my mother.

I was shocked. It was like finding out there WAS an Easter Bunny.

"You sat in the cold?" I asked.

"Unfortunately," he laughed.

"What about us kids?"

"We'd leave you with your mother's friends, go tail gate, and watch the game. All I remember is how cold it was."

I wondered why my father would do such a thing. He laughed again.

"For the love of your mother."

YESTERDAY
"You know my mother will be here the whole day?"

I didn't answer. When the promise of a non-baseball game came through we had invited Grandma Trudy over for the day. It had been two weeks since she had seen Sienna.

It was 11:30 in the morning, Danielle had half an eye on the conversation with me, half an eye on her email as she was waiting for the game to be officially be called. The rain had just started coming down in bucketfuls, pushing toward Noah's Ark level at a rapid pace.

"Game is called," Danielle said, her Iphone bleeping at her, "you glad we didn't go?"

"No," I lied.

Danielle sighed as she tweeted out the game status. She knew she was right. I knew she was right. I'm just glad the game was canceled and would be made up.

Unlike twenty years earlier.

A kid doesn't forget such moments.

ADDENDUM
I should aside here that my father NEVER raised a hand to me. Actually his parenting advice to myself and my brother, If you get mad punch a door; never the child - the door can be replaced, not the child. My sister-in-law is horrified by this advice, my brother and I merely nod since we really did deserve a smack every now and again.

Wayne

13 Baseball Sundays with Sienna: Game 1 - part 2

Part 2 of Game 1

The wind always blasts you in the face.

That the first thing you take in when you exit the corporate office onto the right field ramp. On a hot day it causes a temperature illusion as you exit air conditioned offices into a wonderfully shading spot, giving you the not exactly true belief you are not actually standing in a New York inferno. On a cold day it peels your clothes off instantly and then attempts to freeze off your skin layer-by-layer.

Sienna scrunched her face up, nearly vanishing beneath her pink winter hat. I knew 1a child can make a face tinier, somehow she managed to minimize her head. Maybe she just slumped into her tiny sleeping bag. I know there is a different name for the bag that covers her in the stroller, really though it is a tiny sleeping bag.

The second thing you take in when you exit the corporate office onto the right field ramp is a surprisingly good view of the parking lot, the 7 train, and part of the chop shops. Oh, sorry, the "secondary car service market."

Sienna wasn't impressed by the view. She may have even growled at me.

I got her into the sun as fast as possible so she wouldn't start screaming. I will now let you onto a not-secret-all bit of parenting thought. 97% of the actions we take as a parent of a toddler is to minimize a potential upset child. Parents will claim we are trying to make them into better future citizens, or make the world a better place, or prepare the child for life.

We are lying. We don't want out child to cry. We inherently know our child will be cranky, upset, screaming little demon children and lead to conversations that my father and mother once had about myself and my brother:

"You keep the kids, I'll keep the pictures."

That is the level a child can cause a parent to reach.

When I say I don't want her to start screaming, I know this contradicts my earlier statement that I don't care if she throws a tantrum. I really do mean both. I also know that I wanted her in the sun as quickly as possible.

The Pepsi Porch
The Pepsi Porch were the first seats I ever sat in at Citi Field. I wish I remembered that at the time I taking the elevator up there - I wasn't. Either way, Sienna and I have a nice commonality, even when it is completely coincidental.

You could hear the low crack of batting practice, maybe even a little thump of the ball hitting the mitt, and definitely the early season sound of a child asking his father for a hot dog.

One picture and two minutes later we were rolling off the Porch. It was only 11:48 AM and cold. Sienna wasn't suitably distracted by the field going ons. There weren't enough people for her to check out. Daddy certainly isn't interesting enough.

Coincidentally the first time I sat in the Pepsi Porch is cold, there was a rain delay, and my friends and I lasted about the same about of time. Sienna and I continued the path of what my friends and I did the first time.

We went to the club.

Caesar's Club
I really wish the Caesar's Club would put a few slots or perhaps a black jack table in it. Even rolling my daughter in I felt that way. Being pre-noon and the first day to the park for a lot of people (or so I imagine) the club is thinly populated.

Which is great for Sienna and myself.

Caesar's Club has window the runs the length the exterior of the ballpark and it is slightly cordoned off by a large wall. A brilliant person added in soft couches, plush one person king seats grouped together and some coffee tables since the brilliant person most likely had children and knew they needed a spot to run around. Some large screen TVs add to the ambiance and are tuned in to SNY so the parents can still catch the game.

We parked ourselves onto an area with four king seats with a view of a TV.

Sienna was thrilled to be released. At least that was the reason I told myself as she threw her arms around my neck and clutched on for dear life as she peered over my shoulder.

Okay, maybe she just loves Daddy.

Okay, most likely she was exhibiting her usual caution for new situations. Caution for new situations entails 15 minutes of peering around, considering her options and then venturing out to the new environment.

In this case the usual 15 minutes took 18 minutes before she signalled that she wanted to be put on the floor. She she signalled for her cheerios. Signalling for her cheerios consists of bouncing up and down on knees while reaching skyward. This is not to be confused with "pick me" which is she performs the same action yet does not bounce.

Sienna's cheerio bounce was interupted when a mother with a baby carriage covered completely in Mets gear came to a rest at the seats next to us. How do I know it was a mother? You can tell, trust me.

I started talking with the mother. In the baby carriage was a four-month old going to her first baseball game. The mother was joined by her other child, a five year old boy dressed head-to-toe in Mets gear, and the father who was adorned similarly.

The entire scene was to Sienna's interest. Especially given the bag of popcorn the father was putting on the table of the son to eat.

Sienna can be cat-like when she wants something. Like the pieces of popcorn that came to rest of the floor of the Caesar's Club carpeted floor. I got my hands around her as she reached within a couple of feet of the renegade kernels.

The mother chuckled at the entire situation while the father gave a bored look. The mother was in the midst of feeding the newborn milk and then hustled off to change her. The father maintaining the same bored look the entire time.

Maybe someday I'll have that look. Either way I manuevered Sienna back to our spot where various older strangers cooed and smiled at Sienna. Sienna maintained her composure while nibbling on cheerios and taking everything in.

Sienna's first pitch & a Stroll
I made the decision that stuffing Sienna back into stroller to take her out for a live first pitch wasn't happening. She wasn't showing any interest in her milk, her toys, or even the cheerios anymore.

When she stops moving around this is the indication that she is tired and most likely wants a nap.

Therefore the first pitch of the Sunday season was...two guys nearly blocking the view of the tv. I guess not every Sunday will be perfect.

Still, it was now about 1:20 and Danielle was still working. Which left me with a tired child, too cold to go outside and the need to put her down for a nap. A parent will do what a parent needs to do in this situation.

I put her in the stroller and started rolling her around the Caesar's Club.

This isn't that unusual. At least judging from the lack of reaction from people. I don't know what I was expecting. From the staff it was complete indifference and from strangers it was knowing smiles.

I was just happy that Sienna was enjoying the trip. Her eyes darted about as she checked out the various food offerings. Definitely my daughter as she looked at a pastrami sandwich.

On the fifth strolled around the Caesar's Club I noticed a young girl sitting on a couch near Sienna and I had first started.

The girl with the bookNormally I would not have noticed a young girl, probably ten or eleven years old decked out in pink Mets gear (suitable until age 7, come on parents!). Except she had lounged herself on the couch and was reading a book.

I respect a move like that. Reading takes priority and there was no stopping her.

As she sat there her mother, carrying french fries, joined her on the couch. The young daughter repositioned herself to cuddle against the maternal one. The maternal one ate french fries and watched the game.

I had to smile. I KNOW I will be doing the same thing with Sienna at some point. At least the parent was in good spirits about the entire situation. She even gave a smile to me as I strollered past.

Starting my sixth time through.

Sienna makes her moveI made it a full circle before Sienna became restless. The nap was definitely NOT going to happen, so I released her from her baby bondage to see if she wanted to get a little exercise.

Maybe it was the familiarity of six times around the place but Sienna bolted the second I put her on the flood. The pitter patter of little feet as she headed toward the salad bar. The smile of a Caesar Club worker's face as Sienna headed toward her.

My look of concern as Sienna banged a left toward the main dining area and the foot traffic.

"Um, excuse my baby," I said as Sienna reached the dining area. Usually Sienna has zero interest in tiles. This time she left the rug and continued on her journey.

The patrons laughed. It is hard to be angry on Opening Day weekend. Though if Sienna crawls in there during a hot day during a losing streak she may get stepped on.

I picked Sienna up, turned her around and encouraged her to crawl back to our home base. I know, sometimes Daddy's are no fun. Danielle checked in around that time, saying she was done with her work and would be coming by with some food.

Which was good since I hadn't eaten all day.

Sienna's pizza
Sienna ventured back to our starting point.

Meanwhile the Girl with the book was joined by her father. The mother laughing as she headed back out to the game.

I arrived in time for the 1following conversation.

Father: Would you--

Girl: Reading.

Father: It's--

Girl. --cold. I'm reading.

Father: But.

Girl: Daaaadddd.

Boy I can DEFINITELY wait for Sienna to grow up and have those conversations. Some people say, "I can't wait for my child to talk!" Danielle and myself take a more practical approach. We don't wish for anything.

Danielle met up with us holding a culinary delight. Sienna gave her best "hi Mommy!" smile, which is an intoxicating grin that is specifically for Mommy (I get a more low rent version, which is slighly below the leve the cat gets.) I gave my best "hi wife!" smile, quickly spying the four slice of Two Boots pizza she was holding.

See, Mommy's always nourish. This was a no-brainer since I love pizza. My stomach can attest to this. Also Sienna has enjoyed pizza in the past. Nibbling off the ends while grinning madly. Though since she wasn't interested in cheerios she certainly wouldn't be--

Sienna went right for the pizza.

Mommy, Daddy, and Sienna then sat and ate four slices of pizza for the family's first food of the season.

Sienna goes home not having seen any of the live action
Less than half an hour later we rolled Sienna out into the parking lot. She didn't see a pitch the day, I think I explained to her a few terms, she certainly saw some colors. She WAS bribed with food, so at least that part of the plan worked.

On the way how she fell asleep to the sounds of the Mets on the radio. An event that is certain to be repeated time and again through out this summer. At least until she starts asking for Yo Gabba Gabba.

Wayne