Just to be the man who lived 1,000 months and fell down at your door

I clicked on my Bloglines page this morning and found 771 unread posts waiting for me. In fact, just about the only site that wasn't staring imperiously at me with its bold, impatient typeface was my own. So much has happened to the men and women I read over the past week; lives have come and gone, and I'm feeling a bit of a shitheel for not having had the time to e-mail and convey my congratulations, and my condolences.

Now that the afternoons are longer, the boys and I have been braving Weather Whiplash (It's 50 degrees! It's 90 degrees! It's fucking 50 degrees again!) and spending lots of time at the park. I've been workshopping for the 10 weeks of 2-on-1 childcare that will start in the middle of June, honing my skills at accommodating two willful minds whose wants rarely intersect. The one thing they do agree on is that they each must have All Daddy, All The Time. Which frankly is a pretty wonderful predicament.

The game of the moment is baseball, and the boys and I spend lots of time throwing and catching and building up eye-hand coordination. Robert isn't all that good at catching yet, so he's compensated by creating a game called Catch-Touch which (oh! sweet irony!) devalues catching altogether. Person 1 throws the ball, and if Person 2 catches it Person 1 can 1) throw his mitt as high in the air as possible, 2) run someplace over there somewhere, and 3) run back to where he was originally standing. If Person 1 gets back "home" without being tagged, he scores a run.

The rules tend to evolve faster than I can comprehend them. For example, I used to be able to tag Robert anywhere. Then it was only below the waist. Then it was only below his knees, and now it's a patch of skin about an inch in diameter on his upper right ankle. Oh--and I have to throw the ball from farther than 20 feet. The upshot of all this is:

• If he doesn't catch the ball, I can't score any runs.
• If I catch the ball, I have to hit a running target 20 feet away. And it's not like I can put any speed on the throw, because other park revelers might think ill of a daddy whipping a tennis ball at his kid.
• If I don't catch the ball, I have to go chase it down. And he runs anyway.

When it's time to go home, he's usually up by around 20 runs. Needless to say, I'm feeling a lot like the Washington Generals.

I'm also feeling more fit, though. And that's a good thing, because in the next few weeks I will 1) attend my 20th college reunion and 2) turn 500 months old. This latter milestone makes me really happy for some reason--maybe because the last month has been so busy and fun and revelatory, and I want the next 500 to follow the pattern. I'm not sure who'll be around to help me celebrate, or what we're all going to do, but there will definitely be some sort of whip-around. Got any ideas?

Comments

[You can call me, 'Sir']

500 months is a pretty big one. That's pewter, right? Or is it plywood? I can never remember what symbols go with what birthdays/anniversaries. Either way, though, be careful lighting the candles on your cake.

[Jenny]

Ah! The Proclaimers! I am going to be singing that song now for the rest of the day. Its a good thing I love it.

[21stCenturyMom]

And to think I let the 500 month mark slip right by me, unnoticed.

You obviously need to do something that involves 500 of something else but for the moment I'm fresh out of ideas.

[kyran]

Seven hundred and seventy one??? How many feeds do you subscribe to?? It sounds like the RSS version of Caligula.

[sally]

I had to laugh re: the 2nd bullet point. I can just see Robert getting pegged by LOD. I'm sorry...but it's funny (and I do have kids).

500 of anything can tempt fate...500 jello shots, 500 butterfly kisses from Robert...hmmm, it's going to take some thought...tra la la la la

[Anon]

Great way to celebrate.....throw out 500 things !!!

[MammaLoves]

I like the idea of 500 jello shots (except for the imagined 500 day hangover sure to follow).

Try whiffle balls instead of tennis balls. Then you can whip them at them without drawing the hairy eyeballs of bystanders.

[Mom101]

I would love to be a part of any/all 500 month celebrations, if only to be with the brilliant sole who coined the expression "weather whiplash."

[Mom101]

oh...and that would be soul.

Although I'm all for intelligent fish who live to be 500 months.

[liz]

I love both this post and The Proclaimers.

[tkkerouac]

nice to find you , love your blog!

[Papa Bradstein]

Dude. We live in, er, near D.C.

Are you sure you didn't mean the Washington Nationals?

[Nick Badway]

Hey Bro,
Nice. Curly Neal was my favorite.
Now, on to more important things. If you can tell me how to combine your game with Smear the Queer, you'll be my hero.

Badway away.

[libby]

Wow, 500 months made me realize I have been reading you for quite a while. I remember your XL birthday as well. Have fun celebrating!