Dominic got a little dirty, but it was an adventure nonetheless and allthemore.
(The Peekskill Commuter is back in Peekskill again)
Monday, April 22
As I crossed the bridge, the train was coming around the mountain.
I had just run the 50 yard dash for 500 yards down Requa, because I overslept and had half the time to get ready as usual.
It had been a very long and trying weekend of incessant driving and teen rebellion.
First, on Friday night the 11 year old whimpered a last-minute plea to attend the local talent show, because the girl he has a crush on was performing. So, since I am not a heartless father, I conceded and instead of his mother dropping him off in Manhattan as planned, Adela, Milo and I drove 45 minutes to Bloomfield and met Dominic and Enzo at Brookdale Elementary for the show.
Ultimately the extra effort was worth it. The kids were all very cute, the boys were happy to hang out with their friends, Milo loved the laser light show, and Adela, as usual, was an angel who helped keep things positive and in perspective.
The next morning Dominic, Milo and I had to leave by 9 AM for Frenchtown, some godforsaken place in farmland country that was on the border of Jersey and Pennsylvania. It took an hour and 45 minutes to get there and was only the first of two travel soccer games this weekend.
I did my best to enjoy the game and ended up having a nice conversation with a few of the fathers.
However, what really motivated me to make the most of it were the enlightened words from my high school friend, Allison.
Upon posting some pics to Facebook she commented:
"Welcome to the life of a soccer dad. Let the adventures begin. LOL! There are many places I got to see because of soccer."
Although her words were tongue in cheek, I took them to heart. She made me see the silver lining.
Inspired to have an adventure and take in uncharted territory, I decided to take an alternative route back home to the city, one that would take us on a few more backroads and only add a few more minutes according to Google Maps. I was impressed by the sheer beauty of the waves of green pastures and the rows of blossoming trees, spotted by free roaming horses and rustic farm houses.
"Welcome to the life of a soccer dad. Let the adventures begin.
LOL! There are many places I got to see because of soccer."
Sage advice from my friend Allison.
The charm of rural living wore off once we got back on the main road and were stuck in traffic. We didn't get home until close to 4 o'clock.
This left us a few hours for a walk in the park with all the boys and dinner a la Adela. It was a pleasant way to cap a long day.
Alas, all good things must come to an end and the trouble started anew the next morning.
While rushing to clean the apartment to have it ready for guests that were coming from the Ukraine, we also had to pack a week’s worth of luggage and baby equipment, along with all the boys clothes and things, and leave by 11:30 to make Sid's and Dominic's soccer games separately.
Of course, it didn't happen.
Despite my efforts to prepare by packing half our things in the cars on Saturday night, we were still scrambling and did not leave till noon. Milo had a poopy diaper, Dominic lost his shoes, Sid forgot his glasses and backpack, and Enzo (Oh, Enzo) was all ready-to-go, but he refused to help, because the adolescent mind believes that taking care of oneself and only oneself is the best strategy for surviving how stupid everyone else is.
Ugh.
I will concede that “other people do suck” sometimes, especially frazzled parents who don't communicate a change of plans and unreasonably expect their children to figure it all out while their attention is held hostage by Sunday morning cartoons.
The kids had thought we were coming back to the apartment after the games and thus made no effort whatsoever to get ready. Our hours of frantic cleaning and organizing was simply perceived as "Well, that's what parents are always doing." To boot, the boys, understandably, simply didn't want to be here.
Disenchantment + disengagement = apathy.
Having moved most of their stuff to Peekskill, they didn't have clothes, books, games and all the other things that make time away from their friends and with their other parent somewhat tolerable.
When you add a firebomb of teenage angst to this not-so-pretty picture, you've got to suddenly call in the reserves.
After a lot a yelling and a few held-back tears, somehow we got everything packed and by noon we were on our way. For most of the way I was assaulted by the 14 year old with probing questions of "Why two homes? Why two cars? Why? Why? Why?," implying that all this misperceived luxury was at his expense.
Well knowing that explaining the greater context of parental decisions, obligation and one’s devotion to the family as a whole was futile, especially to an adolescent who had already made up his mind, I merely smiled and remained silent, while watching the road and other cars, ensuring I fulfilled my greater responsibility of getting Dominic to his game and making sure that we all arrived safely.
I waylaid the inquisition by asking Enzo to plug his music into the car’s stereo system. I would tolerate the angst-ridden music of his-choice if it calmed the beast. I told him he could hang out with his friends while Dominic played and this seemed to allay the anxiety as well.
Ultimately, he did not meet up with his friends because they had just gotten up at noon.
Since Dominic’s game was postponed until 1:30 because half of the opposing team was late, I challenged Enzo to push a 130 pound football blocking sled at the back of the bleachers. After he figured out that you had to lift to defray the friction, we moved onto rolling monster truck tires across the lawn.
Ultimately, both Dominic and Sidney’s teams lost 4 to 1, but they seemed happy to have played.
After the game we went to the Old Town Pub and had bar grub for lunch: nachos, the fried sampler and a burger. By this time, everything was copasetic, as if no upset-and-arguing had occurred all but a couple hours earlier.
After I dropped them off at their mother’s, I drove the hour back to Peekskill. It was a pleasant drive back and I was foolishly looking forward to a little rest.
Alas, half the house was in disarray, because the workmen were only a third of the way finished on the floors; we had to set up a bed for Sid to sleep in; there was nowhere to sit, so I had to move a lot of the furniture—a couple of cabinets and the dining room chairs—around by myself; and there was a fine coat of sawdust almost everywhere.
To boot, I was feeling unusually exhausted.
By bedtime at 10:30 I had the chills and my body was aching all over. It took a couple of hours and several layers of clothing and blankets before I started to warm up again. Then I was feverish. I was drinking a lot of water to rehydrate and this compelled me to get up and drag to the bathroom 6 or 7 times until about 3 AM when things felt under control.
By this time by body temperature was back to normal, and now I was simply sweating out all the toxins created by the two pints at lunch, all the coffee I had had throughout the weekend and the cortisol caused by my life. I soaked two t-shirts by five, and an hour and half later it was time to get back up to make my way to work all over again.
The alarm went off at 7:30, I got up and turned it off. Predictably, I fell back asleep and did not wake up again until 8. Running late, I simply took a shower, got dressed and had a small cup of coffee that Chelsea had kindly made for me as I was getting ready.
I ran down that hill with the long weekend left way behind me.
Allison was right, life is an adventure and if you venture forward with the right attitude, you’re liable to see a lot of new and interesting places, meet as many new and interesting faces, and face your share of new and interesting situations.
Oh, the places you will go.
The Peekskill Commuter
Update: My ex just dropped the A-Bomb on me, announcing she is very likely moving with the kids to Princeton, two hours away from Peekskill. Ugh.
Dealing with teen angst is also...quite an adventure.
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