Wednesday, April 27, 2005
My determined angel
Lord knows I whined like a little bitch enough about the whole Boise thing (for a refresher, see here and here). And even after all that, my angel of a wife came through for me today on a basketball-related errand, of all things. Here's the tale, briefly.
Once I decided not to go to Boise, it was some salve to know that the NCAA regionals would be in Oakland next year -- less than 2 miles from my house. I researched the ticket process over the course of several days...and then promptly forgot all about it until yesterday, the day before the ticket application had to be submitted. Holy crap, methinks! I'm going to miss it! And the application had to be in the hot little hands of whoever is handling this deal -- not mailed. And the box office for drop-offs -- open from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. Not so convenient for me, so I asked Nicola if she would take the application over. She graciously said yes, and the ordeal subsequently involved packing up a jittery baby, battling traffic for a rare mid-day A's game, talking her way into the parking lot to avoid paying $14, finding the box office, waiting in line as the previously mentioned baby went from jittery to meltdown, and THEN it started to rain on the way back to the car. Even after all that -- she perservered and turned in the application.
Naturally, I fell all over myself saying thank you and sorry at the same time. Nicola is kind and thoughtful, so I suppose I was not too surprised at her efforts on my behalf. But still -- pretty heroic (I use this word cognizant of its overuse and misapplication) and downright sweet. She said she was about to give up...but she realized that I would make every effort to complete a task for her if I knew it meant as much to her as the tickets did to me. Make sense, in a run-on-sentence kind of way? This statement of hers gave me pause...would I really do that? I can point to more than my share of selfish acts, including some real doozies. But yes, I absolutely would do this for Nicola...and much more. Turning in all the metaphorical ticket applications in the world would not repay adequately what she gives to me each and every day, but I'll keep trying.
And you, Bean -- I'm not giving up on you and me as a couple, even though we've had some rough stretches the last couple of nights. Mommy tells me that it's normal for a baby at this stage of development to begin to demonstrate some preferences for people, particularly toward the primary caregiver. So you and Mommy got this nice rapport going, and I come home from work and scoop you up, and out comes a less-than-happy noise (at least lately). I don't take it personally; some day, when you know me a little better, you'll think I hung the moon and painted the rainbows, just for you. So don't worry, Lindsay, about my occasional frustrated tone or body language. I'm overflowing with second chances for adorable little ones like you...and those smiles replenish my soul, so keep those up too.
Once I decided not to go to Boise, it was some salve to know that the NCAA regionals would be in Oakland next year -- less than 2 miles from my house. I researched the ticket process over the course of several days...and then promptly forgot all about it until yesterday, the day before the ticket application had to be submitted. Holy crap, methinks! I'm going to miss it! And the application had to be in the hot little hands of whoever is handling this deal -- not mailed. And the box office for drop-offs -- open from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. Not so convenient for me, so I asked Nicola if she would take the application over. She graciously said yes, and the ordeal subsequently involved packing up a jittery baby, battling traffic for a rare mid-day A's game, talking her way into the parking lot to avoid paying $14, finding the box office, waiting in line as the previously mentioned baby went from jittery to meltdown, and THEN it started to rain on the way back to the car. Even after all that -- she perservered and turned in the application.
Naturally, I fell all over myself saying thank you and sorry at the same time. Nicola is kind and thoughtful, so I suppose I was not too surprised at her efforts on my behalf. But still -- pretty heroic (I use this word cognizant of its overuse and misapplication) and downright sweet. She said she was about to give up...but she realized that I would make every effort to complete a task for her if I knew it meant as much to her as the tickets did to me. Make sense, in a run-on-sentence kind of way? This statement of hers gave me pause...would I really do that? I can point to more than my share of selfish acts, including some real doozies. But yes, I absolutely would do this for Nicola...and much more. Turning in all the metaphorical ticket applications in the world would not repay adequately what she gives to me each and every day, but I'll keep trying.
And you, Bean -- I'm not giving up on you and me as a couple, even though we've had some rough stretches the last couple of nights. Mommy tells me that it's normal for a baby at this stage of development to begin to demonstrate some preferences for people, particularly toward the primary caregiver. So you and Mommy got this nice rapport going, and I come home from work and scoop you up, and out comes a less-than-happy noise (at least lately). I don't take it personally; some day, when you know me a little better, you'll think I hung the moon and painted the rainbows, just for you. So don't worry, Lindsay, about my occasional frustrated tone or body language. I'm overflowing with second chances for adorable little ones like you...and those smiles replenish my soul, so keep those up too.
// posted by Bill @ 9:27 PM 
