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On Saturday we had a yard sale and cleared out a garage full of stuff. The bulk of the sale were things we hadn’t touched in the year since we moved in- kitchen wares, fabrics, housewares, books. I managed to sell off some of the old computer equipment I’ve lugged around, all PeeCee stuff but didn’t move any of the Sparcs or their accessories. A doctoral student bought himself the Ikea ware- a steel bar cart and rocking chair- which I delivered. A dozen different people asked about a table we had refinished that we were gifting to a friend and used to display items. I could have sold that table ten times. By the end of the day, the books were free, housewares were pennies and no offer was refused but even then we had stuff left over to donate to the Goodwill. I’ve reclaimed an entire bay which means I need to get started on framing and walling to make myself a workshop. We finished by putting on a barbecue for our parents and in-laws.

Sunday was Father’s Day. Traditionally a lazy day for dad but I had let tasks accumulate over the year so after breakfast I got to work. A trip to the local mega-hardware store later (the blue guys, this time) and I was out seeding the lawn. The gas company had gouged out a patch by the sidewalk fixing a leak and I doubt they are ever coming back to sod it. Everything green (or brown) got sprayed with a treatment for turf grubs. I don’t think about the insect life in the yard but the gas company’s digging had revealed a bounty of things that crawl and kill plants. Between the bugs and the small animals digging for bugs one side of the front lawn is a patchwork of dead grass so it’s out with the Triazicide, which seemed to be the least dangerous as these things go. I had previously cleared the side lawn where the previous owner, for reasons no one knows, buried mature plantings under a ton of gravel. The ton of gravel is no exaggeration. I have a three by six foot pile half-hidden in a corner of the backyard and can’t clear more from the front of the house until I find something to do with it. I broke up the earth with a steel rake and seeded that too. I knocked off some odd jobs around the house and then got down to butchering wood to make a gate for the front porch. Having a good collection of DIY books and some hand tools does not make me a carpenter. Not being the owner of a table saw or chop saw means I get to make mistakes in slow motion and really enjoy them. Swearing helps. The saying goes, “Putty and paint make it what it ain’t” but I’m not so sure. It should look okay from the sidewalk.

It wasn’t the first time Nathan saw a water sprinkler but it was the first time he played in one. I was getting ready to water the newly seeded lawn and had left the back gate unlatched so he came out from the yard see what I was up to. He got all excited when he saw me crouched over the garden hose. His previous explorations with the hose were great fun (it makes the puddles! Oh and did you know a two-year-old can aim a nozzle?) so Dad doing something with a little metal thing and the hose has to be good. I put the water on and after a minute of watching the arcing water he began running his hands through the streams and poking his head into the spray. Trying to drink a sip but getting blasted with the cold water. Laughing and clapping and shouting and stomping. Running in circles around the sprinkler, jumping over it. Thoroughly soaked in his orange t-shirt, gray shorts and blue sandals. I wished I had a camera. He won’t remember but I will.

Nate has out-grown his crib. When I put him to bed last night, he swung himself out and refused to stay in the “little bed”. Two or three times we’ve found him out of his crib but he didn’t do it often and would thump out of there hard and cry. Now he can do it reliably. He’s tall for his age and physically adept. Like a firefighter exiting a window he grabs a corner, pulls himself onto the rail, swings one leg over, rolls off, then hangs down and drops to his feet facing the crib. He does it faster than I can put him back in. I was something of an escape artist when I was a toddler so I’m not entirely surprised.

So last night was his first night in the “big bed”. There was screaming and crying. He pointed to the little bed and then to the big bed. I tucked him in and he climbed out. After a few tries in each, I put on the mean daddy face and with the mean daddy voice told him to pick. No crying. Go. To. Sleep. He chose the big bed and stayed in all night. He even slept late and this morning I dismantled the crib.

We’re not looking forward to naps. Nate hates naps, he acts as if he might miss something if he sleeps. The kid will fall over before going off for a nap if we don’t force him into bed. Now that he’s in the big it might be worse. I might have to put a latch on his door to keep him in.

Yesterday morning we had an emergency in the kitchen. Maria found water leaking from the pantry, puddling under the shelves and trickling across the hall tile. The pantry was the previous owner’s idea and, like everything else he’s done, was done poorly. It’s a shallow closet built against two uninsulated outside walls and over a partially uninsulated crawl space. We discovered one of his previous feats- running water pipes in an outside wall against the sheathing instead of beneath the insulation or inside the sill of the foundation where they belong- when a pipe froze. Joy. When you own instead of rent, there’s no landlord to call. Do it yourself has taken on a whole new meaning. We had planned to have a dozen parents and kids over for dinner and now this. Not good.

The water wasn’t running and I didn’t hear anything, so I got down on my hands and knees to sop it up before investigating. It smelled like cherries. And the wall was damp and smelled like cherries. So did all the paper recycling. I thought, “What the hell happened?” and dug into the far corner of the pantry floor. A can of soda had frozen and burst. We don’t drink soda except as a drink mixer so it must have been stashed there during the summer and the can gave up after a freeze/thaw cycle. A half-dozen other cans were ballooned with ice and ready to pop.

I was very relieved.

Looks like we’re going to get a good snow storm. The kind I remember as a child where we kids could make tunnels and plows piled snow high enough that we could hollow them out to make forts. As an adult I’m caught up in the sound of it. I like to get out in the first few hours when the city noise follows everyone indoors and it’s quiet except for the crunching of snow underfoot, the click of the four-way and the buzz of the street lamps. I’m all set with the shovels and snow thrower.

Except I’m not going to be there. Work has me in NYC tomorrow to instruct a training. I’m unsure if Amtrak will run let alone on time, so I’ve headed south in advance of the storm to try my luck with Metronorth. Won’t make for much of a Valentine’s day and I’ll miss my son’s first big snow.

Happy new year. It’s a bit different celebrating a new year as the parent to a toddler. For one thing, I know that he’ll be up bright and early. If I’m not ready, tough. For another, by the time we had kids I had tried on more than a few hangovers and at some point realized they didn’t fit. Not to mention that I have a long list of projects around the house and it’s a rare day off. All a bit of a damper but I don’t mind passing on the hard-drinking of “amateur night”.

So we wrote holiday cards (yeah, they’re late), popped a bottle of bubbly wine, toasted and turned in by 11pm. When I woke it was gray and rainy and Nate had slept late, to almost 8 a.m. A couple of extra hours of sleep is a thoughtful new year’s gift these days. I spent the better part of the day putting up organizers in the spare room in the attic we use as a walk-in closet.

Oh, the exciting life I lead.