A Fresh New Level of Hell Today
It started in Elmhurst…
We live in Oak Park, several suburbs east of Elmhurst. So for us, Elmhurst might as well be Lombard or Hinsdale or any other outlying burb we’re unfamiliar with. We don’t know from Elmhurst. This is not where we hang out. But Nola, my 9yo daughter, has been taking Irish dance at her school, and all the practices and pick ups that occur after the bell every Wednesday, as well as the specially purchased dance shoes, rented Celtic dress, and previous recitals, have led us here. Elmhurst.
I’m not dismissing it. I’m sure there are many families that would kill for such a festive and time-honored opportunity.
We’re in the car making good time despite what Siri suggested when we first pulled out of the garage. My Aunt Harriet is sitting in front. She stayed over last night so she could come with us, to bear witness. Pam, my wife, is sitting in back between Nola and Judah. Judah is 5.
Judah: Are we there yet, Dad?
Steve: Not yet, bud.
Judah: When? When are we going to be there?
Steve: Soon. Very soon.
Siri: Exit to the right on Butterfield Road.
Judah: Exit to the right on Dudderfeel Road, Dad.
Steve: Thanks, bud.
I drop everyone off near the staging area. This is where all the people in the parade gather before everything starts. It’s car after car after van after festooned trailer. Every vehicle has a placard and some sort of costumed gang loitering nearby. There are lots of police and official looking persons in bright orange vests. It’s still early, but the sidewalks are beginning to fill with parade attendees, most of whom are wearing something green; sweater, jacket, hat, oversized novelty sunglasses, etc.
Pam takes Nola to find her troupe, and my aunt takes Judah to find a place along the route to wait. I embark on my BRAND-NEW strategy where I park near the END of the route — because two weeks ago at a smaller parade much closer to where we live, I made the novice mistake of parking near the START of the route — which meant we had to walk all the way back to the beginning and then wait behind all the other cars trying to get home.
I don’t even know where the end is. But it doesn’t matter. There is NOFUCKINGWHERE to park. Every time I think I have a chance, it’s a driveway or a fire hydrant. Turns out EVERYONE AND THEIR EXTENDED FAMILY INCLUDING THE NANNY AND THE NANNY’S BOYFRIEND had the same genius idea. So I go all the way back past the beginning and park in the next neighborhood over.
GAH!
I trek to the parade area and finally find Judah and my aunt. It takes awhile because I overshoot by a couple blocks. Some of it is because I didn’t pinch and zoom enough on my phone. But most of it is because I didn’t see the text my aunt sent where they decided to move up a block.
Gah!
Anyway, they’re in the first several blocks of the route standing at the end of a driveway. My aunt says only a few floats have gone by and I haven’t missed anything. I call Pam to figure out when to expect her and Nola. She says they haven’t started yet and no one knows when they’re going to get going and she’s cold and miserable but Nola’s in the van with the other kids so she’s fine and we are not doing any more goddamn parades.
Steve: It’s going to be ok.
Pam: NO, IT’S NOT!
Judah has his toy construction cones with him. Sometimes it’s a flashlight, a toy axe, or a fire engine, but today it’s his construction cones. It would be funnier if he carefully placed them on the ground to claim his personal space, but he just wants to carry them. All the kids around us are getting candy left and right because they have happy eager faces and plastic bags held open wide. The parade people keep skipping Judah because he’s this little kid just standing there holding bright orange construction cones in a puffy coat and a fluffy hat with a slightly bewildered look on his face. The ONLY genius moment I have today is when I tell him to hold the cones upside down.
Actually, I have another genius moment, but it comes much later…
NARRATOR: It’s true.
Some Shriners zoom past us on their tiny cars. Only they aren’t cars. They’re coolers, like where you put beer and juice boxes, which couldn’t be cooler.
Except when the Shriners on tiny cars zoom past, which actually IS cooler.
Finally Nola shows up. She’s so damn cute and kicky. And such perfect form. I don’t think any of them, except the older girls, have such good form. I mean, Nola can practically kick her own shoulder blades.
Pam, in the parent pack behind the dancers, is smiling because she’s with our friend Jen. (Phew. Thank god!) She waves and comes over to hug Judah before getting back in formation.
A parade is like life. It will seem to slow down for a moment, and then lurch forward unexpectedly. And herein lies my big mistake. I make the decision to follow Nola’s squad instead of going back to retrieve the car. My daughter is the only reason I’m here. I just want to see her. I don’t need factory seconds candy that tastes like chalk or voting materials from people for whom I’m ineligible to vote. So with my aunt in tow, I grab Judah’s hand and start walking at a good clip to catch up.
But a step and a half later…
“Dad, will you carry me?”
I hoist Judah up on my shoulders and begin a series of parade-style leapfrogs. I speed-walk ahead of the dancers, get some pictures as they kick-prance past, and repeat. Is it even possible to have too many pictures and videos of my daughter Irish dancing in a St Patrick’s Day parade? Probably not, but I don’t think about where this is will end. I don’t know that it will ever end. It just seems to keep going. And going. Finally, after what seems like lifetimes, I see a 7–Eleven. And some shops. Maybe we’re getting close? Pam breaks rank and walks over to me on the curb.
Pam: I think it’s going to end soon. Do you want to go back and get the car?
Steve: NO! IT’S LIKE MILES AND MILES AWAY!
But out loud…
Steve: Sure, no prob.
Harriet and I quickly do the math that confirms it’s a shorter path for her to stay with Pam and Nola. So Judah and I turn around and begin our journey back to the car. Every 20 feet I get a sharp pain in my back, which is followed by a sharp pain in my hips, which is followed by a sharp pain in my legs. Plus my dogs are barking. Also, an ugly combination of Judah and gravity have seemingly compressed my spine. I’ve easily lost half a foot in height in the last 15 blocks. And with every step my shoulders feel like they’re going to split apart.
Judah: Why is it windy?
Steve: I don’t know, bud. It just is.
Judah: Why is it cold?
Steve: Cause it’s winter.
NARRATOR: It was March — which is technically spring— but it felt a lot like February.
Judah: My leg hurts.
Steve: YOUR LEG HURTS? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! I’M THE BEAST OF BURDEN IN THIS CURRENT SITUATION, DUDE!
But out loud…
Steve: Where’s it hurt, bud?
Judah: Right here.
He points to where I’m holding his leg so that he doesn’t fall to the ground and crack his skull. I move my hand down to his boot and hold his ankle.
Steve: Is this better?
Judah: Yeah.
Steve: Let’s try not to complain anymore, ok? Daddy’s tired.
Judah: I’m tired, too. We’re both tired.
He says it like an old man at the gym on a rest. I laugh.
Steve: You’re right, bud.
My phone buzzes. It’s Pam. She says it’s over and wants to know where they should go. I have no idea because I’VE NEVER BEEN HERE BEFORE. Nonetheless I tell her to start heading back along the parade route, but over a couple blocks on what I believe to be Swain Street, and then I’ll find her with the car. Only whatever I’m saying to her on the phone is not as succinct as what I’ve just written. So the conversation is… tense.
It’s now colder and windier. And OMFG, is it starting to rain?
Judah: Dad?
Steve: Yeah?
Judah: Why is it wet?
Steve: Because it’s raining, bud.
Judah: I don’t want it to rain.
Steve: Neither do I.
Judah: I don’t like it!
Steve: It’s just water, bud. No big deal.
Judah: I DON’T LIKE IT!
Steve: I KNOW. Just be brave. We’re almost there.
NARRATOR: But they weren’t.
Judah: How much farther?
Steve: We’re almost there.
NARRATOR: But they really weren’t.
Judah: Where’s Mom?
Steve: For fuck sake, man! I don’t fucking know! Just be cool!
But out loud…
Steve: She’s on her way, bud. Don’t worry.
Up ahead on the next block I see a school. I remember passing a school from when I first set out days ago. The car is just a block or two past it. The school is on a really really long block, though. Finally I see our car. I reach into my pocket and press the button. But the lights don’t flash and nothing beeps. BECAUSE THIS IS SOMEONE ELSE’S BLACK SUBARU OUTBACK. Fuck. But I know we’re close.
Pam calls again.
Pam: WHERE ARE YOU?! EVERYTHING IS RUINED! WE’RE WET AND COLD AND TIRED! WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST GET THE CAR WHEN YOU FIRST SAW US?! YOU ARE AN AWFUL AWFUL AWFUL MAN! WE ARE NEVER DOING THIS AGAIN! I HATE THIS!
(I might be paraphrasing, but I’m fairly certain this was the gist.)
I know that whatever I say is going to be wrong so I tell her we’re almost to the car. She says that it’s raining too hard and they’re going to stop and wait under a shelter near a street, the name of which I remember passing from when Judah and I first set out on our expedition weeks ago. I wipe my wet phone on my wet pants, and on the next next* block I can see our car. I know it’s our car because of the stickers in the windshield. I press the button as we get nearer.
‘Chirp! Chirp!’
THANK! GOD!
Steve: Ok, bud. We’re here. Just get in and buckle up, ok?
Judah: Where’s Mom?
Steve: FOR FUCK SAKE! I DON’T KNOW! BUT SHE’S FINE, AND YOU’RE FINE! JUST GET BUCKLED IN AND DON’T FUCKING WORRY ABOUT IT!
But out loud…
Steve: We’re going to get her. She’s waiting for us. Get buckled in, bud.
It seems like only two minutes pass before we find Pam, Nola, and my aunt — such is the power of going 40 in a 25. Pam is happy to see us, but she is NOT happy. I can tell. Once everyone is in and buckled, we all commend Nola on her performance and endurance. Then Siri tells us how to get on the highway. As we begin to navigate/negotiate traffic, Pam wants to revisit where things went awry today, but I don’t. I really don’t.
Because we’re not done with the day, people!
There’s MORE!
Nola has rehearsal for an ice skating show later this afternoon AND (happening at the same time) her school has its International Taste Celebration.
(The school event is where everyone brings a dish from their cultural heritage to share with everyone else. I personally love the International Taste Celebration. Not just because of all the different food, but because I can actually see/hear/feel (and yes, taste) diversity being celebrated and appreciated. It’s really kinda beautiful.)
FUN FACT: One year we didn’t have time to make anything so we brought bagels and lox. When we were asked about its cultural significance and origin, Pam and I both said, “Uh, New York?”
Pam had great success with a noodle kugel last year and I know she wants to make it again this year. But the parade has set us back.
Pam: Why don’t we go home and you can feed the kids some lunch while I go to the grocery because I still have to get everything for the kugel.
I quickly do the math… out loud.
Steve: Well, with the time it takes to get home, and then to the grocery, and then back home, and then to make everything, and then to take Nola to her rehearsal, maybe we should skip the kugel.
Nola: NO! WE CAN’T! WE HAVE TO BRING SOMETHING! WE HAVE TO!
NARRATOR: They didn’t. They could just pay something at the door.
Pam: I think it’s really important to Nola that we make something.
Steve: I know, but you need to eat, too. There’s just no time.
Nola: Da-AD!
Steve: Hey, Nola, we just went to YOUR parade, we’re going to YOUR rehearsal, and then we’re going to YOUR school for dinner. So cut us some slack, OK?!
Silence falls upon the car and I am now Walter White.
And that’s when I have my second genius moment. (But just so you know, there won’t be any more. I’m tapped out as I was now two ahead.)
NARRATOR: True.
Steve: Ok, what if we go to the Whole Foods so we can get the kugel stuff, and then have lunch there?
Pam: Oh, that’s a great idea. That’s perfect!
Nola: Thanks, Dad!
I quickly pocket my dad and husband cards.
Pam: Uh oh.
Steve: What?
NOTE TO READER: If you see a possum or raccoon during the day, you know something’s not right. It could be a nasty situation. Not unlike a child who’s fallen asleep in the car.
Pam: Judah’s asleep.
I look in the rear view mirror, push it to the right, and angle it down. Yup. He’s out.
Steve: I can stay in the car while you guys go in.
Pam: No, we’ll wake him. It’s fine.
Steve: Really?
Pam: He hasn’t been sleeping for very long. It’ll be fine.
I pull into the parking lot and find a spot. My aunt gets out, says she’ll start getting the ingredients from the list Pam is texting her. Judah is hard to roust. The kid is OUT. You’d think it was him carrying me on his shoulders all day.
Pam: C’mon, Judah. Wake up, sweetie. We’re going to have lunch. C’mon, Jude.
Nola: Do you know where we are, buddy? We’re in a parking lot.
Either parking or lot is the magic word because Judah’s eyes suddenly pop open. At this point it could go one of two ways. The first is an ugly cocktail of surprise, anger, and crying. But things tip the other way in our favor. There’s surprise, but Judah is able to put it all together fairly quickly and calmly.
Judah: Are we getting groceries?
Steve: We are, bud. But we’re going to get lunch, too. First we’re going to pee, though. Do you have to pee?
Judah: No.
NARRATOR: Yes, he did.
Steve: Well, I want you to try.
Judah: And if I don’t have to go, I don’t have to go, and that’s ok.
Steve: Yup, that’s right.
(This is what we do now. There used to be begging and yelling and crying — from everyone — when we questioned Judah’s need to pee. Somewhere along the timeline I added in a bit of underwriting that said if he didn’t have to go, then he didn’t have to go, and that was ok. And, yes, there are times when he doesn’t have to go. But, in general, say 85–90% of the time, he has to go. Because at any given moment, my son is 85–90% pee.)
Judah goes. As do I. As does Pam and Nola. We do a quick search and rescue for my aunt, but can’t find her.
Steve: Let’s just get something to eat. She’ll find us.
Of course, Harriet is already in the food court area, her cart full of the things Pam needs for the kugel. We pick a bunch of random foods and check out. Well, there’s nothing random about Nola’s order. She gets pizza. She’s easily 98% pizza. (Seriously man, that girl and pizza. But she always picks off the cheese. Don’t know what’s up with that. I should probably get her to try bruschetta.)
NOTE TO SELF: Stick with the salad area and maybe the soups. Everything else is a little suspect. Or dry.
We get home after wolfing down lunch and Pam immediately starts on the kugel. The kids make a great decision to go play upstairs while my aunt hovers around the kitchen should she need to step in and help Pam. (My aunt’s a bit of a chef.) I sit on the chair in the corner and surf my phone because damnit I’ve earned it.
Soon it’s time for ice skating. Pam hands the kugel reins over to my aunt, and looks over at me on the chair across the room.
Pam: I’ll take Nola. We should be back in an hour or so. I’ll text you when we’re close. We’ll park in front, and then we can all go to the Taste.
Steve: Cool.
I call Nola and Judah downstairs. After Pam and Nola leave, almost as soon as the door closes, I fold like flawlessly mixed cake batter and hand Judah the iPad. I just don’t want to deal. It’s best for everyone. And as soon as my aunt finishes the kugel, she gets on a screen, too. I’m sure there are any number of behaviouralists, psychologists, and better human beings who will cluck their tongues and wag their fingers, but as a dude simply trying to live his life… um, hold on, just give me a sec.
In a short while I get a text from Pam that practice is running late. And not long after that I get another one saying they’re on their way. No prob, all good.
I gather the troops, by which I mean I pry Judah from the iPad, and then direct him to wait at the front door while I get his coat and boots from the back. I tell my aunt to get all her stuff from the back and bring it to the front as well. I cover the kugel, which has been cooling on the island, and bring it to the front door and place it on the floor. Then I finally get my own stuff from the back and bring it to the front. I pick up the kugel and we are now all at the front door looking out at the street waiting for Pam and Nola. My front pocket buzzes. I rest the kugel on my opposite hip as I take out my phone. It’s Pam.
Pam: Where are you guys?
Steve: Waiting at the front door. Where are you?
Pam: In the garage. I texted you. Did you not see my texts?
This is a trick question. Any answer will be wrong.
Steve: I didn’t. I was-
Pam: I TEXTED YOU! I SENT YOU LIKE FIVE TEXTS! IT’S TOTALLY RAINING! IT’S POURING! I DON’T WANT TO GET SOAKING WET HELPING EVERYONE IN THE CAR SO I PARKED IN THE GARAGE! YOU ALWAYS SAY TO TEXT AND I TEXTED!
Steve: Ok, uh, um.
(And that was a mistake. The part where I said, ‘Ok, uh, um’. Because it suggested the obvious hassle of us all taking our shoes off (we don’t wear shoes in the house), and then carrying said shoes across the house to the back door. Pam could also probably sense my unease at having to put the kugel down and then having to pick it up again.)
Pam: FINE, FORGET IT! WE’LL COME TO THE FRONT! IT’S REALLY FUCKING RAINING AND WE’RE ALL GOING TO GET WET! THIS FUCKING SUCKS!
Steve: We’ll come to the back. No problem.
Pam: NO, STAY THERE! WE’RE COMING!
Steve: WE’RE ON OUR WAY!
Pam: NO!!!
Steve: WE’RE ON OUR WAY!!!!
I quickly hang up on her. And don’t answer when she calls right back. Normally this would not show up on a list of best practices for a successful marriage. We try not to hang up on each other, but in the current situation, this seems like the best and only way.
Steve: Ok, guys, we have to walk to the back.
Harriet: What? Why?
Steve: They’re in the garage.
Harriet: I thought we were going to meet in front.
Steve: We were, but it’s really raining, and it will be easier to get in the car from inside the garage. It’ll be fine.
Harriet: Ok.
Steve: C’mon, bud. We’re going to walk around to the back.
Judah: Where’s Mom?
Steve: IN THE GODDAMN GARAGE, OK?! YOU’LL SEE HER IN A FUCKING MINUTE!
But out loud.
Steve: In the garage, bud. You’ll see her in a minute. Follow Tata. C’mon.
It’s not a downpour, but it’s definitely raining. And it’s been raining since the parade. So the walk along the side of the house to the garage is more canal than walkway.
Harriet: Stephen. My shoes.
Steve: Sorry.
Harriet: These are my good shoes.
Steve: Sorry. Just stay more on the right side. It’s not that bad.
NARRATOR: But it was, though.
Steve: Judah, don’t jump! C’mon, bud. Just walk.
I have the fear that Pam will appear at the front of the house just as we get to the back — like something out of an O. Henry story, but I can see the car in the window of the garage. Once in the garage, Pam and I both pretend the previous phone conversation didn’t happen. I feel confident I’m doing a better job because I’m like a calm cooling cup of chamomile whereas Pam is like a silent scalding steamer.
As I still have my dad and husband cards in my possession, I drive to the front door of the school. Everyone is thankful, but they all ask what will happen to me.
Steve: Probably get wet.
Nola is able to see some friends from class, but we’re clearly at the tail end of the Taste. All the food is gone. Just chips and some kind of unidentifiable dip. And, of course, the kugel.
Nola: Is there pizza?
Steve: Sorry, sweetie. There’s no pizza. Have some kugel and-
A woman comes around the corner holding several flat boxes of pizza.
Nola: Pizza!
Steve:
Nola: Can I get some?
Steve: Didn’t you have pizza like three hours ago? And last night as well?
Nola nods and follows up with a hopeful shrug.
Steve: Go ahead. Get one for me, too.
Nola: Yay!
Yes, she’s a girl who says yay. And yes, she’s now about 99% pizza.
¯\_(ツ)_/¯
We watch a Tae Kwon Do exhibition and some African dancing. It’s nice. Lovely, really. But then the slow exodus begins. I tell everyone to wait inside while I get the car because it’s still raining. It’s not that bad, though. Still, it’s best I go it alone. I pull the car up to the front door. They see me, pile out, and then pile in. This is the last leg. It’s almost over. We’re so close.
My aunt is staying over so she takes out her iPad and relaxes on the couch when we get home. She’s been a trooper all day. She’s always a trooper. I’m not sure how she does it. I hope when I’m her age that I’m as young.
Pam and I divide and conquer. I put Judah down while Pam directs Nola and straightens up. I think she also manages to do a load of laundry. That’s one of Pam’s super powers — sneaking in laundry.
Judah is exhausted. It doesn’t matter about his short nap in the car. He’s beat, and after a couple stories and one song he’s asleep. I get up from the chair and move to the door. I do it quietly. I’m almost to the hallway. I’m thinking about my bed and its cool sheets. I’m thinking about my pillow. I’m thinking about-
Nola: Dad, are we going to watch something?
Nola is a hungry young lioness camped outside the watering hole of Judah’s bedroom, and I am the clueless old water buffalo. But… she’s right. It’s Saturday night. Pam, Nola, and I usually watch something together after Judah goes down. And I did just get The Horse Whisperer from the library. (Nola’s in a horse phase, so anything with horses. Also, neither Pam nor I have seen it.) But it’s late and we’re all so tired, and for fuck sake, seriously?
Steve: Um-
Nola: PLEASE, DAD!
Steve: Fine.
Nola: Yay!
Steve: Shh! Judah’s sleeping!
Nola (whispering): Yay.
Steve: When Mom’s done with the laundry, ok? Go see if Tata wants to watch.
We all spread out on the couch and watch The Horse Whisperer. (It was made in 1998, but it’s only a shoulder pad and mauve/gray color scheme away from being made in 1988.) We watch until the part where Robert Redford goes horseback riding with Kristin Scott Thomas. I pause it as the sun turns gold behind a mountain. It seems like a good time to stop anyway as the love story is no longer a subplot. Also it’s almost 10:00.
Nola: Why are we stopping?
Steve: Because it’s almost ten o’clock.
Nola looks at the screen and quickly notes the pause info.
Nola: There’s only 53 more minutes.
Pam: Which means it will be almost 11 by the time it’s over.
Steve: We can watch the rest tomorrow, sweetie.
Nola: But I want to watch it now.
Steve: I’m pretty sure this is the part where the aliens come down and start eating everyone. It’s probably better to watch it during the day anyway. It won’t be as scary. We can-
Nola: Da-AD!
Steve: What? I read it on the case.
Nola: Is he serious? Are there aliens?
Pam: I don’t know. I’ve never seen it before. But we need to go to bed, sweetie. It’s too late. It’s been a long day, bunny.
Steve: We’ll watch it tomorrow, punkin.
Nola: Fine.
We say goodnight to Harriet who goes upstairs to the guest room. Pam puts Nola down and is able to make a quick escape as she will often mistakenly put herself down at the same time. I wait for her as she gets ready for bed.
She and I go over the day and marvel at our success. We accomplished quite a bit, including keeping everyone alive and our marriage in tact. In theory, Pam and I could watch one of our shows on Netflix. That used to be one of our superpowers — binging and staying up late. But we’re parents. And it’s not even 10:15 on a Saturday night. We’re done. We’re so done. This day is finished. It’s over. Finally.
Full disclosure: My aunt never married or had kids. I think that might be why her life force is so strong.
Fuller disclosure: Pam does NOT do my laundry. Everyone else’s, but not mine. Sometimes she’ll give me explicit instructions about the towels if her super powers fail her, but she only trusts me with my own laundry. To be clear, I approach laundry en masse. I don’t separate. I work in grayscale. I’m basic.
Fullest disclosure: Parenting is the toughest job you’ll ever love blah blah blah. It’s a grind, man. Seriously.
* Not a typo
Special note:
