John Gagliardi retires

Yesterday, like countless other days, I spent the morning in John’s office.  To an extent, it was just like any other morning.  Players, monks, and coaches popped in, as John held court and fired off one-liners.  But yesterday was different, as there was also a seemingly endless line of reporters waiting at his door.  Yesterday, John Gagliardi retired, as the most winning coach in the history of college football.

Up until a couple years ago, I would have agreed with many fans who felt that John would never retire, rather he would take his final breath while still the football coach of St. John’s .  But John did retire.  I know this as I watched it all unfold from the comfort of his office sofa, audio recorder beside me.

I caught John’s raw emotion, as well as that of his coaches, family, friends, current and former players, and even his loyal reporters.  What I experienced was nothing short of mystical, and I would love to share it with all of you.  And I will…in my book. 

I’m not holding out on you because I want to sell more copies of my book, but rather because until you read the rest of John’s story, you won’t fully appreciate what happened on his final morning as the football coach of Saint John’s University.

 

So, speaking of my book, the most common question I am asked these days (outside of my kids asking for a treat) is, “How is the book going?”  I think at the homecoming football game in September, I answered that question nearly 100 times.  I always reply that I have a lot done, but a lot yet to go.  I have written over 150 pages single spaced, which is longer than I want the book to be.  Everything is organized into chapters, but the content within the chapters is still pretty rough.

I am getting close to the point of compiling my writing into a book proposal.  If you are unfamiliar with a book proposal (as I was up until a few months ago), it involves a title (still not decided), an outline for the book, a synopsis for each chapter, a couple sample chapters, and a variety of other information.   With the news of John’s retirement, the core of my book will remain in place, but I will certainly need to modify my proposal.

Once this proposal is finished, I will send it to literary agents, and hopefully find one who believes in the project as much as I do.  After I have secured an agent, they will shop it to publishers.  Once a deal has been reached with a publisher, I will be assigned an editor at the publishing house to finalize the book.  I anticipate being able to send a book proposal to agents within a month and should be able to finish a solid draft of the entire book within two months.  I had originally anticipated a release in either the fall of 2013 or 2014, but I am not yet sure how that timing will be impacted by John’s retirement.

One thing that will never waver is that this book will be very honoring of John and his entire family.  In fact, while sitting in his office, I was mindful of how he was being treated by the media, and didn’t hesitate to break in and remind him to eat lunch and to keep drinking water so that he wouldn’t pass out during his press conference. 

At one point, John excused himself to “go to the can” and a photographer from a major newspaper kept snapping pictures as John crossed the hall and entered the locker room.  A bit afraid that this young lad would act on his excitement, I warned, “If you follow him to the bathroom, I’m going to tackle you.”

He stayed put, and I suppose that was a good thing.  But on the other hand, it would have been kind of nice to make one final tackle for John.

The Norwegian Widower - Days 9 and 10

As I rolled over toward my nightstand to smack the noise-making-thing-with-numbers-on-it, I realized I would probably prefer to be awoken by the sound of nails on a chalkboard compared to my alarm clock.  I limped (from fatigue, not pain) down the stairs and successfully located the frying pan.  And on the ninth day…I finally cooked the scrambled eggs to perfection, or about as close as I will ever come.

We had run out of juice boxes in the fridge the day before, and I had neglected to find out if stores would sell me some more.  As a result, I was feeling uncertain and even somewhat afraid of what beverage I would pack Tito for lunch, and also how Bitsy would choke down her medicine.  On a whim, I looked on the shelf in the garage, and there, in what seemed like a modern day miracle, was another container of juice boxes.  I nearly wept tears of joy.

After letting her stay up until eleven o’clock last night, I somehow roused Bitsy around eight.  I was expecting an unpleasant morning, but in a shocking turn of events, she consumed all 40 milligrams of her medicine in only five minutes!  Much to her delight, I responded by loudly bellowing, “Ladies and gentlemen, here she is, your medicine consuming champion of the world, Sofiaaaa Bossssstrommmmmmmmmmmm!”

After dropping her off at school, I returned to the guest room for a two hour nap, unable to get myself back out of bed until snoozing the alarm two times.  Nearly the first thing I found after arising was Tito’s homework on the floor.  It may have been visible had the floor been less cluttered.

Just before leaving to do some consulting, the friendly people at Kohl’s charge card called to inquire as to why we were late with our payment.  After successfully talking them out of both a $25 late fee and $10 operator-assisted payment fee, I settled our account.  As I hung up the phone, I couldn’t help but wonder how many other folks we owe money to, as I haven’t looked at bills since Kacey left.

I spend a few hours at my client and stayed in a consulting meeting until the last minute.  As usual, I grossly underestimated the time it would take to get to Bitsy’s school.  As she finally saw my car drive into sight, she put her hands on her hips and scowled.  I begged her forgiveness, which I believe was granted.

Upon arriving home, I found Big Daddy and one of my uncles trying to unclog my drain.  A couple hours, thirty foot snake, and two trips to the hardware store later, we were back in business.  Who knew that a leftover beef roast doesn’t work well down the drain? 

When they went to the hardware for the second time, I realized I had 30 minutes before leaving for church, and had neither the energy nor the knowledge of how to actually find something to make for dinner.  When my dad said he would pick up some burgers and fries at McDonald’s, I wanted to shout for joy.

By the time I arrived at church, I was absolutely numb and in substandard condition to lead a small group of 11 energetic sixth grade boys.  In an act of mercy, only six of the boys showed up and were delightful and well behaved.

I got home to see that nobody had kidnapped Bitsy Tito and I were gone; I was never so happy to see her spend a couple straight hours on the computer.

I collapsed into my chair and wrote a bit, extremely thankful that Tito didn’t need any help with his homework.  A bit later, as I tucked him in, I asked him what he missed most about Kacey.  He said, “Well, probably that she is really nice.”  As I tucked in Bitsy, I similarly asked her if she was excited for Kacey’s impending arrival, “Yeah, I am happy mom is coming home, but it was fun.  You are a good dad.  You aren’t completely useless, except for cooking and for picking me up from school 15 minutes late.”

Despite being absolutely exhausted, I had consulting work to do, a book to write, and a Norwegian Widower blog to update (which in hindsight was probably not my brightest idea).  Thus, I couldn’t relax, and I worked until about one thirty in the morning.  After tossing, turning, and twitching for an hour, I got back up and worked some more.  I finally drifted off sometime after four-thirty in the morning.  Based on the recommendation of one of my blog followers, I just shut the door to my own bedroom to keep the cats out.  Wow, that was easy, and I wish I’d followed their advice earlier!

When the alarm went off just a bit over two hours later, I was depressed to realize I didn’t even leave myself enough time to hit the snooze button.  Hunched over a bit, I staggered down the hallway toward Tito’s room and noticed that my mouth was hanging open, one eye was closed, and the other was half shut.  Sure enough, after finally perfecting scrambled eggs the day before, Tito asked for a waffle today. 

Every time I turned around in the kitchen, I found myself needing to stand still for a few seconds just to re-focus both my eyes and my brain.  He made it out the door with combed hair, and a bit later, I supervised Bitsy’s medicine-taking for the final time.  While I failed in my goal to teach her how to swallow a pill, it seems that she developed a new way for her to take her medicine, as it took her barely over three minutes  and the gagging noises were kept to a minimum.

I dropped Bitsy off at school and went home to do some consulting work.  After a couple hours of Excel spreadsheets, I was unable to keep my eyes open.  With a late night and a long weekend ahead, I called my consulting boss and more or less pleased for an extension, which was I was delighted that she granted.

After hanging up, I was looked around my house and realized I was going to be leaving it somewhat messy for Kacey.  I was feeling discouraged about doing that, but just then, my mother-in-law called and said that she and Kacey’s sister would be over in a little bit to clean our house.  Wow!

I crashed for a solid three hours and scrambled to get ready.  I had plans that evening which involved picking up a country music singing friend from the airport, so after moving my sister-in-law’s car out from behind my own, I drove Tito and Bitsy over to Big Daddy’s house.  He would be picking up both Kacey and my mom.

As I dropped the kids off in my final act as a Norwegian Widower and drove away to pick up my buddy, I reflected a bit on the experience and want to give a quick shout out to three different groups of people:

To married couples who have kids but both work - I don’t know how you do it and actually stay married.  But bless those of you who do.

To stay at home parents like Kacey, I salute you.  I didn’t meet anything but my kids’ basic needs, and my readers may even question if I did that.  But, your ability to be there for your kids provides a stability that is irreplaceable.  Sure, you could be making more money or contributing to society in a different way if you weren’t at home, but the role you play in developing your children is valuable beyond belief.  I know this, because I am married to a woman who is (almost always) joyful to be a stay at home mom.  And the work she has done with our kids over the past years has molded them into responsible and delightful kids.  I don’t know how I would have survived 10 days with them without the benefit of the foundation she has built.

And to single parents who don’t have my fortune of seeing a light at the end of the tunnel, you amaze me.  Trying to balance  the needs of my kids while still pulling home a paycheck was incredibly stressful.  But, I have well-behaved 11 and 9 year old kids, and some of you have younger kids that require significantly more of your time.  So, to those of you reading this who know a single parent, please try to help them out periodically, either with chores, babysitting, or whatever you can offer.  Kacey does this on a regular basis with a single mom, and I have never appreciated her efforts more.

Wrapping up my journey, I picked up my buddy at the airport 45 minutes late and we began to head to our first event of the weekend.  It was then that I received a call from my sister-in-law asking me if I knew where her car keys were, as I had moved her car just an hour earlier.  After thinking for a moment, I patted my front pants pocket and found them.  As I drove back home, I couldn’t help but think that it was a fitting end to my ten day comedy of errors.

And with that, I don't think I have ever been so happy to say these next two words...

The end!

The Norwegian Widower - Day 8

Tito again put the kibosh on my attempt to gain a few precious minutes of extra sleep with his standard, “Wake up!”  He is starting to resemble a character out of an Stephen King movie. 

At least I remembered to heat up the frying pan today before spraying it, so his eggs didn’t turn out black, just brown as I over-cooked them for whatever-day-this-is in a row.  Tito misplaced his jacket, and I had no energy to help him look for it, so I had him try on one of my old extra-large NASCAR jackets.  It dwarfed him, I didn’t care, and I sent him off to school.  I am thinking that Jeff Foxworth could have come up with another “You might be a redneck” joke had he saw my son that day.

Bitsy actually got up without too many problems and sat down at the kitchen counter to take her medicine.  I set the timer for eight minutes and she made her usual gasping, gagging, and screeching noises until the buzzer went off.  I went over to ensure she had suffered down every last milligram, but as I approached her, I could tell something wasn’t right.  Her head was down, and she starting pounding the counter wish her fist.  When I reached her, she had tears in her eyes.  She hadn’t finished her medicine, and the consequence was…no computer for the rest of the day.

This unexpected situation put me at a crossroads.  I believe in being firm with consequences, yet she had nailed this new medicine-taking process every day thus far.  I went for the empathetic approach and said, “Alright, if you can get the rest down in the next minute, that will be okay.”  She worked in a fury, had it down within 30 seconds, and life went on.  If she turns out to be an undisciplined disaster someday, well, go ahead and blame…Kacey.  If she wasn’t in Norway, I wouldn’t have been in the medicine-enforcement roll.  In fact, I would have still been sleeping.

As I was getting Bitsy ready for school, I took another look at the note that Kacey had left for me regarding the product that goes into Bitsy’s hair after head-washing (discussed previously on day 5).  Sure enough, it isn’t supposed to be a lotion, it is a spray – so whatever I put in Bitsy’s hair on Saturday was wrong.  Raise your hand if you are surprised…seeing no hands, I will continue.

After dropping Bitsy off at school with five minutes to spare, I returned home for my daily nap.  Unfortunately, I could only snooze for about an hour, as I had a consulting call to attend. I thought  about taking the call from bed, and just may have done that if I wasn’t worried about falling asleep  and snoring into the phone.  After my call, I actually thought about taking my second nap of the morning, but decided that drinking half of the country of Columbia’s annual production of coffee may keep me awake for a few hours.

As I drove out to my consulting client around noon, I was frustrated at the thought of having to leave three hours later to pick up Bitsy from school, just to drive her home one mile.  After all, she would probably just sit in front of the computer or play with friends until dinnertime.  The problem is that Kacey decided that as she is a stay-at-home mom, our family shouldn’t pay the $250 to have Bitsy transported to school.  That is all well and good, except when Kacey is several thousand miles away.

So, I enlisted Big Daddy for pick up duties, although it was also someone stressful for him to pick her up as he had some sort of repair dude at his house.  Before we hung up he told me, “I will pick her up, but do us all a favor and stay at your consulting client long enough (they pay me hourly) to earn the $250 and just put her on the bus next time.

I ended up getting home around five and promptly found my easy chair.  I was spent;  I had no motivation to do anything except stare at the ceiling, and even that was exhausting.  Yep, it was pretty obviously that I’d had it - I needed Kacey back.

I tried to pacify the kids with a snack of chips and salsa, but was met with protests from Tito.  So, dinner was burgers and tator tots.  I was so defeated in my prior attempt to make broccoli that I didn’t even try again.  Tito has had fruits and vegetables a grand total of two times in Kacey’s absence (unless you count apple juice as a fruit).  Interestingly enough, he went #2 three times after dinner and said his stomach was not feeling well.  I suppose a diet involving no fiber will do that to you.  Kacey really needs to come home.

Tito had a fair amount of homework, and I erred in not having him start it until 7 o’clock.  He is an early bird and begins to tire around 8.  So, his motivation wasn’t high and my energy level was on empty.  I was shorter than I should have been with him, a pretty poor teacher in fact (I guess I now know what University of St. Thomas professors feel like), but we got it done.

After tucking him in, Bitsy sat on the couch across from me and worked on her own book.  It wasn’t homework, rather just writing for fun.  Finally, at about eleven o’clock on a school night, I figured I should make her go to bed.  I am pretty sure I didn’t even tuck her in – it was too far away.

Completely exhausted, I tried to crash around midnight, but couldn’t settle my brain.  I haven’t made much progress on my own book, but have no energy to do so.  Kacey gets back late Thursday afternoon, and it can’t come soon enough.  After tossing and turning for at least an hour, I finally drifted off to sleep.

The Norwegian Widower - Day 7

Desperate to squeeze in a few extra minutes of sleep, I set my alarm for 6:55 instead of this week’s normal 6:45 (and compared to Kacey’s 6:30).  Tito took care of that, however, when he came in a few minutes before my alarm was to go off and said, “Wake up, Dad!”  I certainly need to beg Big Daddy to come over and install a lock on the door.

I was in an absolute daze as I staggered down to the kitchen.  I set the frying pan on the burner, stared at it blankly, and then sprayed it.  This was, of course, before turning on the gas.  So, when I figured out how to turn on the burner, the gas heated up the pan and made the spray somewhat black.  Tito’s eggs thus ended up a mixture of yellow and black, kind of a like a bumblebee or one of the guys from the 1980’s Christian hard rock band Stryper.  I tried to hide the discolored eggs with his toast, which must have been at least partially successful as he ate most of his breakfast.

As I was making Tito’s lunch, I asked him where his lunchbox was, which led to this exchange:

“I don’t know, I must have lost it at school.”

“What do you mean?  How did you lose it at school???”

“Dad…nobody is perfect.”

I had no comeback for that one. 

Coming off a long weekend, I let Bitsy sleep in a while longer than usual.  And when I woke her up, she asked for just “twooooo morrrrre minutesssssss” to sleep.  How could I say no, especially when she fell back asleep right before my eyes and I watched her mouth drop open and her breathing become deeper.  Eventually, I had to wake up her Royal Cuteness.

Using the timer to get her to take her medicine worked yet again, although it was quite comical to listen to her cough, gag, and sound like she was being stabbed to death while putting those whopping 40 milligrams in her mouth over a period of eight minutes.

As soon as I got home after dropping her off at school, I was back in bed and comatose.  The dang alarm clock went off 90 minutes later, as I had a meeting to attend at St. John’s.  Just as I was leaving my house, I noticed that our sink was plugged.  There have been issues with our sink and garbage disposal lately, apparently it does not like the combination of leftover beef and hot water.  Oh well, perhaps I can leave it until Kacey gets home and then when the sink fills up on her, I can pull a Chris Farley in Tommy Boy and yell, “Hey, what did you do to our sink?!?!”

My meeting at school went quite well considering the person who called the meeting didn’t show up.  My 80 mile trek was not a total failure, however, as I visited John, the subject of my sabbatical.  I hadn’t talked to him since the beginning of the football season.  Everyone has been asking him if he is going to retire, so we brainstormed some comical answers he could start giving to reporters.  Our favorite one…the head football coach at Hamline University just resigned, perhaps to pursue Bigfoot on a full time basis (he is an expert on Bigfoot, no lie).  John and I decided he should announce that he is leaving St John’s and has signed a 10 year contract to turn around the Hamline squad. 

I got back from school and plopped down on my easy chair to do some consulting work.  After a bit, the kids reminded me that it was my responsibility to provide them with dinner, so I decided to cook up some Denny’s.  It was a delightful dinner full of “would you rather” questions (one of our family’s favorite activities) and discussion with the 85 year old widow in the booth next to us – I am pretty sure she wanted to adopt me by the end of our chat. 

After dinner, we picked up Bitsy’s new eyeglasses and upon putting them on for the first time, she felt like the blind man healed by Jesus and shouted, “I can see!”  But unlike the miracle in the book of Mark, no one needed to spit on her eyes.

One thing that I noticed in this experience as a single dad is that supplies are not endless in one’s house - you actually have to shop for toilet paper, it doesn’t magically keep appearing in the bathroom.  Thus, we stopped by Walmart to pick up a variety of things, including a small waste basket for used cat litter.  After spending 10 minutes looking 8-gallon sized garbage bags, but finding only about 400 different varieties of 13-gallon sized bags, I gave up and began to leave. 

As we passed a nearby aisle filled with treats, the kids launched into a tale of desperation.  I told them they could pick out a treat only if they could find 8-gallon sized bags.  60 seconds later, Bitsy surfaced while holding the bags and put her treat into the cart.  “What kind of treat is that?” I asked as I gestured toward the box of whatever she selected.  “Something really good,” she replied, “and that is all you need to know.”

We arrived home and I successfully made the kids brush their teeth before tucking them in around nine thirty.  Although I probably should have just gone to bed as well at that time, I did some work and made a poor attempt at writing until I finally called it a night at half past one.  This time, I didn’t even bother with my own cat-infested bedroom, I went straight to the guest room.  We have some friends coming in town this weekend, and they may be disappointed when I tell them that the guest room bed is taken.  And I may not even let Kacey join me, as she'd probably bring the sleep-depriving-furballs with her.

 

And to think I once paid good money to go to a Stryper concert, and my brother and I would spend hours debating whether "To Hell with the Devil" or "Honestly" was a better tune.

RIP Chris Farley.

The Norwegian Widower - Day 6

One of my buddies sent Tito to wake me up a bit after nine o’clock, and I must admit that I really enjoyed a cat-less night of sleep.  Part of the benefit of this overnight play date was that my buddy’s wife always puts on a nice spread for breakfast - eggs, bacon, and sausage from their own chickens and pigs – and not only do I enjoy that deliciousness for myself, but I know the kids will be taken care of.

We left right after breakfast as we had to volunteer at church.  As is my custom, I showed up a minute late, likely raising the anxiety level of our kind kids-area coordinator.  Every other week, we watch a bunch of 18-24 month olds.  Although my kids were feeling the effects of staying up past midnight and using the rocking chairs for themselves, we made it through the hour without incident and without having to change any poopy diapers. 

Upon arriving home, Tito announced that the Dolly Mama had barfed again, amazingly at the same spot at the top of the stairs next to the previous projectile that still remained.  Last time it worked much better to wait until it dried to clean it up, so I chose that option again and instead took a two hour nap. I did vacuum up the vomit, but again did not do any carpet-scrubbing.  We are getting new carpet sometime in the next couple weeks anyway, so is there really any reason to clean it up?

The kids read my blog while I was napping (they think these blogs are cool because they are in them) and Bitsy promptly told me, “Part 4 was not very good.  It was filled with a bunch of boring stuff that only adults like.  Please make the next part more interesting.”  As an aside, the kids also like to “audit” my blogs and tell me if I am saying something inaccurate.  But that’s okay, I used to work for Arthur Andersen, so if I don’t like the kids’ input, I just shred it.

After doing my best to satisfy the little dictator, I decided to actually cook dinner for the first time since Kacey has been gone.  I guess there is a reason she thaws meat in advance, as the rib-eyes were frozen solid when I took them out of the freezer, go figure.  That delayed dinner until after seven o’clock, which would have been fine except only Bitsy obeyed my request to make herself a sandwich for lunch.

While the slabs of meat turned out delicious, the French fries were a bit old and maybe freezer burned, and I advised the kids to eat them with caution.  Further, I managed to mess up the steamed broccoli.  How I did that I am not sure, but I guess it is what I get for trying to serve a vegetable.

Some excitement for the evening was that I noticed one of the cats frantically trying to get into one of our kitchen cupboards.  Sure enough, the mousetrap I set was successful!  In order to satisfy the cat’s curiosity, I set the “full” mousetrap down in front of the cat for his inspection.  While that seemed like a good idea at the time, I hadn’t counted on the cat running away with it.  I finally chased the cat down upstairs and in the guest room before any mouse parts were consumed.

This evening, I accomplished a monumental task in getting Tito to wash his melon before bed.  As mentioned before, Kacey requested an every other day head-washing, so getting it done for the first time on day 6 probably counts as failure on that one.

After trying to write, but generally feeling to worn out to accomplish much save for staring at the computer screen, I tried to hit the hay at about one o’clock in the morning.  But the cats were again enjoying play time in our room, so I walked to the guest room and probably fell asleep around two.  That’s okay, I suppose I only have to live with these cats for another 10-15 years.

The Norwegian Widower - Day 5

Ahhhh, the weekend….I relished the opportunity to sleep in and did not get out of bed until 9:30 (in the morning, thank you).  After eating a breakfast of leftover pizza, I let the kids know they were on their own for the first meal of the day.  I figured that three days of cooking eggs and waffles entitled me to a break.

Kacey had left me a task of washing Bitsy’s hair at least once, so I figured this morning was a good time to check that off the list.  Kacey had also told me to put some sort of lotion in Bitsy’s hair before combing it; I assume it is some sort of anti-snarling potion.  After Bitsy’s bath, I had her go find what she thought was the lotion and inspected it.  Upon seeing the word “hair” somewhere on the bottle, I assumed Bitsy had grabbed the correct bottle.  I put what I am pretty sure was way too much in her hair, but not knowing what to do, I figured too much was better than too little.

After puttering around for a while, I had to leave for the Johnnies final football game of the year.  Big Daddy wasn’t available to watch the kids, and I hadn’t arranged for anyone else to do so.  They expressed less than zero interest in going with me, even when faced with the alternative of spending four hours home alone.  (For any horrified readers… the game was ten minutes away from my house, the kids know my cell phone number, they get along great and don’t get into trouble, and we live in an extremely safe neighborhood where they know many of the neighbors.  Plus, my folks often left my brother and me in the car for hours on end while they went bar hopping.  Okay, maybe not, but my mom reads my blog so I figured I’d make sure she was awake!)

Before I left, I gave them each one instruction.  Tito…take a bath and wash your hair.  Bitsy, here is your medicine, make sure it gets in your body.  I also pointed out where the bread, peanut butter, and honey was and encouraged them to make themselves a sandwich when they got hungry.

When I returned from the game a few hours later, Tito informed me that he had indeed taken a bath, but had not washed his hair as he could not find the shampoo - of course, I had pointed the shampoo out to him earlier.  Bitsy’s bowl of medicine was gone (not the medicine, but the entire bowl), and she did not remember whether or not she consumed it – I am going with ,”No.”  Neither of them made a sandwich, but did manage to find other snacks and treats.  While this may sound like a disaster, I was of course pleased that they were alive, well, and happy.

Before heading to church, I fed the cats and cleaned out their litter box, but couldn’t remember what I was forgetting.  I later remembered that I didn’t check their water dish to see if it needed replenished.  But, I figured if they ran out, they could get resourceful and use the toilets.

After church, we stopped at McDonald’s for dinner, amazingly the first time they have eaten fast foot since Kacey has been gone!  I had arranged for an overnight play-date for them, figuring that a good parent does stuff like that.  Never mind the fact that the play date was at the house of my best friend, with another great buddy crashing over as well – I did this for my kids. 

Once we got to the my buddy’s house, my kids ran off with his kids, and I rewarded myself for a few days of hard work with a seat on the sectional couch in front of a 120 inch video screen.  We watched college football until after midnight and rarely saw or heard from the kids.

At that point, I made my way upstairs to find my kids watching a movie.  I arranged to have the movie turned off and found places for them to sleep.  We did not bring their tooth brushes with, as I had asked them to do so before leaving for church, and then later realized we had got distracted and forgotten about that.  Tito was so tired, he did not even protest about having to sleep in one of the girls’ rooms, unaware that he was be infested with girl germs and cooties.

Tired from not having taken my usual nap, I decided to crash as well.  After asking someone to wake me up at nine o’clock, I found the guest room and laid down for a night of cat-less sleep.

The Norwegan Widower - Day 4

I was startled awake in the middle of the night by something thrashing frantically under my legs.  In my sleep, I must have folded one of our cats into the blanket and rolled over on top of him.  The cat survived, but I’m not sure he will try to snuggle with me on the bed anymore – and I am okay with that.  The only thing furry I prefer in bed with me is my wife when she forgets to shave her legs for a week.

I crashed back to sleep again until the dastardly alarm clock woke me up at a quarter to seven.  Due to Bitsy’s first student council meeting, this morning was a bit more chaotic as I had to get both kids out the door at the same time.  I timed it somewhat poorly such that neither kid was able to finish their breakfast, and much to her horror, Bitsy only had seven minutes to consume her medicine instead of her regular eight.  Plus, while I combed Tito’s hair, I didn’t wet it down first, so he looked like a kid that, well, combed his hair without wetting it down first.

But, I will admit, I preferred getting them both ready at the same time.  Why?  Because I worked hard for 45 minutes, and then re-assumed my slumber in the cat-free bed.

Around 10 o’clock, I was awoken by Big Daddy’s voice in our kitchen.  He was returning my car and had not only filled it up with gas, but also got the oil changed and washed it inside and out.  Who knew that someone could get so much done at such an early hour of the day?

“Ummm, the folks at Valvoline said it has been over 10,000 miles since you last changed your oil,” Big Daddy said.  Is he fanatic about oil changing?  Well, I think if he ever wins the lottery (albeit difficult because he doesn’t play), he will hire someone to change the oil on his car daily, and probably also the oil in the cars owned by my brother and I as well.

Not wanting to disappoint him, I figured my best option was to flat out lie.  “No,” I said as believably as I could, “I changed it myself once in between, probably 5,000 miles ago.”

“No you didn’t,” he replied, “there was still a Valvoline oil filter on your car.”  Seriously, how did he find that out, did he tell the folks at Rapid Oil to hand him the filter?  I decided it would be best to continue the lie and tell him that I thought I had changed it 5,000 miles ago, but must have been mistaken, when in reality, I knew I hadn’t. 

After he drove away, all I could think was here is a guy who does all these nice things for me, and what do I do in return?  I lie to him.  So, five minutes later I called him up and confessed my sins.  He laughed and forgave me, and I felt better for coming clean.  And I am quite happy not to have an overdue oil change hanging over my head for at least the next 2-3 months.

I worked,  wrote, and puttered for the next few hours, and resisted the temptation to take my second nap of the day (hey, it works for infants).  However, once the kids were safely home, I went and laid down for another hour,  although the noise of cats and phone calls made it impossible.

Upon rising, I serviced the cats (food, water, litter box) and then thought about what to cook for dinner.  Much to Tito’s delight, I made Domino’s Pizza.  He has gluten and dairy allergies, so his diet is very limited.  And while Kacey compensates for this by working hard to come up with delicious alternative recipes for him, my skill is limited to cooking hamburgers patties to different temperatures.

I placed our order, and Tito’s small, gluten-free, cheese-less, and 4 topping pizza came in at 14 bucks.  The deep dish two-topping medium that Bitsy and I shared was 6 bucks cheaper.  I briefly considered asking Tito to eliminate a couple of the toppings he selected.  But then, I thought, this kid always gets the short end of the stick when it comes to food, and when the kids go to bed tonight I’ll probably crack open a $10 bottle of wine to accompany my writing, so just shut up and buy him the $14 pizza.  Plus, two of his toppings seemed like vegetables, quite possibly the only input from that food group he will receive this week.

After dinner, we played a family game, and I sent the kids off to bed.  The good news is they brushed their teeth; the bad news is their melons are still not washed.

After writing for a couple hours, and generally feeling very antsy (pretty sure I am missing my wife) I hit the hay earlier than normal.  The cats must also going through Kacey-withdrawal as they were making all sorts of clatter in our room.  While one part of me just wanted to invite them on to the bed, roll over on top of them and just stay there this time, I instead just went and slept in the guest room.  Kicked out of my bed…by cats.

The Norwegian Widower - Day 3

Today…was pretty easy.

My alarm went off as planned.  Upon arising, I replenished the cat’s food and water and cleaned out their litter box.  The litter box is huge (Kacey uses one of those 20 gallon storage tubs), so I bet it would be good even if I didn’t clean it out the rest of the time Kacey is gone.

I made my boy just 3 eggs this morning, and he scarfed them all down, after which I made him brush his teeth for the first time in his mom’s absence.  He even made in to the bus without needing to run.  One of Bitsy’s friends came over at 7:30, and she volunteered for the job of waking up her friend.  Later, she even coached Bitsy during her eight minute segment of consuming her ADD meds, and stood over her as Bitsy brushed her teeth.  We may need to have her come over more often.

I dropped the two girls off at school, and promptly returned home for sacred nap.  It was disappointing to have to cut my nap short, but I had a consulting meet to attend.  Five hours of sleep plus a one hour nap certainly is not sufficient, so I am pretty sure I drank the office out of coffee.

After a long meeting, I joined 250 other former co-workers from the defunct firm of Arthur Andersen for a happy hour.  As a result, Big Daddy once again assumed the role of child pickup.  Just two blocks before arriving at the Casa de Big Daddy, my Chevy Impala ran out of gas.  But, I was able to coast all the way into his driveway.  Yes, it was largely a charmed day altogether.

As I was running late (go figure) to get Bitsy to her school’s DJ dance party, Big Daddy just told me to take one of his cars and I could come back with gas for my car in the morning.  Knowing that he would check the oil in my car, I hurriedly ran to my car and, in the dark, dumped a quart of oil in.  I am pretty sure I got more oil on the engine than actually in the oil spout.  But sure enough, Big Daddy came out the door just as I was slamming the hood and said, “What’s up under the hood?”

“Nothing,” I lied, as if it is common for people to look under the hoods of their car in the dark when they are running late to get their kids to an event.

I dropped off Bitsy at her party at 7:45, and a kind neighbor lady let me know she’d drive her home.  I was relieved, as this meant I could sink into my easy chair for the long hall.

Tito did his short homework assignment, bathed, managed to forget to brush his teeth, and went to bed.  When I tucked him in, I asked, “Do you wash your hair?”  He replied, “No, but I did get it wet.”  One of the things on Kacey’s list was an every-other-day hair washing for Tito.  Perhaps we will just wash it five times on the last day and call it even?

Bitsy, primed for her first student cousin meetings at 7:30AM, also hit the hay early.  She also did not take a bath, and I have to imagine she didn’t brush her teeth either. 

As I returned to my easy chair, I began to feel like the cats were avoiding me.  But then, I realized they weren’t avoiding me, as they just never hang around me anyway.  Really the only time they hang around me is when I hang around Kacey.

I wrote until 1AM and then called it a night.

The Norwegian Widower - Day 2

“Get up!” said Tito loudly.  My eyes popped wide open, and I noticed that it was light outside.  I quickly turned to my nightstand, saw that is was a few minutes after seven, just 15 minutes until he needed to leave for the school bus.  I discovered why my alarm clock has failed me - I had set it for 6:45PM.

I hustled downstairs and began the process of scrambling some eggs.  I made four of them, and I’m not sure why.  He had no chance at eating that many, when also including two pieces of toast, but I was pretty zoned out.  While I was relieved to see that he had clothes on, I paid no attention to whether they matched at all. 

As I set the eggs in front of him, I asked him what kind of sandwich he wanted for lunch.  As soon as he replied “ham and cheese” I remembered that I failed to pick up the Mayo my wife had suggested.  Further, he has dairy allergies and I could not find his diary-free cheese, and as a piece of ham on dry gluten-free bread sounded less than appetizing, I suggested peanut butter and honey instead.  He agreed, and seemed only mildly annoyed when he had to remind me yet again that he prefers creamy peanut butter. 

Normally Kacey would have given him a Zyrtec allergy pill at this time, but of course those pills were also waiting for me at the store, presumably right next to the Mayo.  But, Tito made it to the bus with two minutes to spare, and I felt like a champion.

Having just worked intensely for 20 minutes, I plopped into my easy chair as a reward.  I didn’t dare start up the coffee pot yet, as I had no interest in staying awake once I delivered Bitsy to school.

At about ten to eight, I gently woke her up and took her breakfast order.  A waffle with jam, please.  Bitsy was lucky that Kacey left some waffle batter in the fridge, otherwise there is no telling how a Boz-concocted waffle would have turned out.  She sat at the counter and played on my laptop while nibbling ever so slightly on her waffle. 

And now, it was time for her dreaded ADD meds.  She takes 40mg of some drug (maybe Ritalin) and as she can’t swallow pills, Kacey and I pursue various tactics to make her ingest the poison.  Today, I tried the approach of opening the pills, dumping the contents into a small dish, and having her dip her licked finger into the dish.  She used some sort of boxed juice as a chaser. 

I then got what was easily my best idea of the day, and will likely be my best idea of this whole adventure.  I pulled up a countdown timer on my cell phone, set it for eight minutes, and told her either the medicine would be all gone or she wouldn’t be able to use the computer for the rest of the day.

Eight minutes later, the timer went off, and the medicine was gone.  Note that I sat somewhat close such that I’m pretty sure she didn’t feed it to any of our cats.

While Kacey usually leaves the house at 8:25, ten minutes later seemed more my style.  This presumably wouldn’t have been a problem, except that when we pulled into the school’s parking lot, Bitsy exclaimed, “We left my planner and homework at home!”  Instead of stopping at the curve to drop her off, we thus just kept driving, fortunate that our house was only a mile away.  By the time we pulled back in to the school, I was the only parent dropping off their kid.  I knew she was close to being late, and think I’ve heard it mentioned that parents must check in kids that are late, but I just dropped her off and feigned ignorance as I drove away.

I arrived home, ate Bitsy’s remaining waffle for my own breakfast and did some work for a bit.  Before long, my eyes became heavy and I sacked out hard for a good couple hours.  Upon arising, I actually did some laundry and cleaning, at which time I discovered Tito’s math book and homework sitting on the counter.  Too late to get that to him.  I also vacuumed over the dried up cat vomit, and while some of it is still meshed into the carpet, most of it now appears gone.

Tito got home a bit after three, and the first thing I noticed was that Kacey’s instruction of “comb the kids’ hair” was only met with a 50% success rate.  That’s okay, I hadn’t combed mine yet either.

We had to leave at 5:30 for youth group at church (I volunteer and Tito attends), and as usual, I was running late.  I thus asked Tito to make himself another peanut butter sandwich for dinner and was relieved that he complied.  Bitsy was going to a church event with the neighbors and I am pretty sure they fed her.

After returning from church, Tito and I wrapped up his homework by 9ish, but Bitsy stayed up doing hers until nearly 11.  She was writing a story about cats, kangaroos, and hedgehogs, and fully expects that I will use my pull as a budding author to ensure her story ends up on the New York Times best seller list. 

So, let’s see, I woke up late, got one kid to school late and didn’t pack the other’s homework, didn’t give my son his medicine or comb his hair, made him eat two peanut butter sandwiches, didn’t change the cat litter or check their food/water, didn’t clean up the cat barf, didn’t make sure Tito’s hair was combed, and let Bitsy stay up until 11PM.  Oh, and the kids didn’t take baths and I again have no idea if they brushed their teeth.

But all fives creatures under my control are still breathing, I got in a nice two-hour nap, and neither the Humane Society nor Child Services paid me a visit.  All in all, I’d say it was a successful day. 

I finally crashed about one thirty, and no cats came to join me.  I don’t think they like me.

The Norwegian Widower – Day 1

At twenty past one yesterday afternoon, I kissed Kacey goodbye at the Minneapolis airport.  She is spending the next nine days in Norway on an outreach mission through our church.  Kacey did not take our two children with her, nor did she take our three cats.  One person she did take was my mom, the generous lady who normally saves me in these situations.   As a result, I am left to my own devices to ensure that these five living creatures are still breathing and healthy when my wife returns next Thursday. 

Except for balancing the checkbook and helping the kids with their math homework, my wife does most everything to keep our household running: cooking, cleaning, shopping, and a bunch of other stuff I am probably going to find out about at inopportune times.  At my request, at least she left me a somewhat detailed list of responsibilities I needed to attend to that I may not otherwise have thought of: feed the children, make sure they take baths, make sure their hair is combed before school, feed the cats, and empty litter boxes.  She even took a picture of my son’s full lunchbox to show me what it should look like before I stuff it in his backpack.

Facing the week ahead, I know the toughest tasks will be to provide the kids with someone healthy meals and to keep the cats alive and in one piece.  I also have a huge goal to teach my daughter how to swallow a pill.  She has a prescription drug for her ADD, and each morning’s attempt to get her to take her medicine is full of screaming, kicking, and tears… and that is just Kacey.

The primary characters I expect to be involved in this saga are as follows:  Tito, age 11, Bitsy, age 9, Dolly Mama (age unknown) and her two one-year old boys (Scarf and Scamp), and Big Daddy (aka, my dad).

If you wish, tune in each morning to see how the previous day fared.  These will be fairly quick hitters, as I am focusing my writing these days on my book.  Onto Day 1…

As I had a consulting meeting to attend, my first job as a Norwegian Widower was to ask Big Daddy if he could pick up Bitsy after school.  Whether he knows it or not, Big Daddy will be my right hand man during these nine days.   After successfully retrieving her, he took the kids out for an early dinner of burgers and fries (for Tito) and pizza (for Bitsy).  My dinner consisted of their cold leftovers, as I imagine will be the case more than a few times over these nine days.

When I brought the kids home from Big Daddy’s house, I immediately allowed them to have an hour on the computer instead of jumping right into their homework.  I was exhausted, after all, and justifiably so.  My trip to the airport eliminated the usual late morning nap that has become a part of my sabbatical.

Upon arriving home, Tito proclaimed that one of the cats had barfed on the stairs.  My wife and I have a deal: I allow our family to have cats, but she takes care of them.  I asked Tito how much I would have to pay him to clean up the cat barf (note: normally we do not pay our kids when asking them to do things, but this seemed extraordinary).  He started the bidding with $5; I countered with $1.  Neither of us budged and the cat barf continued to sit there – perhaps it is easier to clean up when it dries, I don’t know but I guess I will find out.

I successfully moderated the kids’ homework and sent them to bed.  Tito is our early bird, so he tired before I could help him study for his science test, but we agreed to do so in the morning.  I know that neither child took a bath, and I’m not sure if either brushed their teeth.  There is always tomorrow.

When I tucked Tito into bed, the two boy cats were with him.  Normally, only the smaller of the two, Scamp, hangs out in his room, but his larger brother Scarf must have noticed something awry in the house. 

As I tucked Tito into bed, I asked him what I need to do in the morning, “Just make you some breakfast and pack your lunch, right?”  He assured me that was it. 

When I asked him what he would like for breakfast, he replied that eggs would be good.  “What kind?” I inquired, and then quickly realized that my limited skills in the kitchen could offer him a choice of either scrambled or raw (a la Rocky Balboa).  “Scrambled okay for you, buddy?  I inquired.  He said that sounded good, and I let him drift off to sleep.

After tucking Bitsy, I assumed my usual position on a recliner in front of the fire.  The cats must not have stayed long with Tito, as before long I heard a battle royal going on in the next room, with the two brothers presumably attacking the Dolly Mama.  Having become one with my chair, I waited out the storm and was relieved to see each of the three beasts walk past me over the next few minutes without dripping blood.

Knowing that I had to arise at some dastardly early hour, taking a nap after getting the kids off to school was a forgone conclusion.  Thus, I saw no problem with staying up writing until one in the morning.  When I finally made my way upstairs, I noticed that some of the cat barf was missing.  Knowing there was pretty much no chance my kids had cleaned it up, it dawned on me that one of the cats must have “cleaned” it up for me.  As Bill Cosby would say about men, “We are dumb, but we are not so dumb.”

Fifteen minutes later, after listening to the boy cats dash and crash all over our bedroom, presumably from neglect, I fell asleep on Kacey’s side of the bed.