Turning Up The Heat - Post #3

Back in the early days, the wife, we'll call her Angel, not cause that's her name, but just 'cause that's who  she is, ran a day care at the house. What do you do when you're at home with two kids under the age of six? Add more kids. They entertain themselves. If one of 'em manages to execute the restful afternoon nap thing, well........maybe you can actually put 'em in charge for a while. Have yourself a nap. You'll likely need it.

All joking aside, it is my humble opinion, looking after kids is one of the toughest jobs anyone could ever take on. Gotta be up there with King Crab fishing in the Bering Sea. Four years of managing just our two was challenging enough. And once you find yourself outnumbered then the going really gets rough. Alas, women seem to operate more effectively under that kind of pressure than men do, at least when it comes to herding kids. So Angel suggests day care. Jeff replies "yes dear" cause I'm a quick learner, and before you know it, our place is lousy with kids.

I continue the dance with Spike, running him to and from the do jun. Fortunately for us all, I signed up and I am now down there on the floor 'gittin' 'er done'. At first it was an unbelievably tough go. 30 Years of good living had caught up in a big way. But I shed pounds. Big time. Over the course of a year I dropped 50 pounds and I was actually ripped for the first time in my life. Hey, I was a musician, not an athlete. Spike and I were having a ball. He and I continued to attend, twice a week, together. And there  is nothing quite like a father and son sharing that kind of experience, from both our perspectives. It will always be one of my best memories. The time spent with him training, working out, sparring, practising our Kata's and, the burgers and shakes following, was, as they say, priceless.

Now as it turned out for me, like most things in life, taking that first step was the toughest obstacle in beginning something new. I took to the martial arts with a passion. The adrenalin rush was so addictive.
I soon found myself having to be there six days a week just to keep it flowing. I even began leading the class on Saturday mornings. Unfortunately, I kinda ran off helter skelter with the whole experience, leaving Spike in my wake. He and I continued for probably another year or so together, but he soon found he had other interests and moved on to, in particular, chasing music. Another passion we now both share. But he did get me started, and I loved it. I had become the fittest I had ever been. Good thing too.

Not much later, Angel is doing her thing at the house, herding the cats, late one Friday afternoon. The neighbourhood kids had all gathered at our place and are especially fired up 'cause tonight they're having a sleep over.  I had wrapped up the work week a little early and arrived home to feeding time at the zoo. With the day care crowd successfully shipped out and the new shift of street kids all playing in our back yard, I suggested, being the kind, considerate, loving partner that I am, she take a break and go to the gym. I will step up and look after this whole bunch. Piece of cake. Six chill'en. All under the age of eight. The youngest being four. Just. Fortunately she's mine and being female, they mature a lot faster than the gents. After that good nap, she could take charge. Easy. So how tough could it be? Angel's sceptical, but I am a salesman and I can be very reassuring when I want to be. 'Cides she's whipped and could use a break. I can handle this. Honestly. Yes, I'm sure.

It was a beautifully warm and sunny afternoon in suburbia. Angel is, by this time, submerged in the temperate waters of the hot tub at the club. Relaxation eminent.

Me? Not so much. I decided in the middle of looking after six kids that the laundry needed to get done. It's not enough that the kids are haranguing the shit out of me for everything imaginable, I some how figure,  I have everything under such control I needed to handicap the situation. So with the kids running around in the back yard, I throw in a load of laundry. I then put the most excellent Lamb Madras, begun the night before, on the back burner of the stove, to finish 'er up 'cause, why wouldn't you? That's dinner for tomorrow night and it's just about completed. A gentle simmer would be just the thing to finish 'er up.

With the smell of curry wafting through the house, I then decide that I'm getting a wee bit peckish. Not unheard of. It's almost dinner time. I took a quick peek out the back door to check on the kids in the yard and everything still appears to be under control. What's a real man to do when faced with cookin' dinner in suburbia? B-B-Q of course. Sunny day. Lot's o kids. Perfect. Nothing fancy mind you, after all,  I am looking after a bunch of kids here. Six no less. I know. I counted them. Fortunately the Madras had not quite reached it's peak so was still unfit for consumption.  Good thing too or I would likely have concluded that serving 'em  all the flame blazing curry was the right idea. Picture that. No, I believed that hot dogs were in order. Another very appropriate, sound decision on my part. I headed to the fridge to get the doggies and the necessary accoutrement.

Upon my return to the front lines, with my mitts full of dogs, buns, relish, mustard, and ketchup, (mustn't forget the ketchup) pop and cups,  I found the kids, and yes, I still have six, all fired up and twisted in the back yard and now they were at me, as a collective, to "Get the beanie baby Dad! We can't play the game until you get us the beanie! Pat took the beanie Dad. C'mon Dad, Please help!! What are you doing Dad? We NEEEED the beanie NOW DAD!!!!!"

Dumping the dinner assembly on the picnic table I surveyed the dozen or so of the biggest, roundest, most pleadingest eyeballs staring up at me, that I ever did see.  I calmly replied. "First of all, who's Pat? I'm sure we don't have one of those, your mother would have mentioned him at roll call and secondly what exactly did the alleged Pat do with the said beanie.?" A barage of six replies flooded in all at once, from which I hear "Pat's the kid from up the street Dad." All turn and point to the 'new' kid standing yonder, apart from our group meeting, who up to this point, I had not seen. "That's Pat. He threw it on the roof by an accident Dad. The beanie's on the roof. C'mon Dad. Hop to it Dad. The beanies on the roof! Go get 'em Dad. You can do it."

Now I don't know every thing there is to know when it comes to looking after large groups of kids, I just haven't had that much practise. And make no mistake, this was a pile of kids I had here, by any standard. I was out numbered by........well.......lots. But with looking after what I thought was six, turning out to be seven with the addition of Pat, and even if he is eight years old, he's still  a male, so that makes him more like six. Maybe. No older than the rest of them.

Now at this point in our story I'd like to point out that I do recognize it may appear to the untrained eye, that there have already been a number of bad decisions made by the adult in charge. Wait for it. You ain't seen nuthin' yet.

And so with the laundry a spinnin', the lamb a simmerin' and dinner well under way, I'm thinking
ix-nay on the bean-nay, and the whole roof ascent thing. Seemed like the right decision at the time. Fortunately I hadn't quite gotten to lighting the BBQ as of yet. Unfortunately kids, as a group, are relentless.