PRITCHARD LIFE

I have a pretty well-documented spirit for adventure.  I’ve climbed 14,000 foot mountains, negotiated Class V whitewater, swum with sharks, and eaten bacon-wrapped hot dogs outside of Mexican night clubs.  Every risk is calculated, but brings about a mild case of nerves.  Generally, it’s not more than a bit of butterflies in the tummy and a healthy respect for whatever I’m doing.  Perhaps fatherhood has made me a total pansy, but I was genuinely fearful of our first flight with Autumn.

A bit of background: I find commercial air travel to be one of the most un-dignified experiences to which we subject ourselves.  And to be clear, I separate air travel from the simple act of flying, which I love.  Without divulging any proprietary details, my billion-dollar idea looks something like [air travel] + [general anesthesia].  In my eyes, the average coach seat was designed for a smallish Pygmy with a penchant for self-abuse.  They simply do not design airplanes for someone who is 6′ 4″ and somewhere north of twenty stone.  I dream a little dream about the airlines someday offering a Husky Class seat.  Until then, I’ll just have to suck it up (literally).  Usually, I try to reach a quasi-meditative state where I transform the discomfort of my trappings into a soul-cleansing experience.

So it was with great enthusiasm that I approached our first flight with Autumn, a simple two-hopper to Montana for our friends’ wedding.  Our little girl has a lot of energy, not to mention a set of lungs that would make the Four Tenors blush.  Lately she’s taken to ear-piercing screams as a way of saying, “You’re boring me!”.   How was this possibly going to work?  Jody booked our flights using the GGMG-patented aisle-window technique, which bets the farm on an empty middle seat.  Worst case scenario: the seat gets booked, and as your cellmate approaches you pinch the kid’s leg, get a good holler going and scare the other passenger into taking the window.  It isn’t a tough sell, convincing someone to take a window seat when the alternative is having a crying baby passed back and forth across your lap like a bottle of Beam at a Skynyrd concert.

We three boarded our 7 a.m. flight from SFO with blankets, boppies and bottles in tow.  I had a pocketful of cash to buy our neighbors as many Bloody Marys as they could handle.  In the event that our row was fully booked, I had hopeful visions of a diminuitive Mexican grandma who wanted nothing more than to make googly eyes at Autumn throughout the flight.  No such luck was necessary, because Jody’s scam plan worked; an empty seat and sleepy baby.  Autumn was tired enough to sleep in Jody’s arms for the better part of both flights.  Despite a very tight connection in Denver, we arrived in Billings intact, if a bit tired from our 4 a.m. waking.

Our return five days later was a bit less pleasant.  We opted for an early afternoon departure to make our morning a bit less rushed.  Unfortunately, Autumn didn’t nap well that morning and was in a sour mood by the time we boarded our first flight.  The flight was fully booked so we squeezed three Pritchards into two seats, an ill-advised move at best.  Autumn suffered like a champ, thanks in no small part to an accomodating flight crew and Jody’s immutable spirit.

As a parent, I guess you find the right time to tell your kids about some of the inequities of life: goldfish die, friends move away, and pain—in all its forms—is an inescapable part of the human condition.  So at eight months we revealed to Autumn one universal truth: coach sucks.

It’s official, Autumn is a morning person. I just wanted to eat her she was so precious this morning.  I’m jealous that Joyce gets to hang out with her instead of us. Tomorrow Autumn. Tomorrow. Let’s go play.

Love,

Mom

Autumn is rarely at a loss for words. And by words, I mean incoherent babbling. Her musings encompass nearly every aspect of her daily routine. While I’m certain she’s saying something profound, we just can’t seem to make it out.

Being raised by a pair of nitwits must certainly be frustrating.  Which is why Autumn decided to shift media this weekend and bang away on the keyboard.  It’s hard for a geek dad to be more proud; my girl’s first text file.  But what is she trying to tell us?

• She leads with considerable white space.  Big ideas need room to breathe.
• The first recognizable characters: vybn I’m pickin’ up what you’re putting down, girl.  Keep going.
• Ohhh…you mean vybnnmhjjknm.  Clearly a reference to the remote fishing village along the southeast coast of Iceland.  I think we have a world traveler on our hands.
• Next, a reference to pi.  My kid is damn genius.  Or if you read it phonetically, maybe she’s saying, “Mmm…pie.”  A gourmand perhaps?
• And finally, she ends with some Greek.   And not a random sigma or delta or gamma.  She threw down the omega; last letter in the Greek alphabet.  Classy way to sign off.

I’m not sure what it all means, Autumn.  But we’re encouraged by your determination and itty-bitty geek cred.  Much love, little one.

“Let’s take the babies on the ferry and go to Tiburon for lunch!” This was the idea my friend Shayna had when our girls were only a few weeks old. But, it wasn’t until March 13th that the weather finally cooperated and we were organized enough to pull it off. And I’m using organized very loosely here.

After our regular Friday swim date, five of us and our babes hauled ass out of the JCC. This was the day we learned our friend Heather had the mad driving skills of a salty old cabbie, Shayna’s husband would forgive a giant dent in their bumper, and Ali was nearly left at the dock. Organized? Not exactly, but it happened, and in the land of being a new parent – that’s what matters.

It was one of those crystal clear days that reminds us why we love living in San Francisco. This was the first boat trip for all five kids and we blended in with the rest of the tourists with our cameras and giddy smiles. When we landed in Tiburon, we made a beeline for Guaymas (an upscale Mexican restaurant at the dock) and settled into our apps and beers. We were a scene without question. Five moms laughing it up, and five babies falling somewhere on the spectrum between peacefully napping and hysterics.

As we were wrapping up our meal, the ferry was pulling up and a quick check on someone’s iPhone revealed that this was in fact the last ferry until after the kid’s bedtime. Oops! We were working off the wrong schedule. Again, we tested our ability to pack up quickly and barely made it on board for our ride home. Luckily, I had packed “dessert” (a box of Matt’s Yummy Lovin’ Chocolate Chip Cookies) and we devoured them on the trip back. Anyone who’s tried them knows what a huge hit they were.

Despite the rush, the day was a huge success, and it felt good to get out do something beyond the ordinary. Next time: Angel’s Island.

It’s not a coincidence that I returned to work the first week in January, and this is my first real post in 2009. I’ve certainly thought about writing them, almost everyday really. But like most working moms, I get about 1-2 blessed hours to myself in a whole week. (I have a sneaking suspicion that it’s even less with more than one child.) I’m working part-time, three days a week. It hasn’t been without its hiccups. Trying to carve out a meaningful career in 2/3 the time, be the mom I dream of being, and the wife Matt deserves…well, it ain’ t easy. But I’m confident that everyday that goes by, I will get better at all three.

Thursday nights are blessed in our home. Between knowing my work week is over, looking forward to four uninterrupted days with our girl,  and Thursday Night TV, it’s has become the gateway to my weekend. Fridays are even better. This is our fun day. Back in December, Autumn and I started swimming every Friday with a group of friends at the local JCC pool. The first time we went, she looked like she was absorbing everything but the water. Older babies splashing, senior citizens doing water aerobics, and countless old women coming over to comment, “Look at all that beautiful hair!” Yes, our little Autumn and her lovely locks draw lots of attention.

After three continuous months, she seems to love being in the water nearly as much as her mom and dad do. Last week she spent nearly the entire time fixed on a mini-basketball floating in our area. Her hands outstretched for nearly a half hour, she never gave up trying to pull it towards her and figure out a way to get it into her mouth. I’m predicting we have a little baller on our hands. Soccer? Basketball? Water Polo? We’ll see what interests her tomorrow during our Friday dip.

We also get together with our “play group” on Fridays – a group of moms that have been hanging out once a week to enjoy frosty brews and our babes since they were all about four weeks old.  Think of it as a conversation circle where we can sip mimosas and talk about poop without anyone flinching.Two weeks ago we hosted playgroup  in our little apartment and I snapped some photos of Autumn’s friends (see below). Tomorrow we’ll be enjoying the weather and going for a walk together in Golden Gate park.

Thursday just ended. Friday is here… finally.

Because I’m 5 months old, sportin’ pig tails for the first time and Smokey the Bear is my friend! Life Rules.

We knew there would be some compromises as we adjusted to our new roles as parents; occasions when our lifestyle would bend to meet the responsibilities of caring for a little girl.  We welcomed these changes, understanding that our adventures may slow down, but will be enriched with Autumn by our side.

Our time on the snow is sacred.  Jody and I have been season pass holders at Kirkwood for as long as we’ve been together: eight years this season.  We’ve had seasons with with 800 inches of snow and seasons where the daily special was hardpack in the morning and mashed potatoes by noon.  Such is life in the Sierra.  We’ve stayed at nearly every fleabag motel in South Lake Tahoe and we’ve spent cold, cold nights snow camping at Carson Pass.

Autumn’s baptism by powder has been preordained.  She’s at least two years away from her first day of skiing, but we thought it best to begin her immersion into the “lifestyle” sooner than later.  At four months, she’s already been to the Sierra three times.  If all goes according to plan, we’ll have two or three more trips before the season is over.

We spent a long MLK weekend near Homewood with an incredible group of friends.  Dubbed the “laziest weekend of the year,” we spent the better part of four days eating, drinking, napping, reading, playing games and taking casual strolls down to the Lake.  Effort levels were at record lows and only two people (Jody included) made it up the mountain for a bit of snowboarding.  Autumn was curious about the snow, but generally more interested in the tall trees that filled her view.

A few weekends later, we made our first trip of the season to Kirkwood.  We took a three-day weekend and made the best of it.  Each day we set up camp in the Red Cliffs day lodge, laying claim to one of the coveted sofas in the back corner.  We took turns watching Autumn while the other one got some time on the mountain.  Despite a dry season so far, the snow was surprisingly pleasant.  I can’t say that Autumn was terribly enthused to spend all day in the lodge.  She’s probably just anxious to get herself on the snow and show us how it’s done.   All in due time, little girl.