Growing up.

Last week I went to a funeral for my friend/former boss Kevin Padrnos. Kevin was the director of the East YMCA here in Wichita and while I've poked fun of the Y a couple of times on this site, I think it's important to point out that I do so out of a weird kind of love. You see, I grew up at the East Y, I could walk there in just a couple of minutes and I spent hour upon hour working out and playing basketball until they either turned off the lights or I was physically required to be home. Back then I was pretty much the same person I am now, I was extremely determined and committed to my dreams (which at that time was to be a starting guard on the Wichita State basketball team)—OK, so maybe not all dreams turn out as you would like, but regardless the Y was my second home from about the time I was 11 or 12 until I was in college. I think I got hooked into the Y through Curt, and much of the time I spent there, I spent with him—often waiting anxiously for a chance to get into a pick-up game with him and his friends. Together, we kind of became a part of the Y family alongside Kevin, Brian, Joann, the Hebert brothers, L.C. and countless other Y employees and regulars. In time, Curt and I actually became employees too. I did just about every job imaginable at the Y, I refereed basketball games played by five year-olds, scrapped gum off of the railing in the gym, chalked T-ball fields at five in the morning and worked the graveyard shift as "gym supervisor" in which I broke up fights during co-ed volleyball games. And I did it all for the money and the free membership.

Needless to say, between the Y and Sanborn's Pool, Curt and I pretty much have a lifetime of stories.

However, it was also during that time that I got to know Kevin and I think he kind of took me under his wing a bit, not only would he keep me gainfully employed at the Y, but he gave me the opportunity to earn a little extra money on the side helping renovate his house in college hill. He always treated me well and made me feel like we had a personal relationship.

For those reasons alone, Kevin's death shook me. We weren't close friends, in fact I had only spoke to him a couple of times in the past few years—mainly because he had relocated to the east coast before returning to run the new South Y—but he was an important person in my childhood and his death was somewhat another sign of its death as well.

But it wasn't those reason's alone that it got to me.

First of all, Kevin was just 49. He was in incredible shape and full of life and it just reminded me how fragile life really is. (He died of a heart attack after collapsing from a cold.) Second, he was a father—and a single father at that. He had three young children, two of which are only sophomores in high school. At the funeral both of them spoke and it really, really got to me. The things they said were beautiful and reflected what a great dad he was and I couldn't help but to look at them and think of Park. While I've always been a bit cautious and slightly fearful, now nothing in the world scares me more than not being here for him. However, I know I can't count on tomorrow, so his death brought home the importance of making sure I make a lasting impact on Park. If nothing more, just so he'll say some nice things about me too.

Crib Notes: Month 10

Park's tenth month was all about the teeth. We are literally discovering new teeth every two weeks - at this rate he's going to have a mouthful before his first birthday. And while we've finally realized the signs (drooling, gnawing on everything, screaming at bedtime, and wanting extra cuddles during the night), I have to say that it really sucks knowing that he's just going to lose these in several years. I mean come on, this is difficult on ALL of us. So we're going through the pain and sleepless nights off and on for weeks just to say goodbye to these little suckers? I think the tooth fairy should pay a visit to both the kid and the parents after each tooth comes in (kind of a "congrats/you made it...again" type thing) and then come back to say good riddance later on. (Can you tell who's sleep-deprived and cranky?)

I really can't complain. For the most part, Park is a champ through all of it (maybe more than mom). And throughout the month, when he wasn't sucking on every finger, he was busy clapping on command, waving goodbye/hello/just because, picking up small bites of food, patting his hand on his chest and pushing things away (including mom and dad) when he didn't want something.

We continue to try new food and give his taste buds an adventure. He loves yogurt, mangos, refried beans, cold water, hummus and cheese. We are also "practicing" with the sippy cup knowing that he'll soon be switching to cow's milk. So far, he finds the cup more useful for gumming and throwing on the floor than drinking. And when it comes to the doggies, Park will stop whatever he's doing if they're anywhere in the vicinity. Luka makes him giggle and Park likes to test Zoe's boundaries and invade her personal space by touching her paws when she lays by him. Nobody touches Zoe's paws. In fact, we had to switch vets a few years ago just to find someone who had a more understanding bedside manner when it came to handling her. But Zoe seems to think Park is alright (for short bits of time) and puts up with it for a minute before moving to a safe distance.

Like every month and milestone, we continue to lose hours and days just watching this kid grow before our eyes. It's happening way too fast, but we're loving every minute.


Post-bath. Pre-comb out.


The kid has a real taste for books.


Cute little teeth destined for braces.


Not sure which is cooler here - Craig's totally 80's snap bracelet or the fact that he's draped with a burp cloth ... in public ... while waiting for MC Hammer at WSU's homecoming ... and not caring.


At what age do you teach them it's rude to point?


Here's to another great month.

The kid's gone vintage

Imagine my surprise when I went to pick up Park at his grandparent's last week and he was dressed like this:



Apparently, the little guy's diaper didn't hold up very well that morning and I didn't provide an extra outfit for accidents. What's a grandparent to do? Grandma Barbie dug up one of Craig's little outfits from the 70s. I'm not sure what baffles me more - Park's super white legs, the fact that an outfit 34 years old was that accessible, or Park's resemblance to his papa. Now if only I could find a picture of Craig wearing this for comparison.