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Friday

My buddy Sam hit me up with two extra suite tickets for Friday’s Angel game against the Tigers, courtesy of his lovely new bride’s employer. My wife had a rare Friday night off of work so we dumped the twins at my parents, drove through Del Taco and joined 5,000 other cars trying to enter the Angel Stadium parking lot.

Angels Stadium suite

Did you know there is a parking lot solely for Lexus vehicles? It’s fucking awesome. We rolled right up in their Lexus and parked away from those dirty, classless Ford, Honda and Hyundai’s. Peasant pigs.

Our view from the Angel Stadium suite.

Torii Hunter returned to Anaheim for the first time since leaving the Angels this past winter as a free agent. Hunter is Jax’s favorite player. My odd brain often wonders how Jax would have handled the news that Hunter left the Angels. I’m confident he wouldn’t have cried. Short of Captain America leaving Marvel to “find himself” in a temple on a South American mountain, Jax wasn’t going to cry about anything. But would he just like Torii on the Tigers now, or pick a new Angels favorite?

Big Bang Fireworks

We were still walking to our suite seats when Hunter came to bat. Angel fans gave him a warm standing ovation, Hunter scored the only Tigers run and the Angels won the first of three games against Detroit. And as they do every Friday night for Big Bang Fireworks Night, the Angels organization treated us to a show.

Saturday

Ellie’s coach is a big dude.

Gray and Ellie played their first t-ball game as Team Black against the dastardly Team Burgundy. Ellie broke out of the statue act from last week and had a good hit in her second at-bat and flashed grit and a gun in the field. Gray, meanwhile, stroked two hard ground balls up the middle and refused to wear a glove while playing first base. He even chased down grandma for a water break in middle of an inning.

Breathe, Seth, breathe.

While the twins “napped” I tweaked resumes and cover letters and applied to three jobs. The Fortune 100 insurance company I work for decided to centralize its operations and our charming Ontario office is closing in August. Dopamine shot through my body from the sense of accomplishment. But that will fade fast when no one calls.

Sunday

My church is closing within the next three weeks as a result of financial difficulty. My parents left a mega church in the ’80s to follow a friend and pastor who established the church I grew up in. At this church I:

Broke out of my shy shell in my early teens
Met the girl I kissed for the first time
Met some of my best friends
Met my wife
Had the pastor marry my wife and I
Had my children dedicated

Jax’s memorial service was held at this church. It’s the only church he ever knew. It’s the last place I saw his physical body. He was breaking out of his shy shell here, too. This church body has showed so much love and support to my family I know I will never feel again. What breaks my heart the most is not having that same support to surround Gray and Ellie. I’m on the verge of sobbing as a type this. The more I think about it, the more I can’t handle it. I sensed it coming, and I thought I’d be okay with it. But I’m totally not.

At night, as my wife prepped herself for a night at the hospital, I took Gray and Ellie to my parents for dinner. First we met at a baseball field for some t-ball practice. I had this fantastic idea that letting them run around on a real field with bases and grandma and granpda and no other distractions would increase their short attention span. But that backfired. They had more fun using plastic bats as telescopes in the dugout.

But then something strange happened. Something eye opening. Gray grabbed a small soccer ball some friends gave the twins out of the bag of bats and wiffle balls. He started kicking it around, moving from the first base side out into left field. He dribbled the entire time. And he dribbled like he’s been doing this for a while.

Neither my wife or I like soccer. Neither of us played as a child and we don’t push the sport, so his performance today is completely natural. Which means I’ll probably spend my 40’s driving him to club matches (games or matches? WTF SOCCER!) throughout Southern California every single weekend. Shit.

Like clockwork my neighbor in the office asks me about my weekend. Monday mornings I’m like a zombie from The Walking Dead – full of grunts, moving slowly and oblivious to anything except gun shots and car alarms.

I’m sure my co-worker is tired of my “fine” and “nothing” answers, so I figured I’ll put it into words and pictures so she doesn’t have to deal with my ass.

So this is how my weekend was. But first.

Earlier in the week my wife was doing laundry and the twins asked to play in their cribs. They like to wrestle with each other in the same crib some times, and since it’s 1000 times easier to do things while their contained, my wife obliged. She periodically checked in on them to make sure Ellie didn’t have Gray in a chokehold when she noticed Gray eating something. She assumed it was stuffing from one of their plush animals, grabbed the substance, and stared in horror at two large boogers in her hand.

“Grayson!” she exclaimed. “You cannot eat your boogers!”

Gray corrected her.

“Ellie’s boogers,” he stated.

Friday

The twins wrapped up a four-week t-ball class through the City of Corona’s Parks and Community Services department. It is an introduction to the sport for 2 and 3-year-olds. Twenty-something instructors teach the kids not to run to third base first, how to throw like a robot and catch a ball as if one’s hands are the mouth of an alligator chomping on its next prey. At one point Gray decided to run from his position near first base out to right field and I got to chase him down.

Ellie played statue most of the class. Rather than swing the bat at the tee, she stood there. Rather than throw the ball back to the instructor in the field, she stared at him. It’s fun when that happens.

Gray, however, ripped the best hit out of all 15-or-so toddlers when he lofted a solid line drive towards right center and my frustrations melted away.

My wife worked that night at the hospital. After dinner, baths and pajamas I coined a new nickname for Gray – Bam Bam. Gray is the proverbial bull in a china shop. Whatever he does, he does it with brute and recklessness. Just before bed he was pounding his fat red plastic baseball bat against the floor repeatedly. I called Bam Bam to come over and he started chanting “Bam bam bam bam bam”. I’m working on making it stick.

Saturday

As one t-ball class ended, another City of Corona program began. For the next eight weeks Gray and Ellie will play actual “games” for an hour every Saturday. If my brain didn’t spill out of my head in the introductory class, I guarantee you it will now.

The first session was a repeat of running bases, throwing and fielding. Next week the games begin. We’re Team Black. Time to refill that Xanax prescription.

My grandpa recently turned 87 so I ditched the family and headed to his house for pizza to celebrate. Meanwhile, my wife and her mom took the kids on a photo shoot and captured this fuzzy moment:

Ellie steals a kiss from Gray in the grass.

At night I watched the listless Angels finally manage a thrilling, come-from-behind victory and grabbed a couple of Mike Trout bobble heads in the process. Thank you, Angels Stadium staff, for turning your backs just as I entered the gates for the free giveaways.

Mike Trout bobble head.

Sunday

In December Kristina and her family offered to help her grandpa build a patio cover in his backyard. Sunday was phase two of the project. This photo will summarize my ability to use tools to build or repair anything:

Stop staring at my butt.

But I’m fantastic at giving horsey rides. And the twins had a blast. How was your weekend?

Gray and Ellie practicing for future WWE wrestling career.

We paid them in food.

Hard at work.

Cheese ball smile. Just like Jax.

Smiling Through Tearz

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