Skip to main content

Hitting the links with Owen

I think it happens to all parents. It feels like you just give and give and give, and in the short term you have nothing to show for it except two screaming kids and a bunch of crumbs and smashed banana on your spot on the couch. Last weekend I had all of the above, plus a host of work-related deadlines and general grown-up pressures of the difficult type (like a letter in the mail from the city zoning office).

All of the stress piled up and turned an otherwise mild-mannered Daddy into a raging bull. I was over being a grown-up in general, and a parent in particular. I was having vivid fantasies of an alternate life as a dual-income, no kids (DINK) lifestyle. Just imagine: sleeping in on the weekends, long drives with no specific destination in mind, watching a full basketball game without a child getting injured in front of the TV. I must admit, there were more than a few instances last weekend when I was far from a model parent.

But then at some point during this week I got over my fantasies and realized how lucky I am to have two smart, sensitive, loving and hilarious little boys to call my sons. So on Saturday after putting in a half-day at the office writing telescope proposals I decided to take Owen on an adventure to a putt-putt golf course. As with many things in the greater Los Angeles area, the putt-putt golf course was about 25 miles, 4 freeways and 35-50 minutes away. Because of a major accident on the 60 West, the 60 East was backed up for miles and it took us about 45 minutes to get there. But it was worth it when the windmills and castles of the Golf-N-Stuff appeared on the side of the freeway. Owen said, "Whoa! Is that our adventure." It sure was!

Owen thoroughly enjoyed knocking the golf ball around the course using his signature, extremely-awkward golf stroke. Imagine a combination of hockey face-off, croquette stroke, and jungle explorer using a machete. On hole 8, Dad struggled on the par-3 volcano, ending the hole +4 because I couldn't get it over the lip of the mountain and into the caldera. However, Owen teed up, hit the ball through his legs standing backward and got a hole-in-one.

Later, on hole 11 the situation reversed. I got a birdie while Owen struggled to get the ball up the ramp and into the skee-ball like receptacles. So he decided to eschew the golf club and went for a more direct method of moving the ball:


(In the video, after I say, "Over there!" Owen says, "What the heck?! I can't believe that!")

After the golf course, we went inside to the arcade where we raced cars, shot some hoops and mini-bowled. We had enough tickets for two Blowpop suckers and a foam dart-like projectile. It was a good day out with the boy.

Oh, and on the way home I took the 60 W to the 710 N to the 10 W to the 5 N to the 110N, which was way better and only took 25 minutes!

Comments

Anonymous said…
Your description of Owen's signature style is fantastic, and I can see him there in my mind's eye. To have that followed by "Owen teed up, hit the ball through his legs standing backward and got a hole-in-one." I'm as astonished as you must have been by seeing it in person. Way to go, Owen!!
mama mia said…
Hilarious post on parenting, and just keep enjoying the ride..love the reality of it all....you're not alone there daddy!

Popular posts from this blog

A view from your shut down

The Daily Dish has been posting reader emails reporting on their " view from the shutdown ." If you think this doesn't affect you, or if you know all too well how bad this is, take a look at the growing collection of poignant stories. No one is in this alone except for the nutjobs in the House. I decided to email Andrew with my own view. I plan to send a similar letter to my congressperson. Dear Andrew, I am a professor of astronomy at the Harvard-Smithsonian Center for Astrophysics (CfA). The CfA houses one of the largest, if not the largest collection of PhD astronomers in the United States, with over 300 professional astronomers and roughly 100 doctoral and predoctoral students on a small campus a few blocks west of Harvard Yard. Under the umbrella of the CfA are about 20 Harvard astronomy professors, and 50 tenure-track Smithsonian researchers. A large fraction of the latter are civil servants currently on furlough and unable to come to work. In total, 147 FTEs

back-talk begins

me: "owen, come here. it's time to get a new diaper" him, sprinting down the hall with no pants on: "forget about it!" he's quoting benny the rabbit, a short-lived sesame street character who happens to be in his favorite "count with me" video. i'm turning my head, trying not to let him see me laugh, because his use and tone with the phrase are so spot-on.

The Long Con

Hiding in Plain Sight ESPN has a series of sports documentaries called 30 For 30. One of my favorites is called Broke  which is about how professional athletes often make tens of millions of dollars in their careers yet retire with nothing. One of the major "leaks" turns out to be con artists, who lure athletes into elaborate real estate schemes or business ventures. This naturally raises the question: In a tightly-knit social structure that is a sports team, how can con artists operate so effectively and extensively? The answer is quite simple: very few people taken in by con artists ever tell anyone what happened. Thus, con artists can operate out in the open with little fear of consequences because they are shielded by the collective silence of their victims. I can empathize with this. I've lost money in two different con schemes. One was when I was in college, and I received a phone call that I had won an all-expenses-paid trip to the Bahamas. All I needed to d