Fly Like an Eagle

“Boarding Flight AC127 to California.”

 

Just the two of us. Two. Just two. Not four. Just the two of us. Just like the motherfucking song. Just the two of us.

Four days. It seemed like an eternity. How had our lives come to this? Oh right. Little Man doesn’t fucking sleep on his own. He never could. We tried over and over and over and after a point we just needed to sleep so into our fucking bed he came. With that came the fear that we could never leave him for any extended period of time. We felt the chain. Miss M was not like this at all. A great sleeper anywhere.

But there was a conference – the Dad 2.0 Summit in San Diego. We had to go. I just started doing this thing and this looked amazing. And Lady K got a speaking gig there too. We couldn’t possibly bring the kids.

So off to Grandma and Grandpa’s they went. We promised to FaceTime every day. I was nervous as fuck and missed them the moment they left my sight. But damn, I couldn’t wait. I had eagles in my belly. Just the two of us.

We landed in L.A. Jumped into a funky little rental and cruised down the I-95. It was cool. Lady K did the driving and I just chilled out watching scenery go by. Look, a sign for Crenshaw Blvd! Cool! And everything is a beach! Redondo, Laguna, Huntington, Long and Newport! That’s where we stayed that first night.

The hotel we had was perfect. The coolest old dude behind the counter who seemed like he’d done this all his life and still loved every second of it. The amazing flowerbeds everywhere in the courtyard. Our room was the Peace room. Second floor. Second down the hall. Giant, wall-sized painting of a surfer. With its own special lighting.

We threw down our things, did a little dance and decided to FaceTime the kids before we ventured out into this wonderful, pier-culture town.

T
hey cried. Both of them. Not at first but then they did. I began acting stupid and bringing the camera back and forth
from my nose to my face to my eye to my face and Little Man laughed. Then he cried. Then he cried for his mommy. And this all made Miss M join in and fake cry. Way to fucking go, tough daddy.

So we felt like shit and decided to go out and enjoy the town. We walked in silence. For about 3 seconds. Fuck it. We were cruising down the street, looking for a bar and that was it. No navigating the wandering minions, no navigating their needs, no navigating their fights. Just walking and it was glorious.


We hit the pier. Walked out almost to the end. Damn that thing goes out far. We were deep in the blackness of night and I got kind of freaked out. We strolled the stores and found our bar. Lady K promptly knocked over the next table
s drinks. All was normal. Like normal back before all this insanity began.


The next day we hit the PCH to San Diego. Cruising the California coastline, hitting In-N-Out Burger and drinking Starbucks (some things never change) felt like freedom. And the thoughts of home were fun ones.

The Dad 2.0 Summit was amazing. I learned tons, met great friends and generated tons of ideas and possible collaborations. We drank a lot, laughed even more and suffered our hangovers together. And all this time the kids were alright.

By day 3 we were told we were FaceTiming too much. We were interrupting their fun. That’s cool, kids. Mom and Dad were having fun of their own. We’re all good.

We are all good.

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