Unsaid Traditions

These past couple of weeks have been crazy busy for us. Two weeks ago we found out that we are having a baby boy. This was somewhat of a relief since we were already decided on what to name our baby if it is a boy: Luke. Since then, everything seemed to start piling up. Before we found out he was a boy, we were putting off doing certain things such as painting his bedroom, buying furniture, etc. This is where the relaxation was forced to a grinding halt. Last week we bought a crib, a dresser, a few articles of cloths that we just couldn't let slip by us, a stroller, and many miscellaneous trinkets and thingamabobs that must go in his room or else life just wouldn't be as cute as it could be for him.

At the end of last week, we were blessed by the presence of Luke's Grandma and Grandpa Pen. My parents came into town. In order to prepare for their arrival, we had to take care minor house keeping things. Grandma Susan and Grandpa Ted made a number of trips to our house in helps of cleaning out various moving boxes and helping to prepare our guest bedroom for our, well, guests. We spent a good amount of time going through stuff from our previous two moves and arranged the bedroom in a very simple and peaceful respite for my folks (and everyone else that comes over and wants to stay the night for that matter). Once that was taken care of, we were actually able to relax for a second and enjoy the outcome of our hard work. The visit with my parents was very nice. We were able to shop around for the varied undeniable Luke necessities, and even picked out a paint color for the room: Summer Field (it's a shade of green).

One thing that really struck my fancy last weekend was the time that me and my dad spent putting together Luke's crib. As we were reading the instructions and struggling with translating the previously poorly translated diagrams into something we could understand, I started reminiscing on a time from my childhood. When I was about six or seven one of my fondest and most vivid memories was of when me and dad set out to put together a veneered compression board roller style microwave stand that sat in the same place in our house for as long as I can remember. I remember bringing my dad tools and trying to figure out which direction to turn the instructions. Then finally in the end watching my dad stand back with his fists on his hips looking at the newly assembled stand, then me looking up at him and him looking down saying, "We make a pretty good team, huh?" About halfway through the assemblage of my future son's bed with my father, I realized the significance of this moment. Twenty some odd years ago, I remember feeling a sense of admiration for my dad as he always knew exactly what we needed every time we messed up a bit with a previously botched attempt. And I know that he felt a sense of pride in me as I was finally able to help him in a way that he had never been helped before; by his son. This time, we were both feeling all of these feelings. I still had the warm feeling of admiration for my dad's uncanny ability to figure out the simple problems but also a sense of pride for always having been able to help my dad when he needed it. And he was still feeling that same pride for his son who was starting to formulate and compare complex solutions to the simple problems. He was also feeling that same warm admiration when he stepped back and saw himself in the young man asking for the screwdriver and proposing a solution for getting that over sized crib through the entirely too narrow hallway where we found ourselves stuck toward the very end. Then we both shared the same warmth and pride when we stepped back from the crib in its final resting place in the room of the third generation Pendleton, fists on hips, smiling, accomplished. There is something special about a father and son solving problems together, and both of us knew that these instances are invaluable. It goes without saying that my Grandpa Pen passed this invaluable tradition to me through my dad, and neither of us had to say out loud that we were both proud of the fact that this same thing was currently being passed down to Luke. I have found that the best things passed down through the male generations usually go without saying. Very different than the female generations (evident in the fact that mom and Leslie both said, "I told you you it wouldn't fit down the hallway! I told you you should have put it together in the bedroom.")

It was nice having Grandma and Grandpa Pen in town. (I really like calling them that!!) We very thoroughly enjoyed sharing with them all of the anticipations and challenges of the upcoming months.

Coming up this weekend: Painting.

Love and Sincerity,

Aaron and Leslie