Mission Control

Like all family decisions, I went from absolutely hating the idea of buying a cabin to being its most passionate defender. I love it so much. Since I spend at least once a week in Michigan for client junk, I’ve been able to use the house as a poop pit stop and occasional sleepover spot. I love sitting in my big chair with a big glass of bourbon and a big dose of Netflix shows the rest of the family hates.

As such, I constantly beg the family to spend weekends there. Which is kind of the point. Diana is always in, but the boys tend to need a little more coaxing (threatening). They miss their friends and cousins and stinky beds. But mostly they miss their screens.

The cabin has the most charmingly awful Wi-Fi, which is the point. It takes forever to download/stream/TikTok. Instead of everyone watching screens all day, it forces us all to spend time together as a family watching our screens’ loading bars.

With Christmas and Mexico and other holiday commitments, we hadn’t all been to the cabin for several weeks. So I put on my best whiny voice and cajoled everyone to head up last weekend. The only issue was The National Football League, or NFL. It was the last group of games before the Super Bowl and Luca was desperate to watch. 

I promised him we’d watch the games live. I hoped we could scoop all our Wi-Fi into a big pile and use it to stream the game. And if worse came to worse, I thought I could take him to the one bar in town, charmingly called “Freedom.” But I wasn’t sure it actually they’d be watching TV, what with all the militia meetings and bayonet sharpening.

We poured chips into bowls and moved the tv into our dining room, the location of our router. Said router would puff up its little chest and say, “I think I can…I think I can…” and give us the best four minutes of live broadcast it could. Then it would fall over, wheezing and covered in sweat.   

Luca took this complete lack of actual football as a challenge. He gathered every Wi-Fi enabled device we owned and placed them strategically around the room. Racing around the room, he’d refresh devices like a master plate spinner on Ed Sullivan. 

Eventually he got into a rhythm where we could see the almost the whole game. The afternoon was exciting and fun and full of family bonding. 

After the games, we had a lovely spaghetti dinner, lit a fire and retired to the family room to watch a movie. 

Secret Life of Eli

We’ve officially entered the Closed Door phase with Elijah. What goes on in there? What secret projects is he cracking? What mysterious activities are unfolding just beyond?

The world may never know. Well, I know. I constantly barge in without warning.

He’s almost always on YouTube. Or Tic Toc or whatever video based social media platform is currently in vogue. But as he spends more and more time behind closed doors, I worry he’s getting farther and farther away, and one day he’ll come downstairs a complete stranger. A bearded, strapping, Australian stranger. Yes, my greatest fear is he will turn into Chris Hemsworth. 

In the interest of maintaining a death grip on the few emotional threads I have left, I offered to take Eli and the neighbor girls to the mall to hang out, do a little light shopping and wear our leg warmers. They all giddily agreed.

My plan was to play it cool and embed myself into Tween life, Jane Goodall-style. But I also brought a book in case they ditched me.

Thankfully, they let me hang with them the whole time. Mostly because I had money and was open to spending it in small, Annie’s Pretzel chunks. 

After an awkward beginning where I made them go to J.Crew to visit some mid-priced casual pants, they got more comfortable and started being themselves. 

And let me tell you, the Eli self is a straight up goofball. Every store was a new chance for him to do a bit. He smeared eyeliner on himself and neighbor girl #1 (sorry Sephora employees), he pretended to be a DJ in the Apple store and caused a near riot in the candle store. I lost count of how many snowballs he threw. He did voices. He did characters. He did do much shtick he could be mayor of Vaudeville.  

I loved it. My sincere wish for both my sons is they never lose their sense of fun, never lose their goofball-ness. And Eli was living his best goofball life. As a result, I bought him as many bath bombs and cheeseburgers as he could carry. 

The best part? I felt like we made a real connection. It was a rare Eli and Dad love fest. And when we went home, he ran to his room to hide.