It’s Wednesday, and The Kids Are In Bed! This week, Tim and Jenni continue their countdown to the 25th anniversary of their relationship by discussing 2021. They talk about Jenni’s first watch of Tenet. They talk about some of the most memorable pop culture stories of 2021: Free Britney, Kim and Kanye Divorce, Bennifer 2.0 (RIP), Taylor Swift re-releasing her music, and Squidgame. From there, Jenni guesses what won the box office, and they discuss the best picture nominees despite seeing only a couple of the movies. Tim talks about losing 70 pounds and growing out his hair, showing off his “Long Hair, Skinny Face” look for the first time. 2021 brought a family road trip to NY, dinosaurs, and the Gophers beating Wisconsin AGAIN. Will 2021 be their best year yet? Only one way to find out!
Tim and Jenni reflect on their family life, parenting challenges, and the unique experiences of 2020, the best year that wasn’t. They share humorous anecdotes about their children, discuss the impact of the pandemic on their lives, and reminisce about pop culture moments from that year. The conversation flows from light-hearted family stories to more profound reflections on the lessons learned during a tumultuous time.
“Daddy, this is so much fun,” my daughter, Clementine, said, breathing heavily as we climbed the 49 steps to the top of the water slide.
Yes. I counted them. Mind your business.
Midway through the summer, my wife, Jenni, and I discussed keeping the kids home from daycare before school started.
The prospect of saving money by not having them in daycare was more than enough to get me interested.
If you don’t have kids or don’t live in, well, the United States of America, you may be wondering, what does it cost each week to have a five—and eight-year-old attend daycare in the summer?
$484.19.
I know that number by heart, and writing it still takes my breath away.
Jenni’s primary concern, however, had little to do with our money.
“I just think it’s a great opportunity for you to spend time with the kids since you might not have free time like this again.”
I guess staring at a blank screen, hoping for inspiration to strike, counts as free time these days…
We decided to give the kids some extra fun in the last week of summer before school.
Cha-ching.
“It’s a good opportunity to adjust our bedtime so we are in a better routine when school actually starts,” I suggested to my wife one evening while feeling incredibly confident about my parenting ability.
Ah, the lies we tell ourselves.
On the recommendation of my eight-year-old son, Jude, I decided we would go to Summerland Family Fun Park. He had been there on a summer field trip, and he assured me Clementine would love it. The park has a waterslide, go-karts, mini-golf, and bumper boats, all run by teenagers who, for the most part, seemed unconcerned with park rules.
You’ve seen it before. It’s the place where you say, “Maybe next time,” to your kids when you drive by it on the highway.
A quick Google search showed me that admission to the park was $7.50, so I figured it’d be perfect for the hottest day in August.
Once inside, it was clear the admission fee was a bait-and-switch – everything was a la carte.
I stood looking at the prices for all the activities, attempting to do the quick math, when my wife’s voice popped into my head like a guardian angel.
“You’re not in a rush,” her angelic voice rang in my head.
I must’ve blacked out because the next thing I knew, I was tapping my credit card to pay $148.89. Not bad for three hours of fun, right? Right?! But it’s not just the price. Every tap of the card feels like a trade-off, a decision about where to invest these fleeting moments. Before they’re too old to want to go on water slides with me, time with my kids makes a hundred and fifty bucks feel insignificant.
We walked into the park, $335.30 in the black, and found a table for our things.
Whenever I take my kids to fun places alone, I can’t shake the feeling people think I’m a divorced Dad.Sonaturally, I am forced to overcompensate.
“Mommy is going to be so proud of me when we get home to her,” I said in a raised voice to my kids as I slathered them with sunscreen.
It’s funny how our insecurities come out to play sometimes.
Putting sunscreen on kids at the bottom of a waterslide is like trying to keep two cats in a bathtub. I wanted to ensure I was with Clementine before she got near the water since she is a new swimmer and because, well, she’s my baby girl who needs me by her side.
“Do you want to go down together for the first time?” I asked her as we climbed the steps to the top of the slide.
“No, thanks,” she said, running ahead of me up the stairs, utterly sure of herself.
Since Jude was first in line, I told him to wait for Clementine at the bottom to ensure she got to the pool’s stairs okay.
When the lifeguard gave her the all-clear, Clementine looked at me. She wasn’t asking for permission – just checking on me.
“All good?” I asked with a smile.
She gave me her trademark thumbs-up and wink before launching herself down the waterslide. My heart swelled with pride at her bravery.
I waited at the top, watching her shoot out of the bottom. Of course, she made it to the stairs like she’d done it a thousand times before.
I stepped up and went down the slide to catch up with her.
If you haven’t been on a waterslide lately, do it. I promise you can’t make it down without smiling or feeling that burst of joy in your chest.
As I came around the final corner of the water slide, my adorable baby girl sat in the water on the pool steps, waiting for me. Her face lit up with a smile from ear to ear, and a faint pang of recognition hit me square in the chest.
My daughter looked familiar, but not just because she carries half of my DNA. It was different, like when a stranger’s face catches your eye at a crowded event, and for a second, they seem like someone you know. However, after you let your gaze hold for a moment, the recognition slips through your fingertips like trying to remember a dream.
We went down that slide a hundred more times, and every trip up the stairs, she couldn’t stop talking about the fun:
“Daddy, this is so much fun.”
“This is the best waterslide ever.”
“You’re the best Daddy.”
“This is the best waterslide ever.”
“I love going down the waterslide with you.”
“Who built this waterslide? Because they did a really good job.”
With every burst of joy she shared, I felt that familiar pang in my chest again, like something I was on the verge of understanding. I shook it off as an odd case of Deja Vu.
As we left the park, hot and exhausted, I silently thanked Jenni. She was right. Those three hours at the park riding waterslides, playing mini golf, and riding go-karts were reason enough to keep them home for the week.
A few days later, walking from our tailgate at the first Minnesota Gophers football game of the season, soaked from the rain, I snapped some candid shots of Clementine, expecting her usual cute smile in her Gopher cheerleader outfit.
Instead, I got a runway model attitude and strut, which made her look ten years older.
There’s that pang again, I thought as I snapped pictures.
When the photoshoot concluded, I looked at the pictures, hoping for a clue as to what had brought that odd feeling of familiarity, but I came up with nothing.
On her first day of Kindergarten, her joy was infectious. It reminded me of how I used to feel on the first day of school – that Christmas morning vibe full of unknowns and endless possibilities.
From the moment she came downstairs in her orange-patterned dress (Get it? Because her name is Clementine), the pang in my chest lingered until we watched her walk into school.
If reincarnation were my thing, I’d swear that pang meant I knew her in another life.
Of course, I spent my morning crying as I worried about her being lonely, or homesick, or scared, or nervous, or, or, or…
When she got off the bus, I realized all my tears and worries were for nothing. The pang in my chest returned as she smiled and waved, but this time, it felt more real. Less like a fleeting dream, more like a name you can’t quite get off the tip of your tongue.
On her second day of Kindergarten, we were a little more rushed to get out in time for the bus.
Jenni and I followed our children, backpacks bouncing on their shoulders, out into the cool September morning air to wait for the bus.
We expected the kids to stop and wait with us on the step, just like the first day. The third grader, Jude, didn’t want to do that, so he gestured for his little sister to follow him to the bus stop. He didn’t do it impatiently; he did it with the calm confidence of the stellar big brother he’s been for the past five and a half years.
Tears start to sting my eyes.
Clementine didn’t think twice. She walked right past as I said, “Alright, have a great second day of Kindergarten, baby girl.”
“She didn’t even say goodbye,” Jenni said, looking at me with mock anguish.
And just like that, I understood the pang – like solving a riddle, it suddenly seemed so obvious. The feeling of familiarity was no longer a mystery.
The source of that familiarity stood right next to me as we watched our kids walk to the bus stop.
My daughter’s smile, enthusiasm, confidence, and bravery are the same things I fell in love with when I was fifteen.
Tears fell as I saw Jenni’s reflection in our daughter. But unlike her first day, only a few tears fell this time, I knew there was nothing to worry about. She got the good stuff from my wife—the magic.
The magic of a little girl who knows there are no limits to what she can do – not because she’s told, but because her mother shows her how to be undeniable.
Her answer to the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” says it all.
“A firefighter, construction worker, dancer, swimmer, and fashion model.”
She’ll be busy, but I have no doubt she’ll do it all.
You shouldn’t either.
Cheers.
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Tim and Jenni continue the countdown to their 25th anniversary this week by discussing 2017. They review their most recent stay-cation filled with multiple trips to the Minnesota State Fair, Ludacris & TPain concert, and a trip to an AirBnB. They then travel back to 2017, talking about some of the most memorable pop culture events, such as Beyonce’s memorable(?) Instagram pregnancy announcement, the Fyre Festival debacle, and Bhad Bhabie asking the audience to “catch her outside.” From there, they play their movie games: guessing what won the box office and reviewing the winners and nominees for Best Picture at the Oscars. From there, they discuss what happened in their lives in 2017 as they adjusted to life with a toddler. Join Tim and Jenni on The Kids Are In Bed this week for nostalgia and laughs.
We have a baby! Please read about my First Moments As A Father to learn more about the nurse story featured in the podcast!
This week, on The Kids Are In Bed, Tim and Jenni discuss finding Jenny’s lost wedding ring, their outdated technology, and 2016. They reminisce about pop culture moments like the Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie split, the mannequin challenge, and the Oscars mix-up. They also talk about the top movies of 2016 and share their personal favorites. In 2016, the couple experienced the joys and challenges of becoming parents. They took trips, including a murder mystery bed and breakfast and a visit to Washington, DC. They also had a difficult experience with a nurse after their son’s birth. Despite the sleep deprivation and adjustments, they found joy in their son’s personality and milestones. Overall, 2016 was a year of growth, love, and adventure.
In this episode of The Kids Are In Bed, Tim and Jenni discuss their weekend activities, including filming golf and selling a rocking horse. They also talk about tie-dyeing shirts and their daughter’s upcoming start of kindergarten. They then travel back to 2014 and discuss various events, movies, and songs from that year. In 2014, the hosts went on multiple trips, including to Breckenridge, Texas, Austin, Winnipeg, and New York. They reminisce about their adventures, including singing songs in the car, putting bread in the microwave, and playing a game to see who could accurately count to a minute. They also discuss hosting dinner parties, attending a bachelorette party in Chicago, and the host’s encounter with a bird. Overall, 2014 was a year filled with fun and memorable experiences.
This week, Tim and Jenni discuss their recent boat trip, summer routine, and thoughts on living on a lake. They also reminisce about 2013, including notable events: a meteor hitting Russia & Justin Bieber peeing into a mop bucket, movies, and music. In 2013, Tim and Jenni went on several trips, including to Winnipeg, Montreal, New York, and Mexico. They enjoyed their time in Winnipeg, exploring downtown and visiting restaurants. They also had a memorable experience at a gas station in Canada, struggling to convert gallons to liters. The couple attended a Kubb tournament in Eau Claire, Wisconsin, where they placed fifth. They celebrated the 4th of July in Minneapolis, wearing a Canada shirt by accident. Overall, 2013 was a year filled with travel and fun experiences.
In episode 26 of The Kids Are In Bed, Tim and Jenni discuss 2012, which was filled with Tim’s alcohol-infused adventures. They talk about their love for the Olympics, their confusion about how athletes choose which country to play for, and their favorite movies and music from that year. They share personal stories, including a wild night at an LMFAO concert and their claw machine conquest at a local bar. Then, they reminisce about their adventures and (Tim’s) misadventures in 2012. They recall throwing stuffed animals off their balcony, their trip to Kansas City, attending a Twins game, exploring the Gaslight (Power & Light) District, and their wild experiences at St. Patrick’s Day celebrations. They also mention attending weddings, visiting Madison, Wisconsin, and participating in a breathalyzer challenge. Despite their reckless behavior, they express gratitude for the year and the fun they had.
This week, Tim and Jenni discuss their recent date night, the movies they watched, and rank the year 2011. They also talk about the top movies and Oscar winners of that year. In this conversation, they reminisce about various events and experiences from 2011. They discuss attending a conference, winning VIP passes to a Rihanna concert where they also saw CeeLo Green, road trips, weddings, Halloween parties, and more. The conversation is filled with funny anecdotes and memories. The hosts also mention the lack of pictures from that year, indicating that 2011 was quick and eventful. They end the conversation by encouraging listeners to watch Twisters and Twister movies and try the date idea of dinner and a movie.
“Am I?” I ask, running my hand along my forearm, “I guess I am.”
Before we move on, it’s essential to disclose that I’m not too fond of the wind. In fact, I despise it. I am not a sailor or kite enthusiast. I only find the wind beneficial when it cools me down on a hot day, unless I’m on the golf course.
While returning from a walk on a windy day late this spring, I noticed a small section of shingles that appeared to be missing near the highest peak of my roof. I snapped a picture with my phone and decided since I knew nothing about roofs, I would look for someone who did.
My ability to ignore problems that I presume to be expensive is near a super-human level.
That’s going to be expensive. Let’s ignore it, I thought when I felt my molar crack after biting into a boneless wing at Buffalo Wild Wings in my late twenties. Of course, my tooth had been sore for a while before it broke. An average person would have gone to a dentist as soon as possible. I pride myself on being below average, so I lived with aching pain on the left side of my face for at least a year.
I discovered I could chew on one side of my mouth, and Ibuprofen would help me through most of it. What makes me so impressive is my ability to fight through the times when the pain consumed almost the entire left side of my face and still find a way to ignore the fact the problem would be solved by making an appointment. The bright side? Root canals aren’t bad when you have been in agony for months, aside from the Endodontist remarking at how sore the tooth must’ve been multiple times throughout the procedure.
I knew. Jesus, I knew.
As days turned to weeks, my house felt like a sore tooth every time it rained. I would wince at the sight of dark clouds, knowing I had a potential problem above my head.
The last week of June, the doorbell rang in the middle of the day. I answered, ignoring my desire to fall into my regular hiding routine when someone comes to my door. I worry, occasionally, that saying, “Don’t open the door,” as though the cartel or a bookie to whom I owe money is standing on the other side of the door hoping to get in, will give my children a complex.
I guess I will find out in about twenty years or so.
I answered the door with the swagger of a man with nothing to hide, and a young man in his early twenties stood on my front step. He launched into his pitch when I opened the door, offering me a free roof inspection for hail damage.
“I don’t know about hail damage, but I want to show a spot I know needs attention,” I said as he followed me into my front lawn to get a better vantage point to look at the section of roof I had seen in the spring.
“I actually don’t know a lot about what happens next, but if you would like us to do an inspection, my boss will come over and take a look. He can answer your questions.”
When the boss man came to my door, he told me we had hail in August 2023. I informed him about the spot on my roof I was concerned about, but he made it clear his mission was to get on my roof and find hail damage. I left him to look around on my roof.
He finished his inspection in fifteen minutes and informed me he had found hail damage. He started scrolling through pictures of my roof on his phone; at least, that’s what he said. It could have been a picture of any roof. That is not to say I thought he was tricking me, but more to demonstrate that my knowledge of shingles is limited to the disgusting virus that showed up on my arm a couple of years ago.
The salesman also showed me a crack in my siding, which I immediately called out was caused by my eight-year-old and not Mother Nature. My honesty was not the correct answer, as he explained that it had the characteristics of hail damage.
He quickly explained the order of events, and I signed a few documents on an iPad.
No, I didn’t read the agreements I was signing. Yes, he told me what the agreements said. No, I wasn’t listening. No, I didn’t ask any questions. Yes, I’m aware I should have gotten clarification on what I was agreeing to.
My brain shut off when I recognized that getting a brand new roof due to hail damage is a big game I am forced to play because I own a house.
He quickly had a representative from my home insurance company on speaker phone and began filing a claim. By the time he left, I had convinced myself all of this was great news since he seemed confident my insurance company would agree that I needed a new roof and new siding, all for the low price of my $1,000 insurance deductible.
The following morning, I found myself in a terrific mood, trying to slow the pace of our Wednesday morning by snuggling with my daughter on the couch before taking her to daycare. Then, I got a text message from my insurance company, which gave me a brief policy outline and informed me about the cost of my deductible.
Immediately, my mood improved as I patted myself on the back for remembering the cost of my deductible despite not thinking about home insurance since we bought our house six years ago. I read on to discover there was a little more to the story.
This is when the heat in my chest began to build, and every inch of my skin started to sweat, prompting my daughters question. It turns out my deductible for wind and hail damage is $11,820.
The extra twenty dollars feels a little excessive, doesn’t it?
I understand the reaction to that dollar amount will vary. I am aware that relative to the cost of a new roof and siding, it is a drop in the bucket. However, it feels substantial when you are an unemployed writer with an exceptionally small following.
After I got my kids to school, I occupied the rest of my time conjuring up the different scenarios and paths I would lead my family down to financial ruin because I quit my job.
It’s odd to be acutely aware when my mind spirals out of control. I have a voice in my head shouting rationalizations. Unfortunately, that voice exists in the way back of the vehicle, driving off a cliff into a pit of despair.
A week later, I had an appointment with a roofing company representative and an adjuster from my insurance company. The plan was for the two of them to climb up on my roof and determine my fate as I curled up in the fetal position in my shower, fully clothed. However, due to the kind of communication you would expect from an insurance company, the adjuster never showed up.
The gentleman from the roofing company got up to take a look for himself and promised to specifically examine the section of my roof that had started this mess. When he finished, he told me it looked like the section of roof I noticed had been previously repaired, but a shingle was missing up there. He then informed me, with confidence, that there was hail damage on the roof, and it would more than likely need to be replaced. The humid, eighty-five-degree weather allowed the sweat forming all over my body to go unnoticed. Or, at least, unquestioned.
I spent the next forty-eight hours trying to decide what soul-sucking job I should find to eat up the next twenty-five to thirty years of my life while I awaited the rescheduled appointment with the adjuster.
A statistic about worry has popped up in multiple memes, videos, and posts on the internet. Cornell University did a study on worry and found 85% of what the subjects studied worried about never happened. With the 15% that did happen, subjects discovered they could handle it better than expected. I have yet to find the data on this study, but when I first read this statistic, I thought: I’m worried those people don’t know how to worry properly.
Of course, we don’t need to find this study to know it is true. Even the most unseasoned of worriers know that most of the time, the real bad stuff in life is not the things that consume our thoughts. Instead, the bad stuff barges in unannounced, like the Kool-Aid Man.
Knowing this doesn’t stop me.
When the insurance adjuster and the roofer showed up for the rescheduled appointment, I braced myself as I listened to their footsteps on the roof like a couple of reverse Santa Clause’s searching for a way to take eleven thousand dollars up the chimney. I distracted myself from that by wondering what my deductible would be if they took a wrong step and fell off my roof.
The moment of truth came with a tap-tappity-tap-tap on my front door from the insurance adjuster.
After greeting me with one of the limpest handshakes I have ever been a part of, he began to give me his assessment of the damage. I braced for what I deemed to be the inevitable.
“Well, I got up there and took a look around. I have to say your roof is in great shape. There are some small impressions from hail…” I stopped listening as relief swept through my body, and I eyed the roofer. I expected to see an eye roll or a slight shake of the head as he listened to an assessment directly contradicting the reports I had gotten on the status of my roof. To my surprise, he stood resolute with a poker face that could inspire Lady Gaga to write a hit single.
I decided to check back into the assessment. The insurance adjuster continued, “… you are missing a shingle, so you should get that repaired. Otherwise, your roof is in great shape.”
I positioned my hand for a fist bump to avoid another wet noodle handshake. The fist bump was only a fraction less awkward.
As the adjuster made his way to his truck, the roofer started in with his final assessment, “Yeah… So… Like he said, you’re roof is in good shape, and you just need to repair that shingle.”
We had a brief discussion as I had questions, shockingly, about the cost of repairing a single shingle on a roof. He made it sound like they would send somebody out to fix it with little trouble.
I decided to ask him what he thought about my wind and hail deductible, thinking that since he has these conversations often, he could let me know if my current deductible is higher than average.
I missed the answer to my question because he spun off on a fifteen-minute tangent about hurricane insurance and how expensive it is for people who live in hurricane regions. As a guy in Minnesota who will never move to a state in a hurricane zone, this information will surely come in handy.
As the roofer walked to his truck, I allowed myself a moment to enjoy the relief with the hot summer sun shining on my face. I imagine it’s what Andy Dufresne felt like his first morning on the beach in Zihuatanejo.
The following morning, my phone rang. It was another roofing company offering a free inspection. Another roofing company called in the afternoon. Over the next ten days, I would receive forty-two calls from people wanting to get on my roof to check for damage.
As I write this, my shingle is yet to be repaired. To make life more interesting, I have two weeks to find a new home insurance company as my current company is leaving the country.
You may ask yourself, how can he continue to put these things off, knowing they will only cause unnecessary and prolonged anxiety?
As the old saying goes, I am one shingle short of a complete roof. Literally.
