It’s nice when the kids can find something they can work together on as a team. That’s when they’re at their best. Turns out one of those things that brings them together is beating the crap out of their Dad. It began with a request from Sydney.
Syd is always crazy full of energy right before bed. Even though she loves to read, it always disappoints her a little if we don’t tickle enough. Sometimes she would ask “Can we just skip books and tickle instead?”.
Now, I know that she will read an ample amount on her own, but we’ve always maintained a strong routine of reading before bed. Plenty of reading is one of the best determinants for future success in education. Oh, and it’s fun. So because of this, I was reluctant to give that up just for tickles. However, our little Syd can be persistent. So I agreed to one night a week. It was to become our Tickle Night.
On those nights we would indeed replace the dutiful pleasure of reading with the earnest squeals of a seven year old who is driven to wild and uncontrollable fits of giggling and flailing at her own behest. It takes more energy than one would expect to launch volleys of attacks at the ticklish areas of an agile youngster. Especially one who is attempting counter measures of her own and Daddy has to move quickly enough to defend himself.
Until late 2020 I could hardly have managed this. I’ve always been a fairly athletic person, usually on the edge of being “in shape”. Then something happened three years ago that just didn’t make sense, and ever since I’d felt twice my age. I got a chest cold in the late winter of 2018, a month before we took a warm vacation. Thing was, even by the time we went to Mexico, the cold didn’t go away. It wouldn’t for nearly three more years.
When we returned to Winnipeg the symptoms remained, so I went to my doctor to figure out what was wrong. That led to a three year medical saga to finally get the right diagnosis. Test after test showed negative results for whatever we looked for, treatment after treatment didn’t solve the problem. At one point my doc just gave up and said that some people just have to live like this. Then, in what felt like a last ditch attempt, I asked my doc to send me to an allergist.
Within minutes of checking me, the allergist said “looks like you have asthma”. Turns out I have something called Adult-Onset Asthma. Didn’t know that was a thing. I also didn’t know that there was such a thing as persistent asthma; I had always thought of it as having a trigger of some sort, then going back to normal once you use a puffer. Not so.
I was given meds, and for the first month, nothing happened. As disheartened as I was that yet another treatment was a failure, I kept taking what I was prescribed for the next month. Then, like a post-Christmas miracle, my lungs felt better. On December 27th 2020 it felt like a toxic mud had been washed from my lungs. After 3 years of having a chest cold, it was like getting a new lease on life. I was breathing for fun. My chronic fatigue was gone. Energy was back in my life.
Which brings me back to Tickle Night. Although this began as a tradition with Sydney, as soon as Ollie and Robin caught wind of what was happening, they wanted in. I then had two more contenders to deal with. This became a weekly event. As my outnumbering became routine, the magnitude of the affair called for a more worthy name. Both Crazy Tickle Night and Big Tickle Night didn’t cut the mustard, and we landed on Grand Tickle Night.
When they were little, I could toss them around like sacs of potatoes. Nowadays it takes some cardio to put up a good defense as I try to hold my own on my bed. Robin dashes in and out like a pouncing feline. Ollie plows straight in and stays for the long haul. Sydney dives at my head kamikaze style, with no regard for her own safety, or mine for that matter.
Three years ago, I could only have taken a minute of this kind of battle. Exhaustion would set in, the kids would look disappointed, and I would feel the shame of not being able to give more. During those years I had to lie down multiple times every day just to find enough energy to get me through. For much of those years I thought maybe I was out of shape, or maybe just getting older, neither of which matched the sudden change in my life. Finding the cause and better yet the cure was one of the most validating experiences of my life. It’s hard to explain how exalted I felt, but there was a moment that might do it justice.
A few days after the meds started to work, I skied to the Forks on the river. I was so energized that I could not only make the ski, but had enough reserve fuel for the way back. The whole time I breathed steadily as I kept my heart in the cardio zone for a good three quarters of an hour. When I got back, I was tired, but it didn’t feel like I was hit by a truck. I felt whole again. Like some sappy scene in a movie, I looked up to the sky and started to laugh, and I laughed until tears ran down my face. My chronic fatigue was gone and I felt whole again.
However, that didn’t mean I was up to the challenge of Grand Tickle Night. Often it began by Syd leaping at me as I lay on the bed, followed by an Ollie flop that pinned me to the bed, with Robin darting in and out to tickle me without getting caught herself. Their personality leapt out of their actions.
“I own Daddy’s head!” Sydney screeched, as she indeed straddled my head and neck with a leg lock.
“I suffice!” Ollie bellowed nonsensically as she plowed into me.
“YAAAA!” Robin screamed as she dodged my grasp.
Inevitably, their moves would get in each other’s way.
“Sydney, don’t go there!” Ollie would say as she wanted to tackle Daddy onto where Syd was grasping.
“But I own Daddy’s head!” would come Syd’s retort.
“You can’t own Daddy’s head, it’s all of ours!” Ollie argued.
“OWWWWW!” Sydney would yell as her hair got caught.
“Well move Sydney!” Robin would add.
“Ewww, Dad farted!” Ollie would say. She wasn’t wrong, it was great self defense.
“AAAAAAAAAAH!” Robin would scream when I finally grappled one of her tickle jabs. She would pull away in gleeful terror but I usually could get in a tickle of two before she freed herself.
Like many games with kids, it ended with a fierce disagreement, finally besting Daddy, or tears from a minor injury. Sometimes all three.
As the Covid pandemic is winding up (hopefully) it’s nice to have gems like these to look back on as moments that we came together. I find myself feeling very fortunate that three members of our family are now double vaccinated. It’s a sobering thought to know things could have gone very wrong if I had caught the virus with undiagnosed asthma. I’m grateful that I’ve gotten back to my old self, and hopefully the rest of the world does too. Maybe even a better self for the both of us.
