Month: January 2012

Old School Lessons

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Today I went old school. Thats right I traveled back into the deepest reaches of my brain, drawing upon lessons learned the hard way. Lessons that at the time I felt were bunk, hooey, or just plain old bull! Never understanding or seeing the bigger picture in the situation, I would kick the dirt and thumb my nose at “the man”! Surely one day I would never ever repeat this kind of behavior, it was humiliating and unjust. I swore upon my grandfathers life these lessons would never be repeated. But I was wrong….

The year; 1975 I was nine years old, President Gerald Ford was in office. The average income per year was $14,100.00, a home would set you back a staggering $39,300.00! The cost of gas was 44 cents per gallon. 1975 was the year I saw Jaws and never wanted to go into the ocean again. I also found country music wasnt all there was to listen too and to my parents dismay I started soothing myself to sleep with the classic sounds of Queen, ZZ top, and Led Zeppelin! 1975 was a very good year or at least it started out that way.

1975 was also the year I learned one of the most valuable lessons a young lad needs to learn. Because regardless of who you think you are at 9 years old there are two people you will always have to answer too! Mom and Dad! Now dad was gone a lot on the road as a salesman so mom is the key to my little reflection on life lessons. When dad was gone I built it up into my head that I was the man of the house. Yep that’s right, 9 and in charge, why? AAAA Duh! I was the man! Anyway this constantly led to butting heads with my mother over doing chores over and above my obvious talents and pay grade as head of the household! Oh I did what was expected of me, although it was hard with all my other “head of household” duties! But I managed to accomplish most chores thoroughly and on time. Notice, I stated “most of them”. You see there was two things I was always slacking at, always shirking my responsibility of completion. It drove my mom nuts that I could never seem to accomplish these two simple tasks. Are you ready? Here it is….. Cleaning my room and changing my sheets.

I know! No big deal right? Or so I thought, as have hundreds of thousands of children over generations across this great nation and possibly the world! I’d always throw down some snide little “yeah ill get to it” then brush mom off as I headed off to school. Walking down our half mile road to the bus stop I would be giggling that I had pulled one over on her again! I aint changing no sheets no how, if she wants them changed so bad she can change them herself! Pick up my clothes off the floor, hah! If she wants them picked up she can do that herself too! Yep that’s right, man of the house and in charge! All should kneel before my greatness!

Until one day….

Mom picked me up from swim practice one day and was in an exceptional mood. That should have been a clue right from the start. But heck I was nine and dumb as a box of rocks. Mom was always grumpy in the afternoon, but to her defense, dad was never around and she was basically a single parent frustrated with the situation. She laughed and joked with us all the way home. My guard was down and I had been sucked into the joyous vortex. We got home and snacks were made, the table was cleared and ready for homework. That should have been the second clue! But hey, ole box of rocks is digging the love! Home work was done and snacks devoured, mom leans over and asks if there is anything else she could do for us. Anything else she can do for us, I thought? WARNING, WARNING, WARNING DANGER WILL ROBINSON DANGER!!!! She never says that, and the way she said it, holy crap what did we do! I studied the furthest reaches of my brain to see if there was any pressing bit of trouble someone may have squealed on me for doing or participating in. Nope! Oh this is going to be bad!!!

Thats when she took me by the hand and stated “good, for I have something to show you”! She has something to show me? Oh god this is bad, it’s really freaking bad!! As she turned the corner of the hallway her grip tightened on my hand just enough to leave no room for doubt about trying to escape her clutches. She stood me in front of my bedroom door and slowly opened it. There I stood in shock, sweat pouring from my tear filled face as I looked upon the remnants of my room. I had never been to war or seen its gory ramifications, but I was sure this is what a Viet-cong bunker looked like after our boys were done with it! Like a hand grenade had detonated in the corner of the room! Every belonging, every cherished piece of my room was piled up in the middle of the floor! My model cars, hand painted and dusted everyday lay strewn upon a pile of clothes that were a combination of dirty and clean. You see in her eyes it wasnt enough to make a statement with just the sloppy scraps I had strewn about. NOOOOO she went and emptied all my drawers, tore off my bed sheets and just for effect, the “piece de resistance” if you will. She tied all my clothes into knots. Thats right, square knots, half knots, overhand bends, she had them all well represented! She should have earned her Boy Scout merit badge for such effort! Sock shrapnel was strewn all around the blast site and it appeared my G.I. Joes had been lost in the battle. No survivors…..

As I stared into the depth of this nightmare, my mother leaned over and said very clearly; son, your room will be cleaned before you leave for school everyday, your dirty clothes will be in the laundry room and your clean clothes will be put away. Your sheets will be changed every Saturday and there will be no exceptions! Everyday that you fail to follow these directions you will come home to a room that looks just like this, and everyday you will clean it all back up to my liking until you get it right! I am your mother, I am not your maid! Am I clear?

Yes ma’am……

I hated her for doing that back then, I cursed her when I thought the job was good enough, only to come home to a destroyed room once again. After a long period where my room was aces, I think she destroyed it just to keep my ego in check! And yes, even though I hated it then, it is the sole reason I am clean, neat and organized today.

Speaking of today, here is why I have shared this story with all of you. As I stated earlier, today I went old school! You see my children apparently have decided that cleaning their rooms just isn’t in the cards on a daily basis! When my oldest refused to change his sheets knowing full well I had warned him of dire consequences, well there was only thing left that had to be done! Yep that’s right, you guessed it, my mothers sadistic evil form of cleaning revenge spewed forth like a genetic tumor. I walked into each room individually, took a deep breath, rolled my eyes into my head and let the demon have my soul. When it was over the carnage was spread far and wide! The piles were large and filled with every portion of their little lives. It was a thing of beauty..

I picked them up from school with a smile on my face, I told them we were headed straight home! No barn, no horses, no barn chores. I even-handed out a piece of candy or two. They laughed and giggled and talked about their new-found freedom for the afternoon! We entered the house and I motioned to my wife giving her the sign to please keep quiet. She grinned and walked outside leaving their destinies in my hands. I lined them up on the couch, quieted them down, then very calmly I leaned in close and said: children, your room will be cleaned before you leave for school everyday, your dirty clothes will be in the laundry room and your clean clothes will be put away. Your sheets will be changed every Saturday and there will be no exceptions! Everyday that you fail to follow these directions you will come home to a room that looks just like this, and everyday you will clean it all back up to my liking until you get it right! Your mother and I are your parents, we are not your maid! Am I clear?

Something to be said about “old school child raising” we will see what tomorrow brings. But judging from the work done today, things are looking up!

Just be there….Ok?

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They run and play not a care in the world.  Yelling, whooping and hollering.  Minds racing, arms flailing, lips flapping, they can’t help themselves, as exuberance and joy streams from every pore in their bodies!  A skateboard, a bike, a scooter or two, helmets and kneepads, gloves and the look of fear as they round a corner way to fast! I give them a warning, gentle at first.  The noise grows louder, the speed increases and I just know an injury is imminent.  A second warning is given; it really is time to slow down; I am shrugged off like a snow flake on a cold winters day.  Lap number four the youngest is leading, he looks for approval as he passes by at mach 3.  I smile, give him a thumbs up asking one last time for the speed to decrease.  It must have been my eyes for like a yellow caution flag at Daytona International speedway, they come to snails pace crawl.  Still happy, still squealing, still giggling and arguing over who was the very fastest.

Its times like these I feel so very blessed for my family.  I watch them both with amusement and jealously.  Their honesty in play brings a heavy sigh and a large smile all at the same time.  I am jealous that as an adult I no longer have a sense of innocence that leads to such care free play.  Dont get me wrong I am a huge child for my age when it comes to play time.  But I  feel as though I can never obtain the no worries, cut loose freedom that a child has when its time to go hog-wild.

Why?  I see other dads do it, or so it seems.  Why cant I be as care free as my kids are sometimes?  Is it the stresses of life?  I reflect upon the times some adult in my life reminded me to “enjoy things now while you’re still young”.  I use to wonder what that meant.  Is it so awful being an adult that other adults are commissioned to warn all prospective youth to stay young forever?  That adulthood is really hell and we have no choice in the matter.  What is it that makes being carefree so difficult?

Maybe its the knowledge of all the children I have seen over the years neglected and mentally abused.  Parents who have brought their own adult pain down hard upon the innocence of the very children they are supposed to love and cherish.  Some of them I believe still do love their kids but the demons that control them are far stronger than the willpower they have left to do battle.  Is it the damage done to my psyche by the countless souls I have witnessed who passed on, still there floating in my brain.  They leave behind every little moment of what brought their demise.  Leaving me with the need to be the safety police in my household.  Feeling like Dr. Killjoy if you will.  The dad of dud..

Or have all those things combined molded me into the dad I have become? One with a higher understanding of the world and how it works.  A father with a heightened sense of emotional balance. That all life should be cherished for every moment that we are given on this earth.  Maybe I wasnt supposed to be “that dad”, the care free dad with no worries?  The dad that looks as though he is making up for lost time.  Seriously though, for all intensive purposes I really like who I have become as a father.  My kids love me, they think I am funny, they respect me, and show me respect in return when things are not singing along like a Disney movie.  My children truly miss me when I am gone and herald the moment I walk back through the door.  I love them all, I really, really love them all.

I wonder about all the dads that never get to spend quality time with their children because of work.  That never see the funniest of moments (and believe me if you have kids you know the funny moments never seem to end) because they are never home.  The only quality time spent with their kids is sitting on the sidelines of a (insert sport of choice here) game and still some are on the phone doing business or playing games and e-mailing.  Doing everything but paying attention to what matters most.  What will these dads have to look back upon when their kids are grown and gone from the house?

Yeah, I am proud of the father I have become.  I don’t need to be the carefree, lunatic with no worries what so ever.  I can sit by proudly as the safety police when my kids are going way to fast.  I will cut loose to the highest of my abilities, all while doing my best to amuse my children.  I will constantly strive to make them laugh, comfort them when they cry and make sure I am there for every possible moment.  Fore the day will come soon enough that I am left with an empty house.  No more giggling, no more screaming, no more high fives, wedgie’s and belching.  No more kid fun.  It’s then and only then, I will be able to look back with a smile and say I was there, I may not have been the best or the funniest but I was there when they needed me, I was there to show them love, I was there.

My heart will be full!

Dad, doing what he does best!

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Here we go the ire is up! The steam is rising from my forehead! Teeth are clenched tightly and I am stammering for the right words!  I am ready, willing and able to ridicule another company one more time!!

I will always proceed any rants with the following; As you know from following my blog, I am a very involved father who believes all relationships should share equally the trials and tribulations of running a household and raising children! I have also made it my personal mission to “call out” any company or companies that exemplify the stereotype of dad being a moron, lazy, absent, disrespectful, or ignorant.  I also don’t believe that mom should be stereotyped as the frantic, know it all, does it all, at home personal maid to the family. 

With that being said; I saw a commercial today that at first I will admit peaked my interest a little.  It started out strong, and as it went on I found myself thinking “why yes nice lady tell me more”! But then they did it! Yes sir they did it! They crossed the line!  The blatantly took the low road pandering their inferior product to the masses.  They took it upon themselves to assume we as a society really function at a fifth grade level. Both with humor and intellectually.  Oh and just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did.  They attacked all fathers around the world. Wondering who this company could possibly be?  Pondering what they might actually sell? 

FOREVER LAZY!!!  Have you heard of these Snuggie rip offs?  Oh yeah that’s right I said it, SNUGGIE RIP OFF!!  I laughed my butt off at the Snuggie, even got into a squabble over a white elephant gift one year that involved a Snuggie! Snuggie has a certain humorous respectability in the consumer world!  Apparently Forever Lazy wants a piece of the market! Now as I admitted earlier, I was pondering one of these absurd little gems as a great gag gift for the firehouse!  But after seeing the commercial and reflecting on their wonderful marketing strategy. I think not! Tearing down the human fabric that is our society,  I say not only no, butt heck no!  There will be no Forever Lazy in my household or fire station!  I have banned them completely from existence! 

Never have I seen such blatant use of the word lazy in describing the great people of this nation!  Never have I seen men, women and children all portrayed as such horrendous lazy sloths!  I will never stand by idly as a company states and I quote; Everyone can watch the big game while dad does what he does best! (dad is on the couch asleep) Being lazy?????  Sleeping????? Drunk??? Is that really what dad does best?  Apparently the household runs itself, or has Forever Lazy provided maids, accountants, teachers, coaches and cooks with every purchase of a Forever Lazy @ $29.99 plus shipping?  Well I for one wont stand for it and neither should you!  Put on a comfy pair of sweat pants!  A nice long-sleeved shirt or sweater will do!  Heck buy a Snuggie! Watch the Forever Lazy ad, you can find it on YouTube!  They even have you wearing this thing to a football stadium!  Yuck! Its like walking around in a pair of footsie pajamas!  Oh yeah and its ok to be out in public with the darn thing on because it has dual trap doors so you can go to the bathroom! Can you imagine sitting on a toilet in a giant Sham-Wow! Can you say germ magnet!! 

Let your kids know how highly you think of them by purchasing them anything that doesn’t lead to laziness or is associated with laziness by name!  Just think your kid has straight A’s and then for Christmas you purchase the Forever Lazy as a lark.  Now little Johnny is confused.  What message is mommy and daddy sending me?  Am I working to hard?  Should I be lazy?  Should I be “Forever Lazy”? When I grow up am I going to end up doing what dad does best? Little Johnny slips into the Lazy suit and Bam! Brain cells start dying, next thing you know its X-box all the time, he never gets off the couch, grades all drop to a D and little Johnny is headed to reform school!  All because you bought into the Forever Lazy hype!

I know it’s not really that way, I am just worked up and rambling!  But really no company should ever portray people as moronic, idiotic and lazy, especially when it involves the family circle.  Humor is one thing, ignorance is another, but pandering ignorance is the very worst kind of sales tactic around.  So please remember this, you are a reflection of all the people who helped you to become who you are today.  If I see you with a Forever Lazy on well, game over my friend, game over….

I woke up alone

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I awoke this morning to an empty bed.  It was cold, I had unknowingly acquired all the pillows and I was unsure of my location.  After flopping around a bit searching for the edge of the bed with my feet, ( a scientific method of measurement) I came to the conclusion I was not at work, but definitely at home.  I rolled to my back clearing just enough sleep induced cobwebs to recognize that if I was home, where was my wife?  Thats right, there is an additional tenant signed to this queen bed lease.  It was not designed to be a rest haven for one, no no no, this warm slab of downy goodness was built specifically for two! 

I smelled coffee!

Why has she awoken so early on this rarest of rare days?  A day not filled with school, or the rush and hustle of work? No, this is a cherished weekend morning ritual, a space of time so few and far between with our hectic schedules that even the powers of Krypton could never tear it away.  A morning for us to stay in bed together, sans children!  A morning the kids get themselves up, feed themselves cereal and then watch an hour or two of useless television before going to church!  A morning where talking and snuggling are not interrupted by the baggage of a long day needing to be unpacked before bedtime!  My goodness how has this happened!  Have we gone so far in our marriage that these little things mean nothing, they hold no cherished place in our hearts?  Have we fallen into such a rut that all forms of individualism separating us from our children has perished?  This is blasphemy!  blasphemy I say!

Well too heck with her!  To heck with her I say!  Leave me alone in bed will she! You better believe I wont be friendly when she gives me a cup of that “oh so delicious” coffee she makes! It probably wont taste good anyways, and I will force myself not to like it! I’m not even going to smile! No sir!  I’m thinking it’s going to be a little hard to swallow such warm tasty goodness upon the heels of such marital disrespect!  Hard I tell you! 

I am distraught and as the sting of loneliness slowly clears my head.  I seem to recal a small child coming in at “oh midnight thirty” to say he had a bad dream.  The covers were pulled back, a heavy sigh was released and a small little boy with cuddly green blanket was fast asleep, squished between his mom and dad.  Was that it? Was that the reason she left the bed?  Or maybe I was snoring?  I do have a tendency to snore now and again. Although she has never complained about it, even going so far as to say “its kind of rhythmic”.  I am no fool.  I know she says such things as to not hurt my feelings over the fact she can’t sleep next to a buzzsaw at full throttle.  Maybe it was our giant dog that woke her up?  He does have a tendency to sound like bigfoot walking across the floor downstairs. When he wants to go outside he lets out a sound similar to that of a wookie!  Once your hear that noise at 3 in the morning, combined with clumping feet across the floor, it can get your heart rate up causing a serious adrenaline rush!  Sleep usually doesn’t follow after that little encounter for quite some time.   But even then, she would never give up our weekend morning together would she?  I am so confused and have chosen to quit theorizing about my selfish predicament.  Maybe it is what it is, and I should just face the fact, between the kids, my snoring and the giant beast of a dog, maybe, just maybe there is a perfectly good explanation for this series of events.

I go downstairs

She greets me with a smile, I am not swayed.  She is on the couch under some blankets (looks inviting) watching the morning show.  In my best cool and collected voice I mutter a soft; so what happened to you last night? She proceeds to explain that once our little one came to bed, night mare and all, she couldn’t sleep all squished up between us.  The wood stove had the house way to warm upstairs so she thought she would just leave him there so he would feel safe with his dad and head downstairs where it was cooler.  She motioned for me to come sit next to her.  I still wasnt completely swayed so I sat a little bit aways from her on the couch.  My son brought me a cup of hot fresh coffee.  I buckled a little more and moved in closer.  I let her know that I had in fact put our little guy back to bed only 10 minutes after she had disappeared from our room.  In fact it was all coming back to me now.  I had gotten up to go to the bathroom and when I returned she was gone.  I placed the little one back in his bed, thinking she was downstairs getting something to drink, I went right back to sleep.  She let out a grumble of discontent, followed with a: you mean I could have slept in our bed all night instead of freezing down here? Yep….

I am now feeling like a fool as I take in the dark roast that fills my coffee cup.  Apparently I am the one to blame all along, for I should have recognized what was happening and brought her back upstairs to me. Then I remember something even more important!  It isn’t our weekend morning to stay in bed together after all!  We had been jipped once again, for I had to be somewhere. Karma had dealt me an ugly hand for I was the one that had to be up and out the door this morning!  I had to be at work.  Yep all the commiserating, all that whining to myself, all the selfishness, all the second guessing and in reality I am the one to ruin what could have been a perfect morning between two people who love each other.  Hmmmm. 

Well at least the little one got a good nights sleep.  I hope when he is older he appreciates all we have sacrificed to ensure he feels safety, protection and love from his parents.  I guess in the long run that is worth a few sacrificed mornings.  Besides his mother and I will have plenty of mornings to spend together once we are old, ugly and have run out of things to say to each other right?  Right? 

Just kidding……

Friday the 13th

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friggatriskaidekaphobia;  Say it out loud.  frigga-trisk-aide-kaph-obia man even slowly it sounds cool!  Have you ever seen such a word? Its very reminiscent of supercalifragilisticespialidoscous!  Have any idea what it means?  Its the fear of Friday the thirteenth!  Seriously, the fear of Friday the thirteenth!  So strange, there is a real phobia of this dreaded day. But very cool at the same time…

So many people are unreasonably terrified over todays date. My kids are petrified because all their friends have told them bad things will happen to you on this day and there is nothing you can do about it! Not exactly a Hallmark holiday yes?  Adults are scared of the ramifications associated with participating or doing anything of value on such a cursed day. All over the world this day has been cursed for a myriad of reasons.  Yet to me it remains just another day.

I awoke this morning determined that no stupid day was going to slow me down, make me cower!  Not a single idiotic theory about world domination along with the extinction of the human race was going to damper this mans afternoon.  No way Jose!  I was sailing along just fine!  In fact just for good measure, this afternoon I purposely walked directly beneath a ladder! What What?  You read that right, I also stepped on a crack, which by the way did not result in a trip to the ER for my mommy’s broken back!  As a matter of fact while turning the corner of our garage this morning my path was crossed by that of one never before seen black cat!  Woooooo!  Soooo scared!  Bad luck forever for me!  I guess I also should never have thrown that mirror on the ground, then danced on its shards of unprotected glass.

Seriously, today was like any other day, I awoke at 5:30 to the sound of the station alarm toning us out for a medical aid.  No salt over my shoulder, no hail mary’s for this cat, heck no, I just strutted out to the rig and went about my business.  After returning from our little medical aid, I was reminded by a co-worker to “be careful” while pouring some coffee because it was Friday the 13th and who knows what could happen on such an unlucky day?  Unlucky day?  I make my own luck Jack! No stupid superstition is going to dictate my day! Heck No!  And with that said, shift change came and I marched right down to the local barber shop throwing caution to the wind! Never for a spit second did I fear for my life as he used his expert skills to provide me with a haircut Donald Trump would have been proud to adorn!  No bloody neck, no spot cut/gash into my golden locks of love, no sir, I was trimmed up and ready for a great day of Friday the thirteenth bashing!

Oh and bashing I did partake!  I rode horses today with abandon, hoping for some fatal action emerging from the belly of the four legged devil beasts! I clumsily walked around tall stacks of hay, stepping in front of a moving tractor and purposely standing next to a stud horse hoping to be kicked or bit!  Yet not one bad thing happened to me.  I even took to reminding everyone around me to “be careful”! Followed up with a high pitch, don’t you know what day it is? hee hee he!  Am I being to cocky? Have I screwed my karma into the ground?  Oh I don’t think so!

You see just as there is no real tooth fairy, Santa is a glorious traditional figment of our imagination, Justin Bieber is really the teenage anti-christ, and Dick Clark is really an Disney animatronic robot, there is no evil association with Friday the Thirteenth! None! It is just another day on the calendar. Just another day to make your own destiny, Just another day to praise the heavens or curse the dredges of society. Its all up to you.  So on the next Friday the thirteenth, make your own magic happen, don’t let  someone else’s fear from reality ruin your perfectly good Friday. Regardless of whether or not that Friday is the thirteenth.

Personal note: I did wait until the end of the day to write this little piece.  I am sure that falls under the “I knew the 49ers were going to win the Super Bowl: ten minutes after the end of the game aspect.  Or maybe I just like a sure thing.  I am safe now right? Please say yes……. Did you hear that? What was that noise? crap……..

 

 

 

Sportsmanship is dying…

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Today is a bit of a rant; A conversation with a co-worker got this ball rolling and I thought HMMMM maybe a little reminder to other parents might be nice. So hate me if you will, or agree with me if you so choose. It’s all good. Sometimes when raising our kids we are our own worse enemies

It’s that time of year again, the local paper tells the story. There are signs up all over town and anybody who is anybody has seen it posted on their Facebook page, a recommendation from a friend or board member! Little league baseball, girls softball, volleyball and kids basketball. Swimming. rugby, football and lets not forget soccer! All the wonderful sports that our children beg us to participate in are gearing up for another full season! Kids sports are great, I think all kids should have the opportunity to try out for multiple sports hopefully finding something they really enjoy. Nothing beats the feeling of accomplishment from participating and finishing seasonal sports. It’s a great way for kids from all over your area to meet and make friends with kids from other districts or schools. In my experience this makes the transition into middle school and high school much easier for kids when they get older.

But what I don’t like about kids sports, what really gets under my skin, the thing that makes me agitated, irritated and down right frustrated! ( I think I covered the three “ated’s”) Is the death of sportsmanship. Not from the kids, but from the parents. The overbearing, unsportsmanlike parents that come with each and every season. The parent that is single-handedly the loudest most obnoxious person at the event. The parent that publicly berates their child when that child doesn’t live up to their expectations. The parent who after embarrassing their child to the point of tears usually turns to another parent and justifies their horrific actions by pulling an “Al Bundy”. You know what an Al Bundy is don’t you? The “In high school I scored four touchdowns in a single game” routine! Because everyone knows that you, peaked in high school, therefore your child must bear the brunt of your failures and become a pro sports star to carry on the incredible legacy you have left behind! Yeah that guy! Oh and now that I have started this; it’s not just the guys either! It’s the moms too! You can’t miss them, heck, no-one can! They are the loudest most belligerent ones in the building! More obnoxious than any man could ever become! They slap their boy in the back of the head letting them know if their father was there he would surely be disappointed in this sub-par performance. They scream at their daughters constantly, so loudly the coach can’t be heard! And lord have mercy don’t you dare mumble anything about the team doing poorly when their baby is out there, she will turn on you like a lioness protecting her cub. Even though you never said anything in direct relations to little princess.

Listen its like this, I coached baseball for 5 years, it was fun, no; let me rephrase that, it was great! The kids were fantastic! They all come with desire and a wanting to learn the game, how it’s played and the rules. Many parents wish they could be present but balancing the needs of their kids along with the schedules that youth sports brings to the family dynamics can be difficult. That’s where a good coach can really bring the game to the next level for these kids! We are there everyday, on time, ready with a practice plan and a will to give our love of the game to a group of children that really wish to learn. If its done right the kids look up to us, we show them respect and admiration for a job well done. But every year no matter how hard we as coaches try there is always at least one “Al Bundy” that shows up running his/her mouth about the poor “quality” of coaching, or constantly yelling out new directions during the game which is inevitably NOT what you wanted the kid to do at that very moment. All you can think is if you wanted to be a coach why didn’t you sign up!

At some point that parent will also take great pleasure in berating a ref or two just for fun. Then just when you think everything is calmed down and under control, that poor child will be on the bench crying. CRYING! And do you know why? Because that nice, willing to learn, I love baseball more than anything kid will break under the pressure of trying their hardest to do what you want them to do but also trying to do what Al Bundy is screaming at them to do. The kid feels like he/she can’t let their parents down, they can’t let the team down, they can’t let the coach down and they can’t let themselves down. HMMMM that is a lot of emotional baggage for an adult to handle let alone a child. Not only is it a lot for the child to carry but it mentally affects the entire team!

Before you know it the kid is underperforming, coming late to practice, causing problems with other team mates and the kid doesn’t know why. It breaks my heart every time. Super competitive, out of control parents bring mental destruction to more talented kids than injuries, poor coaching, and poor performance in my humble opinion.

Now you can say to yourself; What the heck does he know! He only coached for 5 years, what experience is that? There are plenty of competitive parents that raise super successful sports stars! You would be right there are plenty of competitive parents that raise wonderfully talented well-balanced, intelligent children and see them through all their successes. But its done through positive reinforcement! Not unsportsmanlike, negative, soul crushing belittling.

This is what I know; After five years of coaching baseball, the boys and I were headed to sign ups/try-outs. They were not looking their usual “Joe DiMaggio” selves. Sensing something was amiss, I leaned over the seat and asked them what was up? I received a sheepish reply of “nothing”. I said: come on out with it? Silence was my only reply. As they stared, talking to each other with their eyes. It hit me! Yep right then it dawned on me, I had become that super competitive idiot with my own kids? Except I worse than one of those parents, I was the coach…. I couldn’t understand how this happened! I loved baseball, I loved to play it, I fully understood the game and its unique strategies. But with my own kids I had pushed them into not liking the game anymore, by forcing them to play harder and better than I ever dreamed of playing. So I swallowed hard, leaned back over the seat and asked them both; Are you guys playing for me or are you playing for you? With heads hung low they both said; Dad we are playing for you. With that I turned the truck around and we went out to lunch. It was one of the best lunches I can remember.

So listen to your kids, protect them from the “Al Bundy’s” of the world. Even if that “Al Bundy” turns out to be you. Teach them that “Winning” is the by-product of fair play, sportsman like conduct, honest training and a true love for the game/sport they are playing. Praise them on a job well done and praise them on a dignified loss, teach them to respect their opponents when they lose. For the only way to understand the thrill of victory is through the agony of defeat.

One last thing; as I learned the hard way, just because you played a particular sport, doesn’t mean your kid is going to want to play the same sport. Let them choose, let them try, then let them try something new until they find what they enjoy playing. Also, if they just don’t like any sports that’s ok too. Love them for who they are, because how they turn out as adults is a direct reflection of how you turned out as a parent. Once again, just my opnion….

My wife the single parent

theycallmebetty3 Comments

She rises at 5:30 to start her long day.  A shower, some coffee, a heavy sigh, a moment alone.  She does her hair and makeup before the sun rises.  A brush of the teeth, a layer of lipstick, a wry little jokeresque smile.  She looks at the little lines on her eyes, sighs, then puts her game face on, its time to go.  The doors are tossed open the covers pulled back, sleepy eyes open to thin light from the hallway afar.  The first two are moving, then its down the stairs, the last two still sleeping, time ticking, alarm sounding, no response.  A gentle rock of the hand, a slight whisper in ear.  The last two have awoken, they stretch rise and get dressed.  Breakfast is a hustle, like that of a subway coffee stand.  A bagel, a doughnut, some cereal, or toast.  Four other people, begging for help, wanting some food, needing their hair brushed, gathering some thoughts.

Lunches are made she is feeling the pressure, the clock is ticking departure is near.  One goes to high school and starts zero period.  Three go to elementary school their arrival is eminent.  The dogs are outside playing with glee, the goat and the horses munch quietly on their breakfast of oats and hay.  The two oldest return with reports on the animals well-being, subjects are changed, backpacks are filled, home work is gathered now head to the car with five minutes to spare.  One last cup of coffee before heading away, only to find no one has a jacket, two forgot their lunches and one wants to argue about whether or not his pants are too dirty to go to school that day. 

As she pulls out the driveway, one in the back screams he forgot his clarinet, the car turns around and in a jiffy she’s back where they started.  It’s at this point she can feel the pressure truly mount.  The high schoolers grade gets dinged if he’s late and we are ten miles from town.  Nine times out of ten they make it in time, but he is now grumpy for this is the tenth time.  She rushes across town to the elementary school and finds her parking spot.  You see this is where she works, her three children now turn into thirty.  Thirty kids who all need the same attention as that of her three.  A deep breath a moment in the car, a poised smile on the face, a whistle in hand and before she can catch her breath she is directing hundreds of other parents where to park and drop off their little angels.  As these parents drive some give her the nod.  The nod of “I understand what you’re going through right now” the gesture is returned with appreciation.  Some simply smile, some wave.  Some are truly glad to see her for she brightens their day and some are so self-absorbed they wish she would just get out-of-the-way. 

In a flash it is done not before she is frozen by the mornings bitter air.  But she turns on her heels and steps into the hallway that leads to her room where her partner reveals, the plans for the day and the lesson to be learned.  Its assist a child over here, adore a child there, its bathroom breaks and sorry mishaps.  Its challenges met and opportunities missed, its laughing and crying and some throwing fits.  It’s a fine ballet of tag team education where the goal always remains the same; send children home with more brain power than they came to school with that particular day. Teachers and parents, administrators and children, she feels attached to them all both mentally and emotionally.  By the end of the day she feels a strong sense of accomplishment and a foreboding sense of exhaustion.  For she understands the day is not done and as she winds down from thirty daughters and sons, she’s left facing the remaining three that need her the most. 

A half hour break then the pick-up begins, first the little ones then the high schooler and before she knows which way is up and which way is down she has a car full of the most important children she knows.  One would think the day was over, but not for our girl, she still has grocery shopping to do, animals to feed and horses that need riding.  Stalls need cleaning and friends who have looked forward to seeing her are happy she is there at the barn.  The smallest ones are tired, and grumpy is rearing its ugly head.  Squabbles and bickering are broken up, feelings are hurt and she does her best to referee.  A sit in the car, a timeout, a strong reprimand along with a please say your sorry thrown in for good measure.  A parent is apologized to for some inappropriate behavior, it’s always met with an “its ok I had kids once that age too” then the nod of understanding soon follows. 

By the time she returns home 12 hours have passed, it’s homework and dinner, showers and bedtime stories.  The kids once again take care of the dogs, put out the trash, quickly pick up their rooms and get ready for bed.  If she’s lucky everyone gets along and it all goes swimmingly.  If she’s not lucky its reminiscent of a gang fight at Pelican bay. 

By eight things have started to wind down, a few dishes are washed, a load of laundry is done, some clothes are folded.  The two little ones have laid down their heads. they are fast asleep as the worries of a hard day, education and playing have taken its toll on their little frames.  The two older ones have finally settled down, one is reading, the other is quietly watching a hunting show.  She slowly for the first time today starts to let her guard down.  A glass of wine and some brain-dead TV usually do the trick. 

As the warmth of the wine settles into her soul, one child goes up to bed and the oldest stays up just a smidge longer.  You see he knows what is going to happen next.  At fifteen he is starting to grasp the strains of a fully scheduled day.  He also holds quite a bit of responsibility as older brother to his younger siblings.  He switches channels and gazes across the room, checking so carefully not to disturb her for he knows it will happen quite soon.   Another glass is poured and before it can be savored. She simply slips off to sleep, so soundly, so quietly, the comfort of white noise, good wine and a soft comforter are more than her frayed senses can handle. 

He lets her sleep for a while then carefully wakes her.  He points her in the right direction, waiting for her to make it to the top of the stairs.  He turns out the lights, locks the doors and sends himself to bed.  She clears the top of the stairs, takes a warm shower where she washes away the emotional grime of the day.  Slowly she makes it into her empty bed, she mumbles, she grumbles and turns on the TV.  You see white noise makes it easier to fall asleep when you are all alone.  When you are a single parent.  When you need some form of comfort after a hard day.  And as she drifts off into the land of dreams and serenity she thinks about the day he will return to give her the break she so desperately seeks.  Ahhhhhh sleep.

5:30 am the alarm goes off……

This is truly a typical day for my wife.  I wrote this out of admiration for her, for all the wives of public servants, true single parents and military personnel who are gone for days, weeks, months and in the case of the military years at a time.  As a firefighter I am not home for a guaranteed 10 days a month.  Though most months its closer to 12-14 days.  That is half a month away from our families and our wives.  They are amazing people to be married to us, and yet at the same time be alone as single parents.  Its never easy for a couple, I respect you all and promise to give all I have as a father and friend when I am home. Out of respect for you.. 

I love you Jacy……….

 

Am I going bald?

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Oh mirror mirror on the wall who is the baldest one of them all????  Hah! Not me! For I have a full head of hair! Oh yes I do!  A full head of flowing Norwegian blonde hair, the kind of hair that Fabio himself would adorn.  When I comb it in the morning birds tweet outside my window in approval.  As I head off to work, my wife runs her hands through shimmering locks with a heavy sigh of contentment.  The door opens to the world outside and the winds die down out of respect for my feathered mane.  To see me is to love me for as I shake my head side to side, men stare in awe at the unbelievable attraction that is my hair and they want to be me! 

Ok are we done vomiting now? Wrech, blech, huuuaaaahhh!  My little trip down “full of myself” lane was fun but here are the facts.  I am 45 years old and my hair is thinning slightly.  It is doing this in an area I prefer to call the forward cul-de-sac.  You know the space right above your brow line traveling back about even with the front middle of your head but not quite far enough back to be your cow-lick.  It thins in a pattern that resembles a cul-de-sac on any city street.  When you gaze through the thin layering of hair, you can almost envision the new neighborhood being built, right there on you head!

We all know people afflicted with this horrible sign of aging.  They run around trying their best to cover it up.  Baseball caps suddenly are worn by people who never really liked baseball caps.  Hair is grown longer on one side of the head to produce the perfect “comb-over”, where the longer hair is literally combed over the bald spot. The part line has now moved from a respectful 2 degrees south of the mid cranial line to a full-blown 90 degrees south hovering right above the top of the ear! There of course are those that embrace the cul-de-sac look and wear it quite nicely, but in my opinion you had better have a pretty stellar shaped head to pull that off otherwise you end up looking as though you are wearing mink earmuffs all year-long! Then there is the Bruce Willis, Vin Deisel, Samuel L Jackson group that have just said screw it and gone completely bald! They look good, no they look GREAT! They pull it off, oh yes! But even if they didn’t I sure as hell wouldn’t tell them otherwise!  They would kick my butt!  

So how did I get to this point.  I have two brothers who have full heads of hair, and in reality I still have a full head of hair.  When I gel my hair, or it is wet that’s when you really see the outline of the cul-de-sac starting to show.  Its like purchasing land on an Alabama lake front, (that’s another story) you know there is land under that vegetation, but until you start pulling out the trees and shrubs one by one you never really get a good view of the property line!  Nice visual huh? Now I know this whole “thinning hair” thing doesn’t seem like a big problem at all, but it’s getting worse and I just want to know why?  Why me?  Why is my hair going away?

 As I am left grinding my teeth pondering the issue, it hits me.  It’s the kids fault! Shazam! It’s the damn kids fault!  BA-DOW! Thats it! When I was young, unmarried and spry, I was a handsome devil, with no cares in the world.  My biggest decision was choosing the bar where I was meeting my buddies that night and of course when my next paycheck would arrive.  Life was good.  I owned stock in macaroni and cheese, and my fridge held a gallon of milk, plenty of beer, lunch meat and hot dogs.  The hot dogs were for Sunday night dinner when I would dress up the mac n cheese!  I had no stress, I also had LOTS of hair!  I looked like Andi Freaking Gibb! (sorry my generation, my timeframe).  Then came marriage!  Marriage was good-no marriage was great!  Just me and my lady, hanging out, watching TV, eating real food because mac n cheese was for bachelors and children!  Yeah it was soo nice….  Then came children, it starts out so exciting and wonderful, you can’t believe the little miracle the two of you have created!  He is laying there all wrapped up and cute and snuggly and cute and look oh he made a sound, ahhhhhh he’s sooooo cute…  And then the kid doesn’t sleep for six freaking months straight, which means you also don’t sleep for 6 months straight! Cue crankiness!! Then there’s making sure he is safely in his stroller, and car seat and high chair which sits in a kitchen that has cabinets locked tighter than Fort Knox!  He starts walking then running then riding a bike, then riding a dirt bike, then riding horses and hunting and driving, and dating and going on overnight trips with his friends and before you know it!  HAIR IS FALLING FROM YOUR STRESSED OUT LITTLE HEAD LIKE SNOW IN THE HIMALAYAS!

I mean SERIOULSY over the last two years I have just been getting thinner and thinner, and I don’t want to be “that guy”!  You know, the guy who everyone talks about after he leaves the room!  Hey dude did you see his head?  Holy cow man talk about a receding hairline, it’s not receding that thing is in full retreat!!  Why does he even bother to put gel in his hair?  I don’t know, but someone needs to tell him?  Or worse yet I end up shaving it all off then I’ll be “that guy” again.  Ho hoo, yeah that’s right I’m bald!  Oh yeah baby its a solar panel for a love machine!  Whoa buddy just rub it for luck, hey baby that’s right the carpet really does match the drapes!!  YYYUUUUCCCCCKKKKK!!!!

That can’t happen I wont let it, I hated it when my dad was spewing those oh so witty remarks!  It was just plain embarrassing!  No No I will take it like a man, I have too.  Yes, yes professionalism and maturity all the way!  If I am going to lose my hair I am going out dignified!  No Rogaine, No hair club for men, No scalp treatments, No baseball caps or wigs and definitely NO weaves!  I’ll shave it off like a man and wear that jet white scalp like a terrified buck private at boot camp!  That is it! Yes sir only two third degree sunburns and few skin peels and I’ll have that thing shining like a new penny!  Yep that’s the ticket! Three more kids to raise another handful of hair to lose!  Ahhhh its good to come to terms with this issue.  Love your kids, lose your hair, I think it might just be a fair trade-off..

Now, what the heck am I going to do about the grey?????

Today I became my father!

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When I was a kid I could be a bit of a handful, I was strong-willed and absolutely hated being told what to do! I can vividly remember as a kid, my father slowly becoming frustrated with me over my attitude. After awhile he would eventually let slip from his mouth; I hope you have ten kids and they are all just like you!  To which I would reply; me too, because I think I am pretty cool!   My dad would mumble something under his breath, chuckle to himself and the issue would be dropped.

Then there were times that he and I butted heads so badly that inevitably I ended up in my room for the evening with a good solid smack on the butt and the threat of the belt if I so much as peeked out of my room.  This was soundly followed up with him bellowing; do it! Open that door and see what happens!  It was as if he was taunting me, calling me chicken in front of my friends, to which my inner Marty McFly would start twitching and shaking because I didn’t care who you were, NO ONE CALLS ME CHICKEN!  Of course sometime being a chickens not so bad.  But I never figured that out, I was always the one who pushed things to the very furthest limit I could.  In some ways I am still that way today.  If given the chance I can argue making you believe that your point was really my point and my point was really your point, and just for fun I might even argue both points to such a degree that you have no idea what ground you really stand on.

Anyways I would sit my room, smoke rising from my head angry at the world!  I really never why I would become so mad, or why I never let things go after being sent to my room.  But what I did know was I was never ever going to be like my father!  I went to sleep many nights thinking to myself; If I ever have kids I am never going to be like you dad!  No how, no way!  My kids are going to be free to express themselves and they will get to stay up all night long if they want! Yep! My kids can have ice cream when ever they feel like it and if they wish to have hot lunch at school everyday well that will be ok with me!  I would lay there on my bed listening to my AC/DC Back in Black album.  (Album:A collection of recordings on a long-playing record.  a record is a large disk made of vinyl played on a record player. a record player is; oh hell look it up if you can’t remember) Wondering what will my kids be like?  Will they be cool like me or will they be a pain in the butt like my dad?  I hope he is right, I really do hope my kids are just like me, I’ll show him a thing or two.  They are going to think I am the greatest dad that has ever lived!  M&M’s for everyone!!!

Putting the kids to bed tonight my youngest starts an argument over whether or not he can go upstairs to take a shower by himself.  After resolving that issue, my daughter wants to argue over whether or not she actually used conditioner in her hair this evening.  For some reason unbeknownst to he mother and I she seems to have an affliction to the stuff.  preferring to have her hair ripped out with each pull of a brush or comb after a shower.  Yet the argument continues.  Then to round out the evening or the trifecta as I prefer to call it, the middle one is pissed because its his bedtime and he can’t watch a movie with his older brother.  When asked to go off to bed the attitude starts, then rudeness to his mother which is followed with a complete round of ignoring anything asked of him.  I walk into the room to confront my demon spawn only to be greeted with complete disrespect.  As he rolls his eyes at me and states with an emphatic “what”, he is promptly taken aside, his disrespectful actions are calmly explained to him and he is told to go to his room. He complies…. There you see I am the better man.  Calm, cool no action needed, I got this, I am so much better at this than my dad ever was, oh yeah, superdad……

I turn around after several rounds of gratuitous back patting to find he has made his way past me and is leaning against the wall watching the TV!  My head hurts, I am dizzy, feeling a little anxious and nauseous all at the same time.  Four kids, four issues, the arguing, I just want them all in bed, with peace and quiet, is that too much to ask.  Some respect would be nice too!  I feel it like a demon welling up from beneath, growling and tearing at my insides.  I wonder if this is how David Banner feels moments before he emerges as the Incredible Hulk!  And before I can catch myself a bellowing; GET YOUR BUTT IN BED RIGHT NOW! Comes out like an explosion of horrific magnitude!  My son turns on his heels and runs for the stairs, I am behind him moving like a cop chasing a suspect.  I am mumbling something that no one can understand! The boy makes it up the stairs and as he hits the landing I let him know: that butt better be in bed because if you get out of bed that butt is mine! I chuckle. I hear his bedroom door shut and as I stroll past my wife I let out a curt; I hope he has ten kids and they are all just like him! 

It is at that very moment I hear myself for the first time.  I shiver at what has just happened, I am in shock, disbelief, denial.  I am astounded at how easy it has happened.  I was so sure this would, no, could never happen.  I swore I would never let it happen and yet here I am.  Oh man……  Today I became my father…..

I may need some counseling.

 

Is a dog mans best friend?

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A dog is mans best friend.  How many times have you heard this phrase?  “A dog is mans best friend”. Its sounds like a viable statement doesn’t it?  A dog is mans best friend?  See I have heard this all my life.  My mom raised AKC (American Kennel Club for those not in the know) dogs for profit, when I was a kid, and you always heard that statement flying around.  A dog is mans best friend???  HHHMMMM? I know it must be true because when my friends come back from duck hunting they’re always touting the excellent agility, loyalty and just plain olympic caliber performances that each of their dogs has displayed.  And yet it still doesn’t set with me.  Are those things what really makes a dog your best friend?

My son asked me the other day; why is a dog mans best friend? Why not a cat? I stumbled on the question for a minute, while reflecting on the many dogs I have cared for in my life. While recognizing I did not have one friend that had a cat as their “best friend”.  I thought of the loyalty, and the love shown by those animals, I thought about how after time they became like a member of the family.  And like a member of the family, lets say oh the uncle no one want to see or the great-aunt with bad breath that no one wants to smooch at the family reunion.  There are a few dogs who have graced my life that I just don’t miss at all!  So I take a good hard swallow looked my boy right in his steely little eyes and pulled this little gem of half whitted wisdom out for him to hear!

Son, I don’t believe a dog is mans best friend, on the contrary, I believe it’s a boys best friend.  (I know you are scratching your head right now and spouting; WHAT YOU TALIKING BOUT’ WILLIS!  As he raised one Vulcan eyebrow to comprehend this masterpiece of wisdom I continued on before he stripped a gear thinking about it.

Son its like this, when you are a young lad all you think about besides candy, hot wheels and ice cream is getting a dog.  He nodded his head in approval.  I continued; There are not to many boys in this world that have not begged for a dog at least once in their adolescent existence.  Boys across this country have sat in their room and daydreamed about the dog they would own.  A dog that would be their very best friend and go everywhere with them, protecting them from all the evil in the world.  Hunting with them across the undiscovered countryside of the early west, trapping beaver and chasing squirrels.  Knocking down buffalo and traveling on safari together you and your dog would be an inseparable pair.

Some boys actually live the dream as many parents cave into the begging, crying and whining.  The dog is usually a present, based on Hallmark holidays arriving with a bow and a sack of dog food.  For the lucky young lad a new life emerges.  One of countless hours of training, playing and poop pick up.  Shouts of joy from success, and tears of anguish when failure rears its ugly head.  But at the end of the turmoil a young lad now has a new best friend.  If he is lucky the dog is allowed to go with him everywhere, sleep on or in his bed and lay on his lap while watching tv.  They become two peas in a pod.  The adventures are not quite what was dreamed about, but through the magic of imagination they are darn close.  The dog is there when the boy has a horrible day to secretly cry on (remember in testosterone filled mythology boys don’t cry) and the dog is there to talk too when things aren’t going so well.  No girl is ever allowed to touch said dog, and a paw to hand pact is made that a woman will never come between them.  The dog is always happy to see him when he gets home, and equally as sad when he leaves for school in the morning. The best thing is both boy and dog think “farting” is the funniest thing in the world!

There you are, all the proof I need! I say verily that yes, the dog truly is the “boys” best friend!

Now don’t get me wrong, there are many men out there with dogs.  These animals are loved and cared for and are truly part of the family.  But its a different bond. You see in the eyes of the boy, the dog is everything! In the eyes of a man, the dog is part of a much bigger picture. The family.  So that’s my justification for why dogs are a boys best friend.

Just for the record, this all came about, because my oldest son finally went and purchased his very first dog.  It’s a hunting dog, a German short hair. According to my son its cute and funny and really smart.  She retrieves really well and is very happy to be with him. The dog came home today and we will slowly be inducting her into our family.  See, spoken like a true man…. Sit ubu sit…