As I am in the process of tying up any loose ends this Christmas eve, I find myself thinking about Christmas eve last year, and the year before, and the year before that, to the point that I have now whipped out the photo album and I am looking at photo memories from Christmas past. I notice the obvious right away with the expected “holy crap” the kids have grown, and the obligatory “I cant possibly have looked that young”, but what has really amazed me while gazing upon these frozen moments in time is the fact that they are coming to an end. Now I don’t mean Christmas is coming to an end, or my life is coming to an end I mean quite simply, the days of Santa are fleeting, the days of all my kids still living at home are winding down. My job as a parent is coming closer to full circle with my oldest. Then in the blink of an eye it will be the next child and so on and so on..
Parenting has its privileges!
One of the biggest privileges known to every mom and dad is the role of Santa Claus! The first year is really scary as you hope and pray they don’t catch you in the act. The next year is a little less stressful as you slowly develop your own style and develop certain techniques. Every year after that just gets better and better until you feel as though with the wink of an eye and the twitch of a nose you could rain presents upon the tree and be gone in a flash with nothing more than a cookie crumb left swirling on the floor.
But life is always changing. Before you know it, one heads off to college, then two, then four, and the house is empty. There is no one left to play Santa for(yes even though the older ones know the truth they still love to play along). What the heck! You are at the top of your game, in the big leagues, and now the coach cant even call you up. Its back to riding the pine for you big boy! Skills or not this has all accumulated to you not being needed anymore. The house is empty, no more giggling, no more running off to bed because Santa Tracker says Santa is in Chicago! No sneaking, prying little eyes laying in the shadows of the hallway. Its all over. Done! You find yourself all alone watching “A Christmas Story” sulking. Suddenly all the struggling and frustration that often accompanied the holidays doesn’t seem like it was that big of a deal after all.. All the times the kids got on your last nerve, pestering and bugging you, fighting over really stupid stuff, makes you realize you would give anything to have that time back. Yeah that moment in time. Just once more…
Like I said parenting is a true privilege! Christmas Eve is a fantastic moment in the life of any parent. One that we hold in our minds and relive over and over again. Its pure, its true love for your kids, its joy, its one of the few times you get to be a super hero, and when your kids faces light up on Christmas morning at the sight that beholds them you wink your eye, and twitch you nose, then lock away another memory. You are only Santa for a little while and I thank god for every chance I get to be him, for someday my kids will experience the same emotions, the same feelings, they will accept this fantastic gift that has been given them and hopefully they will sit back and remember all the fun they had and smile at the thought of their father playing Santa on just another Christmas Eve….
Tag: children
Christmas Cookies
I love Christmas cookies! Love them! So much I think I would cross a street of broken glass barefoot to get too them! I like chocolate ones, I like shortbread ones, I like almond ones, I like peanut butter ones, heck I even like coconut ones! I love Christmas cookies!
Today I took it upon myself to make some Christmas cookies from scratch to give to a few friends for the holidays! I went to the store and bought the ingrediants I didnt already have in the kitchen. I patiently took all the hardware out I needed. I even put on a Christmas movie so there would be a little ambiance in the background.
I set the temp on the oven.
greased up the tins.
spread out the chocolate.
fired up the double boiler.
I then spent the next two hours mixing, dropping (a term for putting the dough on the cookie sheet) and baking. It was heaven! Just me and some of the best ingriediants known to the baking world. Making some of the most deliscious cookies ever!
But something was missing…. You see I was doing all of this fun stuff at work. (I am a firefighter). There were no little kids helping me lick the bowls, no one to sneak chocolate chips while I was folding the butter. No one to help melt white chocolate in the double boiler for the icing. Yep it was all perfect untill I realized it was too perfect. Perfectly quiet.
I needed a little person there to impart my cooking wisdom upon. Years my father spent in the bakery of his restruant with me as a teenager/young adult acting like I didnt care because it wasnt cool to cook. But in reality I was watching listening and learning from a man who got up every morning at 3am to make sure bread was baked for the days meals. I want my children to know that REAL men cook. REAL men bake and provide for their families in a multitude of ways! REAL men take great pride in giving the gift of baked goods at Christmas. Because to me nothing comes “more from the heart” than when I take the time to bake (I mean bake, not prepackaged crap, but from scratch)something sweet for you, my friend. So there I was alone….. Or so I thought.
Looking over my shoulder was one of our new guys. He is young, in his early twenties, a good kid full of heart. I was going to ask what he needed but a light came on in my head instead. I leaned over and said; Lets make some cookies, you get some eggs and Ill start mixing the flour. He smiled and jumped right to it! Within seconds one of the other new guys also jumped in and the three of us were chuckling and dropping dough.
After the first round came out and we all had a taster, the vote was unanimous. Make some more! And more we did! I slowly backed away leaving the young guys to do it on their own. They had watched carefully, studied the methods used and applied them perfectly. They are both now filled with Christmas spirit as am I. As I write this the two of them are carefully working on the next batch.
I had a great Pre Christmas day! Filled with good laughs, good food and yes I can say it. In a way I had my “kids” with me as I baked for people I care about.
Did I mention “I love cookies”….
The Christmas I was 8
Today I found myself daydreaming about the past. I was 8 years old and Christmas was only a few days away. I had searched the house high and low for any presents that may be in hiding from my prying eyes to no avail. I had taken the time some two months earlier to carefully craft my Christmas list and although there appeared to be a few presents under the tree with my name on them I still was having trouble locating a box that fit the size or shape of the main present that I had requested.
How could this be? I mean I was pretty clear about my wishes, I know I hadnt always been good during the year, but I surely hadnt warranted the number one gift to be crossed from the list. Had I? My parents were shrewd, crafty, some may even say sinister in the ability to hide presents during the holidays. But at 8 I knew I was smarter than them, I always found my dads stash of chocolate chip cookies, I knew where my mom hid her candy, and there wasnt a day that went by I didnt know the exact moment when anything that had been hidden was moved. I was stealthy and crafty and honing my skills. So how, how could it be, that it seemed as though no one had even thought to obtain the number one gift I had so desired? It was mind boggling!
My family never had much money and for me to be so self centered as to believe that what ever gift I wished for I would recieve was also ludicris. But in the mind of an 8 year old only two things can happen at Christmastime. Either mom and dad purchased the item or Santa Claus was in on the action. Now being of sound mind I had eventually come to the conclusion that ole St. Nick was my main man! I knew for sure he had my six. On Christmas morning there it would be, glowing like the northern star from the heavens above. But wait! Had I blown my chance with all my stealthy snooping? I mean the cat is good but can he really see all of us when we are “naughty”? I remember thinking about this in depth, so much so I didnt even take the time to ridicule my sister that evening even once, which of course brought unwanted attention to me from my mother. But I played it cool, helped with dishes, pondered some more, picked up clothes and pondered some more, went and laid on my bed, wondering if Santa could see me now? What was he thinking? Why was I being tortured this way? My day would have, no should have gone so much better, if only I had found my present! But there lays the contridiction it all…. If I found it I was definetly on the naughty list, because I looked for it and didnt find it or any presents I may have been in a “grey” area. What to do, What to do?
It was definetly a long two days. Kissing parental ass, being extra nice to my sister, like an employee who knows hes about to get fired and is trying extra hard to save his already lost job. But in the end it was one of the best Christmasses ever. I awoke that morning, it was still dark outside, I went to wake my sister, but then I thought no, I want this moment all to myself. I carefull strolled the outskirts of the tree, wringing my hands and licking my lips. There was so much stuff and all of it gleamed like a new penny. As I was ready to give up, with shoulders slouched and head hung low, I looked towards the angel on top of the tree to ask why. There it was, in a box, stuck in the tree. What I had waited for all year, the item I had lost sleep over tossing and turning wondering, had I made the grade. Well I had! The big man in red came through! I knew he would! Knew it all along! Yep!
The Christmas I turned 8 was the year I got my first G.I. Joe! It was the year I became a soldier, a man! It was the year of many adventure between me and Joe! we conquered all foes, foriegn and domestic. We slept many night is the bush under the stars, listening for the sounds of approaching enimies. We killed many soldiers and showed them a soldiers respect upon thier demise! No video games only Joe and I and our imaginations!
One more thing, it was also the year I quit looking for presents in hidden places. The risks, the loss of sleep and being nice to my sister were just more than I could bear in the year that I was 8.
Wine for the whine!
Ringing in my ears. What is that ringing in my ears? I sit quietly in my office chair, feet up staring blankly at the computer screen. The kids are in bed, the arguing and sniveling has ceased. I caress my glass of wine and sip it’s golden nectar. Peace, quiet it should be mine! Yet there it is….. Ringing in my ears. It’s not loud mind you and it really isn’t terribly annoying. It’s slow and steady and it drones on like a snail making its way across the walkway. Hhhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Rrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnngggggggggg
What have I done to deserve this meaningless torture. Who did I step on today? Is this karma? Was I hit in the head or should I have been and this is Gods cruel little hoax? I am pretty sure after today I deserve these few moments of piece and quiet without this droning going on in my head! Maybe if I focus on it I can force it from my ears.
Nope, it’s no good I am stuck with it! Could it be the lost whining tones of my own childhood coming back to haunt me? Retribution for all the whining pain my father endured? He handled
It the same way I do, a shot, a beer and a glass of wine. There is some form of poetic justice in the choice of wine to help make the whine go away. But alas I sit here pondering my evenings future and thinking somehow there is something terribly wrong with this world when after a long day of child rearing a man can’t have drink without something still whining at him..
Fishing
One of the many joys of fatherhood is the time honored tradition of taking your child fishing.
Now fishing isn’t just about putting a pole in the water and catching a fish: oh no! It’s about the prep work, loading the boat, buying bait, actually getting onto the water, and yes hopefully catching a fish or two.
Now before we get to far into this let me just mention that the very (and I mean VERY) first thing you must do before you ever take your child out fishing is teach them the definition of fishing. Now I know we could sit here and quibble over the Webster version but to me the definition of fishing actually comes in a short little saying. “it’s called fishing not catching” the sooner you can get your child to understand that, the more pleasant your trip will be for both of you. There are some adults I know who have still not fully grasped that concept. As your child gets older and determines they enjoy fishing, make sure and let them know you can catch just as many fish from a twenty year old boat that has paid for itself 10 times over, as you can from that fancy $70,000 job you both drooled over at the sport and boat show.
So back to the beginning. The prep work; very important when it comes to teaching your child about the responsibilities associated with going fishing.
Getting the poles out- answering twenty questions about what each pole does and why you use it.
Putting the life vests in, answering twenty questions about why we need them and reinstating that yes you will be wearing one and no I don’t care if they are uncomfortable you’re not going to be taking it off.
Packing a lunch- peanut butter and jelly is the best fishing sandwich. (personal opinion) Never take them to McDonalds first! I can’t stress that last point enough! One of two things is going to happen. One: they will expect it every time, and that means when they brings friends! Nothing can drag the trip down more, financially than that! Two:someone’s puking up a big Mac! I don’t know about you but my experience has taught me if one kids puking someone else is gonna start puking and who do ya think has to clean that up?
Yuck!!!
Buying bait is always fun, the kids get to play with the minnows or mud suckers, they squeal with joy as the fish jump about. Slimy stinky fish, a kids dream come true!!
(Important fishing rule)
Please make sure no one names them. We have a steadfast rule of no naming the bait on my boat! Once they get a name its hard to explain why I’m putting a hook in its back or better yet, why daddy just cut the head of little Nemo! All to the now psychologically damaged screams of my 6 year old! Frozen bait works well too. It’s not as much fun but it’s great watching the kids revel in how bad their hands smell when they get home.
Getting on the water is the highlight of any fishing morning. The cool crisp breeze, the light spray in your face, ducks off in the distance and river otters on the banking. Watching a sturgeon come up and belly roll out in the middle of the river. Listening to your child (who by the way is so bundled up he/she looks like the kid from “a Christmas Story”) whining about how cold they are, but with a smile on their face because they are “fishing with dad”!
Its inevitable that once you get to your favorite fishing spot you will find two other boats already camped out on top of it and one guy is reeling in a fish. You give the obligatory thumbs up with a smile on your face all while mumbling under your breath that it’s your spot and that’s your fish!
That’s ok you have a back up spot and no one is there (which explains why it’s the backup spot) so you set anchor and with a smile on your face you bait the first hook! You grin with pleasure at this fantastic moment! You and your kid, amigos, compadres, side by side, fishing like men! Ahhhh yes this is how it’s done, dad of the year! Thats me!!
Time to drop my line in the water and have a cup of Jo, pat myself on the back awhile and enjoy the scenery.
But before I do, I’m just gonna need to bait the kids hook one more time, there we go and what? Why haven’t we caught a fish yet? I explained that point quite well before we left, or so I thought. What’s that, you need more bait? No prob swing that over here, hey now watch the hook, ok quit playing with daddy’s line, no we still haven’t caught a fish, yes that sound coming from the fish finder means there are fish down there, no I don’t know why they don’t just jump in the boat, yes you can have a soda, I’m mean no you can’t have a soda it’s not even lunch yet, what you need more bait, I don’t know if you can catch a seal with an anchovy, what, NO you can’t name the bait fish Thelma and Louise! What do you mean to late! Hey put my pole down why don’t you have your pole? It fell in the water! Why didn’t you say something? Oh because you dropped the scale in and tried to get it with the pole? Can you have my pole? Ahhh no! Don’t cry, daddy didn’t mean to yell! come on little buddy fishermen don’t cry, ok you can have my pole! Just let me know when you need bait, oh that’s now, ok.
And so the day goes, we never caught any fish and I lost quite a bit of tackle and we continued a time honored tradition, carried out by numerous dads instilling the joy of fishing not catching with their children…..
The Pen
Cleaning up the kitchen today I found a pen. Now this is no ordinary pen as my wife has affixed an ornate fake flower to its base. She got this idea I am sure from the multiple doctors/dentist/school offices we have been to in our lives where the pens are decorated to keep the patrons from walking away with them. We have four of these pens but this one pen in particular has been troubling me this morning. You see I keep finding it in the same spot, I pick it up and carefully put it back with its fellow flowers only to have it returned to the very same spot not more than a few minutes later. After the third time I am sure the pen has grown legs and is dragging itself over to this spot to relish in the sunlight shining through the window. So with a curious look and a quivering hand I place the “flower” back in its base one more time, ducking around the corner hoping to catch it in its travels. Now I know there is no way the flower/pen is moving on its own, yet the little boy in me wants to see it look around, crawl out and lay down in the sunlight with a relaxing heavy sigh..
I wait..
And wait…..
And wait……….
I give up.
Walking up the stairs I catch my wife telling our middle son: “if you are going to use something put it back” and “that pen doesn’t belong there, it’s no wonder the house is a mess when you guys just drop stuff when you’re done with it and expect someone else to put it away”!
Mystery solved, fantasy crushed, the pen is just a pen and our kids are normal little mess making machines. (heavy sigh)..
I didn’t do it!
I didn’t do it! The famous last words of the guilty child. When you have multiple children and something has gone wrong the phrase “I didn’t do it” rings down from the heavens!
I found a hole conviently dug into the back seat in my truck. A hole the size of a quarter and growing bigger on the canvas of leather it now encompassed. Now since I have 4 kids and only 3 of them sit in the back, the eldest was immediately found innocent and released from custody. The other three of course continued to proclaim their innocence through many different mediums. The youngest took to screaming and crying stating he would swear on the life of his dog (he doesn’t have a dog) that he didn’t do it. The middle child, my daughter, just kept repeating over and over; not me dad not me! All while slyly pointing at the back of my youngest’s head. The 3rd boy of course was preaching much of the same all while flailing his arms around to get the point across and slyly pointing to my daughter.
I didn’t do it! A resounding argument, no facts needed, no clues given, just taken at its face value alone should help me in releasing my prisoners.
Just as the whining and sniveling started to reach its crescendo I noticed a sharp object in the hand of my daughter and as I pulled the sharp object from her hand the other two in unison both turn and shout “she did it” ahhh childhood justice! Freedom for the unjustly accused! For before I could lean down and ask her if she actually used the pen to make the hole she under quivering lip says; I’m sorry dad….and with tears running down her face she mumbles; I don’t know why I did it, but I can see your pretty mad and I’m sorry. As the other two chant like tribesmen looking for a beheading I take a deep breath, lean down and say ever so quietly. Thank you for telling me the truth. Don’t let it happen again and I love you….
Problem solved, and as my wife strolls in and ask what all the crying and sniveling is about I calmly look her dead in the eye and mutter “I didn’t do it”
High School Raceway
This morning dropping off my high schooler I took note of the fact that I was feeling very pressured in my driving skills. Not from my own child mind you, his head was buried in the alternative texting, gaming, fantasy world that is his I-Phone. No it was in fact from the kids that were driving alongside and behind me. The tailgating, speeding, wreck less driving that is coming from our youth is astounding to me. At times coming in this four lane road feels more like a run against John Force at Infineon raceway. When we round the corner I am cutting the lane on Tony Stewart. I keep waiting for my crew Chief to let me know I’m “clear low” (those who follow NASCAR will get that one). Yet today for some reason I parked facing out to watch in coming traffic. To get a better read on my assessment of this daily routine. After 10 minutes I came to a conclusion. IT’S NOT THE KIDS!!! Oh yeah that’s right, it was the parents! Don’t get me wrong there was a handful of stop sign running kids but over all the rubber squealing, stop sign running, speeding idiots were the parents! I wanted to pull them over and scream! Apparently they don’t realize or care that the impression they are leaving on there own kids will result in their children driving like asses too.
Let me also say, I by no means was a driving Angel. I had a sweet truck with an awesome motor and it hauled ass! But as a parent I feel it’s my responsibility to lead by example, my dad and mom both drove like a bat out of HELL! Yet they expected me to drive like a law abiding citizen. HAH! A ticket and two accidents later (luckily no one hurt) I figured out the hard way that there are driving rules and laws for a reason.
The good news so far is my son hates people who break the law. He sees no point in speeding, and looks at it as being irresponsible. He thinks his friends who drive recklessly as complete morons. He swears that will never be him and he will always follow the driving rules of the road.
I should probably up my insurance..
My child’s laughter
A child’s laughter, I live for the sound of uncontrollable laughter from one of my children. How many parents take that sound for granted? How many parents are self consumed and don’t understand it’s importance? How many times have we looked over and through the emotions of our kids as an annoyance? I have, yet tonight I relished in it, I bathed myself in the pure emotion of a happy, laughing child. I put that one moment in my memory bank to pull up time and again, placing a smile on my face when I have forgotten how.
The Day is done
Kids are asleep, wife is out cold and I am left with my thoughts. Another night of playing “whack a mole” with the kids has left me exhausted. Whack a mole is when every time you think they are all in bed, another one pops up with a need. You get that one handled and back in bed at just at that moment another one pops up with a need. Before long you are pulling your hair out and cussing under your breath.
My parents used to say “I hope you have ten kids just like yourself” What a horrible thing to say! Apparently I was the spawn of the devil to harshly command such a response! Yet somehow right at his very moment it seems fitting. I have not uttered those words to my own children but as sure as the sun rises, it will come up.
One last load of laundry and my ass is off to bed as well…. Goodnight..
They call me Betty 