Tag: Dad

Dont tell Mom, ok??

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Dont tell your mom, ok?  How Many times have we said that to our children?  I know I have said it a few times.  Have you?  Think about it.  Hear it in your head while you are reading this, Dont tell your mom?  Seriously just writing it here, makes me think, how absolutely absurd it sounds! 

Heres where I am going with this.  My 11-year-old has been having a hard time the last few days.  Normal stuff, picking fights with his sister, acting like chores are the end of the world.  Trying to make special occasions about himself instead the intended recipient.  But where he really crossed the line is, he’s been caught lying.  Nothing big mind you, little lies. (not that it justifies the lying).

Example; (Mom) did you take a piece of cake without asking?  Answer; NO- Did you leave the toilet seat up? Answer; NO- Did you forget to feed the dogs? Answer; NO.   Did you bribe your brother to take the fall for you on the cake theft thing? Answer: NO mom, you know I would never lie to you!  God! Sheesh! Man!

Now he did all of these things, and yes he also failed miserably in the “did you bribe your brother to take the fall for you” category?  Which by the way I am kind of envious of his vision in the matter.  Think about it, get the little one (who by the way is so damn cute) to go belly up in front of mom for something you did! GENIUS!! You know the little ones punishment is going to be less and really the monkey is off your back so all you have to do is sit back, watch the fireworks while rubbing your hands together muuuuhhhhaaaaaahahahaha! Yet lie he did! He let his brother bite the bullet then lied about it! Steller!  Then when he finally came clean he expects a simple “I’m sorry” will make it all go away.  WRONG!!!

So I am beating my head against the wall, wondering what awful influence has led my “pure as the driven snow”, child to take the lowly path of lying?  What horrible event in his life has rewired his brain, so it overrides his ability to know the difference between right and wrong? My little angel would never, ever knowingly lie would he?  I mean he said it himself; I never lie mom! Wait that was a lie? Shoot, is he lying about lying?  I mean the kid is good, but is he that good?  Did he lie about the lie, which in turn created another lie which he eventually believed was the truth? Or was he telling the truth that was interpreted as a lie, which perpetrated another lie in search of the truth? Shit! How do secret double agents do this stuff?? 

What I realized through all my mental anxiety over the issue was this, IT WAS MY FAULT!  Yup, I said it, it was my fault.  sure he committed the crime, sure he’s doing the time, but why would he think it was ok to tell a small lie?  What would make him believe that it was no big deal?  Answer: Listening to his dad. 

You see every time I go into Seven Eleven with the kids still in the car to grab a quick snack and I buy one of those Hostess cakes I crave so badly. I do something that no dad should ever do under any circumstances.  I do something so shameful that I should be dragged in shackles before the court of elders to have my dad card revoked for a weeks time as I am thrown into solitary.  You see somewhere between handing out the goodies and hearing my name chanted to the heavens as they gorge on the surgery goodness that mom probably wouldn’t let them have I say these three little words.

Dont tell mom…….

Yep that’s right, I have said it so many times its shameful.  Dont tell mom.. I have just put the biggest burden I could ever put on a little kid.  Not only have I bribed them with sugar crack, but now they feel the pressure to uphold the lie! And why?  Am I supposed to be scared of being punished by mom for not obeying her orders in regards to my health.  Are they thinking holy crap if dads that scared his punishment must be BBAADDDD!!! Are they wondering if commandant Mommy will ship me off to the Western Front to die a horrible death? Of course not, I am already dying a horrible death by ingesting the lard pie with cherry filling.  A slow unhealthy death!!!  Just ask my wife.  So why then?  We all do it!  If anyone reading this says they have never told their kids, Dont tell mom… or lets just keep this between us, ok (wink wink)! Then I will call you a liar!!  And believe me it takes one to know one!! 

But seriously, we as fathers perpetrate this tiny example of teaching our kids its ok to lie over small stuff on a regular basis.  It doesn’t seem like much but really it is, an avalanche starts with nothing more than a misplaced snowflake.  And that’s how lies start, small then as the child masters them eventually they become bigger!  Before you know it you have a kid that can’t be trusted, they are demoralized and so are you!  Mostly though, we have engrained them that Mom is the enemy somehow, so much so that we (as husbands and fathers) are scared of her too!  What the Hell?  I know it feels like a “this is between you and me buddy”  friend type moment.  But really we are teaching our kids to lie and that in itself is criminal.  So the next time you catch your kid lying to you about tiny little things, just take them out to ice cream, and when they ask sheepishly if they can have cookies with their cone, lean over and proudly say YES! But only if you tell mom the minute you get home. 

By the way, I am on my third cookie while writing this, you guys got my back right?

Five Fingered Footie Shoes????

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Today was a very special day.  You see it was my sons 7th birthday, and he was rewarded with the only gift he requested.  It wasn’t Hot Wheels, nor Transformers, nothing to do with Harry Freaking Potter, no magic tricks, no juggling balls, none of the things we believed that he was longing for, nope what our kid wanted was Footie Shoes .  Yep Footie shoes, or Five Finger Shoes as they are advertised.    Have you seen these things??  Strange looking, like the 70’s toe socks that were once all the rage! All five toes in their own little keeper, wrapped in the latest air-breathing, moisture wicking, sole protecting technology.  Held onto your foot with a single piece of space age velcro.  They come in a multitude of colors to ensure that at least one person is going to look at your feet and proclaim “coooooolllll dude” where ya get those?

And look at them you will, I mean they really are hard to take your eyes off.

See aren’t they weeeeiiirrrrdddd?  Its like someone decided to take the whole “bigfoot” thing and turn it into instant money!!!!  Cha Ching!!!! Really I am jealous that I didn’t think of these things myself.  Like the cardboard in the car window that reads “help dial 911” yep I thought that up first, really, it’s a little known fact it was my idea.  I was just late capitalizing on the invention.  My people didn’t contact their people, same old story told time and again in the business world. (heavy sigh)

Anyway where was I?  Oh yeah. So my kid now has a pair of these feet for his feet. (creepy) He is running around like Superman, he fly’s higher, jumps farther, sprints faster, all because of his “Footie” shoes.  Wait a minute, that’s the same way I feel when I get a new pair of shoes, and mine don’t have toes!  Hmmmm seems like a conspiracy if you ask me.  The shoe companies have us all duped into believing that when we get new shoes we are superhuman!  Ah the power of advertising and subliminal messaging! Oh well let him have his moment!  By Friday they will be worn in and the super powers will slowly fade. By the end of the month the super powers will be completely gone. Then what, footie shoes? Then what?  Then they will be just another pair of sweaty, stinky, smelly shoes that my dog will turn into a drool bucket.  But thats Ok I just finished ordering mine online, they should be here any day.  Then Ill see everyone at the Justice League Headquarters, Up Up and AWAAAAAAYYYYYYY!

 

2012 a fresh new start, I think……

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It’s here, it’s here! Yep that’s right 2012 is here! Shout it from the rooftops for all to hear! 2012 is finally here!!

What you already knew that?? I am shocked? I am not the first one to tell you that its 2012?  How embarrassing….  How can this be?  I am confused????? Oh that’s right, the endless party invites you received probably gave it away.  Or the 48 hours of your local news counting down until the very last moment when they switched the broadcast over to Carson Daily and his motley crew of semi famous party goer’s.  Oh wait; maybe it was the endless stream of News Years Eve footage from other countries, being thrown about like a frisbee on the internet for all to see!  Or if you lived completely under a rock maybeeeeee it was the explosions and war zone gun fire that woke you up at 12:01am that did the trick.

Oh well either way I am still excited! 2012 is finally here!  I now have twelve months to help my worry wart 11-year-old understand that just because the Mayan calender ended doesn’t mean the world is going to end on December 21st of this year.  That Mayans in fact believed the end of this recorded cycle meant the planet would go through a “positive physical or spiritual change” .  Now I don’t know about you but I am pretty sure the human race could use both of those things about now! 

2012 also means facing a few facts that I have been avoiding. Or at the very least acting like they would never bother me. 

Our 15-year-old is going to start driving this year.  It wasnt a big deal before but here we are literally days away from him being able to take the permit test.  As the very famous philosopher Charlie Brown once stated after having the football pulled away from him; AAAAARRRRGGGGGGG! I thought I was ready for this time-honored passage into teenage/adulthood but I am not!  I already worry about every part of my kids lives everyday, I drink Mylanta the way most people would consume a chocolate shake! Slowly to avoid brain feeze and with a straw! I do breathing exercises like a fat kid staring at the biggest jelly doughnut he’s ever seen when it comes to making decisions about whether or not my kids should stay the night at someone’s house!  Yet here we are in 2012 and I now feel as though this is the year I finally get my long-awaited ulcer!  Dont get me wrong, out of all my kids he is the one I trust the most to take the driving test challenge and succeed……  Holy crap did I just write that, I am doomed!!!!  I will need a stomach transplant when it comes to the other three!  Maybe I’ll get lucky and they will pass a law that says they can’t drive till they are 18? 

My soon to be 12-year-old is going to start JR. HIGH!  Now that doesn’t sound like a big deal to most people, but for me it a huge deal!  Heres my problem, it’s not the increased class schedule, it’s not that he will be joining kids from the other three elementary schools in the area.  It’s not that he will be introduced to a larger scale of peer pressure and influence. Its none of these things that I am concerned with (ok maybe the influence thing a little).  What I am concerned with the most?  He is cute!  Now I don’t mean your average everyday cute! Nope! I don’t mean your my kid and of course no matter how homely you really are I still think your cute because I have too, cute!  This kid is downright cute, good-looking, handsome! He has big eyes, big dimples and a gigantic heartwarming smile! You know the type of smile I am talking about, the type of smile that warms a heart two sizes too small?  Yeah that’s our boy!  He has a following too!  Where ever we go, the girls are sure to follow.  He has just as many “girlfriends”as he does male counterparts.  I am dreading hormones and testosterone, giggling girls and irate fathers.  Late night phone calls and cell phone monitoring.  The good news is he’s been raised right!  He is a gentleman, he says please and thank you and he has respect for himself and others.  So maybe I am overreacting and I’ll only need to start on a low dose of Zoloft by the end of the year. 

As for the rest of them, no worries at all.  I think??? 

I don’t believe in making useless New Years promises that no one can possibly keep!  But I will promise to continue with my way of being a father.  In 2012 I promise to continue to love my kids, be there when they need me and even when they don’t.  I promise to butt into their lives on a daily basis, correct them when they are wrong and praise them when they are right!  I promise that ice cream and frozen yogurt are something that no matter how broke we are, we will always be able to afford.  I promise to always take their phone calls when I am at work and listen to their problems with an open mind.  I promise to continue to teach them; a sense of humor will get you farther in life than determination alone.  I promise to take a moment out of my day every now and again to hug and dance with my daughter.  But most important of all, after spending endless hours with my children, I promise to take the time to constantly show love and affection towards my wife.  Who our children become as adults is a direct reflection on how we behave as a married couple.  Dont you think??

Happy New Year….

2011 bye bye

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4 hours and 6 minutes until 2012.  That’s all I have left to reflect upon 2011 before the proverbial changing of the guard.  While most everyone else is posting in their blogs about all they have been through over the last year.  I am going to try a different route.  I ‘m going to reflect on my children’s lives over the past year.  Remembering what they experienced, and who they have become over the last 12 months. 

Parker

My little man is 6 in 48 hours he will be 7.  This was a year of learning for my youngest.  He learned to read.  Now to some that might not be a lot, I always hear the stories of “oh my little genius was reading by 2”.  But for Parker this was indeed a milestone.  He is very impatient and to finally overcome his “tummy pains” or “jitters” to sit and read without losing his mind was a gigantic obstacle to overcome.  He also taught himself how to spin plates on a stick.  He was so good at it that he decided on his own to be in the schools talent show.  Another huge milestone for our small performer.  You see Parker also doesn’t like to be laughed at when doing something serious.  So for him to stand upon a stage in front of the entire elementary school and perform without crying each time a plate fell.  (yes he smiled the biggest smile when he finished and everyone applauded) Well it makes me misty just thinking about it.  Parker also learned to ride a horse this year.  No fear, just got on the pony and started riding.  After a week or two declared he was ready for competition and proceeded to ride in an annual series, where he did quite well.  His lisp went away this year as well.  He has started to take notice that people aren’t saying “what” every time he asks a question or tries to tell a story.  He is sweet and kind with a slight hint of the devil every now and again.  I will miss him being little, huggable and snuggly.

Jessica

My little girl is 7 and smart as a whip.  This year she truly dedicated herself to her schoolwork.  She went from being very slow to focus on the tasks at hand to someone I trust to handle any task given her at anytime.  She is stubborn and resourceful, caring and brutish, but this year she learned so much about who she is as a person.  She has developed in a small flower that is just waiting for the perfect time to blossom.  She overcame many of her dreaded fears as well this year.  The fear of the dark; whipped! Although she still wants a night lite every now and again, she can sleep with the door closed and the lights off.  The fear of horses:  She would go down to the barn with us and just sit and watch.  If you tried to get her on a horse, stand back!  The screaming would start!  But thanks to the help of some wonderful friends, she not only rides, but she lopes a great little horse named JR. around the arena with the biggest of smiles on her face.  She is driven and competitive, if you are her friend she would slay the biggest serpant for you.  If you are her enemy look out!  We cant wait to see what she wants to accomplish next year!

Jake

Ahhhh my 11-year-old who is going on 17!  He is bossy, he is a know it all, he is the absolute best at everything he does (just ask him).  He is also the kindest, gentlest human being I have had the pleasure to know.  He has a smile that would melt even the coldest of hearts! If there is an animal in trouble with in a 10 mile radius, he knows.  He cries at even the smallest of creatures being hurt or in trouble.  When our little dog went missing this year, he called me at work and he was blubbering so hard I couldn’t make out what he was saying.  His year has been tumultuous to say the least.  He has been in the wrong place at the wrong time at school more times than I can count (parent e-mails from the principal).  He even went to the office for fighting, in which he was released because he had done the right thing by trying to get away from the kid until he had nowhere to hide.  He lost his best friend (to the Air Force) , who moved away which was quite a blow.  The year before he lost another friend (Air Force once again)to the dreaded “move”.  He learned to ride a horse this past year. He went out and purchased his own horse with money he had saved over the years from birthdays and Christmas.  Along with odd jobs he had worked and his 4-H project.  He rides in competitions and wishes to one day ride cutting horses.  He was in a school play and went from learning piano, to being handed a clarinet which he plays quite well!  He has grown what seems like a foot this year and is no longer small. (he’s built like a linebacker)!  I am proud of who he is becoming as a young man and after seeing the changes in him this year, wish he could slow down just a little bit.   

Cody

The oldest of the brood at a staggering 15 1/2.  This year was unbelievable for our young adult.  He was in marching band and went to several competitions around the state.  He also ran for the cross-country team and was one of 8 boys that made to State!  He lettered, received his ALL-League and his State Championship patches.  All while carrying a full 7 period workload.  This year he went hunting and killed his first pheasant!  He also go his first turkey.  He is in taxidermy at school and is really enjoying the class.  He says it is a lost art, I think he may be right.  Cody also took a big step this year by actually getting back onto a horse.  He was thrown from a horse 4 years ago and even though he got right back on and rode a while longer.  Afterwards he washed his hands of all horses.  Over the last year his voice finished changing, now when I call home I want to know who the strange man is answering the phone!  He also lost a friend (Air Force) but not just any friend.  They had been friends since 5th grade.  Eventually becoming boyfriend/girlfriend by 7th grade.  They stayed friends and became an item again last year.  It was a tough blow for him, he is dealing with it well I am sure in most part to technology.  He has his I-phone with him all the time.  Cody has read more books this year than anyone I know, he will definitely grow up to be the most well read person in our family.  Cody found his funny side this year, his wit is dry and quick! So much so that sometimes you are walking away from him before you realize that he just got ya!  He is growing tall and strong and handsome.  I am very proud to call him my son and I look forward to the day that I shake his hand and give him a hug man to man.. 

So there it is, I just spent a little time remembering some things that happened to my children over this last year.  No poo pooing about opportunity lost, or how much money we don’t have (we have horses, so you know we are poor).  No credit debt, no political rants, no occupy bullshit!  Nope just a moment in time to reflect upon what matters most to me.  My kids, who they are, and who they are becoming.  It’s a privilege to be a parent and I think at times we take that privilege for granted. 

So welcome 2012!  Welcome to our lives with open arms!  May you bless us with countless stories that we may recollect!  May you bring us challenges that we may meet! But most of all, may you bring my kids one step closer to moving out!!  (you didn’t think I was going to do this whole thing without one obnoxious quip did you?)

How my childhood has changed

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As a 45-year-old parent of four, looking back upon my early childhood, I have noticed that some things have changed and some things have stayed the same since I was an infant.

We start our lives out as wobbly little infants that need everything from our parents.  In the beginning its good, some may event say great!  We are fed three meals a day, given all the love and adoration we can handle.  We are pooping, peeing, burping, vomiting, naked little gods!  All of these things are considered cute when we are infants, but try it as an adult and you will be thrown in jail faster than To Catch A Predator’s Chris Hansen can say “hi there, no, no have seat, lets talk a minute”.  As infants we are truly the center of our parents worlds! 

If  born a boy, dad was the hero and admired by all his friends.  The infant boy held high over dads head as if he was Rifiki from the Lion King.  There for the world to see!  A son has been born to this pride, show your admiration as there will be no other like him!  Pats on the back, cigars strewn about, friends who don’t even smoke or like cigars are seen toking away as a gesture of approval towards his fathers amazing virility! His football jersey has already been picked out, a bat and glove lay near the foot of the crib, a racecar stroller is parked waiting in the corner for the pit crew to tune it up after each time mom brings him back from the supermarket 500.  He will grow up to be the handsomest of men, Cary Grant, Tom Selleck, Brad Pitt will pale in his shadow!  Women will fall to their feet by his presence (some men too)! Mom is always there at the littlest cry or snivel to feed him! (hmmmmm sounds like the ground work is being laid for some serious gender expectation retraining as you get older) And eat he will..  and eat… and eeeaaaattttt…..

If  born a girl, mom is aglow, all her friends sigh the heavy relief that it wasnt one of those dreaded devil maker boys!  While dad is happy she is healthy, he knows that in time he will be wrapped around her little finger and before long he will be wearing girly hats and having tea parties.  Mom on the other hand can’t wait, to show her off to all of the family!  Adorned in the cutest little pink outfits, with pretty little bows and “hair pretty’s”, life couldn’t get much better! Unless mom was 8 and had just received a brand new Cabbage Patch Doll!  (I know it’s another stereotype take a deep breath and relax) Mom also has her daughters life laid out, she will go to college, Mills, Simmons, Wellesley, she will be the class valedictorian, and she wont need any boy to succeed in life. She will be stunning and all boys will want her (some girls too) but she wont wander from her chosen path.  To cure-all of the worlds diseases and win the Nobel Peace Prize.  Yeah no high expectations here!

Now all of this sounds very stereotypical and it is, but you have to remember that no matter how we were raised or what you  may believe today, all bets are off when the first child is born!  Generational habits die-hard and really, as new parents, your brain cells have deteriorated immensely.  The deterioration of your parents minds only continues as you and your siblings get older.  Also all of this is only if you are the first-born of either sex, if you are lucky enough to be the runner-up things go significantly down hill from here!  You are just another exemplary silhouette of your parents genes.  Sorry if you are the third or fourth child, but unfortunately its true.  The effort put into the first two significantly wains as others are thrown into the mix.  Now don’t get me wrong, it doesn’t mean you were loved any more or less than the others, noooooo quite the contrary, the others or “firsties” have it harder than you ever will.. 

You see they have an image to live up too.  They have all of their parents goals and dreams to shatter or make come true.  If you fail its easy for the parents to just say “oh after the second one we were just tired of trying” or if you are successful you will hear “ha  ha I don’t know how the hell that one succeeded”!  The first and second child are relied upon to do all the baby sitting, to help with the child rearing, to set the “example”  of appropriate behavior.  Because as more children come into the family, more responsibilities are delegated, which keeps the parents from losing their minds completely. It also frees up more time to start drinking after the littlest ones are in bed!  None of this will make any sense to the “firsties” either, until after they too have children, then the process repeats itself. 

So where does that leave me in this posting?  Well its like this, I have noticed while looking into my own family model that indeed some things are still the same while some things have definitely changed!  I love all my children equally (same), I don’t look upon the “firsties” as any better than the last two (different), I have high expectations for all of them equally (different), The older ones do help the younger ones, with homework, cleaning their rooms, and developing their manners (same), But I look at that as a privilege to completing my expectations of good mannerisms.  And we all know if you do well at something its natural to want to pass that knowledge onto others.  I don’t expect my children to attend Wellesley or be race car drivers, baseball stars, rodeo cowboys, Nobel Peace prize winners, astronauts, or even President of the United States. (different) If that happens I will be as proud of them, as they are of themselves.  I do expect them to be viable, happy,  well-rounded contributing members of society who love what ever it is they choose to do and live their lives to the fullest. 

Maybe one day my children will look back at childhood and ask themselves; what has changed?  What has stayed the same? Why are parents so goofy? And when they are done they will smile as big as I am smiling right now.

Childhood Epidemic

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The clock is ticking and its only a matter of time.  Its an epidemic of such great proportion that I think its high time it was recognized.  This “sickness” comes on while they are young and once it attaches itself to the host body, recovery can be long an arduous.  Recognizing  the “sickness” at a young age is most important if you wish to cure it!  It starts over the simplest of tasks and fighting it takes nerves of steel. Although there seems to be many theories about how to treat this “virus”, once it has set in, it is pure hell to eradicate. When it infects one, it usually infects all.. 

The day starts out like any other, kids get up, coffee is made, breakfast is had, kitchen is cleaned.  Through conversation with the kids the days activities are planned out, excitment is in the air.   The little ones are jumping up and down, “to the park” they exclaim with glee!  The middle son is quietly pestering the oldest one to hang out with him today!  Maybe do a little bike riding and bouncing on the trampoline?  Oh yeah the day is looking stellar!  MAN VACATION ROCKS!  Can be heard echoing up and down the hallway!  No school, oh yeah, no school for us fools!!!  Whooo Hooooo!  

While this is happening my wife is slowly waking up to the glorious smell of the coffee that fills her favorite mug.  Ahh yes the hearty smell of French Roast wafts through the air bringing the senses alive!  The brain kick starts after just one sinful sip.  MMMMmmmm  so good.  And then it happens, she asks herself; Self what needs to be accomplished today?  The answers come flooding in like watching the great Niagra falls pour into its basin.  And without haste she writes them down on a piece of paper which subsequently gets transferred to the dreaded “chore board”! 

Now the Chore board is this wonderful thing my wife and I have placed on the wall just outside our childrens bedrooms.  Its a white, dry erase board that has the daily chores written upon its glowing white face.  There are no excuses as to why their chores arent done once the chores have adorned the “chore board”.  Its right there in front of them for all too see!  My children booo the chore board and have a very strong 6th sense about its existence.  It seems that all is tranquill and happy until my wife or I start to write on a piece of paper, then before we can transfer the contents of said paper to the board amazingly all forms of life have disappeared from our home. 

Which brings me full circle to the “sickness, the epidemic, the virus” if you will…  Its called LAZINESS!  Yep thats right, good ole fashioned laziness!  The same kids that would build a bridge with the exuberance, skill  and expertise to rival the one crossing the river Kwai if it meant no adults and playtime till dark on the other side.  Suddenly have come down with the strangest of afflictions when it comes to completing their assigned chores. 

The smallest one inevitably lays on the floor and cries that he cant complete the cleaning of his room because he didnt make the mess!  After a half hour of crying and sniveling he miraculously comes down sick. Now here’s where the littlest shines above the rest! He has the ability to throw up on cue! Oh yeah! Put that in your pipe and smoke it! Think of all the jambs we could have gotten out of with that talent! Part of me is jealous, its like watching one of those goats that faints out of fear! Sometimes he is so good at it you are not sure whether or not its part of the act!

Next up! My daughter, who also cries at the mere thought of picking up anything in her room, she sits on her bed screaming, chanting, its not fair!  To which the reply is “you’re right honey its not fair” maybe your room will like you more if you keep it cleaner.  I am not sure which is worse, her screaming or the fact we have her believing that her room lives and has feelings! After a half an hour she has miraculously come down sick.

My  middle child will march upstairs and decide that he is going to “take charge” and tighten this ship up by running a perfect operation.  R. Lee Ermy would be proud of the charged up insults flying around the room as he treats his little brother (also his bunkmate) like a scumbag private! Of course his little brother will eventually have enough of his barrage and do one of two things. He will cry some more or vomit!  (think fainting goat) This never works out well for him yet he does it every single time!  Within a half hour and no signs of progress on the horizion, amazingly he is also sick.  “My tummy hurts, my arm hurts, is my hand swollen and I have a headache” are the ususal cries. Bad soldier…

The older child of course just lets out a heavy teenager sigh, wanders into his room, shuts the door and within a half hour comes out done and ready to move on with his day.   No sickness, aparently his immunity system is strong!  I wish we could harvest the anti-venom flowing in his veins to use on the others.  I suppose it means there is hope after all?

Of course as a parent you cannot waiver, you cannot let them see that you are actually thinking about checking their little temperatures even though you know this “sickness” is a sham to get out of chores.  You cannot let them off the hook, oh no! These little chores add up to bigger chores which add up to earned responsibilities.  Those responsibilities allow them future freedoms, and future freedoms prepare them for life which of course leads to the dreaded day you can sit back, pat yourself on the back as they prepare to walk out the door and say; job well done, (slowly now) job well done.. 

Yet there it is, the sickness, the epidemic that is sweeping across the country enveloping our youth.  Stay strong fellow parents, know your limitations, dont waiver even for a second.  For if you do the epidemic will grow, the youth will suffer and we will be left as senior citiznes to change our own diapers because our kids are to lazy to do it for us.  And really no one wants that! Do you???

DADMOM???

theycallmebetty3 Comments

So watching television today I came across a commercial that really “chapped” my hide.  It was a commercial for laundry detergent, now if you have read any of my postings or the bio portion of my blog, you know that; one I am fireman therefore I have the ability to be home to take part in the raising of my children along with my equal share of the housework and two; I have a particular sore spot for advertising being completly sexist and some may even say downright ignorant when it comes to selling household products.  (in gutteral caveman tone)Tools for men and dishwashing soap for women! Hey look theres mom fixing the banged up knee with no daddy in sight! Now throw in a couple commercials that show dad being berated as a moron by his wife with all the kids laughing in agreement while he passivly smiles and you can see how disheartening it can become.

Where was I?  Oh yes the commercial today.  It was as I stated a laundry commercial, where our actor is happily doing laundry and with a smile on his face proclaims himself as a “DADMOM” !  A dadmom are you freaking kidding me!!  Hey buddy not only is there no such thing!  You just disrespected every mother in America by proclaiming yourself as a mom!  By being a DADMOM are you trying to throw some masculenity in to the job?  No wait I know you are superior because you are a man therfore by declaring yourself as a DAMOM you strip away any importance the title MOM gives your wife!  Heres an idea why not just state the simple fact, you are a DAD!  Oh yeah thats right a DAD, come on you can say it D*A*D* daaaaaaaaaddddddd!    You know the other half of the parental equation?  The it takes two to make a baby, but no where does it say that only a MOM has to raise the child!  Why not show that you are a real man (a DAD) and own up to your responsibilities around the house?  MOM is not the sole provider, MOM is not the only one that should be cleaning up the house! MOM is not the only one who should know how to do laundry!  OH OH here is my favorite double standard!  You know that really fancy mini van that YOU just had to have?  You had no intentions on driving it, noooooo you have your super cool dad mobile, no you bought it for mom right?  Do you think she doesnt deserve a nice car as well?  Heres a thought MOM isnt the only one who has to drive it!  That fancy mini van with all the bells and whistles will get you sorry ass down to the school to pick up or drop off your children just a well with you behind the wheel!!!!

DADMOM oh yeah thats great!  I so want someone to call me that the next time I am dropping the kids off for swim, or when I have all four of them at the playground.  Yep a DADMOM the epitome of disrespect to parenting and child raising. 

I wonder, as a society did I miss something?  my mom raised me to take care of myself.  To do my own laundry, to clean my own dishes, to wipe my own butt!  Where have we gone so horribly wrong that those needs are not being met anymore.  A woman shouldnt need a man to survive in this world and a man shouldnt need a woman to make sure his kids are raised and his laundry is done.  But what I do know is this, with the exception of single parents, who are struggling with shattered relationships along with handling every component of life by themselves.  If you are in a committed realtionship, taking care of your children, taking care of your house, even at times taking care of the finances is a 50-50 proposition.  I dont care who stays home to raise kids, but someone needs to be there, I dont care who the breadwinner is, someone needs to be there, I dont care if you both work, one of you needs to be there for your kids!  Its what society is lacking in the raising of our future! 

So advertising idiots, and men (I use that term loosley) who think watching their own children is called “babysitting” your missing the boat and one day I hope you both realize it!  And to all the parents out their who are proud of the roles they have in their relationships and thier lives.  I beg of you, put an end to this campaign of destructive advertising! Be proud of your titles and what you do in your home, know that the ends justifys the means.  You will grow as a person, your children will grow to be respectful, self reliant adults.  Some day they may even thank you!  But one things for certain, none of them will come home for the holidays and great you at the door with a smile and a “hello DADMOM”.

 

The Morning After

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The morning after Christmas has found me standing in the living room looking down upon my children as they stare off into the distance. Minds blanked out and traveling to places unknown. Some are wide eyed and lost in the unreal, reality world of television while others are still mezmorized by the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree. I wander in and ask each one individually whats happening, only to get the obligatory “nothing”. Followed with a heavy sigh and them returning to the “lost boys” stare. What is this delema they are in mentally, why have they completely tuned out and are on another planet? I mean come on, this is the day after Christmas, arent there toys to be played with, games to be won, new clothes to wear, friends to deliberate with over their new found fortunes?
I sit down and travel back in time to when I was there ages. The days before Christmas always felt like an eternity. We were constantly staring at the calender, counting down the days until the “big guy” was due to arrive. To make matters worse my mother was always fond of putting the tree up as soon as possible to help instil the “Christmas Spirit” in us all. We loved the tree a true symbol of Christmas staring at us in all its luminous glory, every morning when we awoke and every evening as we went to bed. I can remember getting up several times a night to stare in wonder at all its colors, blinking,twinkling and shining throughout the house. It was speaking to me, echoing in my head that I needed to be patient, Christmas day would come soon enough.

My sister and I on the other hand had a different plan. We treated Christmas day like an upcoming battle. We were warriors, soldiers on the western front, we had work to do, only 18 days left and a battle plan had yet to be formed. Everyday we would go out and count the number of presents under the tree, this helped to gauge the excrutiating amount of time we had left till “D” day. 18 days, 4 presents, 15 days, 8 presents, 9 days 15 presents and so on. The more presents we had under the tree, the closer we were to battle. Our battle plan revolved around my parents inability to tell time. You see the rules were very simple, no one could get out of bed until 8 am or as my father put it “there will be no Christmas”! Yet my mother would follow that up with a stern, “no getting up until 8 when the sun comes up” wether this was a slip of the tongue or done on purpose we didnt care. We were shrewd enough to know that was the loophole we were looking for! The faintest crack of dawn and the presents were ours. We divided the room accordingly, I would come in from the north, she from the south. I would handle quieting the noisey birds, she would sooth the dog. Then like Navy Seals we would descend upon our prey and make haste with the civility. Treasure was ours!!

My parents would join us eventually and we would get the obligatory butt chewing from father for not following the rules. But it was worth it, by 7:15 we had our first round of candy devoured, by 8 presents were demolished and more candy was fueling our rage! By 9 breakfast was just the foundation for more sugary bliss! By 11 we are headed to our relatives house where our wild eyed obsessions (candy and more gifts) would be fulfilled. Most kids would crumble under the pressure, but we were strong, we knew the stakes and we had trained for battle. We would prevail.

By 10 at night the carnage was complete, the candy was gone (my parents feeble attempt to keep the candy in moderation was always a failure) food had been devoured, and all gifts had been opened, played with and reboxed for transport. Sure a few good men perished on the battle field that day (our cousins who couldnt handle the pressure) but we were still alive. We would sleep like a rock that night, like angels, the campaign finished, its warriors triumphant.

So as I look upon my own brood I realize that they are suffering from a condition. A condition that we never recognized in the old days. Post Traumatic Christmas Syndrome. As adults we forget how much work Getting to Christmas day really was for us. We have forgotten about staring into the belly of the beast and winning the battle. We forget about the ones lost on the battlefield of elves, Santa and reindeer. Why because we are adults. We have sadly turned that part of brain off for the trappings of the real world.

So let them stay in their vegatative state. Recognize the battle hardend thousand mile stare, and have sympathy, for after a couple days of re-hab they will be back. And they will start planning again, for next year the battle will always be bigger and better in their little minds. And you will be left once again staring at them on “The Morning After”.

The Christmas I was 8

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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.

Christmas Caroling

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I love Christmas caroling! The hot chocolate, the camaraderie, seeing the shocked and happy faces of the unknowing victims that happen to be home. I especially like the smiles we put on the faces of the elderly! As we are singing you can see them travel back to a day when they were younger and surrounded by family.
My kids run from house to house with their friends arguing (playfully) over who is going to ring the doorbell, who is going to knock the loudest, who is going to start the singing. They love this time of year and I love giving them this gift. A gift they don’t even know is being given them because they wont have the ability to unwrap it until they too are parents.
We arrive at our last house and as we had done so many times before we encroached upon a lawn, knocked upon a door, huddled together and with our absolute best voices sang three glorious songs. The look upon this elderly mans face as he gazed down upon me from his front porch gave me chills. He wasn’t dreaming of days gone by as some would do at such a moment, no he was wishing for just one moment he could throw away his walker, push his in home care nurse aside, stand up straight and trade places with me. With me? I think he was seeing me as a 45 year old version of himself. He gazed as though he longed to be young, surrounded by his kids, sharing the joys of heartwarming song given so freely this time of year.
After we finished we smiled, said Merry Christmas, and we all headed to the street where our cars were parked. We gathered one last time saying our thank you’s and good nights! The kids piled in the car and laughed all the way home. Another year of caroling in the books, another year of memories they won’t forget, another year till the tradition is passed on to their kids, and another year till I am that old man wishing for a moment that I too could trade places with the 45 year old dad singing to me on my front porch right before Christmas…