Tag: daughter

Sixth Grade Screw Loose…

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You ever have a series of days where you feel as though you just cant get through to your kid? You are not sure exactly where the problem lies. The communication is good? We both speak the same language.  The dialect is clear and concise, with no obvious stutters or lisp.  Even body language doesn’t appear to be giving off any mixed signals.  Yet for some crazy reason your child is behaving as though he just landed in a foreign country without a translator.  Boppa da boopy???

That’s what is happening with my child and to make matters worse, it appears as though he is having the same problem with his mother, teacher and friends.  Have the zombies arrived and this is only the beginning of a full neural meltdown?  His teacher has told us that he appears to be doing his work and when questioned provides ample intelligence in the responding answers, yet something just isn’t right.  It’s as though the elevator has taken his brain to the top floor,  yet after several attempts the doors refuse to open.  What to do?  When I have questioned him on the matter he looks astounded by the accusations of not paying attention.  Dumbfounded by the mere assertion that he may be acting disrespectful towards his teachers and family! Left in a state of shock and awe by the reprimands that have befallen him upon completion of a nasty comment or look.  Yet nothing I say seems to be getting through….

Diving into my cranium, opening the vast wealth of knowledge I have obtained over the past 15 years in the department of parenting. I have come to the realization that this may in fact be part of something I learned about 4 years ago while fostering my oldest child through his last year of elementary school.  His mother and I at the time were in the same predicament.  Frustrated, astounded and in disbelief we struggled through a year of emotional torment.  And although we fully expected attitude from its latest victim, we didn’t see it coming four years ago with the oldest.  Yet here it is again, messing with our family harmony and leaving countless victims in its wake!  What is it called? I am glad you asked for I have given this affliction a name.

Its called the Sixth Grade Screw loose!

Ladies and gentlemen I am here to tell you it’s like nothing you have ever witnessed before! You cannot believe the transformation that takes place to your child.  It starts out slowly like a semi-truck getting onto the thorough fare, and then before you can grasp what is happening your child has grabbed all 18 gears and their brain is eastbound and down!  Aint no smokey gonna stop em now!  Everybody loves him but the minute you get behind closed doors or out of the spotlight it’s as if another child has inhabited your precious little boys body!  Mean mugging, back talking, smug little quips! He went from one year ago being a fairly responsible, focused child to a kid who will walk out the door with two different colored socks on and a pair of mismatched shoes!  It’s a little frustrating!

Sample of our repartee

Where is your backpack?  I don’t know!  It’s in moms car.  Can you go get it! I can’t.  Why?  I don’t have shoes.  Well put shoes on!  UUHHHGGG maannnn..  march march stomp stomp..

Did you clean your room? I don’t know! So  your room is dirty? I don’t know its my brothers fault!  Its your brothers fault that your room is dirty?  God why are you guys so mean…   Huh?

Do you have home work?  No-I mean yes, but only a little, I did it in class. So where is it?  I don’t know!  The teacher doesn’t tell us anything!  I think he hates me! Geez! Why are you guys yelling at me!  (calmly) We werent yelling at you son we just want a straight answer.  GOSH QUIT YELLING AT ME!!! Tears coming down the face as he marches upstairs!  Once again with a look of disbelief.  HUH????

And so it goes.  Now do understand as very involved parents we know what is going on in every aspect of our childs lives.  My wife works at the school he attends and is in contact with his teacher on a daily basis.  We know his teacher doesnt hate him and we also know that all his assignments are handed out to him in a timely fashion.  He does share a room with a bit of a messy brother but it is never as bad as he makes it seems.  He goes to the barn in the afternoon working horses and hanging out with his friends, so no chance of wacky unmonitored activities going on there!  So what is this craziness that has now entrenched itself into the next son in line.  What is this thing we have coined “The sixth Grade Screw Loose”?

Through exhaustive research we have determined that sometime around the sixth grade a boys hormones begin to emerge!  Some boys have the ability to handle this new-found rush of emotional instability with nothing more than a slow change in voice (over a two-year period)and the occasional field of zits across the face. Yuck!  Other boys go completely off the reservation never to return to a normal state.  Well at least not until they finish their masters program at MIT.  Then there are my boys.  The oldest was a complete hormonal disaster!  A crying, temper tantrum throwing mess!  Dropping grades, the teacher hated him, he couldn’t do anything right.  But with a calm cool head and the perseverance of turtle trying to cross the road.  We rode the tide and landed safely on the shore. 

This child has all the same issues the older one had with a touch of the incredible hulk added in for good measure!  When he starts his slow self-destruction, all at his own hands mind you, I cant help but think to myself. 

Mr. McGee don’t make me angry; You wouldn’t like me when I am angry!  Hulk Smash!!!

I always start to chuckle at this point!  He is after all a cute bugger even if he is being a bit of a toad.  So ride the tide we will!  Like a california surfer on a sunny day at Mavericks!  The waves will come in all different sizes, we may get slammed into the sand a time or two but as long as we can steer clear of the rocks the ride will be worth it in the end.  Right?

Thanks for letting me talk this out with all of you! Now go find your own sixth grader to deal with!!  🙂

What makes me happy

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A “Betty” follower got me to thinking this morning.  What does happiness mean to me? We all have good days and bad days, but what makes me; personally happy? What brings a smile to my face? Of course there is the deep down philosophical “true meaning of happiness”, but I am referring to it being on a simpler level. What turns my day around? What makes me smile when it seems the day is done and all is lost?

So here goes, I am going to shoot for 20 things that turn my day around.  Maybe some of them fit into your ideals of a happy day, maybe not.  Hopefully you can at least relate with a few of them.

20.  A structure fire.  Being a firefighter you would think this would rank a little higher up on the “smile” scale.  But the fact is someone is having the worst day of their life because of it.  If we have done our jobs, we will have saved a majority of the house and belongings. Sometimes there are things beyond our control, we can’t save the house, someone is injured or a dear pet is lost and well that just makes for a horrific event all the way around.  But if you see firefighters at the scene of a structure fire and they are smiling, it’s not because they think it is funny. It’s because they have done their jobs very well and are proud they were able to save someones life along with their belongings.

19.  Anything Free.  Nothing makes me happier than receiving something I need for free! It can turn a crappy day into a very happy one quickly.  It also leaves me more inclined to “pay it forward”. Which in turn makes someone elses day “happy”.

18.  10 cents off my fuel at Safeway.  At the price of fuel these days (I drive a diesel) 10 cents is always a nice little surprise.

17.  When someone holds the door for me at the store. It is a simple courtesy that seems to be fading into history.  Gone are the days of being polite in our society out of fear. Fear of being labeled sexist or discriminatory. It is sad really that common courtesy has taken a back seat to societies ideal of being politically correct.

16.  Beer on sale.  Enough said…..

15.  Getting to sleep in.  With our very busy lifestyle, sleeping in is a rarity.  We are up at 5:30 every morning and I can’t seem to fall asleep until after midnight.  My schedule at work is not much better, where I can run two-five calls between the hours of 11 pm and 7 am.

14.  Watching my friends laugh at something stupid I have done.  It doesn’t matter who you are if you can’t laugh at yourself then you need therapy.

13.  Picking my kids up from school.  Some would say this should also rank a little higher, but the fact is, stopping everything you are doing to drive 10 miles into town and pick up one, to then wait 45 minutes to pick up the other three can be tedious. Yet they always greet me with a smile.  I always ask them about their day, and we always end up laughing in the truck as we drive around running errands.

12.  Kids art.  I love, love, love it! When one of my children spends time to draw something just for me!  It shows they were thinking about me while I was gone, and their expression through the almighty crayon never ceases to amaze me.

11.  A clean house. A clean house can completely turn my day around. An hour or two in the morning of hard work and organization feels very rewarding when you are finished.  It doesn’t matter that is will be completely destroyed when everyone gets home. It’s just nice to know it looked that way for a little while.

10.  Fishing.  I used to spend a lot of time and effort tournament fishing.  It is fun and very rewarding! The time spent alone on some of the most beautiful waterways known to man is really quite energizing.  Catching a few fish as well is like icing on the cake!

09.  Attending any school, sport or after school activity that one of my children are participating in.  I love watching my oldest play in the high school band. The middle child amazes me at his horsemanship skills, they are rapidly improving and to see him handle multiple animals with ease has to empowering for him.  The youngest boy and girl are starting baseball/softball this year! There is going to be one proud father in the stands cheering for his littlest people!

08.  That very first hot cup of coffee in the morning.  The second one is never as good as the first.

07.  When my kids tell me dinner was great!  I love to cook and nothing brings a smile to my face faster than four happy little bellies.

05.  My Horse Cassie.  My horse is an extension of me.  She is who I hang out with on my days off. She takes me places and allows me to ride her in competitions! She likes to work hard and play hard too. Our family has five horses I like them all but I look forward to seeing her everyday!  She makes me smile. There’s nothing so good for the inside of a man as the outside of a horse. – Ronald Reagan

04.  My dogs.  Jack, Blitz, Cooper and even my oldest sons dog Cricket.  Dogs are the true goodwill ambassadors for the human race. It doesn’t matter how crappy of a day you have had, your dog is always over the top happy to see you!

03.  A hug.  The power of the hug is highly underrated in my book! If I am having a horrible day a hug almost always turns it around.  I am not talking about one of those patronizing hugs either. I am referring to a good old-fashioned I am there for you my brother type of hug!

02.  Chocolate chip cookies. Oh hell chocolate of any kind! I crave it and when I don’t have any chocolate during the day I can become rather grumpy.  But one cookie or even a piece of chocolate candy and I am singing in the rain like Gene Kelly!

01.  Watching my wife sleep.  There is something primitive about wanting to watch over your spouse.  She doesn’t need the protection, we aren’t out in the wild, but there is something very gratifying about knowing you are there in case she needs you in the middle of the night.

So there it is, 20 things that make me happy.  They may not be in the exact position of importance, but they are close.  Writing this made me happy? HHMMMM where does that fall into line?

 

A fathers rant.

theycallmebetty8 Comments

I have had enough! Yep that’s right, Betty’s hackles are up and I am ready for some good old-fashioned butt whooping! I am really at a loss for the ignorance that is placed upon the fathers of this country! Its time that we stand together and put an end to the erroneous labeling that has befallen our hard-working dads.  To expunge these myths or beliefs! To stand tall and say: I’m mad as hell and I am not going to take it anymore!

By now I am sure you are wondering what has Betty’s blood pressure up? What could make me so upset, that I would go upon ranting like a loon? Well let me tell you…

Nothing sends me into a tirade faster than full-grown, educated adults falling to stereotypes set forth by the losers in our society.  Let me define “loser’ for you.

 A loser in Betty’s mind is a person of no moral fiber, a person who uses or allows themselves to be used. A person who allows society to label them and then is proud to wear the obvious insult the label has placed upon them like a badge of honor.  A person who has lost themself.  

What I am about to describe may not seem like a big deal to some but for me it is definitely indicative of the many problems that has befallen our parenting society today.

Here we go…..

Babysitting

At no point and time are you to ever refer to me as “babysitting” when you see me with all my kids in the truck! 

example; Hey dude so I see you’re “babysitting” the kids today huh?

I am not babysitting, they are my children! Mine, not the neighbors, not some friends, not my relatives they are mine all mine!  My wife and I created them, we love them and just because my wife is currently not present. Does not mean I am babysitting my own kids! Baby sitting is reserved for 12-17 year old-young adults looking for part-time work in the child care field.

The amazing thing is this comment comes from people I know who have kids! I might expect it from a single person who has no obvious realization or affiliation with children and the responsibilities they entail.  But from a married father of three! Give me a freaking break!

Teacher conferences

Hey teacher I am over here! Yep that’s right, apparently it is such a rarity these days for dad to take an interest in his child’s education that teachers cannot seem to look us in the eye.  Talk to mom all you want but until you take a moment to recognize that I am here, I will do my best to make our encounter uncomfortable.  I will always give you at least three chances to “wake up” and start including me in your conversation, but if you blow all three, the attitude is coming out! I am there during homework, I am present during school activities and I am there when my kids need me, their fore I am there to hear everything you have to tell me about my childs progress or lack there of.

Baby-Daddy 

Never ever refer to the father of you child as baby-daddy!  Yo that my childs baby-daddy! Its disgusting, its degrading and its self loathing. That man is the father of your child and regardless of your beliefs or lack of beliefs he is and always will be more than the genetic fragment you so freely toss about!

Poop-Patrol

No I don’t need you to change a diaper for me! I know what poop looks like, I am pretty sure I know what poop smells like and guess what? Changing diapers is not rocket science! I definitely do not need someone to decipher the magic code of diapers for me! Our childs little package is not the holy grail needing Mother Teresa or one of her busy bodied minions to handle it with holy hands!  And for all you so-called “dads” that instantly pass your child off to your wife when ever there appears to be a loaded diaper on the horizon! You are a candy ass! Yep that’s right, you lazy self absorbed candy ass! Oh sure you can handle a wrench, fix a car, save a life, but apparently changing a poopy diaper is beneath you? Not! You sir are a sorry excuse for a dad and a lazy candy ass! Oh yeah and to you nosy female friends that also believe changing a diaper falls solely upon mom or her selcted few from within the “inner” circle. Quit butting in and trying to take the child when it is his turn to change the diapers! Save the butt kissing for something important like a promotion!

Ummm I have something to tell you...

Last but certainly not least.  My wife and I are on the same page. I am not a fraction in this parenting relationship! We are 50/50! If you have something to say to one, you have something to say to both! If there is a problem with our child you will not wait until you can talk to her! You will tell me, I will deal with it and I will inform my wife 100% about what the problem may be the moment I see her.  We don’t believe in keeping things from each other so if you are worried about what ever punishment my child may receive if you tell me.  Rest assured they will receive the same punishment if you wait and tell only her! Plus what message is that sending? That mean old dad is going to come down on that kid like a ton of bricks? So you will wait and tell gentler softer mom? Got news for you, my mom was way tougher than my dad! So put your crappy stereotype aside and let me know; what is the problem?

There you have it! I have let the proverbial “cat out of the bag”! The cat is angry and a little shaken, but its out! Think I am crazy, or think I am right on target, I just hope I made you think…..

Now go sit in the timeout chair!

Age of Information Overload

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I hate starting anything with this line but here goes.

Do you remember when?

I remember a time when the sun came up you were told to be outside all day. You were also reminded to have your butt inside before the sun went down or you were going to bed hungry because you would miss dinner. I remember when breakfast was before school or 8 on the weekends. Lunch was at noon, and dinner was promptly served at 6pm. I remember when a single television was in the house broadcasting three (major network) channels, one public channel and a handful of fuzzy channels. I also remember the house having one telephone, it was in the middle of the kitchen, it hung from the wall and it had a dial. No private sneaky conversations, you better have manners because everyone heard what you were saying. I remember when a stereo was a gigantic piece of furniture. It had am/fm and a phonograph. If I was lucky enough to be left alone that sucker was blaring AC/DC! (insert rebel smile here) And smile you did, not because of the music per say, but because you knew your parents hated you touching this status symbol, and it was so much louder than your mono phonograph. (remember those?) I remember when we played outside in the fields, running through horse crap, cow poop and mud. We drank water from a garden hose and ate fruit straight off the trees if we needed a snack! I remember when you scuffed your knee or shredded your elbow you sucked it up and hid it from mom. Because nothing was worse than having your mom call you a cry baby in front of your friends. That same theory also worked for scuffles with your brothers, sisters or your friends. Yeah I remember when…..

Why am I talking like an old man who just finished walking up a hill both ways in 6 feet of snow barefoot with shorts on because that’s all my parents could afford? Well let me tell you….

Sitting at work today I received a call on my cell phone, it was the middle child. He was highly agitated at the oldest. As I was in the process of diffusing the situation my oldest calls me on the other line (can I say other line with a cell phone?) As I take his call putting the middle child on hold I think to myself, aren’t they in the same room? Before I can ask this question they both begin arguing with each other! A full-blown screaming match, and I am getting it all live through the latest, greatest Apple technology! I calmly handled the situation, sent them on their merry little ways and proceeded to place the phone back into my pocket. Disaster averted! Something my parents couldn’t have done in their day without the use of technology. Yeah! Technology…

Then it dawns on me, technology may be screwing things up in the parenting department as well! Sure we have the ability to know where are kids are at any given time. (Just call them) Sure I have the ability to handle domestic disputes over the phone keeping piece and harmony in the family nucleus. But what I ‘m really doing is disconnecting them from reality! In the “Real” world they need to have skills to handle arguments and disagreements with poise, and control. In the “Real” world they can’t just call their mommy or daddy to handle the situation for them. In the “Real” world you can’t just start ignoring someone by staring at your phone in a trance, like Ghandi is speaking to you through Facetime bringing wisdom and harmony to your universe.

So what is a parent to do? Well I did what any calm, realistic, patient, educated parent would do. I opened up the browser on my phone and began plugging in key words, searching for the answers to my questions on parenting all through the ease of my cell phone or “compuphone” as I prefer to call it. This search of course takes 15 minutes out of my otherwise productive day and before I log off I make sure to check my tweets, my blog, Facebook, the New York times, ESPN, and last but certainly not least my e-mail accounts. It’s then and only then I realize its not technology that’s the problem, its me….

I am on information overload! It’s such a double-edged sword too. I like being able to obtain all the information I need at the touch of a button. Lost? Ask my GPS. Need information ask Google, Firefox, or Ask Jeeves. Want to play video games? Angry Birds and Poker at your finger tips sir! Want to purchase something on the spot? Ebay and Amazon have app’s for that! Need to talk to someone but just don’t feel like the burden of actually having to speak to them? Text baby text, text as fast as your oversized, pudgy little fingers can fly across the virtual keyboard! But something has to give. Sanity must reign supreme at some point. There has to be a tipping point on the scales of social anxiety. In my ability to prioritize and utilize the boundless amounts of information that bombard my pea sized brain everyday!

The reality; I miss being able to go someplace without the urge to “check my computaphone”. I wonder what life will be like in 25 years when technology has surpassed our own ability to process information. I miss walking out the door of our house and traveling through my day without the “need” to check my computaphone every couple of minutes! What happened to conversation, what happened to research, what happened to wanting to know something as opposed to needing to know something. What happened to self exploration, finding things on your own and learning how to process that information. What happened to trial and error. We no longer have trial and error in our lives. Want to know how to do something, look it up on YouTube. It’s there! I mean in hindsight, I guess all those things are still there, but are we saturating ourselves so fast and at such a young age that we may be doing a dis-service to ourselves and our children? Is our ability to absorb and process the information diminishing? Are the things we are seeing, not only as adults but as kids scaring or de-sensitizing us to the point of callousness?

Our children can no longer play outside all day or they are considered “latchkey” kids “troublemakers”. So they stay inside either playing video games ( a completely different topic of disgust I will tackle later) or stuck in front of the computer wandering aimlessly through the web unsupervised. Our knowledge of the creepy boogie man that lurks around every corner has us protecting them 24-7 and in some regards, rightfully so. Our children are bombarded with sensory overload, watching the most inappropriate of things, whether or not you are there, because if you havent purchased them the unlimited data plan, they damn well know a friend who has it! Kids today can’t handle even the smallest of confrontations. They don’t know how! Texting has taken the place of talking. The power of the spoken word is lost. The power of the unspoken or written word is open to translation. Leaving many children with their underdeveloped youth/teenage minds wondering the true meaning in a persons last text. It means bullying is no longer confrontational person/person. It can now be done at anytime day or night. Remember the bully from your school as a child. Nothing made you feel better than the moment you went to class or loaded onto the bus and went home. Whew! Dont have to deal with that jerk till tomorrow. Not anymore, that same jackwagon armed with a computer or cell phone can torment you until you feel cornered, outnumbered and alone. No kid should ever feel that way.

So what is the answer? I don’t think all this glorious technology should disappear. I do miss the days of old, where one had a moment without knowing what was going on in every facet of our lives. I do think technology can be used for good. It does help with research and finishing homework, learning new cultures and expanding our minds, taking our imaginations to places we never dreamed possible. I do believe we need to monitor our children better. This I am entitled mentality that many of our children carry around because we as parents don’t know how to set boundaries and limits needs to end. We as parents need to also get off the cell phone, step away from the computer and engage our children more! Have a time during the evening where you all talk together as a family. Implement a “cell free” zone in your house. For us its the dinner table. No cell phones at the dinner table. Now don’t get me wrong, I am just as guilty as the next guy. I hear my cell phone beep and I am the first to “draw” like a gun fighter at the OK corral! I am just hoping my kids can say I remember when and actually remember, not have it tied to some great new gadget they purchased or received.

My point being, I am afraid one day technology will actually think for us, or out think us, we will no longer have control, and its at that point the Terminators will win. Where is John Connor when you need him…

The Perfect Life?

theycallmebetty2 Comments

This morning I woke up asking myself, do I have the perfect life? How many times have we asked ourselves this very question? A solid question on the outset but as I delve into these six well placed words I find it may be much deeper than anticipated.

Do I have the perfect life? To even begin working on dissecting this question, leaves me befuddled as where to start. Leaning back in my chair, gazing out our second story window, I find peace and tranquility in the landscape laid before my eyes. Is this the perfect life? I strain to find an answer. Why? Shouldn’t the answer come easily? Why do I feel guilty that it doesn’t? Am I cold inside because joy and exuberance doesn’t flow from my pores at the mere mention of the question? Hmmmm?

When I think about people proclaiming the perfect life as their existence I find myself envisioning the self proclaimed “elite”. The primarily white, well to do male or female with dual residences, fancy cars, vacations abroad and an endless stream of disposable income. Their children are the products of a lifestyle filled with excess and privilege. Attending the very best schools, wearing the fanciest of clothes and having what they want when they want it regardless their true needs. Why do I envision the so called “perfect life” portrayed this way?

I have come to realization I was immersed in a society begging to make up for the short falls of their own childhoods. As a teenager in the eighties we were surrounded by wealth and privilege. It was in the movies we watched, (Wall Street, the Breakfast Club, Ferris Beulers Day off, Beverly Hills Cop, Big, Secret to my Success, Trading Places) the stores where we were expected to shop for our clothes (Neiman Marcus, Macy’s,Barneys, Bloomingdales, Dillards, Saks) and the nighttime television shows where we longed to be the characters we idolized. (Magnum P.I., Dynasty, Falcon Crest, Dallas) along with the cars they drove. (BMW, Mercedes, Rolls Royce, Ferrari, Lamborghini) We couldn’t help but yearn for that lifestyle and we were brainwashed into thinking we needed all those material things to have or live the perfect life! How many of you remember that one kid who got a brand new BMW, or the latest Toyota 4×4 that none of us could afford? I do! I remember thinking when I grow up Im going to have so much money I will buy an new car every year! My kids will have new cars when they turn sixteen! Brainwashing 101, make them want it and leave them no ability to achieve it, then they will spend the rest of their lives chasing the next best thing, driving retail sales for eternity.

I have spent the better part of my life trying to erase the materialistic damage the 80’s mentality has done to my pocketbook. Some people I know haven’t recognized the problem and are still chasing the elusive “Perfect Life” status associated with those times. I hope they find peace before its too late. I blame no one but myself for this by the way. It takes an open mind and an educated thought to process peer pressure and put in its proper place. I freely made the financial decisions of my past, they did not lead me to the so called “perfect life” I had envisioned, but instead led me to enlightenment about what is being force fed to the public by television and movie producers, news reporters and societies supposed elite. We are sheep, they know we are sheep and as long as we remain sheep (just following the flock) we as a society will continue down this destructive path. (just my opinion)

So what is the “perfect life”?

Here is my take. I believe the “Perfect Life” for me is being a dad, a husband, a provider and a friend. If I can be good at all of those things I will have led the perfect life. Notice I did not say “great” or “perfect” I only want to be “good”. No one is truly “great” I can be a great dad, but only a good friend, I could be a great husband but only a good provider. So using the law of averages, I think it is better to be good any day than believe I am great everyday. Don’t even get me started on “perfect”. I have known or currently know a few people who believe they are “perfect” in every way. Everything they touch turns to gold. They never make a mistake and are the first to point out all of your flaws. And heaven forbid something doesn’t work out as they had planned, it will be everyone else’s fault they were placed into that predicament. Leaving no doubt as to their superiority and your inability to come close to perfection.

I like being a DAD! I believe it is one of the most challenging, frustrating, heartbreaking, mind bending, emotionally draining and yet wonderfully rewarding jobs I will ever have! I am pretty “good” at it too. I never thought I would be, considering the life I led as a teenager and young adult, but it seems to fit me pretty well. Like a comfortable pair of shoes.

I love being a husband! It is also one of the most challenging, frustrating, mind bending and emotionally draining things I have ever participated in! Yet my marriage is filled with love and devotion. My wife has taken a pretty rough stone and help polish me into a pretty decent human being. She has helped me to grow as a friend, father and just created an all around better man. It didnt come easy. I wasn’t always nice, I didn’t always care about the other guy, I usually had a pretty bad temper and I almost always thought of myself before anyone else. It is definitely true in the saying; behind every good man is a better (tired) woman!

My place in life is pretty secure! I accept new challenges and love meeting them head on! My son and I are traveling to Haiti in the spring! We cant wait to tackle this new chapter in our lives. I beleive it will help him to gain some perspective on life I never had as a teenager. I look forward to what every new day will bring. Somedays I feel like I won the lottery others I feel like hiding in a hole! I am lucky to live in a beautiful location with plenty around us to keep us busy as a family. Our friends are genuine and true. I feel as though I am surrounded by an additional family comprised of our very closest friends and allies! Do we have all the money I dreamed of as a kid. Nope. Do I have the marriage and children I dreamed about as a young adult? Nope, I have so much more! I am thankful and feel blessed everyday! Do I have more than most? Yes. Do I have less than others? Yes! That leaves me perfectly inside the law of averages! Its good, its all good!

So after reading over this musing I am left to ask myself once again. Do I have the perfect life?

Answer: YES, I do, it is a perfectly orchastrated combination of ever changing emotions, perspectives, situations and feelings. I thank God for my life everyday, because I wouldn’t change a thing.

Disclaimer: Betty’s definition of a “perfect life” may be different from your personal definition of a “perfect life”. No references have been made to anyone else’s “perfect life” in this story and any perceived similarity is purely a coincidence. And with any written diatribe and or musing created by Betty, the names have been changed to protect the innocent.

The Dance..

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Nervousness is in the air.

Does my shirt look right? Is my hair combed to  perfection? What time is it? Holy cow we are supposed to leave in a few minutes! Should I wear my boots dad or my tennis shoes? Oh my goodness I got water on my shirt while fixing my hair, what do I do? Mom quit messing with my hair! Can we go now dad, can we go?

My eleven year old went to his very first school dance last night. I was prepared to enjoy this moment; him running around like a train wreck waiting to happen.  Me teasing him constantly about everything from his hair to his clothes.  Making childish smooching noises as he spoke with his mom about the girl he asked to the dance! Oh yeah this moment was mine! 34 years in the making! The embarrassing verbal assault from father to son.  A time-honored tradition passed down from generation to generation. Yep the night was finally mine! Until something hit me, and hit me hard.  It was my conscience..

The year 1979;

Jimmy Carter is President of the United States. Margret Thatcher is elected as the first female Prime Minister of England. Gas is 0.86 cents a gallon and rent will run you an average of $200.00! My favorite television shows of the time were M.A.S.H., Mork and Mindy, Happy Days and the Walton’s.  Disco was in full swing, (Thank you John Travolta) and we loved listening to the Bee Gee’s, Blondie, Donna Summer, Rod Stewart and The Village People. The Walkman was introduced to America, at $200.00 it was a sign your parents had money.  It was also the year of Three Mile Island. The nuclear disaster that changed the way we thought about nuclear energy.

It was also the year I went to my first school dance. I was a girl crazy seventh grader, who felt awkward and ugly.  I overcame a lot of those emotions with a dry, somewhat misunderstood sense of humor.  I was also quite the story-teller (hmmm imagine that). If I could get you to like me and see through my awkwardness with a joke or a good story my confidence would rise from the shadows.  I never really fit in with one group or the other.  I never had the newest nicest clothes.  I was raised on a horse ranch and my parents owned a western store.  Money was always tight and my sister and I wore a lot of store returns.  I was picked on quite a lot by the “popular” kids for my western attire all through elementary school. Little did they know when our hormones were to hit their height from 1980-82 Urban Cowboy (Thank you again John Travolta) would change that forever! Oh yeah who is the cool one now bitches!!!  Yet I digress.

The first dance was near and I was terrified. I almost didn’t go that night, I made such a big production about the event my parents were ready to kill me.  My biggest hurdle to get over was the fact I had nothing to wear.  I wanted so badly to dress like the popular kids and yet I had nothing but used hand me down western store clothes.  WESTERN CLOTHES to a disco dance are kidding me!  My frail little ego was having none of that!  My parents didn’t understand the importance of this dance.  I wanted so bad to be there, looking my best just so I could have the opportunity in a dark room with lights flashing to ask the one girl I really liked to dance.  Then when she said no I wouldn’t be able to see her face in the darkness and I could walk away with some sort of dignity.  (being well dressed that is).  I fretted and worried, tried on every combination and finally found something I felt would work.  It was something I was all too comfortable with, I didn’t feel stupid wearing it, and everyone would notice me.  My parents didn’t approve, but were so frustrated with my emotional state they finally let it go.  I loaded up into the car and way we went.  

My father teased me non stop all the way to the dance.   Now for most kids this would be a 3-5 minute bit of secluded verbal abuse, easy to brush off and let go.  For me it was 20 minutes of non stop torture. You see we lived 10 miles out-of-town and another 5 miles to the Junior High.  Between the “how many girlfriends you got waiting for you” banter along with “kiss as many as you can” and ” boy they are gonna see you coming in that get up” I couldn’t wait to get out of the car!  My dad had no sympathy.  I am sure in his mind he was trying to be funny, to lighten the mood, but I was having nothing to do with it.  I arrived at the dance, was given the “you better not leave the campus” speech and away he went.  On my own at last.  The music was pumping out of every corner and crevice of the gymnasium! I could feel it in my bones, I had never been anywhere the music was this loud! Man it sounded it good.  I took a deep breath, put a smile on my face, pushed the scared awkwardness deep down inside and headed for the door. The night was mine.

I remember entering the gym, it was dark, the disco ball spinning, boys on one side and girls on the other.  A handful of kids dancing (eighth graders) and everyone staring at you.  It was then and only then I realized what a dreadful choice in clothes I had made in regards to this occasion.  Like I previously stated, I wore what came naturally to me, what left me feeling the most comfortable, little did I know I would end up making half ass excuses for wearing this combination the rest of the evening. You see I had chosen to wear my 4-H whites.  Oh yeah I had figured out if all white was good enough for the king of Disco himself; John Travolta, then it was good enough for this kid! One problem; remember that part about me wanting to “slip in and slip out” with my rejection after asking the popular girl of my dreams to dance.  That is kind of hard to do in a room filled with black lights and disco balls, especially when you are decked out in white!  I was Casper the freaking ghost! An apparition to some a human light bulb to others. I was laughed at, pointed too and left in the corner wondering just what the Hell I had done.  Oh I played it off well, or so I thought.  Sweat from my collar as I lied and recounted how I had come from a 4-H meeting, leaving me no time to change for the occasion.  It was bull, they knew it was bull, I knew it was bull, yet I stuck with the story.  It was a nightmare..

Eventually the pressure subsided, I came out of the shadows, my true friends stuck behind me and my little charade.  I asked the popular girl to dance and she said yes. I was never sure whether she said yes out of pity for all the teasing her friends were giving me or because she really wanted to dance with me.  Either way it didn’t matter, she was nice, we danced and after that night we remained acquaintance/friends through our senior year of high school. I had accomplished my goal, it was the highlight of my night! I went to the dance a frightened boy and came home a disco dancing, swaggering man! Oh yeah, Not only had I headed to “Funkytown” and survived, but I came home with my full-fledged Y.M.C.A. members card!

So my conscience is ruling the night. This is his moment, his time to overcome his own fears and worries, I have chosen taking the path of support.  I have given him honest answers to his choice in clothing, helped him with his hair and even allowed him the use of my cologne! Hey if the kid wants to smell good, who am I to argue!  I ask if he has asked anyone to the dance, expecting an embarrassed reply of no, only to find he has! And she said yes! The best part is we know the girl and she is an awesome young lady.  I can see his confidence level rising as we near the school.  We arrive and as I am walking him to the door to be checked in I decide to drop back just a little.  Just enough to allow him room to walk in without “dad” by his side.  Before he can turn around I am gone.  Smile on my face, warmth in my heart.  For I know he is going to have a great time. He is dressed sharp, he has tons of confidence, his “date” (what ever that is at eleven) is a very nice girl and his father kept his big trap shut. Severing the “all in good fun” verbal assault that has transcended one generation to another.

The First…

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The day came and I was surprised at the sight of your pink skin, little fingers, tiny nose, and gleaming eyes. It’s not that I didn’t know what a baby looked like, it was just you were everything I had always wanted and more! Your mother cried exquisite tears of joy.  I held her tight and cried alongside her at the sight of our first born child. The emotions overwhelmed and surprised me. 

You are the first to crawl, the first to walk, the first to get hurt and cry! The first to capture you mothers heart and leave me filled with emotions I didn’t understand! The first to keep us up all night worrying about your sleep patterns. Your mother and I are the first to run to your aid and hold you.  You are my first experiment in parenting, the first to have me realize I am a grown up with responsibilities.  You were the first to become a big brother. A job you have handled quite well.  The first to go to school and make first friends. The first time you stood upon a stage in elementary school it was all I could do to contain my feelings of pride. We were never first when I coached all your baseball teams, from coach pitch on up, but I tried very hard!   Your team mates voted me best coach every year, which made me first place in your eyes! You are the first in our family to master not one but two instruments. Amazing!  The music you create has inspired me, I am now listening to classical music for the first time in my life. 

The first time you received bad grades we worked through them and though your mother and I thought we may just have to kill you so the others could thrive.  We didn’t, you survived, we survived and you became the first to consistently carry a 4.0.  I remember the first time I received a phone call from your athletic director advising your mother and I that you had been voted male student athlete of the year.  I actually cried a little after that phone call.  My face was beaming and I couldn’t have been more proud!  The first time you showed an animal at the fair you did quite well. The second year you were first in showmanship! You became the first to sell an “average” show chicken for more money than the reserve grand champion.  That was a first in itself.  The first to ride a dirt bike and the first to ride a horse.  The first to go fishing with me, the first to learn to swim and the first to climb Half Dome. You were the first to go to state with your team, and the first to support me in remembering 9/11.   

Over the years son you have had many firsts.  You will always be the first.  For as you can plainly see being the oldest affords you that luxury.  But there is something I must tell you, something that is gnawing at my heart. An emotion that makes it hard for me to breathe. Squeezes my chest, leaving me with a feeling of helplessness.  Something I know you wont understand until you are grown with children of your own. 

Being first also means you will be the first to drive, the first to go to college and the first to leave home.  The day you leave home and head out into this crazy world is coming rapidly, and to me you are still that pink little boy with tiny fingers and sweet little eyes.  To me you are still everything I always wanted and hoped you would become.  To me you still need and will always want my help and protection. But I know you wont need it, you are incredibly smart and self-reliant. You will be just fine on your own without me..  Oh that “something” I was describing;

Sometimes I wish you weren’t first at everything….

You will be the first one I am going to miss. 

I love you…..

I’m having one of those days…..

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I’m having one of those days…

We have all heard this statement proclaimed at one time or another. Yet what does it mean? We automatically assume it refers to an absolute uncontrollable outcome.  A moment during a 24 hour period that spirals out of control, leaving the complainer in a state of irreversible turmoil.  I on the other hand would like to believe it may define a fantastic day! (hyper ecstatic) IM HAVING ONE OF THOSE DAYS! 🙂 Woo Hoo!

Yet the more I ponder that emotional direction , my theory falls flat on its face.  Heres why.

You see today I am having one of those days.  And no matter how much I try to save it, I keep falling short.  It’s like finding a hole in a dyke. You place one finger in the whole hoping to slow the flow of water, only to find another hole within arms reach.  You take your free hand and plug the new hole only to find another pop up around your feet.  Before to long you are spread eagle upon a dyke that you just can’t control!  (I’ll just let that image resonate for a while).

Today started out great! I made lunches the night before, set the coffee pot to start at precisely 0545 and I woke up on time.  The kids awoke without any problems, and breakfast went off without a hitch.  Most of the time I would have been very pleased with myself over the smooth flow of the morning.  Borderline patting myself upon the back as I watched the clock slowly ticking away towards departure time. Yet its then and only then, while at our highest confidence level things deteriorate rapidly.  This is where the (excuse the term) men are separated from the boys.

The youngest can’t find his lunch box! This is a perpetual problem we just can’t seem to get a handle on.  Heaven forbid you try to hurry him into locateing the damn thing! It is then and only then he finds the need to move slower. He says moving slowly helps him think, but I see the smirk on his face as he takes control my oldest childs morning!  The oldest is furious because now he will be late for zero period! He hates being late (got that from dad) and will do or say anything to create a reaction that gets people moving! (got that from dad too).  My daughter on the other hand is dressed, packed and ready to go. She is always the first one ready to head out the door. She reminds me very much of Lucy from the peanuts in her smugness.  All of my sons have been at the wrong end of “Lucy’s” controlling moods!  Ultimately resulting the proverbial “football” being pulled out at the last-minute resulting in someone staring at the sky in pain.  This morning she decides to remind every one of her status as “perfect” by making snide comments to the little on in passing.  She is not helping! The middle child, or as I like to refer to him “the puppet master” is slowly putting his shoes on listening intently.  He is not listening to see how he can help, mind you, oh no! This little future Jerry Springer, knows where and when to make the perfect inappropriate comment, sending all four of them into turmoil at once! Then as they all argue and fight he stands back, rubbing his hands together, interrupting just long enough to deliver little one liners, furthering the chaos! Step in, step out, laugh and manipulate. Throw in a couple of bouncers, some cameras, a studio audience, and this kid has a show! Dance puppets, dance!!

After getting the little heathens out the door, I kissed the wife told her good luck, and set to enjoying a hot cup of jo all alone.  Oh yeah, time to recoup!  Sure, like that is going to happen.

No sooner do I get the laundry started, the kitchen cleaned and dinner prepared, then my phone starts chirping at me! Guess who has a 9am meeting in town at the bank? Oh yeah its Betty!  So in thirty minutes time, I turned everything off, found the  dogs (oh by the way its raining and they are soaked), stoked the fire, changed the laundry and managed to get myself dressed and into town.  Walking into the bank with one minute to spare!  Deep breath! Finished my business at the bank, drove to the store, went to the feed store, and rushed back home!  Now I only have two hours to finish the laundry and complete the Banana bread I promised I would deliver before I head over to the barn so I may take care of our horses.  Once finished there, its off to pick up 4 kids on two different time schedules then back home in time to serve dinner before I head off to a club meeting in the next town.  Phew!

Now I am thinking I got this! Oh yeah, nothing old Betty can’t handle on a daily basis! But before I am able to gather my knickers I realize the laundry I washed earlier had no soap in the dispenser!   The dogs I brought inside, well after being so nice as to let them into the house, one of them decided to make my carpet his personal toilet! If that weren’t enough to send you over the edge I decided to take a gander at the kids rooms! And the kids rooms have an appearance that suggests hurricane “ass beating” is going to come on shore very soon. I finally get a moment to continue my Banana bread making only to discover that when I was at the store, even though I was holding my grocery list as if my life depended on it, I forgot eggs and butter!  Seriously EGGS and FREAKING BUTTER! How the hell am I supposed to bake without two of the three key ingredients!  I feel the day spiraling out of control! Oh and don’t get me started on our bathrooms! Yeah that was supposed to be squeezed into my day today as well!  Thinking that maybe, just maybe my kids have a heart and have thought of dear old Betty, I pop into the bathrooms hoping to see them clean and organized! AAAAHHHHHHH!!!!! I think I have passed out drunk in cleaner public restrooms!  GGGRRRRRRRRRR! I quit!!!!

So there you have it, I am having one of those days. No positive connotations, no hope what so ever of recovery, spiraling out of control, all I can do is take a deep breath and wonder, what pub nearby has the cleanest restroom……

Why?

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Why?

A question that we ask on a daily basis. Why? A question that children ask, usually to learn, absorb knowledge and at times to drive us crazy.  Why? A quest that can become repetitive in answering. Example: Can I have a brownie dad? No. Why? Because it’s not good for you. Why? because it has sugar in it. Why? because its made with sugar. Why? Because th…. oh hell you get the point!

The thing about this adverb is it sticks in your brain and you can’t let it go! You as an adult constantly ask why without saying “why”.  Thats how we operate! Education and years of experience have taught us how to formulate a question to receive the maximum answer. Yet as children we only know one way to obtain information, that is to ask “why”? But what is bothering me, the reason I am into this little diatribe is that I also think as adults we may be to smart for our own good.

As adults, life has us running on empty constantly, we run to work to meet the expectations of our superiors.  We run to school dropping off and retrieving our children. We run back to the park or gymnasium for our children’s sports leagues.  Then there is the store, the dry cleaner, the gas station and so on. But that’s OK we are smart intelligent human beings, we can multi-task , operating on many levels. We need our information quickly, we don’t have time to mess around. Just look at all the parents at the soccer game paying not attention to their little Beckhams’s! No they are entrenched into the information first, life leash that is the modern-day cell phone! Life is short and getting shorter all the time! Just ask any frazzled parent, they will tell you! One of the first comments out of most parents partaking in small talk is; I can’t believe its: insert month here already. or Holy cow little Johnny is getting huge! The last time I saw him he was just a little guy! Where does the time go? A sure sign life is traveling fast and passing us by.   So at the end of the day, after answering the “educated” why questions multiple times over, we as adults have no more patience in regards to our own children. Especially to the myriad of “why” questions rolling around in their little brains.

Think about it, how many times in the afternoon while trying to focus on making dinner, providing lunches for the next day, getting the laundry going and having a glass of wine for your own personal sanity have you become frustrated with your childs constant “why” questioning? Inevitably at some point you are going to lose composure and bark at them: because I told you so!  My personal favorite by the way.  And WWHHYYY are you barking at them? Because you have forgotten about the inner workings of a child’s mind. Your brain is still entrenched in a please the boss, I am dealing with only frustrating, idiotic adults mentality.  You have forgotten how to turn that off and bring your thought process down to your child level of understanding.  A level of understanding that requires the use of the word “why”  when asking a question.

We as parents (myself heavily included) need to remember that every time a child asks “why” it is not to get under our skin. (Although I am sure there are a few of you who will disagree with me on that one. Just remember that child is not the norm, that child is possessed by Satan.) It’s because that’s the only way children know how to ask the question. They want a really good answer too. Because I said so; is not a qualified answer. Yet time and again we treat these questions as frustrating and annoying.  We as adults are doing damage to our kids by squelching the ability to ask why? Asking why is one of the fundamentals of being a human being. If we continue to suppress the urge to ask why as a child, the child will never understand how to ask why in a well formulated, information gathering fashion as an adult. That same adult will certainly never understand how to process any answer given.  It is all in our hands people! Our children’s futures are in our hands and we as impatient, self-absorbed adults are doing our best to destroy it by not allowing our children to ask the simple question of “why”? We are also destroying their futures by not taking the time to get down upon their level and answer the “why” question with an age appropriate knowledge provoking answer! Something they are so desperately seeking!

Anyways, that is my irrelevant thought for the day. A rant based probably on my own guilt as a short-tempered worn out father of four. Now go out today and do something positive for your kids!  Why?

Because I said so…..

 

Running out of time

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In June of 2011 after successfully completing the length of a marathon while walking in support of cancer awareness at the Relay for Life event held in our town.  I decided that I was going to get back to exercising everyday! I felt I needed to lose some weight (ok my doctor told me too but it always sounds better if it was my idea) and getting back into shape just might help my job performance as well.  I was already participating in a half ass workout at our firehouse but I felt it was time to kick it up a notch and take full advantage of all our department had to offer! 

I decided that I would start by running everyday, If I was going to lose weight, that was the first logical step! At 205 pounds I was lugging around an extra 25 pounds according to my B.M.I. chart.  Now running is an art as any of you out there who run on a regular basis already know!  If you just plunk along you are not really working in an aerobic state and you are destined to achieve shin splints! If sprint right off  the bat like superman you are destined to become injured and receive shin splints.  But if you start out slowly, walking for five minutes then working into a nice smooth rhythm while allowing your body to sink into the natural upright running position. Well you are destined to get shin splints! I guess what I am trying to say here, or the moral of this story might be, inevitably when you are 44 and havent run in ten years you are going to get bloody shin splints!!!

So off to the famous unnamed footwear store I go.  All my problems will be solved by actually knocking the cob webs off my thrifty little purse,spending more than $29.99 at COSTCO for sale item shoes! Oh and spend I did! The sales associate was good! Telling me all about the dynamics of my feet and how the proper support will solve all my shin splint miseries, I will be running marathons in no time! She went on for 15 minutes about the benefits of the shoes I was purchasing, but in my mind I was already running the Boston Marathon, leading the Bay to Breakers! Wind in my hair, sweat pouring through my Nike sponsored running clothes! Women and children cheering at the mere spectacle of a man my age bolting past 20 somethings struggling on the sidewalks! Oh yes I was going to fly! 

I went home, placed Thunder and Lightning (yeah I named my shoes) on my feet and instantly felt the electricity flowing through them all the way into my calves! These shoes had super powers, I just knew it! I went from an average everyday Joe to “super runner” just by donning these illustrious over priced, glitzy, shimmering blue, sweat wicking, pieces of running superiority! I trembled thinking about taking that very first step! Will they bolt me to speeds unheard of, or will they be gentle and allow me to break them in slowly! The anticipation had me sweating nervously just thinking about what was about to happen.  I kept telling myself: the salesperson said these shoes were custom fitted just for me!  No one has a pair just like them, and I will reap the benefits from my understanding of running technology! Oh I so bought it, hook line and sinker!

I walked in them for 5 minutes to warm up, allowing the wonder shoes to break in a little! My oldest who runs cross-country came out and looked me up one side and down the other, letting out a “Humph” when he saw the “chosen ones” upon my feet! I asked him if he liked them? (like he really needed to answer, I know jealousy when I see it) and wondered if he would like to join me in my little excursion! He mumbled something about the shoes being Ok then finished with a chuckle and: you know they wont make you run any faster. What does he know? I asked him if he wanted to join me but he said he didn’t want too. I’m thinking he didn’t want to be in the shadow of Thunder and Lightnings greatness! In reality he didn’t want to leave me behind within the first mile!

We made it to the road and Thunder and Lightning were plenty warm and ready to go! I leaned into them a little we started to pick up speed.  The first mile is always the hardest! Everything hurts, you start complaining in your head, then before you know it you are arguing with yourself over whether or not you should just quit! You start saying things like “I’m getting to old for this shit” and “whose dumbass idea was this anyways”! You start telling yourself its ok to be a quitter, no one will know, heck when you get home just splash some water on yourself and everyone will praise you for your effort! Then just about the time it all is about to come apart, the endorphins are released into your system! Oh yeah, so good! No more pain, breathing is easier, you feel stoned, (not that I know what that is, just a guess) higher than a kite. Nothing is going to stop you now, oh no! You are running faster and stronger! Your knees are coming up higher and your strides are increasing.  You are a runner sir! A bonafide runner! Thats right these shoes were worth every penny! No longer will I bargain shop for running shoes, oh no! My feet are on cloud nine and my brain is floating freely as I take in each deep refreshing cold breath. The countryside is flying by, the views are breathtaking! I feel as though I am Forrest Gump, I will not stop until I hit an ocean, then I will turn around and keep running until I hit the next ocean!  Go Thunder and Lightning go!

We make the loop around my house and I am soaked in sweat.  I feel like a true athlete, a runner of the highest caliber.  My legs are throbbing, my knees are shaky, and my heart is beating so hard my eyeballs are wiggling! It’s the best feeling ever! I walk around to cool down taking part in all the proper stretches. I am sure I have just run 10 miles, I mean come on, who runs like I just did, no ordinary man I can tell you that! I pull my I-phone from my pocket to turn off Pandora and check my jogging app for distance and time.  As I am waiting for it to load I exuberantly hum a rendition of Eye of the Tiger. The screen loads and my time/distance is revealed.

2.5 miles. What! that can’t be right! I know I ran more than 2.5 miles! Stupid program, who can trust military satellite technology anyways! Not me that’s for sure! Disgusted with the obvious blatant lie my I-phone has just delivered to me. I turn to walk back to the house, dejected by my effort, disappointed in my expectations of the wonder twins Thunder and Lightning. Thats when it hits me. Oh it hits me hard, nearly taking my feet right out from under me.

You see, it doesnt matter what shoes you wear.  It doesn’t matter what clothes you are in, it doesn’t matter how many miles you have run.  The only thing that matters after you have given it your all in an effort to turn back the hands of time and not declare yourself a overwieght 44-year-old man is; What the Hell I am going to do with these damn shin splints!!  OOOOWWWWWWWW!!

I could barely walk for three days after that run.  Today I run 4-5 miles a day at work and 4 miles at home on my days off.  Thunder and Lightning are doing just fine. They are not the superheros I made them out to be. But in the end they have become my heroes. My feet are thankful for their existence and my shins don’t hurt as much anymore.