Tag: father

Haiti Mission Trip 2012 part 6: Who let the dogs out?

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Sunday June 10th

Awoke this morning around 4 am to the sounds of dogs barking out front.  It was a good thing  they woke me because there was so much sweat trapped in my cot that taking a moment from my slumber to put on a life-preserver was indeed a sound decision.

Laying there pondering what on earth these animals could have to bark about for hours on end I was at a loss when suddenly like a brick it hit me. The dogs are just having a conversation. We know dogs are very social animals and enjoy the company of others, so wouldn’t it make sense that after spending the day hiding from the heat just like we do, at night its time to socialize? So with that mental image I am fairly sure the conversation goes a little something like this;

Dog 1: (bark) Hey I am a dog!

Dog 2: (bark) Hey I am a dog too!

Dog 1: (bark bark) Get out of here, really?

Dog 2: (Growl, bark bark)Yeah man! I am really a dog!

Dog 1: (Howl) Where are you at brother?

Dog 2: (bark, bark, bark) I am over here man!

Dog 3: (bark) Hey are you guys dogs?

Dog 2: (bark, bark) Yeah man I am a dog!

Dog 1: (bark) I am dog too!

And well you can see how the conversation just blossoms from this point on.

I digress..

Sunday morning; there is no work for our crews today.  Instead we are going to worship with our hosts the Leveque congregation whose church we are disassembling.  Paul has graciously offered to give the sermon and assist with communion.  He is a little nervous, (he says he is not but it shows on his otherwise bubbly face) and rightfully so, it’s quite an honor to speak in front of another congregation and for myself personally the language barrier would have been hard to overcome even with our interpreter.

Another wonderful breakfast has been prepared by the magic chef Madame Lulu, afterwords we disappear into our rooms only to assemble moments later dressed in our very best clothes.  We all brought slacks, skirts, nice shoes and the group consensus was to wear our UMVIM shirts for the service.   All of us are excited to gather as one with the people in this community, it will become another moment of bonding, and hopefully forging our souls together.

Before walking downstairs people begin to arrive.  Families come out of the woodwork dressed in their very best, bright yellows, pressed whites, and shiny shoes.  The women have gone to great lengths with hairstyles, ribbons and jewelry.  The young girls are perfect, straight from a Normal Rockwell painting, if Norman Rockwell brushed in some debris and banana trees.  It is painfully obvious how important Church is to these people.  The only way I can explain the social order of things here would be to compare it 1800-1950’s America.  Church/God then family and work. In awe of their priorities when it comes to work, family and religious beliefs I find myself ashamed at how we as a society have let our personal desires, greed and lack of  morals lead away from the family unit.

Walking down the stairs we are met with numerous greetings of “Bonjour”accompanied by brilliant smiles.  The children are always happy to see our faces but Mason and Maggie’s seem to be the main focus of attention.  Everyone shuffles into one of the classrooms which has temporarily been transformed into a church.  Gone are the classroom desks and papers, in their place are 6 rows of pews hand placed and straight as an arrow.  In front there is a small podium and table with a cloth covering what at home would be the bread and communion chalice. In Haiti because of the many illnesses one can acquire, bread remains the same but wine/grape juice is in dispensable shot glass sized cups then covered for safety.

The service begins and it is glorious! Our group is given the honor of being seated in the first two rows with our interpreter sitting next to the pastor translating every word that is spoken.  Caz does a wonderful job translating along with singing! Before long we are all trying to sing the songs in French-Creole.  Failing miserably but trying just the same. By the way; Haitian sing! They sing while they are working, they sing while they are playing, and they sing loud to the heavens above while together in church.

An hour and a half goes by in the blink of an eye; Paul has done a wonderful job of spreading goodwill between our groups.  Handshaking, smiles and laughter precede the service as we all meet in the hallway out front.  Some of us break off playing catch with the children (frisbee, tennis ball, etc) , Mason and I put on a juggling act, while Paul turns on the bubble machines to the delighted screams of “bubbles” from all the children.  Slowly families begin to dwindle away, leaving us to mosey upstairs, undress from  our Sunday best, throw on some shorts and prepare for a Sunday excursion.

Because Sunday is a day of rest a Tap-Tap driver had been provided for us so we may go off and recreate for the afternoon.  The group has been given many beaches/restaurants to choose from for our excursion and the unanimous decision is a destination known as Club Indigo.  Having heard wonderful things about this place from our Hosts at the guest house, our group was excited to lay our eyes upon the crystal clear Caribbean waters while dining at an all you can eat buffet.  The ten of us also decided that Sunday should be a day of rest for the fabulous Madame Lulu and our two wonderful interpreters Marcanie and Caz. The word is spread and our offers accepted. We all gather at noon, swim shorts on, sun screen applied, back packs loaded with essentials, just add one crazy, cool Tap-Tap driver and shake! The perfect recipe for a perfect day!

Our Tap-Tap drivers name was (guessing once again so its Phonetic) Yalaylay. Hired to be our on site transportation at night should an emergency occur he was acquired for our daytime transportation to the beach.  Yalaylay was tall and lanky, friendly and charismatic.  Carrying himself with the cool laid back style one would expect from an islander, he quickly won over the entire crew and the sound of his name could be heard echoing across the compound both morning and night. Y A L A Y L A YYYYYYY!!!!

Our group loaded into the rear of the Tap-Tap, squeezing into every available space! Cody and Maggie sat in the front seat, Caz and I were the last to load and sat (barely) at the rear overhanging the pavement.  The ride was fantastic! Yalaylay cranked up the radio (Bob Marley) and took to navigating our way up the highway as best he could.  Some of us noticed right away when the truck reached traveling speed it would slowly drift to the right only to be brought back to center abruptly.  There were times I wondered what would happen if the steering actually failed on this ride? Then I would remind myself to relax, put my OSHA (my nickname) tendencies aside and enjoy the experience. 

OSHA: The United States Occupational Safety and Health Administration (OSHA) is an agency of the United States Department of Labor. Congress established the agency under the Occupational Safety and Health Act, which President Richard M. Nixon signed into law on December 29, 1970. OSHA’s mission is to “assure safe and healthful working conditions for working men and women by setting and enforcing standards and by providing training. (Wikipedia)

My nickname was earned after the first of several discussions in regards to safety both on the job site and with our teams’ personal health throughout the week.  As the appointed EMS team member and assisting John C with planning and organizing on site work during the day the name stuck.  I wore it proudly for the entire week, it was earned with simple questions such as these…

Remember team, if you are not peeing, you are not hydrated.  Pee checks are at breakfast, lunch and dinner.  (Little did I know one member would take this a little too seriously; but I will cover that later.)

When we are working on the building keep your head on a swivel, look up when entering, look down, and look all around.  We are here for a very short time and I am on vacation so no one gets injured. Understood? (This advise worked out well, only two major accidents. The team leader fell from a ladder my son was manning and apparently I couldn’t take my own advice ending up injured by Tuesday.)

 The highway headed north was littered with cars, pickup trucks and semi’s trucks or bobtails, all having been involved in head on collisions. (have I mentioned they drive crazy in Haiti?) Most wrecks looked fatal, and it amazed me this metal carnage was just cast aside, left to rot.  We traveled through a few towns along the coast, the weather was perfect, the sky was blue and the ocean looked amazing.  After an hour we arrived at our destination, a gate guarded by grounds personnel leading back into lush vegetation along a cobble stoned roadway.  Entering into the clearing Club Indigo began to emerge from under the palms.  It resembled the set of Fantasy Island; White plantation style open air buildings all facing the ocean with a grand entryway.  Slowly traveling by the front we headed into an open field where all vehicles were parked.  The U.N. comprised the majority of vehicles in the lot this day.  Both official and unofficial transports neatly parked rows, this appeared to be the main choice for U.N. soldier relaxation.  This of course kicked old OSHA into overdrive.  After hearing many stories about U.N. soldiers and their “above the law” attitudes I found myself lagging behind making sure our entire group stayed together as one. 

$40.00 dollars apiece was our one way ticket to beach and buffet! Strolling through the main area past the bar, along the walkway by the pool one could distinctly pick out different languages being tossed about the pool deck.  I picked up quite a bit of Portuguese, a little Spanish and of course French-Creole. But the main thing I noticed was no conversations were taking place in English.  Our group strolled along the beach until we came upon a coconut tree with a few chairs underneath.  Gathering a few more chairs to claim our territory, most of us were stripped to our swimsuits and in the water before the sand settled.  It was warm, clear, salty and beautiful.  We swam out to the buoys then back several times. Some floated around while others dove under looking for shells and fish; Standing in the water felt like a world away from where we were no more than 90 minutes prior. To be quite truthful it felt a little shameful. Who were we to come here and act like vacationers? We came here to work, to help the impoverished, to create a physical and spiritual difference in not only our own lives but the citizens for who we serve; The people of Leveque.

Before I had the chance to become too sanctimonious someone hollered; time to hit the buffet and all those feelings were temporarily dissipated! I needed to eat.  Funny thing about a buffet, it can be the best food you have ever eaten or it can be the worst thing to cross your plate.  You never hear someone say; oh the buffet was adequate. Until that moment we had no idea just how spoiled we become towards Madame Lulus food until we found ourselves faced with a buffet stock piled with the very same creations.  All of us looked at each other and grinned as we piled food upon our plates.  Sitting down at our table, salivary glands drooling, with one bite our palates quickly learned the difference.  As we slowly picked through our half rate grub, I looked up to see Madame Lulu smiling at me. She knew, she knew it was crap, she knew her food was the gold star this half way house for Haitian chefs aspired to become. She knew it and yet she still blushed as each and every one of us pledged our allegiance to this woman’s golden spatula.  We were all grateful for her presence and enjoyed being around her, and even though the food was poor (meaning she deserved to be served much better), there wasn’t one of us that weren’t glad she joined us for a much deserved day off.

We all had a fantastic afternoon, swimming and playing. Yalaylay, Marcanie, Caz and Lulu swam to their heart’s content while, singing, laughing and frolicking with us in the water.  We discovered Marcanie couldn’t swim, yet he bravely waded out as far as his fear would let him go.  Maggie tried her best to teach him to swim but alas Marcanie got no further than sinking like a rock.  At one point Caz snuck up behind him, grabbed him, and then drug him out deep.  Marcanie looked like Scooby Doo, legs and arms flailing as he walked across the water after Caz let him go! Cody never came out of the water continuing his search for shells he swam all day long!  He came up with some very interesting looking crustaceans which made their way home.  Maggie, Jan, Heather, Mason, John C, John G, Anne, Paul and I spent the rest of the afternoon switching between lounging and swimming. 

As I sat on the beach I jotted down a thought;

Sitting on a white sandy beach straight from the scenes of a Rogers and Hammerstein musical I have found myself gazing upon 13 other people all happily frolicking in the ocean.  9 of them are so very far from home. Yet they are here together these 13 people; they don’t speak the same language, they don’t all share the same passions, but they are becoming friends. No longer are they strangers or acquaintances, no longer do they wander this earth unaware of the other. They have been brought together, united as one.  For these 13 people now hold a bond that no one can change.

Haiti….

As for the 14th member of this illustrious crew (me); He feels extremely honored to have been given the opportunity to know them all.  He feels especially honored to know one of them in particular, for that person fills his heart with endless pride.

His son is showing signs of becoming a man, his sense of humor is developing, his timing and delivery are being perfected, and the ability to tie the two together at the perfect place and time is quite evident. These attributes are allowing him to meld into any situation with ease. A quality many never develop, leaving them often times misunderstood.  Watching him interact with the others from our team I feel as though he is liked by all, admired by some, and loved by only one.  His dad…..

 In the blink of an eye it was time to depart our little slice of heaven.  The thirty year old, slightly run down former Club Med resort had been a Caribbean delight for us overheated mainlanders.  We all changed, gathered up our belongings, took the last few pictures that needed to be taken and headed off to our waiting Tap-Tap. We were some of the last to leave due to the U.N. soldiers suiting up, loading up and departing about an hour prior. (A little scary considering they had all been drinking most of the day.)   This of course left us feeling like we received every penny of the forty dollars we shelled out to bask under the sun on this gorgeous stretch of coastline.

The ride home was fairly quiet although Heather’s hair continued to be a great source of fun. As we traveled down the road the red mane of hers would engulf all who unknowingly traveled into its path! She became fondly known as chicken head by the girls from Chowchilla or Cell block C. 

Anne, Jan, Heather and Maggie while living the dream in our concrete bunkers had taken to referring to it as the Chowchilla Women’s Correctional Facility thereby naming themselves the Chowchilla four or C-4.  Our nicknames were all earned on this trip and one of the reasons we bonded so well as a team. Our group’s sense of humor consistently played into making this trip what irreplaceable memories are made of. I miss that sense of camaraderie.

Arriving back at the compound we were met by the children all chanting Mason, Maggie and of course BUBBLLEESSSS! The generator was started, technology was charging, the kids were playing and each and every one of us found our own little spot to sit and reflect.  We all enjoyed another fantastic day together; another moment in time to be remembered forever.  Sitting on the balcony darkness slowly set in; once again we laughed, told jokes, and thought about the work that lay ahead. 

Tomorrow is Monday; let the real work begin….

Haiti Mission Trip 2012 part 5: Bonswa!

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Saturday 9th 2012

Another sleepless night! Currently three nights in a row and I am not sure how much longer my body can take this lack of sleep. The problem for me remains the same, Haiti never rests! Being a little Haiti naïve, I was under the assumption that being away from the main city life would be a little slower, a smidge quieter, yet nothing could be further from the truth! Behind our compound are houses hidden in the mango/banana trees that appear to be the collection point for those who never sleep! Music like that of a Caribbean polka pumping from the residence all to the hoots and hollers of its inhabitants!  Lying in my bunk sopping in sweat, cursing the heavens above because there is no escape from this dreadful noise! My ear plugs have eluded me in the dark, and I am afraid to wake the lucky ones while searching my bags with a flashlight.  As for all the music I uploaded into my iPhone for just such an occasion; I made the mistake of storing everything using the “cloud”, and since all my data functions are disabled to keep from being charged an arm and a leg at AT&T it can’t be retrieved.  So all I have are eight songs placed directly onto my phones memory. Eight songs for eight days, yeah I’m screwed! Somewhere around 1 am exhaustion gets the better of me and I pass out, only to be rousted from bed at 3 am by the sounds of two dogs barking at each other! This continues for around an hour and is immediately replaced by the wonderful crows of chickens singing to the rising sun!  Now if all of that weren’t bad enough for yours truly; Marcanie started snoring around midnight and never quit.  Snoring in itself is not so bad, living in a firehouse with 4-6 other guys for 1/3 of my life, snoring is something you get used too.  But this man (Marcanie) is the king daddy of snoring, the Gandhi of bear growls, Lord of the buzz saw, the champion tree chopper, I am pretty sure some of those sounds could not legally be registered on a decibel meter! Long story short, another rough night and the hot Haitian coffee could not be poured soon enough.

Upside; Cody and Mason didn’t hear a thing (ahh to be young and able to pass out at the drop of a hat) they slept right through it all.  At least some of us received a welcomed night’s sleep. Everyone else was awakened at one time or another, dog barking seemed to be the complaint of choice.

Breakfast was at 7am on the nose and it smelled heavenly.  We were treated to spaghetti? I know it sounds strange right? Spaghetti for breakfast! But it was the best spaghetti ever! Nothing like what you would envision spaghetti to be, it was spicy, with vegetables and no sauce over the top! There was fruit and cereal, coffee and tea. The food was perfect.

 We gathered our tools, marching downstairs to meet with the incoming workers at 0800.  Today is Saturday which means it will be another half day of work for everyone.  Our goal this morning is to expose the steel trusses by removing the tin sheeting from the roof.  A few of us have high hopes that we may actually have a truss or two on the ground before noon, but that may be nothing more than wishful thinking.  Caz, Marcanie, Pastor Charles and the ten of us meet inside the church. A quick safety briefing is given along with mentioning what our goals are for the day.  We collectively decide that Opening up the concrete windows to create air flow and removing all the tin sheeting on the roof is our goal.  Everyone is pumped. Excited and ready to go! Once the concrete windows are knocked out with sledge hammers we can begin on the roof.  The Haitian crew decides going onto the roof and removing tin from the outside is the best plan.  Mean while a different plan is taking shape which places ladders inside the exposed trusses as makeshift scaffolding, allowing us to work in the shade and not risk someone falling from the roof.  Yes the tins are bolted to the trusses but they are bolted on using J-hooks.  J-Hooks are just what they sound like; they are bolts in the shape of a “J”. With the nut outside on top of the roof, the “J” passes through the tin with the “j” portion grabbing a steel truss securing a piece of tin sheeting tightly.  This is where the four bolt cutters we brought with us come into play.  Instead of unbolting the hooks from above, we are having two crews safely move up and down the length of the building cutting “J” hooks from the inside using ladders as scaffolding. Safe, easy and fast it worked as planned! The tins came down one at a time, everyone (who wished to go up in the scaffolding) took turns cutting the “J” hooks as bolt cutting a couple of hundred of these things can become a little tiresome. It went fairly quickly and we finished before noon which allowed us ample time to formulate our plan for the beginning of the week.  The beams and trusses were next to come down starting Monday and we definitely were going to need some sockets or crescent wrenches for this project.  Realizing the deficiency in our tool cache Paul suggested that we head into Cabaret (the next town over)with an interpreter to retrieve these items from a local shop.  John G, Mason and a few of the Haitian workers wished to tag along as well.  It sounded like great fun and an adventure to boot. 

Cabaret (Creole: Kabarè) is a municipality in the Arcahaie Arrondissement, in the Ouest Department of Haiti. It has 63,450 inhabitants. During his dictatorship François Duvalier renamed it Duvalierville in 1961 and a megalomaniacal construction project was begun. The project failed, but the name was kept until Duvalier’s successor, his son Jean-Claude Duvalier, fled the country in 1986.

Marcanie took us across the street from the compound where we stood waiting for a Tap-Tap to drive by.  A few loaded Tap-Taps passed us by but finally after about ten minutes one happened to stop. It appeared to be loaded with too many people for our group to fit inside, but not thinking like a Haitian I was wrong. So with a long gaze and a long deep breath we all stepped forward to receive our first lesson from the University of Tap-Tap.  Pushing and shoving, jostling and contorting, we all squeezed on, in and even hung a little off to the side. It was unsafe, crazy and something that had my Spidey senses abuzz but it was exhilarating! We all loved the ride into town and couldn’t wait for another Tap-Tap ride back to the compound!

We arrived in the town of Cabaret to witness complete controlled chaos! In the center of town the markets were open, people were everywhere! Hustling, moving, buying and selling Cabaret was alive!  Our guides took us from tool shack to tool shack looking for a simple crescent wrench or some socket wrenches.  There wasn’t a free place to move or stand without running into, bumping or moving out-of-the-way of another person, vehicle or motorcycle. We traveled through side streets, down alley ways into areas where people were fixing cars and bikes, Marcanie took us everywhere and we talked with quite a few friendly and helpful individuals.  At one point we ended up in a two-story building that resembled a shabby apartment complex filled with building supplies. There were two men sitting in the front entry staring at us as we went upstairs and it was the only time I ever felt a little uncomfortable, on edge. It seemed as though they really didn’t want us inside. Just my opinion though, I could have read the situation wrong, but it sure felt that way.  In the end we arrived back at the first store we visited. (Isn’t it always that way?) Even though the store only had two crescent wrenches available it would be enough for the task at hand on Monday. While Paul haggled with the owner over the obvious inflated prices on our behalf, John G and I were drooling over the brand new Korean and Chinese manufactured motorcycles that were for sale in front of the store.  At one point the owner informed Marcanie we could purchase them for $1000.00 u.s. dollars.  I wanted so badly to purchase one on the spot, then cruise the streets of Haiti! Nothing would have been more exciting than traveling home knowing I survived Haiti’s traffic chaos on a motorcycle! But most importantly it would have been nice to go off on an afternoon cruise and discover a little Haitian culture on my own.  Before concluding our business with the local shop owner, the price had dropped to $950.00. I am pretty sure with a little haggling $800.00 would have left me the proud owner of a Haojin 125cc motorcycle.

The afternoon trip turned out to be quite an adventure! We had walked through Cabaret, met a handful of locals and strolled into a little store for a soda. I felt uncomfortable, out of my element and excited all at the same time. Slowly working our way through the crowds back uptown towards Tap-Tap central, our construction friends grabbed the first empty Tap-Tap we came upon. Ushering us inside and after back filling the Toyota truck bed with as many people as humanly possible we slowly made our way back to our temporary home in Leveque.

The entire group gathered upon our return for prayer and lunch.  Afterwards, Paul had made arrangements through a few of his new friends for our group with the assistance of an interpreter to go on a walk about. We heard of a village in the hills behind us and it seemed like a wonderful opportunity to stretch our legs while introducing ourselves to some of the local residents. Our walk took us alongside the highway past many shanties and half destroyed homes.  Residents sat or worked in their front yards under shade trees hiding from the heat of the day.  Most waved hello, some smiled sheepishly while others looked confused at our presence.

Turning left onto a washed out dirt road leading up a hillside, the road took us through groves of bananas and plantains.  The country side was a strange mixture of tropical beauty combined with modern-day refuse scattered about without care.  After witnessing the crowded, dirty streets of Port-au-Prince and the jammed hustle of local Cabaret this little excursion was a peaceful respite for our crew. After walking with and passing many locals we came upon a concrete irrigation/drainage ditch where many children were playing in the water.   There was one small pathway leading over it and we waited patiently as donkeys and motorcycles all carrying passengers made their way across. 

Once we crossed groups of small children seemed to arrive from nowhere. Running alongside us shouting, taking our hands, some would beg for food, some would beg for water, and others were just content to receive the attention we provided.  Around a mile in we encountered our first housing encampment. Built by a group called Samaritans Purse.

Samaritan’s Purse is a non-denominational evangelical Christian humanitarian organization that works worldwide to assist people in physical need alongside their Christian missionary work. The organization’s president is Franklin Graham, son of Christian evangelist Billy Graham. The name of the organization is based on the New Testament Parable of the Good Samaritan, in which Jesus uses a parable to teach people the second great commandment – how to “love thy neighbor as thyself”.

Samaritan’s Purse works in more than 100 countries around the world. International headquarters are in Boone, North Carolina, with additional U.S. facilities in Charlotte and North Wilkesboro, N.C. Affiliate offices are in Australia, Canada, Germany, Ireland, Hong Kong, Netherlands, and the United Kingdom. Field offices are located in some 20 countries across five continents.

The buildings were of many different sizes, some seemed to be small in the 14×16 foot range while others looked a little larger. There were central outhouses along with meeting halls.  At one end of the project sat rows of larger 20×60 building that for some reason reminded me of a Japanese internment camp from the 1940’s.  But they were all clean, neat and orderly.  Most were weather wrapped and it seemed every one that we saw had occupants.  Smiling and waving, we were always greeted with a smile and wave in return.

Moving farther up the hill while holding a small child’s hand I began to feel somewhat guilty.  We were walking into these peoples’ lives, staring at them, taking pictures as though they were some kind of circus attraction put there for our amusement.  Personally there were a few occasions where making eye contact was hard because of the guilt I felt inside.  My mind was racing, what were they thinking, how did they feel about themselves, about our intrusion, or the hand they had been dealt since the earthquake?  Were they grateful for the housing and assistance provided, or angry because many of the projects seemed unfinished? Had these Haitians truly been helped or hindered by the short-term assistance that eventually became less and less?  

At or around mile two we came upon another community erected by Mission of Hope. 

Mission of Hope: as an organization following Jesus Christ, we exist to bring life transformation to every man, woman, and child in Haiti. Mission of Hope was founded in 1998, and continues to serve Haiti daily by meeting the physical and spiritual needs of the Haitian population.

At Mission of Hope, we desire to serve the nation of Haiti, and see lives changed. Our passion is to see the hopeless find hope through Jesus Christ, and empower future generations through education to bring their country out of poverty. Mission of Hope website http://www.mohhaiti.org

The housing at the Mission of Hope complex was refreshing to say the least.  Houses were all neatly in a row with independent yards, fences and gates.  The inhabitants looked happy sitting on their porches and all welcomed us with large smiles and a hearty Bonswa! We arrived at a church and were warmly welcomed inside where we gazed at the simplicity of their building.  A place of worship built on rock in the middle of nowhere and it was perfect. We all enjoyed spending a few moments inside.  As we traveled onward through the project children swarmed us, grabbing our hands. Laughing at our faces and all of them wanted to play.  Taking a few moments at an assembly building we took pictures while playing with children.  It was nice, even Cody got into the action.  Everyone of us had a child taking very special interest in our arrival.  It was the first time during the walk I wasn’t feeling ashamed for my presence.

As we made the corner heading for home one of our guides pointed up the hill to a similar housing complex also built by Mission of Hope.  This one was strictly for the deaf community.  How wonderful to have an entire community of like-minded individuals living as one.  In America they would be considered handicapped and maybe in Haiti they still are but in this village no such phrase exists for they live, farm and work together as one. Inspiring.

While walking towards home I asked one of our interpreters Marcanie; Why if we say nothing to an individual in passing do I feel contempt coming from the person we passed? But if I smile and say Bonjour/ Bonswa (good morning/afternoon) as we pass every person lights up with a gigantic smile then waves?  Marcanie proceeded to tell me that by saying good morning or afternoon in passing you are showing a sign of respect towards that individual.  Out in the country is it expected to show respect not only for your elders but for all individuals as human beings or children of God.  If you choose not to say good morning or afternoon after making eye contact you are showing, superiority or you feel as though you are better than they are; which in turn is extremely disrespectful. Here in a country where hard times and strife seem to be an everyday occurrence, the simple principles that our country once lived by still exist.  Say good morning or good evening to a complete strangers in our country and you are looked at as though you are crazy. It is sad.

We arrived back to the Leveque Hilton to another wonderful meal prepared for us by Miss LuLu.  We prayed, we sat for devotional and then we once again partook in something that is sadly missing from our everyday lives.  Together like a family we sat on the porch and talked. Every single one of us, for three-four hours! We laughed, and joked, telling stories about our day, sharing our experiences, our personal feelings, the highs and the lows. It was pure bliss!

I want to build a patio and shade cover in our back yard so that after dinner, no one is allowed to go their separate ways, but instead all will meet for devotional time, laughing and talking about their day.  Just like we used too, as families before technology, dual working parents, after school sports and just plain old life got in the way..

Feeling broken

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Where did you go?

Who have you become?

I feel as though I don’t know you anymore. As though a stranger has newly entered my life, yet nothing could be further from the truth. I find myself filled with remorse, anger, compassion and hatred all at the same time.  Realizing I shall no longer defend your outrage. I can no longer bear the brunt of destruction you leave behind. Cleaning up your emotional toil in both cumbersome and tiring. You are like a pebble tossed into a pond.  The original hit was you, then slowly you sink to the bottom for safety, while leaving others to ride the waves, praying they don’t drown, hoping to survive.

What made you this way? The person I remember has always been a little angry, somewhat gruff, yet once alone you were charming, and funny.  Somewhere, somehow you made a conscious decision to change for the worse.  You can continue to place blame, to point crooked fingers, but in the end it rides squarely upon your shoulders.

You claim all is not fair, life is not fair, you bellow that nothing is ever done correctly, and you regale how much better life would be without you.  Then flipping as a switch you are back to normal.  On/off, on/off, the effects fleeting at best, but back to normal none the less.  Your emotions can be felt as the constant ticking of a time bomb.  There is no one left to defuse you.

To this I say; There will be no more sleepless nights worrying about your state of mind. I shall portray that of mediator no more. You shall never yell at someone I love again with out serious repercussion.  I will no longer defend absurdity under the guise of being elder. You have chipped the very last fragment of love from my heart. If you wish to be gone from this world than so be it.  You are gone in my eyes, your soul has left my heart, I am empty when it comes to you.

Feeling broken…….

Maybe you were right after all,  Life is not fair.

Faces from our past….

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They leave behind families who know nothing of how, or why. Often misunderstood they rise to the challenge everyday and wish nothing more than the ability to return home to the country they love. Proud, brave and sometimes terrified, they perform under stress as no other. Some becoming what legends are made of, others lives are changed forever. 

It takes a special person to perform their particular duties and as Americans we should show nothing but respect not only for those who return, but for the fallen as well.  It has often been said that our WWII veterans were the greatest generation.  They sacrificed all for our country.  If those men and women set the standard then I believe all fallen soldiers should be held with the same regard.  None of them wished to perish, none of them woke up one particular morning thinking today is my last day. None of them asked to be subjected to the horrors of war, to losing fellow soldiers and thier friends.   They all knew the job that laid before them.  They all knew the risks associated, and yet each and every one of them stepped forward with honor and integrity, putting aside personal feelings of dread to complete a task for you, for us, for themselves and for our country.

Can you say you would do the same thing?

Wont you join me today as I hang my head and humbly say a prayer to all soldiers lost in many theatres across the world over multiple generations? 

It is after all Memorial day-not national BBQ day.

To all soldiers in every branch of service I say;  Thank you for your service to our country and may God bless you, and your family.

Remember the fallen, respect those who remain. 

Stay at home dads

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CNN Headline April 30, 2012

Stay-at-home dads: More men choosing kids over career!

Really? More men choosing their children over a career? What is this world coming too!!

Among fathers with a wife in the workforce, 32% took care of their kids at least one day a week in 2010, according to the U.S. Census Bureau, which looked at families with children under 15 years old. That’s up from 26% in 2002.

Holy cow stop the presses!!! Did I read that right! 32 freaking percent took care of their children ONE WHOLE DAY A WEEK in 2010!!! ONE * WHOLE * DAY * A * WEEK!!!! I am flabbergasted! Shocked! Speechless!

Well HURRAY for all men across the country! That is right guys, put down your beer cans, drop your poker cards, shut off Monday night football, switch of NASCAR because 32% of you are putting in the effort at least one day a week! 32% of you are carrying the overburdened workload so the other 68% may continue roaming freely! Traveling through life without a parental care in the world! Continue down life’s road as nothing more than smoking hot sex machine sperm donors! Why? Because you fellas (32%) are caring for your children ONE WHOLE DAY A WEEK!

And up from 26% the year before, well…

Good for you!

Now for the what should have been the main headline.

Of those with kids under the age of 5, 20% of dads in 2010 were the primary caretaker

Still a pathetic number. Listen I get it! We live in a biased society that thrives on male success while underscoring the vast achievements of women across this great nation. Salaries are still skewed in favor of male gender. Women still don’t hold a major market share in leadership roles. (Although I just finished an interesting article in Forbes covering the rise of women in powerhouse positions.)

It is assumed; no it is expected that when a couple starts a family the woman will automatically stay home to raise the children and take care of the house. She birthed them, so she’s raising them; and if a man does stay home he is automatically labeled a deadbeat. Of course the number one excuse always thrown out there is; My wife makes more money than me so it was a logical choice. Although I don’t fault that explanation, don’t use it as an excuse! Would you hire a babysitter with a short temper, no patience and sleep apnea to watch your children? Of course not! Your decision as a couple, as a family is always based on wants and needs. Yes you need the extra money the leading breadwinner (male or female)in the household can bring, but do you want to raise your children? A resounding yes is usually the answer! If you didn’t want to raise your children; let me rephrase. If you felt uncomfortable and ill-equipped to handle raising your children, it wouldn’t matter how much money you or your spouse earned, you wouldn’t take on the challenge.

Now lets address the other portion of this article that chaps my hide.

Choosing kids over career!

I am not so dense as to misunderstand the sentiment. You are definitely choosing one for the other. But for some reason it still chafes me when I read articles of this fashion. Raising children is a career choice. You are the CEO, CFO and human resources officer all rolled into one! There truly is no greater calling! Oh I have seen those ridiculous stories about cost of living, salary vs overtime, and benefits all leading to a “mom” (never a parent or dad) earning $240,000 a year if someone was to pay her.

Why are we as a society so shallow that we need to put a cost on raising our children? As if raising our children were taking this dream salary straight from our pockets! As if having children has barred us from financial prosperity and we should all be upset with our little bundles of joy! Poppycock!

So to all you lazy, deadbeat, sperm donor dads that make no effort at all! You should be the ones making up the 32%. One damn day a week is not asking too much! Get off your ass and go see you kid. Good bad or otherwise, man up, take some responsibility and rejoin humanity. Just because you know how to have sex, apparently don’t know or understand the premise of a condom, or chose to have kids without choosing the responsibility associated, doesn’t mean you’re granted permission to skip out on your kids.

To all you dads that make an effort with your children while working 40/50/60 hours a week. Let me just drop this little bug into your ear. You get one chance! Your children grow up so fast! They look up to you, and look forward to seeing you when you get home. Put away the bad mood, financial blues, and teeth grinding. Put a smile on your face and spend some quality time with your children. Mold them, love them and show them the way to a better life. Better than you could ever have achieved for yourself. Its your primary responsibility, make the right choice, its your duty as a dad. You accepted it the minute you agreed to have children. You embraced it the minute your child was born. Dont let time and the trappings of life weaken your resolve.

To all you dads who are the current 20%, primary care givers! My dream is to see a day where that number is on par with women. A world where the position is split 50/50 and men do it with absolute dedication and pride. A world where commercials about household products, baby food, children’s clothing and all things associated with caring for a family are shown with dad in the lead role as well as mom. Our children love us, our children need us and yes our children want us in their lives every bit as much as mommy! There is no such thing as perfection in child rearing. If their was both parents would stay home raising their children to the highest standards of education, humanity, ethics, and compassion. Since that’s not possible its our job as parents to fill those voids, doing the very best we can with the tools we are given. But understand this; as a dad you are valued, as a dad you are worthy, and as a dad you are more of a man than most.

Dont poke a stick at the…..

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He travels down the stairs like an ogre, heavy and disheveled. Rubbing his bare feet on the floor there is no doubt where he’s been or where he is headed. Shoulders dropped low, slack-jawed and mopey; don’t make eye contact for he shall unleash vengeance upon all who gaze. The ogre heads to the basement hoping to find some suitable clothing for the day. He begins pawing at the clothes basket like a bear would a tree trunk looking for grubs. Left paw, right paw he swats what is not his out-of-the-way. An annoyance really, these clothes he cares little for, or where they may land. Finding a shirt and pair of shorts he then takes to climbing out of the basement with a gasp and a grumble. Those who stand in the kitchen run for fear of falling victim to his foul mood.

I ask him where he is headed? I do this for I am not scared, nor do I cower at his presence. I am like an old lady with a rolled up newspaper ready to swat the creature on the nose for snorting my direction. He mumbles something about being upstairs, followed by a mild tantrum in regards to his little brother not picking anything up in their bedroom. All of which had nothing to do with the original question, but I let it slide for now. He vanishes back up the stairs and I sit, listening to his heavy footsteps across the floor. I can almost tell you play by-play what he is doing by the foot shuffle that carries through the ceiling overhead.

The others have gathered again hoping to eat before oaf re-enters the kitchen. But this is not be. Slowly he comes back down, dressed and ready for school. The deep furrowed brow he held before seems to have lightened a bit, showing some of the finer features of his face. He pours a bowl of cereal, covers it with milk and sits at the bar staring intently. I ask what he is staring at and all I receive is a shrug. Let the ogre eat I say quietly to myself; let the ogre eat..

He finishes his bowl and walks towards the sink to deposit the fine china and utensils. As he passes a smile arises! It’s not much but the corners of his mouth did raise to an acceptable level. So much so that yes, it’s officially deemed a smile! We have turned the corner! Houston we DO NOT have a problem! It is going to be a good day! I calmly smile back, keeping calm as to not jump the gun on this one! Go easy Betty, go easy!

He finishes his morning chores, including feeding all the horses and comes into the house with a full-blown smile! Its like the sun shining right in our kitchen! The flowers all lean his way! The dogs drop to their bellies and bask in the warm glow! He shines! He shines brightly and his mother hugs him with equal warmth and affection.

The children gather at the rear door, lunches in hand, books at the ready. All are prepared for school and most are excited to go. Mom readies herself, one last sip of coffee and off they head into the world! All run towards the car as if it were a game of tag! They are excited for the oldest is driving them to school today. Something about a kid driving other kids that makes them giggle. Three are gone but one remains at the back door. He is still smiling, staring at me with rosy cheeks, hands in pockets, back pack slung across his shoulders. The warmth still radiating from his face, I can feel his love. I walk closer and he wraps his arms around me, squeezing with all his might. He tells me to have a good day, I do the same and with a wink he is off.

He is no longer the same ogre from earlier lumbering about dragging his club and grumbling. He no longer swats at things like an angry bear. What moment brought about the change? I believe it is an uninterrupted bowl of cereal that does the trick for this lad. As I turn and close the door I soon realize that I am the very same ogre prior to my morning cup of coffee. Hmmmmm???

The legacy continues..

Off on an adventure!!

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I am packing my bags and I’m hitting the bricks! Dagwood sandwich in one hand, knap sack in the other,”we” are headed on an adventure of great proportions. Oops I let the cat out of the bag, by saying “we” didn’t I? Well it seems my eldest son wanted more than to just file paperwork at the local police station to fulfill his “public service” requirements for graduation from high school. So he and I headed off on a spiritual journey. An expedition hopefully filled with emotional growth and worldly knowledge. Not a vacation mind you but an actual trip filled with hard work, dedication and compassion for others. So we answered the call, meeting up with 8 other people from our church, partaking in some fundraising and away we go!!!

Along the way it will be a true conquest to overcome the need for electronics, video games, ringing cell phones, packed schedules and school. A much-needed reality check from todays society filled with not so real “reality” television blaring in your face 24/7.

Where can we go to find such isolation you ask??

Haiti

Yep, that’s right as in “hot as Haiti” the wonderful little grief-stricken country on the tip of the Dominican Republic. You remember Haiti don’t you? A massive 7.0 earthquake ripped the country apart in 2010 leaving 316,000 dead, 300,000 injured and more than a million residents homeless; devastating the country’s infrastructure and crushing any commerce or trade to sustain economic stability. Well its 2012 and it appears that half a million Haitians still remain homeless living on the streets or in tent camps. financial aid is at a stalemate with only portions of promised funding actually being delivered to its intended recipients. Government corruption is rampant and the Haitian citizens are truly suffering.

Winner, Winner!

Thanks to the wonderful air carrier American Airlines , my son and I are heading into Port Au Prince with a United Methodist Church group, sponsored by UMCOR or the United Methodist Committee On Relief. Leaving in June we will spend 10 lovely days and nights soaked in radiant sun just north of the equator. This not so all expense paid vacation will provide us ample time to dig, shuttle rubble, and carry heavy objects from one place to another. Want to lose weight while in Haiti? No problem with an average 80% humidity while entrenched in 90+ degree weather, those pounds will melt right off. I am surprised Guthy-Renker hasn’t figured out how to bottle it up and sell it to the masses on late night T.V. yet.

While in Haiti we will be treated to luxurious accommodations including but not limited too; One room out buildings with army cots, an open air solar shower, built-in charcoal kitchen, and wooden sided latrine. Want to go on an excursion while you there? No problem just grab your interpreter and head out into the streets to meet the locals! Dont worry, they are glad to see you ( as volunteers are the only true economy source) so be respectful, take it all in and just avoid eye contact with U.N. police officers at all costs.

All kidding aside. We cant wait to go! My wife volunteered last year and came home with amazing stories of families torn apart, entire families killed, strangers raising children they found after the quake and some of the kindest most resilient, generous people she had ever met. They live in a world where they are truly on their own. The streets are lined with garbage, rubble remains everywhere, mass tent cities are still operating, and Cholera is still rampant, all though latest statistics from UMCOR show those numbers are dropping. The Haitian people want and need our help. The churches are the only true center of social and economic stability for these people. We are honored to a part of this rebuilding effort.

I also think this will be an incredible growing experience for my son. Surrounded by all the creature comforts a kid could possibly have, we hope this will further ground an already fairly centered kid just a little more. When we are finished I hope this will help him understand why people risk their lives daily to make it into the United States hoping to create a better life for themselves and thier families.

Not that long ago I had the pleasure of meeting a gentlemen during jury duty who resided from Haiti. He risked everything and fled the country 20+ years ago hoping for a better life in America. To this day he works very hard at his job, sending half his income home so his family may survive. He is a pillar in his community and a regular at the local United Methodist Church, where he leads committees, sings in the choir and prays daily for “his people” back home. During the earthquake he lost 6 of his 8 siblings along with his parents. He wishes daily he could go home to visit the remaining family members but is terrified they (the government) will recognize him and hold him back in country. In his words this would not only mean incarceration but as the major contributor to their well being, the loss of a very good income for his family. So he remains in a country he has learned to love, adopted as his own and stays by himself so others may prosper.

So be prepared people! For while my son and I are in Haiti with our team, I will be blogging about our experiences! The highs, the lows, the weight loss, the crying, the need for beer and my soft, fluffy, imperialist bed! Along the way we hope to learn a culture, to make new friends and if only for a very short moment in time help out with the good attitudes and strong hands god gave us.

For the goodtimes…

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The other night I rushed the family from our daughters softball game over to our CPA to sign our taxes. Driving like a madman, hoping to arrive in the nick of time to beat the deadline for an extension, we zipped through city streets like James Bond chasing down an adversary in his shiny Aston Martin. After awhile I found my jaw locked tighter than King Tutts tomb.  My face so frozen like granite that one could bounce a quarter from my forehead.  My shoulders squared off like a New York city parkbench. Tense I guess would be the theme I am going for here? I was just a little tense….

After partaking in the usual pleasantries, we inked our paperwork, then I slithered back into the car deflated, defeated and just plain old mentally exhausted.  I found myself daydreaming of easier times, when I held no responsibilities other than waking up in the morning, carrying out a few chores, and feebly wandering my way through school.  Yeah those were the good times alright! No responsibilities at all…….

It’s amazing how the old adage of “the grass is always greener on the other side” pops to mind right now.  For as I wondered aimlessly through the bright and shiny portions of my past all I could see was the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow as opposed to the rock it was sitting upon.  Yet when things aren’t going so well, amazingly I only find garbage when peering under that very same rock.  Our mind has a way of sheltering us from past experiences during some recollections while reminding us of those very same experiences during more emotional times.  Curious, so very curious…

Back to the beginning.

So while driving home during my “pot at the end of the rainbow” period I chose to think of all the things I miss about being a kid.  Yep I was yearning for the old days! Off in the land of the Walltons, Fall Guy and Wendy Peffercorn! No responsibilities at all, just me and my crazy youth! Since I was in dream land I decided to take the quantum leap into the furthest reaches of my mind and come up with a list of all the things I missed about being a kid.  When it was over I carefully narrowed them down to a fair resemblance of a top ten. Here they are…

10. Missile pops.  Nothing was better on a summer’s day than a missile pop, didn’t matter where you were or how you got it. Melty, sticky, ice-cold and delicious! It was awesome! As an adult they just don’t taste the same…

9. Going barefoot.  As a kid you could pretty much get away with being barefoot, whenever you wanted. As an adult now a days people just think you are weird. I still remember how good the grocery store floor felt under my bare feet as a kid.  As an adult it’s just plain gross.

8. My A&A custom made, motocross racing bike.  It was flat black with a little chrome and it was cool.  That bike was the center of my universe. I took the whole thing apart down to the frame then put it back together,  just to prove to myself that I could. I jumped everything I could on that bike. Rode it ten miles to town just so I could cruise around the plaza downtown. I loved it, loved it, loved it!  Shed a tear when at thirty-five I sent the worn out old frame to the recyclers after cleaning up my parents place during their move to a new house.

7.  Summertime. Being allowed to play from sun up till sundown.  Running around our ranch, hanging out with horse trainers and their kids, building forts out of hay, generally just being a kid.

6.  The fair: I saved money all year-long waiting for the fair.  I showed sheep so I was at the fairgrounds from sun-up till sundown all week-long.  The money wasnt for rides, or cotton candy or even to play those stupid carnival games.  Oh no!  The money I saved was for one thing and one thing only!  CORNDOGS!  I ate them for breakfast, lunch and dinner for a week straight! They were my drug of choice and baby I couldn’t get enough! Just the smell sent me into drooling fits of hunger! Even now, I just drooled a little on the keyboard.

5.  Swim practice:  This was a true love hate relationship which is why its number five.  I loved swim practice, because everyday I was guaranteed to see my friends for a least an hour and a half.  Plus being a young lad rolling into puberty it was always an hour of prepubescent giggles between my friends and I as we watched the cute girls walk by in their shimmering one piece swimsuits! The hate part revolved solely around the hard work encompassed in practice itself.  It was long, grueling and tiring. Although I never complained when we practiced in the rain, I always found those practices to be the most interesting.  Something strange about being wet in the pool while more water flows onto you from the clouds above.

4. Summer camp: Oh yeah, friends, swimming, hiking, snipe hunts, marshmallows and a week away from chores, my parents and my sister. Enough said….

3.  Hot Wheels: The sole reason for my fascination with all makes and models of automobiles to this day.  British, Russian, Croatian, American, German, Bavarian, I love them all.  If you have created or plan on creating an automobile I have either read about you, salivated over your creations or just plain envied you.  I am the guy who can find at least one redeeming quality on even the worst made machine.  I am always looking to understand the vision of a designer.  I cherished American Muscle as a youth and still do to this day.  I also am a big fan of German engineering and British ingenuity.  But at the end of the day I owned more hot wheels as a kid that revolved around two cars and two cars only.  The American made Corvette and the German-made Porsche.  Go fast straight and hang on g-force in the turns.  I love them both! I have owned a Corvette and can’t wait until the day comes when my cob-web filled bank account opens its doors allowing me the privilege of wrapping my poor fingers around the steering wheel of a 911.  Preferably a GT2-RS.  One can only dream.

2. Sunday night fried chicken dinners! We ate until we popped and it was always great.  No one can have a bad day after eating moms fried chicken.  It was fantastic. Heck, really its about more than fried chicken. It’s about being able to eat anything at anytime without worrying about cholesterol, fat content, how many grams of protein or what my total caloric intake was for the day. Take that BMI!

1.  Playing basketball with my dad.  I know it will never happen again. I know it was only for a very short period of time, yet it remains one of the things I miss most about being a kid. Just the two of us, no sister, no mom, just us, laughing and having a good time..

Now I am sure at least one of you out there is saying to themselves; What about the lack of responsibility as a child?  With the lead in you gave isn’t that what you were searching for?  In reality I had tons of responsibility.  More than most kids I am sure.  We lived on a working ranch and my day was pretty full with chores that revolved around the welfare and care of animals.  I learned  a lot about responsibility as a child and I am doing my best to pass those traits on to my children.  Oh, I am sure my parents would argue I was lazy and self-centered.  A chore shirker who had to be begged and harassed into completing his work.  But at the end of the day, my chores were always done and I went to bed exhausted.  Somedays I even took to counting the minutes until I could lay down upon my pillow and shut down the machine.

So in the end it has always been this way for me.  I always had to be doing something as a kid, as an adult I am no different.  Rush here or rush there, on time or late.  It’s all the same.  The grass truly isn’t greener, for all that I miss about being a kid pales in comparison to all the cool things I can participate in as an adult.

I think I am becoming Ward Cleaver…

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Being a parent is without a doubt one of the highlights of my life, at times it has also held a few of the lowest points in my life. I never received a manual or “how to” book on raising children. But then who has? Everything we do as parents is a direct result of how we were reared by our parents.  Some of it may even be attributed to a few of the television shows we watched.  I prefered “Leave it Beaver”, in my fantasy family Ward Cleaver was my dad, Wally and the Beaver were my brothers. Yeah born a Cleaver how great would that have been?

Out of fantasy land and back to the real world!

I have been known to pick up and peruse the occasional parenting book written by one of Oprah’s top pick guru’s looking for answers. I have also been known to hold up the grocery store line a time or two while turning the pages on more than my fair share of “parenting” magazines. Then there are the times I have been patiently listening to the endless stream of unwarranted advice coming from the endless gaggle of distraught moms and dads purging their souls at church of school functions.  And as referenced earlier I can’t leave out the wonderful advice given to me time and again by my parents. The same people who apparently live in a fantasy world when it comes to recalling exactly how I was raised. Yes that’s right in their eyes it was all snow cones, marshmallows and ponies for yours truly. 

Yet with all this second and third-party knowledge floating in my head, for some reason (unbeknownst to me) it is still a day-to-day challenge ensuring my child is being raised properly.  Over the years I’ve had the pleasure of witnessing many parent/child relationships grow and flourish; I have also seen the unpleasant side of the same relationship failing miserably. A relationship failing so badly one cant help but stand back and wonder what the heck happened?  How on earth did this child grow to be in charge of the relationship? Why is this child demanding, disrespectful, and belligerent? The answer is simple; the parent opted to become the child’s friend. 

When I was younger I would daydream about what my children would look like, how they would behave and most of all, I would wonder what kind of relationships we would have together. I thought about all the normal scenarios, like if it was a boy we would go hunting and fishing, play baseball together, camp in the backyard, go on bike rides and build a tree house! Work on cars in the driveway and farm equipment out back.  Nothing a couple of MEN can’t handle, and nothing is better than working side by side with your son, your friend.

 If it was girl, she would be my little princess, the apple of my eye, and mom would dress her up in the cutest of clothes. I would be her protector, her daddy, the man who would melt at her smile all while cleaning my shotgun as her first date arrived.  Now don’t get me wrong I also have plans to teach her about hunting and fishing, keeping her girly with a little tomboy thrown in for good measure.  Of course this will prepare her mentally as she begins taking care of herself against those awful boys she’ll encounter, due to her stunning beauty. But at the end of the day, she will be my little angel and we will always be friends. Boy or girl, it didn’t matter, we will always be friends… Or will we???

What I have determined over time is this; I am not my child’s friend. I will never be my child’s friend. I am something way more in-depth, and incredibly more important than a friend. Whenever I hear an adult say “me and little insert name here are best friends”, I cringe and instantly think oh gosh you are so wrong, and inevitably when I finally have the opportunity to meet that child it is obvious who controls the relationship. (Hint: it’s not the parent). It really is sad to see a parent bowing to the will of a 6-year-old all in the name of friendship.

Maybe Ward Cleaver had it right? 

Ward solved every problem with a calm cool disposition. He never wavered and was always fair in distribution of punishment. His children loved him and his wife adored him. Now I know this was Television.  A writers idea of what family life should be. But did they really have it wrong? And why was Wards way of doing things so effective? Why?

I have thought about this long and hard coming to only one logical conclusion.  He was not his childrens friend. I have also found my parenting style somewhat the same for I too am not my childs friend; I am my child’s parent. That’s right I said it! In this feel good, words hurt, everyone gets a trophy, nobody loses, you need to express yourself society I have chosen to not be my childs friend, but instead focus on being the best parent I can possibly become!  

Now let that sink in for a moment.

So I know many of you are saying “that’s bunk”! Some of you may even ask yourself “is there a difference”? We’ll let me tell you fellow readers, I believe there certainly is a difference! To me (my opinion only) its like this….

Friends come and go, friends can be spoken to in anger then if all is not patched up, friends can be discarded like yesterdays trash, no longer being called a friend. Yet a new friend will take the old ones place in a matter of time. (And yes that statement is a generalization) A friend is just that, a friend an acquaintance. They travel through our lives like the wind, coming and going only to reappear when ever and where ever they choose. Don’t misunderstand what I am implying for a true friend can in fact be an important part of your life!  Someone you may grow to rely on, someone who may be an important part of who you have become or may become.  Someone who stands by your side for most of your life. We all have friends we have known since childhood, some we may even trust more than family members.  When it comes to raising a child though, you need more than what friendship brings to the table. Your child needs strong, loving parents providing guidance in every facet of their life.

Heres the shocker! (once again my opinion)

Parenting means telling your child NO and meaning it, standing by it, never wavering. Parenting means letting them make mistakes, even though you can’t stand to see them fail. But fail they will and you will be right beside them, guiding them to an enlightened outcome. Parenting means punishing them when they have done wrong even though it’s an inconvenience for YOU! Yep that’s right, I can’t tell you how many times I have seen parents throw down the stern “this is how its gonna be” only to back pedal a few seconds later because it hurt their little ones feelings!  Parenting means loving them unconditionally without question, regardless of what or who they have become. Parenting means sticking your nose in their business when they become teenagers, continuing to screen, observe and learn about every aspect of their lives and their friends lives as well. Parenting means teaching them the importance of a job well done along with the repercussions of a job unfinished or done poorly. Parenting means making mistakes yourself, recognizing those mistakes then apologizing afterwards.  Even though you want to be perfect in your childs eyes they will respect you more for your imperfections and ability to rebound from those mistakes. Parenting means sometimes you need to cry when they cry and laugh when they laugh, even though you may not think what they were experiencing was worth crying or laughing over. Parenting means teaching them how to give and receive love unconditionally. Of course this is done by example. Good parenting will give them more emotional stability and knowledge about who they are than any parent/friendship.  It will also give them the skills needed to grow, eventually becoming strong adults along with great friends themselves.

Parenting your child will always be one of the most challenging ventures undertaken. But in the long run its an investment well worth the risk. 

I am very proud to say I’m a parent to my children.

Are you?

Side note: I also believe once your children are adults you never stop being their parents.  But because they are now adults, it is a little easier developing a more “friend like” relationship if you so choose.

A horrible Easter poem..

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Oh easter candy that’s left behind, I hear your faint call, you are on my mind.

It really doesn’t matter what kind that you are, a toffee, a peep or a dark chocolate bar

I walk through the kitchen avoiding your stare, yet my brain calls my sweet tooth with an evil dare.

I have given up sweets for the betterment of health, so taking you now should be done with great stealth.

The kids are still watching, the wifes on high alert. I move into the kitchen and slide you up under my shirt.

The closet, the bedroom or just sneak outside, to get on my bike and go for a ride.

But in the end it’s just us, sitting on the edge of my bed, the bag is half gone, sugar races to my head.

I let out a sigh of orgasmic relief, for in a few moments I will be overcome with great grief.

The guilt oh the guilt, I shall certainly be hung. The youngest has found me, my bell has been rung.

No guiltier man was found by our family jury.  In the end it was worth it, I enjoyed the last Cadbury.

An awful poem written for all you candy junkies such as myself who hate this holiday for the endless amounts of candy that are left in the house afterwards! Bags upstairs, bags downstairs, candy in little bowls and hidden in the cupboards. I crave it I need it, it talks to me, telling me its ok to have just one more!  Who cares if its 250 calories a piece! So what if you can devour three or four pieces at a time! It’s just candy right?  Its only once a year, right? Live a little, have some more, heck if you eat it all then there will be no more and you can go right back to your low-calorie, bland, tasteless diet that you have enjoyed so much over the last year. Just remember, your life insurance doesn’t pay out if its suicide! Self induced candy coma suicide! Fatty!

So my advice to you is, stay strong! Look the other way, let the kids eat it all and when you go to bed tonight and you hear the candy talking to you. Get up, and go make yourself a bowl of oatmeal. Your future diabetes will be in check and Wilfred Brimley will be proud of you.