siblings – Page 3 – They call me Betty

A snowball effect….

December 23, 2012December 23, 2012 theycallmebettyLeave a comment

The other night after a long day of he said, she said, don’t touch me, and leave me alone along with all the other phrases (both appropriate and inappropriate) reverberating through an active family household. I found myself stressed beyond belief. My chest hurt, the lungs yearned for air, a mildly cold sweat lay across my brow and my stomach hurt. The only thing I could ponder was how much longer until they all were grown.

Of course I have no room to complain because there are the 48 hours straight I am at work, holed up in my firehouse the last bastion of supposed sanity from the trials and tribulations of being a full-time parent! My poor wife does not enjoy such luxury. But then again aren’t all us firefighters really just kids with badges and super cool toys we use to help the public? Anyways that night had taken quite the toll on both my wife and I. All we could think about was the peace and quiet that came with bedtime. Then something wonderful happened that brought me back to reality.

We baked cookies…

Yep that’s right its Christmas time and nothing says “I care about you” more than fresh-baked cookies! It really is the best Christmas present ever! I would personally take 20 tins of delicious cookies from loved ones over someone spending money on something they hope I will like! Cookies, chocolate, brownies, mince pies they all say “hey buddy its Christmas and I was baked just for you” enjoy! But these cookies, oh these cookies are super special! Every year we bake these little doughy droplets of gold and place them in specially purchased Christmas tins then set out across town “ to snowball”.

Definition: To Snowball; During Christmas time only, place a tin of cookies with an anonymous uplifting note on the front porch of an unsuspecting family. Ring doorbell, knock loudly on door and run!!!

Snowball has become a very special part of our Christmas traditions! The children look forward to it every year almost as much as Christmas morning itself! Snowball is treated like a covert mission, complete with blacked out car, dark clothing and squealing tires. Giggling is inevitable as mishaps are also a part of the fun. Falling over hedges, tripping before reaching the car, only to be grabbed by an older brother and pulled in as the car rips away from the scene! No man left behind is our motto! On one occasion one of the boys had to hide under a hedge just feet from the front door as it was opened by the homeowner before a full retreat was completed! It’s just plain, good old-fashioned Christmas fun! We hand out yummy goodies; hopefully make someone’s night with no expectation of reciprocation. Then hope it leaves a snowball effect on its recipients, passing good cheer forward for the holidays. This is the way we enjoy observing Christmas, it truly feels better to give than receive!!

As we are preparing for our night of Christmas ninja stealth, the children all do something unheard of lately. They begin to get along, working together as one to complete this monumental task. My wife and I step back out of the kitchen and even though the urge to take over and correct small mistakes is astronomical we don’t. She moves into the family room to watch TV, and I hover around the front room tending the fire and staring in awe. My oldest works like a baker, carefully tossing out flour, and rolling the dough out to perfection while the others take turns cutting out cookies made of angels, snowmen, stars and mistletoe. The middle boy handles placing them carefully on cookie sheets and transfers them back and forth from the oven only asking that I place them inside while removing the cooked ones. It was seriously the happiest, stress less, most magical moment I’ve had around our children in a while. It truly made our night. My wife iced them with green and white frosting then placed them carefully into round Christmas covered containers. She wrote another fantastic letter and we all called it a night with smiles upon our egg-nog covered faces.

One simple act of doing for others as a family can erase hours of selfish bickering. I am often reminded of a very simple saying; you only have one childhood with your children. Enjoy it!

When things get stressful, bake some cookies together and let them be children. All will look better in the end and your stress will subside. I promise…..

Merry Christmas!

Santa Claus or am I really baby Jesus?

December 17, 2012December 17, 2012 theycallmebettyLeave a comment

Ah the tinsel, the lights, Christmas music flowing from every car, coffee shop and grocery store around; People buzzing about trying to find the perfect gift for that special someone. The season is here, like it or not, we are enveloped in the Christmas season, may joy and laughter fill the air.

Sooooo on the topic of gifts let’s just take a moment to recognize the main man by saying thank you baby Jesus, cute little baby Jesus all cuddly and snuggly in his precious little wool wrap, perfect in his Jesus like way. For if wasn’t for your birth on that magical manger morning sire, three wise men/kings wouldn’t have traveled from afar (really afar?) to bestow three (Super Lotto of the period) wonderful gifts of Gold, Muir and Frankincense! Whew, HELLLLOOOOO; can you say JACKPOT!!!! Cha-Ching!!

What’s that my little snow angels? Santa is the sole reason we receive gifts on Christmas you say? Not the baby Jesus you say! Well my misguided little peppermint elves how wrong you are! The jolly red man wasn’t always jolly and he certainly wasn’t always fat! He was a man like any other, only he did what any good christian would do, stole the concept from religions much cherished three wise men! Seeing a definite need (oh yes his heart was in the right place) he practiced giving (gifts, shoes, dowry’s, food etc..) for a while selling the image of nobility to the masses. Eventually he was sainted and became forever known as St. Nicholas! Flash forward 1,669 years, St. Nicholas’ image has passed from generation to generation evolving into the much celebrated fat man in a red costume, driving a sleigh pulled by eight tiny reindeer! No really they are tiny! You would think they were huge with all those gifts and all but really they are tiny!

Upon seeing positive results within multiple test markets (Poland, Turkey, the Netherlands) the idea of a St. Nick or Santa Claus was marketed to the right folks, obtaining copy writes to his likeness and catchphrases then sold, sold, sold and sold again slowly evolving into the much celebrated fat man in a red costume, atop a shiny red sleigh! Happy picture huh?

Wrong sleigh… or not?

There we go that’s better….

Not being the greatest of mathematicians, I took it upon myself using the internet, ABC NEWS, and a few simple formulas to help me determine the sleigh was obviously developed by aliens or possibly held in captivity at Area 51 until our government could extract the compounds used to make this bitch fly! You see, Santa’s sleigh needs to travel 175 million miles in just under 31 hours (time/Dateline, staying under the cover of darkness and all), Santa himself needs to visit 1,178 homes per second-every second of those 31 hours. That means when the “big” man arrives he has just 8/100,000ths of a second to park the sleigh, shimmy down the chimney, stuff the stockings, eat (what is hopefully delicious) cookies, drink milk, shimmy back up the chimney, get his parking slip validated, tip the valet and go! Husain Bolt I think you have a second career waiting for you when this whole world’s fastest Olympian runner thing doesn’t quite pan out anymore!

How about the gross weight of the sleigh? I mean a rig like that needs to be agile and light! Made from the finest carbon fiber money can buy right? Someone must know the overall gross weight of this vehicle at the very least possibly California does since knowing means billing for registration and new registration leads to another source of revenue. Well don’t let the snowflakes melt from your cap just yet! Yes there is a calculation for this as well! Let’s say every child receives one two-pound toy,(hahahahahahaha one toy, that’s a joke) multiply that by 330 million children under the ripe old age of 18. That’s 660 million pounds of toys! No wonder Rudolph’s nose is red! The lad needs to drink like a union dock worker after moving that much weight in one night! Wonder if Rudolph receives kickbacks to pad his stable when bags of toys mysteriously fall off the sleigh while flying over New Jersey? Aye yo Vinnie that damn reindeer dropped us another load! Youz better have is cut ready or your kids won’t be seeing any evidence of the Fatman on Christmas morning!

So there, the baby Jesus is the reason we have Christmas! The Santa story is absolutely charming and I truly don’t mind playing the big guy every Christmas morning! The straight up fact is it brings endless joy to all the little boys and girls across this wondrous globe of ours. With or without the help of Macy’s, Target and Wal-Mart. But doesn’t someone think maybe lying to our children about a fictitious person, from a make-believe place, who brings toys and gifts to all the “good” little boys and girls after making a list (segregation) and checking it twice might really be sending a bad message? Plus how do you explain the whole “he sees you when you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake” bit? Sound like someone needs to be registered on the Meagan’s law web-site! Creeper!

I have decided since I receive gifts on Christmas morning I need to work on tricking my children into believing I am the baby Jesus instead! Pretty sure I can pull of the three wise men part with a little help from my friends. Someone know where I can get some Frankincense? Maybe three camels????

DR. FRO-YO is in….

December 6, 2012December 6, 2012 theycallmebettyLeave a comment

As a parent my world revolves around our children. They bring to our lives purpose and a fulfillment that just can’t be achieved by denying their existence. No really you can deny they’re yours all you want but try leaving Chucky Cheese unnoticed when one of them yells; Hey dad where ya going? That damn family hand stamp you received when you arrived ties you right back to the little darlings! Anyways I only tried it once, no harm no foul right?

Yep those little ones fill our days with delight! From the moment their sweet little angelic eyes open in the morning, birds begin to sing! They’ll float down to breakfast as if Miss Mary Poppins herself was their nanny! Poise, confidence, smarts they are perfect and all yours. Every day is greeted with excitement because you’re able to cherish hundreds of precious moments with these wondrous gifts from god!

Often times in the morning I am heard across the neighborhood hollering out our back door as they skip off to school, backpacks in hand, looking sharp dressed in their finest knickers; Have a great day children and remember daddy loves yoouuuu!! They always stop, hold hands and in unison shout: We love you to daddy!!!! Sweet visualization huh?

Parenting is a calling, you don’t realize how important it is until it happens to you! Becoming a parent brings together all the unknowns about your existence, solidifying them in one complete, mind altering, unrelenting realization.

At some point you are going to need a drink!

Because after that Disney fantasy world of morning departure, as the door closes and you’re left all alone with nothing but your thoughts, life becomes very clear. You may need a drink! It starts out harmless enough; the house is yours so you figure knocking out a few chores such as laundry sounds like a good idea. I mean you are the maid right? So you grab a cup of coffee, haul a few hampers, wash a few loads it all sounds so easy? But oh no my friend how wrong you are because it’s then and only then you see the light! For example, apparently all four of my children were performing on America’s got talent last night! How do I know? Because every single one of them went through at least three wardrobe changes yesterday leaving two of them scattered across the bathroom, bedroom and hallway floors! Only someone who performs on stage needs that many wardrobe changes to get through the day right? The laundry basket is filled with an equal amount of clothing exchanges from the previous three days as well and by the time it has been transferred to the basement it appears the bottom of the basket is filled with clothes I washed and folded on Friday of last week! Those clothes now smell awful because apparently the littlest one peed the bed and has thrown the urine soaked clothing on top of the aforementioned clean clothes! Feeling the need yet?

Did I mention the bathroom? Between cleaning up piss scattered about the base of the toilet and poop that has made its way miraculously down the side of the bowl. (Serious skill or a disturbing problem) There is an endless river of shampoo and body gel making its way around every part of our bathroom except (judging by quantity only) onto the filthy bodies of my pristine little gems! Thirsty for a snort?

As I feel happiness slowly draining from my body like the last remaining droplets of coffee from the pot downstairs, I decide grabbing some chocolate will harden my resolve and strengthen my nerves. One problem, it’s all gone! I don’t know when or where but it’s gone all gone! Hands shaking, teeth grinding, creating new curse words, the laundry is dragged to the basement and tossed into the machine, our bathrooms are cleaned to perfection, the floor is swept, mopped and left to dry while I burn time folding clothes. I call it “burning” time because it’s not what I want to do it’s what I have to do so I prefer to burn it with my hatred!! After an hour I start missing my children again (I know freaking crazy huh?). The bottle on the counter doesn’t seem quite as tempting anymore, yet Jack is always a gentlemen and he remains smooth as silk in his delivery.

The day trots’ on with more highs and lows; high when I find a bedroom closet cleaned, low when I find all my missing chocolate wrappers under a bed, high when finding a note left behind by one of them saying how much they love me, low when realizing all the words are spelled backwards, leaving me worrying about his education! High while realizing they are all taking fairly good care of their animals a very big responsibility, low when reaching into a box of Hot Pockets to find it has been placed back into the freezer empty! AARRRGGGHHHHH! Getting thirsty again…

By the time our children are let out of school my emotions have traveled a gambit of expressions and yet even though exhaustion is ruling my body, and sleep would be a welcome sight even for just a few minutes, I pull my boot straps up, put on a smile and rush off to gather them for the return ride home. A trip into town takes but 15 minutes, just enough time to sing a few songs on the radio, down a beer and let the Percocet take hold! Just kidding!!! Don’t get uptight now my belligerent story has almost concluded!

While waiting in the hallways I take note of many other children, some are sweet as pie, others in need of a good old-fashioned ————-! (You fill in the blank! Really anything you want! Time out, walk in the park, smack on the tush, trophy for being the most obnoxious, whatever works for you! This is the kinder gentler, stranger society we occupy so live it up!)

My conclusion is this; our children will always be sweet little angels, the stuff Disney movies are made of, no matter what anyone else says! They could do whatever they wanted and dad would stand behind them all the way! Ok except for getting arrested and maybe starting a fight, yeah that’s never good, also selling drugs would be a hard one to back all the way unless junior is gonna hook a father up with some sweet green!

I digress…. So my children walk up, hugs are given and no longer do I feel the stress of a long day! Life is ok; all is right with the world. We climb into the truck and before we leave the parking lot three of them are fighting in the back seat, one is crying two are punching each other all while words such as butthead and fart face are thrown about as frequently as a bug hitting the windshield! So with the calmness of a school librarian (they still have those don’t they?) the truck is turned north, our home is no longer an approved destination for I have determined they (our children)are feeling the very same stresses I feel day after day. Their stress revolves around working hard, strengthening the farthest reaches of their little brains during a long day of school! So it would make sense for them to release stress exactly the same way dad does, through spastic, angered verbal retaliation. Of course mine is directed at no one because I am usually home alone. A feeling of daily stress that just can’t be contained from sitting in ones room for being grumpy. Since children can’t drink (not legally anyways) it’s on to the next best thing! Pulling into the Frozen yogurt shop a hearty FRO-YO chant bellows comes from the back seat, sharing the very same exuberance a dock worker feels when his ride home at the end of a long day stops at the local pub for a pint… or two….

Everyone pours out of the truck, piles into the store, flavors are picked, toppings are served and we take our little pint-sized treasures out to the tables in the shade. Not a word is spoken, peace and harmony exists, the only sounds to be heard are that of; thanks dad and mmmmmmmmmm! Ok except for my littlest who between spoonfuls is conducting an imaginary orchestra with his spoon! Holy cow people are staring at him….. Cooollll…… Climbing back into the truck all is right with the world. They have de-stressed, genuine conversation is at the forefront of our ride home. We are a communicating caring family once again! All because of a little sweet FRO-YO.

At home they are playing joyfully in the backyard. Chores completed with smiles and homework finished. I pray they have the ability to stay in Disney/Happiest place in the world mode a little while longer; I’d like their mother to enjoy some of this FRO-YO high as well?

Now where did I put my old friend Jack?

(this story is sarcasm based, no alcohol, children, parents or animals were harmed in the telling of this story)

Somewhere in the Halls of Justice…..

November 30, 2012November 30, 2012 theycallmebetty1 Comment

A tub of chocolate chip cookie dough has been discovered open. Now this is no giant revelation in the grand scheme of things around Betty’s house, but this time is a bit different. You see lately there has been a sudden rash of midnight food thefts. Of course one might wonder if it’s the result of us starving our children to the point of emaciation? After all they are always screaming about how they are starving, there is nothing to eat, they are dying! Hypochondriacs! Maybe it’s because our food stamps ran out this month after I traded them for cash to a local street entrepreneur so I could score some vodka and cigarettes? Don’t judge me a guys got to do what a guys got to do right?

But sadly no, Betty and spouse have stocked the home quite well with food for all. Three squares a day and all the snacks one could handle. Not even the prison commissary has more crap than Betty’s Basement for snacking and munching. But what makes this crime of chocolate chip passion so incredulous is the fact we have been mired in a swamp of lying lately. Several attempts have been made through modern-day practices to arrive at the truth, trick questioning, good parent bad parent role play, single chair in the room hot spot light grilling, even a little military action has been used, but alas the waterboarding failed miserably. Thank God for AFLAC! Yet no matter what we tried the famed culprit “Mr. I don’t know” is usually to blame! What to do, what to do??

On this particular occasion while staring at the evidence a moment of brilliance overcame me! Sheer genius really as too many nights of late night crime TV took over, guiding me through a fair and just investigation.

Calmly calling the main accused subject to the front of the room I leaned down and gave the suspect every opportunity to answer me truthfully the first time. Each time I asked, the suspect stood their ground claiming no knowledge of a crime committed. Finally I held the subjects hand, slowly pulling the forefinger out straight.

Once the hand was firmly in my grasp over the bucket of sugary goodness with the forefinger pointed out straight I said; (Law and Order moment here) My dear, this bucket of chocolate chip cookie dough has been picked out by a single solitary finger. The great thing about fingers is no two are the same. Therefore if I place this finger inside this bucket will it match the marks made by the thief? She calmly stated no, stood her ground while beginning to look very confused.

Slowly lowering her hand I said; this is your last chance. Her brow furrowed, her resolve was set. Down went the hand and behold the finger mark was a perfect fit!

Now one could point the opposed bony finger of justice at the accused and scream GUILTY! But that’s not how Betty rolls. In a smooth almost sweet voice I asked the accused to step back, explained it was a perfect fit but in the interest of justice we would call in the other accused suspect to appear before our Kangaroo court. The call was made and suspect number two was brought downstairs and placed in front of suspect number one. Now suspect number two doesn’t have quite the moxy suspect number one carries. So there was an instant look of guilt upon his reddening cheeks. He tried his best poker face with a loud; whats up dad? (insert nervous laughter here)

The same investigative speech was provided for suspect number two and when he recognized the significance of important scientific data such as “no two fingers leaving the same mark in cookie dough” the confession spewed forth like that of man carrying heavy guilt for some time! No splayed out finger, no hand-held over the tub, no look of shame needed! Just the fear of scientific data, fact, serious CSI shit, to break his silence and expose a true culprit. The crime had been solved or so it seemed, but as with any criminal facing significant prison time this young lad was no different from any other! He started singing and he sang like a freaking canary, throwing suspect number one under the bus in the process. Hearing the overwhelming load of evidence thrown her way she lowered her shoulders and confessed to it all. The facts of the case had been revealed, two culprits one definitive finger match and all with a little knowledge learned from watching to many Law and Order episodes late at night.

The investigating officers report read as such:

On the night of 25 November 2012, One 8-year-old female suspect made her way into the family’s basement, avoiding detection from the parental units through stealth measures developed over an unspecified period of time. The female suspect finding the Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough tub in the main downstairs refrigerator carefull removed a tool from the adjoining refrigerator intentionally piercing the cellophane cover, exposing the dough goodness held inside. Using her fingers many samples were had/stolen until the sounds of people moving her direction stopped her from enjoying more of the holiday treat. She retreated through the shadows into her room retiring for the night. Sometime later in the evening suspect number two seeing the lid had in fact been opened and fully knowing who the main culprit may have been felt as though the perfect crime would be committed by helping himself to the same sugary goodness then leave suspect number one taking the fall for the crime. A thorough investigation was held, both suspects were apprehended and suitable punishments were doled out through the use of plea bargaining.

Case closed.

Now if only I can use this late night psychological shit to figure out who is stealing my underwear and socks….

A fathers pledge….

October 25, 2012 theycallmebettyLeave a comment

To my daughter,

I pledge as your father too;

Always do my very best at protecting your young eyes and impressionable mind from the cruelties this world has to offer you.

Prepare you for life as an adult by allowing you to fail with gentle guidance towards success.

Tell you no and mean it.

Dance with you for no reason at all..

Allow you to be a princess when you feel like it, while celebrating the moments your tomboy rules the roost.

Understand that crying isn’t just for girls but big dumb old dads as well.

Not punch the first boy who dumps you and makes you cry. Unless you want me too?

Take you fishing without your brothers.

Teach you to hunt.

Brag about you not only when you are not around but when you think I can’t see you.

Have tea with you, even if that includes your horse and the two goats.

Hold your hand.

Take you on ice cream dates once a month.

Embarrass you in public. It’s just good clean fun and lends you to developing an awesome sense of humor.

Teach you all the devilish, sneaky and sometimes cruel ways of the adolescent boy.

Teach you all the even harsher ways of the mind bending adolescent girl.

Remind you on a regular basis that before someone else can love you, you need to love you.

Remind you that I love you.

Always answer the phone when you call no matter what time it is.

Pick you and your friends up anytime day or night if you have partied a little to hard.

Always call you “my little girl”

Walk you down the aisle on your wedding day without crying in front of your future husband.

Support what ever career choice you make, it’s not for me to like or dislike your choices, only to gently give you my opinion as an elder man with many experiences under his belt.

Teach you no matter what some friend, boyfriend, or stranger may try to convince you, your father will always listen to what you have to say. I may not always have the answer but I will do my best to find one.

Let you see me fail.

Always tell you the truth.

Remind you there are evil men in this world, but none as ruthless as your father when it comes to someone threatening, hurting, or stealing his daughters innocence, self-worth or life. I will find them and I will make them pay.

Try my very hardest at being a good dad, I will let you down on occasion as you will I. We are human therefor mistakes will be made, but as long as you know in your heart I will always love you there is nothing we cannot conquer together.

Love dad….

License to drive…

August 22, 2012 theycallmebettyLeave a comment

Mirrors adjusted? Check! Seat is in the proper position? Check! Steering wheel is placed at the optimal level for a 10 and 2 hand hold? Check! Are you mentally ready to drive today son? To which a death glare is leveled upon my kindly old man face.

And so goes the dilemma a father faces while teaching his 16-year-old to drive. His son frigidly sits behind the wheel; grip tighter than a vise, knuckles Casper white as the truck moves slowly out of the driveway onto our mile long dirt road. Plenty of room here to screw things up before he merges with the masses of Dario Franchitti’s/ Dale Earnhardt’s vying for position on Americas roadways!

Now all of this is supposed to be a monumental moment; a point in family history where a father enjoys sharing his knowledge of the road and joy of driving with his son/daughter. Yet all I feel is fear! Now over my storied employment history there have been numerous adults who learned to drive the behemoth 18 wheelers that dot our highway landscape from your truly! Never once did I trickle even the smallest droplet of sweat! I could firmly place my cup of coffee on the dashboard and nary a drop would spill from the styrofoam chalice. Yet with the family prodigy I am as nervous as a death row inmate waiting for a pardoning phone call.

Maybe my nerves would wear a little softer if my son showed some “drive” (nice play on words huh?) when it comes to this enormous responsibility. But he is so lackadaisical about the whole process it leaves me screaming ugly profanities inside my head! Why? Why is so indifferent? Why does he not seem to care about the outcome? He doesn’t come across as self entitled. He says he truly wants to learn the finer art of motoring. Yet getting him into gear (another fine motoring reference) has been sticky to say the least!

When I was a kid (flashback moment-didiloo,didiloo,didilooooo) life was like this;

Hi everyone my name is little Betty! I am only 13 years old and I love cars! I have models of cars that I built scattered all over my room, wanna see? The Chevelle and 1957 Bel-Air are my favorite cars but I would drive a Chevy truck with a 454, nice wheels, tires, painted blue with ghost flames! Yes sir by golly that is the truck for me! I clean horse stalls and do all sorts of chores saving money up so that one day I can get my license, purchase my truck and drive where ever and whenever I want! Only 23 months, 2 weeks, 4 days, 16 hours and 12 minutes until I get my license! I like to sit in my dads old GMC and pretend I am driving all over town! Every day after school and on the weekends if you want to find me, that’s right where I’ll be! Ahhhh Shucks, I can’t wait to drive!!!

Flash forward-(didiloo, didiloo, didiloooooo)

It’s taking so long to turn 16! Being 15 is a giant pain in the butt! Do you know when I turn 16 I will own the coolest truck in town and be dating girls left and right! Summer is gonna blow if I don’t get my license! Man, cruising around in moms station wagon with my permit is a giant drag! But I’ll let you in on a little secret. Shhhh come in a little closer so no one else can hear; when my parents are gone I steal the old man’s GMC and cruise all over town! I know cool huh! Yeah its ugly but seriously who cares and who needs to be 16, when you have an all access pass to party time with no license needed! Turn up the tunes, pick up the friends and whoop, whoop, just cruise! As long as I am home before 8, because you know that’s when my parents get back from their Monday night association meeting and my dad would kill me if he found out! Oh yeah, I am soooo cool!

Flash forward a little more (didiloo, didiloo di-oh you get the point)

Yes! I have my license! I have a truck! I have freedom! Life is great! So long suckers, I’m hitting the road, places I need to see, things I need to do and they don’t involve this place! Van Hagar playing loud, windows rolled down so all you “walkers” can partake in some choice music as I roll on by! Owning a car is fantastic! If you have the means I highly recommend it!!

Present day:

I get nothing from the lad! No enthusiasm for driving, cars or trucks, nothing, nothing at all. Where have I gone wrong? Is this even my child? Spinning donuts in the parking lot, drag racing out on Fry road, cruising downtown Petaluma on a Saturday night with hundreds of other cool cars and trucks! Loud music, screaming, laughing and having a general good time! Isn’t that enough to entice a young lad to give it a go; to want his license more than anything on this God forsaken planet?

What is that you say? Cruising has been deemed against the law? Hanging out with your friends is considered loitering? A custom car with loud pipes and a cool stereo is now disturbing the peace? To even think of working on your own car you need to aquire a Bachelor’s Degree in Mechanics. On top of that insurance and gasoline are five times the price they were when I was a kid?

Well hell, it all makes perfect sense now! What incentive does the lad have? Why would he want to drive at all? Why would he even care? Apparently there is a reason they are called the “good old days”. Because it was good and now we are old which leaves the youth of today nothing but boring days ahead!

So out of the driveway we go, his hands in the perfect 10 and 2 position, the stereo is on, air conditioner set and he is piloting this barge very well down the road. I resist the urge to browse Facebook as we roll through the countryside. I am trying to build his self-confidence by acting like I fully trust him while I am slyly paying attention to every little detail of his driving manners. It still ends up being a moment I will cherish forever. We drive many miles over several days with small corrections here and there, then finally giving him the freedom to drive comfortably without repercussion he relaxes and settles back into the seat. Another driver on the road, another human reaching the pinnacle of freedom for their age; He may be ready to take the final test securing his permanent license. It might be time for the sensei to release his student out into the world. We pull the truck over and with a sincere smile along with the adoring eyes of his father I lean in and tell him what a good job he is doing, he slowly looks over with a half cocked smile and says thanks. Still no real excitement on his part…

Maybe we should just scrap the whole idea and find him some public transit?

Olympic Bound..

August 9, 2012August 9, 2012 theycallmebetty4 Comments

Watching the 2012 London Olympics over the last 12 days has left me in athletic awe! How I yearn for a challenge of that magnitude, to focus mind, body and soul on one sporting activity, rise to the challenge, overcome insurmountable obstacles to be the very best that I can become!

Yes it is true, like many young people around the world I have decided to become an Olympian! To feel the thunderous roar of an adoring crowd, performing at the peak of my physical prowess, standing atop an Olympic podium while our National Anthem plays and I (being the great Olympian I am)do my best to lip sync the words knowing that someone at home can tell I have no idea what the hell they are! Yes, YES I want to be that guy!! (Thunderous applause)

Sadly, there is one little problem with my dream, a small issue really but a problem none the less. I am 45 years old and last I checked there weren’t too many athletes at 45 breaking ANY world records! Oh sure I run most days (3-5 miles), work out constantly in the gym,and eat (somewhat)right, yet near a 4 minute mile I am not! In fact I don’t believe there to be anyone currently cresting the precipice of senior citizenship dominating the track and field ranks! Not one person of age flowing effortlessly without the aid of Ben-Gay or a walker traversing a gymnastics canvas! Not one person that can be referred to as “sir” or “ma’m” swimming at dolphin like speed or rowing sculls with the ease of a 5 horse power outboard! So what‘s a guy like me to do? All these dreams, hopes, aspirations bottled up inside ready to explode upon the scene? What to do, WHAT TO DO?????

ANSWER:

I will “do” as any red-blooded American father would; I will impose my wishes upon my children! Disguise their efforts as being “what they want”! Twist their little minds and stress their little bodies fulfilling my dreams not theirs! Propping them up high on a pedestal of half-truths with statements like; you are the best, no one can perform like you, daddy loves you even when you fail (lie), oh and remember we are doing all of this just for you! Yeah that’s the ticket!

Want to join the swim/dive team? Well then you will swim/dive morning and night everyday all year round eating tofu and drinking tiger’s milk! Up the ladder jump! Onto the starting block, jump! Swim, swim, swim and dive, dive, dive! Honing your craft, building your skill set and slowly becoming a champion! Hee, hee hee!

Gymnastics, wrestling, boxing or trampoline; No problem, hit the gym kid and don’t worry about school, you don’t need friends from the outside, you have us! Gym people are your family now, plus we’ll get you a tutor so training is all you focus on! LOOOOVVEEE YYOOUUU!

Want to be a runner/sprinter? Peeeerrrrrffffeeeecccccttttt…….

Get the hell out of the car right now! Start running! Oh don’t worry, we won’t leave you behind, but if the Australian Runners can train in the desert and those little Kenyan kids can run from village to village out of necessity thusly making the Olympics as young adults; then your sorry little butt can run out of pride! The pride you are going to bring your father when he receives his Olympic passes in 2016 whoop, whoop (tear in my eye)!! That right kid; so shut your pie hole and start running, we have little time and lots of miles and injuries to get through so WE can make it to the national trials! Oh yeah, give me a hug because daddy thinks your number one!

So there it is, my plan is in place! National exposure, our countries pride along with selfless coaching on my part will bring them to the forefront of the Olympic stage! Thereby ultimately allowing me to perform as an Olympian! Genius, pure genius I tell you!!!

They may hate me for a while but once a Gold medal is around my neck; whoops I mean around their neck (wink, wink)it will all be worth it; right? Yes sir look out NBC’s Today show here we come!!

In closing, later tonight we will stand in front of a mirror while developing our signature “thanking Jesus” ritual!

To the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat!!!

Writers Block

August 1, 2012August 1, 2012 theycallmebettyLeave a comment

Dreaded writers block! The undoing of many great writers throughout history! You are left staring blankly at a tablet, mind numb to all receptors, nothing passing through the vast wasteland of Dura matter encompassed by cranial fluid that is your brain. Drat, drat double drat!

What brings on this most dreaded of phenomenon’s? Is it a cramp of the brain muscle? Have I reached the end of the internet? Are my children really just normal, leaving me with nothing humorous to write about? Is Misery Chastain really dead and out of self-preservation the brain has decided to protect itself from the pain associated with blocked ankles? So confused, so incredibly confused……

Annie Wilkes: God came to me last night and told me your purpose for being here. I am going to help you write a new book.
Paul Sheldon: You think I can just whip one out?
Annie Wilkes: Oh, but I don’t think Paul, I know.

The movie “Misery” Columbia pictures 1990

Steven King novelist

There are moments when sparks fly, images rule, ideas flow like wine from a forbidden glass! This usually happens when there is nary a writing utensil to be found or the battery on my iPhone has perished leaving me stranded, mired in my own neglect! Then just as a pen appears from seemingly nowhere, (meaning it’s been retrieved from under the seat of my car) and a piece of paper has been salvaged from a wadded up hamburger wrapper POOF! Those very ideas are gone like yesterdays lunch! (Where the wrapper came from) Left with nothing to show for my efforts a mindless argument rages unchecked in my head! Think, think, think, damn you think!!!!

Writer’s block is a condition, primarily associated with writing as a profession, in which an author loses the ability to produce new work. The condition varies widely in intensity. It can be trivial, a temporary difficulty in dealing with the task at hand. At the other extreme, some “blocked” writers have been unable to work for years on end, and some have even abandoned their careers! –Wikipedia definitions

Not being able to write is like taking yoga away from a granola eating Southern California super model, marijuana from Cheech and Chong, alcohol from a Jimmy Buffett concert, the bull away from Bull Riding! AAARRRGGGG!!! What fun would life be if one couldn’t write anymore? How would you relax at the end of the day? Maybe one could have a glass of wine, take a long deep breath, or find a comfortable chair, but then what? WHAT!!!

What would I do without the ability to express myself on paper, let those inner demons flow without retribution from society or the targets of a few jagged little barbs? It baffles the mind to say the least! Creativity comes in all shapes, forms and guises! Relaxation is only found within a few well observed areas of one’s life and mine so happens to come from pen and paper, keyboard and operating system, dry wit, children and senseless humor! How can I possibly go on knowing my brain is so barren it can’t relinquish a simple story!!!! My eyes capture the picture, yet hold no definition from a darkened thought, a crippled hand, an empty pen.

Ahhhhhh-sad sigh..

So I sit, needlessly staring at my computer pondering the definition of Oxymoron.

“Writing about a writer’s block is better than not writing at all”
― Charles Bukowski, The Last Night of the Earth Poems

Art of the lie…

July 26, 2012 theycallmebettyLeave a comment

Art of the lie

I received a very interesting phone message today while traveling down the freeway at 65 mph in a bright green fire engine. Interesting not with any windfall of knowledge or wealth coming my way. Interesting not in the fact that my wife, who left the message never leaves me messages. (she would rather talk to me personally) No this phone call triggered my curious Spock (Star Trek) one eyebrow lifted facial response for the pure and simple fact it was a lie.

Now being a parent of four children, teaching the transparency in human nature associated with a lie is of the utmost importance. Nothing brings down fatherly wrath faster than a child caught in a lie. A reminder that lying brings nothing but ridicule and solitude as no one wishes to be around you is never more prevalent in my household once you have been detained for said infraction.

But….

There is something to be said about the art of the lie? All lies start out simple enough, the truly gifted can carry them thru lie after lie building upon a story that eventually not even a used car salesmen would buy. But there are the chosen few, the masters, individuals with special gifts who get it right the first time. Capturing you with an opening line, reel you in by the lip while never doubting their story for a second! You walk away wowed and in the end, thinking to yourself; I wish my life was as good as that guys!

These “super liars” have creativity, something so many of us human beings lack these days. An ability to play out an entire scenario inside their head like a bad romance novel. Starting at page one the lie is not complete until they have personally closed the imaginary book inside their cranium. Egomaniacal? Yes! Self centered;? Yes! Able to leave you mesmerized by their charming guiles? Yes! The gifted liar is truly a sight to behold.

Back to the beginning.

After arriving at the hospital to retrieve my crew, I took a moment and withdrew my phone to see who called. Seeing it was in fact my wife I eagerly touched the voicemail button and sat mesmerized as my wife simply stated; So here’s the story, the kids are all running right? And they see a hawk with a kitten in its hand and Cody goes and shoots the hawk out of the air and the kids save the kitten and brought the kitten home. That’s the story…

Thought number one: Cody knows better than to shoot a hawk.

Thought number two: Really the cat lived after falling, how many feet to the ground? Cats have nine lives and I have witnessed my fair share of cats falling from high distances (yes the fire department does get called out for cats in trees, it’s not a myth) but out of the air with nothing to break its fall? Suspicion looms..

Thought number three: Cody is a hell of a shot, but really, a hawk flying away with food trapped in its claws.

Hmmmmm something is definitely afoot.

It turns out our kids found a kitten roaming alongside the road, down the street from our house. Now since we live in the middle of nowhere, 3/4 of the way down a 2 mile dirt road, odds of it belonging to someone are slim, so our children concocted this farce believing my wife and I would accept the wounded feline, dinner plate survivor into our abode with open arms never once questioning the complexity of their story.

They were 100% wrooooo—-RIGHT!

After careful discussion, and not wanting to reward a blatant lie, my wife and I chose too privately commend the story telling effort, while publicly reminding the children lying was never acceptable. Yet the four of them, along with two young family members visiting for the week actually put their heads together thinking about the welfare of this little animal and came up with one fo the best bull pucky stories we had heard in a while from any of their little brains. Ah the joy of teamwork!

They were outed for the lie, we all laughed heartily at the effort. A true family moment to be remembered and most likely told to grand children someday.

It was only after I hung up the phone, while sitting at my desk waiting for the computer to open up did it dawn on me.

We just helped them, by awakening their creative story telling skills! It like putting water on a seed once a day, then feeding it tons of sunlight. Before long it will grow and evolve leading them inevitably to “the art of the lie.”

Haiti Mission Trip 2012 part 12 Coming home..

July 21, 2012July 21, 2012 theycallmebettyLeave a comment

Saturday June 16^th 2012

Bleary eyed and disoriented most of us stumbled around trying to figure out whether we were coming or going. A nice cool shower, a shave, and a fresh clean pair of clothes for travel, we were one by one getting ready for the long ride home. Our final breakfast together was filled with prayer, laughter and stories of the past week, a truly fantastic way to end this journey. As we gathered our belongings, purchased our last gifts, distributed passports and documentation, the anticipation of finally being on a plane home started setting in on us all. Loading up and pulling through the iron gates for the last time I was finally ready to go, ready to be home again. I had come to this country with a simple goal, tear down a building, with that goal complete; I found myself leaving with so much more, more than I could ever have imagined obtaining from this little tropical island and its people.

The airport was controlled chaos, people moving you here and there; the same issue we had previously upon arrival in country with baggage handlers reared its ugly head as we unloaded from our bus. John C took the front, Paul was in the middle and John G and I took up the rear of our group ensuring no one was separated or bags grabbed. A few of us purchased some last-minute gifts before entering the boarding area, while others just made their way upstairs. The terrace was crowded and hot but at this point no one cared. After an hour we loaded and were finally on our way. The flight was quiet and uneventful, (except for the reemergence of the corn muffin) most of us were quietly enjoying the in-flight movie, or sleeping.

Landing in Miami the winds were blowing very hard and our arrival was hair-raising to say the least! As we deplaned heading into the terminal there was an indescribable feeling that came with walking on American soil. There is something to be said about the freedoms we Americans enjoy on a daily basis. It takes experiencing the trials and tribulations of another country to fully grasp this immense gift we have been given, it is the reason people fight and die trying to reach American shores.

We all gathered for one last dinner together before catching the last leg of our travels home. During dinner every one of us was plugged back into society. 8 days with little cell phone use and an abundance of conversation, now with little more than 5 hours left together we all were texting, Facebooking and catching up with family and friends. Cody called his mom the minute we landed in Miami, giving her a short synopsis of his adventures. I called her sometime after that and relished in hearing her voice. I couldn’t wait to land in SF and see her face.

The 5 hour flight was uneventful and in the blink of an eye we were face to face with loved ones. Our dear friend Alisa (Maggie’s mom) drove her commuter van down to pick us up. When they pulled up curbside my wife was hanging a welcome home sign out the window! We all hugged saying our last goodbyes as Paul and Mason went their separate ways with family and friends. Climbing into the van sitting next to my wife for the ride home the whole trip seemed surreal. A years’ worth of planning, fundraising, meetings the anticipation of going and it was all over, done, we were home. Sharing our stories of adventure with Alisa and my wife Jacy the trip home went very quickly. My body was exhausted; there was a numbness that took over as we made our way to the house at 1 am Sunday morning.

Hot water! Hot water flowing over my body in copious amounts! Soap and a towel smelling of bleach; the sound of little Parker snoring while Jake sleeps quietly in the bunk above him, being home is grand. Slipping into a clean shirt and shorts, I stroll downstairs, peek in on Jessica then over to check on Cody finding him completely passed out, his dog Cricket (who he missed more than family) snuggled up to him lying under his arm. I whisper Goodnight son, thank you for coming with me on this great adventure, I love you. Then slowly close his door as Cricket raises an ear at the creaky hinges.

Climbing into bed, looking at my wife lying next to me sleeping I feel as though I may be the luckiest man alive; a nice house, a soft bed, a woman who loves me, food in my refrigerator, an awesome family, wonderful friends and a great job. When I left for Haiti my feelings were that of a married man with a wonderful family, yet I didn’t have enough, I wanted more, feeling as though with budget cuts at work, an increased workload (both at work and home) and a severely dwindling income our lives were becoming extremely difficult. Over ten days I learned what difficult truly was, I also learned how to be happy even content with my life in those same ten days. I learned from emulating my Haitian friends.

A Haitian is thankful for each day

A Haitian is thankful for the food on their plate

A Haitian is thankful for friends and family, willing to do anything at anytime or anywhere for someone in need

A Haitian is thankful for God’s love

A Haitian believes every little moment is a gift from God

A Haitian believes hardship instills belief and all hardships can be overcome with a willing attitude

A Haitian doesn’t know the word can’t

A group of Haitians changed my life forever. I am filled with joy, love and appreciation for all God has blessed me with in this life. For that I can never repay them, I pray for the little group in Leveque and hope one day I can revisit this special place to sit and worship in a brand new church. A church built with love and devotion from many caring hands who know there are no obstacles that can’t be overcome with God’s help.

And to our church group; the nine of you are amazing human beings. You are all caring, loving, hard-working people who I am very proud to call my friends. We may not talk everyday, we may only see each other once in a while or only know what the other is up to through Facebook but there is one thing we will share for eternity. It will bind us till the day we leave this earth.

Haiti

I love you all, thank you for the time of my life..

OSHA out…..

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