Tag: sons

A Country Boy Can Survive

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My life is filled with a plethora of interesting topics, filling my wordy coffers and yet tonight as I stare endlessly at my computer screens flickering abyss I find only one thing to expend my energy upon.

A Country Boy Can Survive.

Thats right the 1982 smash hit from legendary singer/songwriter Hank Williams jr. A Country Boy Can Survive was our friday night, lets party and do it right anthem.  Not only did it hold some form of misguided meaning for each and every one of us, but it was one of the few songs ever played that guaranteed all of us would instantaneously drop what ever we were doing and break into chorus.  Country’s version of Grease! We sang at the top of our lungs, the louder the better!  If a bottle of Jack Daniels didnt emerge before the second chorus, one of us had to go into town, obtain said bottle and reemerge with shot glasses for all as we crooned over the melodious ballad all over again. We were out of tune, some would even say tone-deaf, we were drunk and life was good!

I believe that song is as relevent today as it was 30 years ago. Take a moment to peruse this little gem of a story put to music.

The preacher man says it’s the end of time
And the Mississippi River she’s a goin’ dry
The interest is up and the Stock Markets down
And you only get mugged
If you go down town

Seriously, all preacher men have been saying we are near the end of days and as far as the Mississippi River goes, the environmentalists have been crying about that ever since Mark Twain wrote about her in 1883! Dont even get me started on the foolish travesty that continues to make up our money hungry stock market. Occupy Wall Street no way! You gonna get mugged!

I live back in the woods, you see
A woman and the kids, and the dogs and me
I got a shotgun rifle and a 4-wheel drive
And a country boy can survive
Country folks can survive

I think about how wonderful it would be to “live back in the woods you see”, especially with the “woman and the kids and the dogs and me”. I do own “a shotgun, a rifle and a four-wheel drive”.  Just not sure if that is all the pre-requisite needed for a country boy to survive.

I can plow a field all day long
I can catch catfish from dusk till dawn
We make our own whiskey and our own smoke too
Ain’t too many things these ole boys can’t do
We grow good ole tomatoes and homemade wine
And a country boy can survive
Country folks can survive

Crap I need to know how to plow a field all day long? Thank goodness I can catch catfish from dusk till dawn.  Now I am not sure but the last time I checked growing your own smoke could get you 4-months to 6 years! And well we wont even begin to discuss the legal ramification of moonshining! Can you say TAXMAN?

Because you can’t starve us out
And you can’t make us run
Cuz we’re them old boys raised on shotgun
And we say grace and we say Ma’am
And if you ain’t into that we don’t give a damn

I have never seen a starving hillbilly, and the big ones don’t need to run, they would just as soon shoot your city slickin butt than chase you down! My boys know how to say grace and Ma’am is really just a nicer way of saying Bitch isn’t it?  Well rumor has it anyways…

We came from the West Virginia coal mines
And the Rocky Mountains and the and the western skies
And we can skin a buck; we can run a trot-line
And a country boy can survive
Country folks can survive

Now for some unknown reason the verse below always had us on our toes hollering like a bunch of starving alley cats!

I had a good friend in New York City
He never called me by my name, just hillbilly
My grandpa taught me how to live off the land
And his taught him to be a businessman
He used to send me pictures of the Broadway nights
And I’d send him some homemade wine

But he was killed by a man with a switch blade knife
For 43 dollars my friend lost his life
Id love to spit some Beechnut in that dudes eyes
And shoot him with my old 45
Cause a country boy can survive
Country folks can survive

Yeah! Thats what I am talking about! No damn cops needed there, just shoot the man right after he starts squealing about all the Beechnut spit you just splattered into his eyes! WHOOOOOOO! Thats country boy, that’s what it’s all about right? After those two verses the song just kind of wanders on, anyways we were always to busy high fiving each other to even notice that ole Hank threw in a little shout out to California!

Cause you can’t starve us out and you can’t make us run
Cuz we’re them old boys raised on shotgun
And we say grace and we say Ma’am
And if you ain’t into that we don’t give a damn

So true, once you been raised on shotgun it really is hard to give a damn about anything!

We’re from North California and south Alabam
And little towns all around this land
And we can skin a buck; we can run a trot-line
And a country boy can survive
Country folks can survive

So there it is, A Country Boy Can Survive, undoubtedly one the most recognizable country, get drunk, kick the crap out of someone, American redneck songs! So why tonight of all nights am I so infatuated with reliving my youths past digressions?  What can I possibly see in a 30-year-old song that I never considered before tonight?  How could I have possibly allowed myself to lower the learning curve of all my readers with this hillbilly drivel?

Well its like this.

Tonight as I stared endlessly into my computer screens flickering abyss, I heard a noise coming from across the hall.  It was loud, grainy, crackling and off-key, yet I recognized this noise right away.  You see inside this noise, confined in its purity was the vocal etchings of an eleven year old boy.  This eleven year old boy had finished his homework, cleaned up his dishes and traveled upstairs with only one thing upon his mind.  To shower.  Apparently when one steps into the shower, one believes they are in fact Hank Williams Jr.  With all the passion a country kid can muster while buck naked in the shower, my eleven year old son busted out A Country Boy Can Survive.  It was off-key, he sounded like a wounded rabbit, and judging from the rapid footstep I heard from behind the door he was dancing to it as well. Yet he sung it from the heart and he knew every single word.  For a brief moment, by himself he was a star.  And for his dad, eavesdropping in on the impromptu concert.  He was my hero.  Another generation will be swinging from the Grand Ole Opry chandelier! Lord have patience..

5 things I despise

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5 things I despise

Recently (10 minutes ago) I decided it was time to purge a little anger.  A little societal frustration.  I usually do this through a singular rant but today I have chosen to drop 5 mini rants upon your superior minds.  I am hoping to not be alone in these little idiosyncrasy’s as I have always felt discussion is good for the soul or at least the conscience.

So with my head held high, my britches pulled tight and my jaw squarely locked into place here they are…..

5. People who cut in line because they believe they are more important than you.

While waiting patiently for the car in front of me to finish fueling there always seems to be some A-Hole circling the islands like a shark waiting for the right time to strike.  Without regards for his own personal safety, or the feelings of the twenty other vehicles waiting in line. This moron inevitably will come in from the opposite direction and try to force his way in as the last patron is leaving.  This never works as my truck is rather large and intimidating.  I am always scowled at or given a gesture of the highest moral ranking upon exit of my vehicle.  To which I respond the same as I would one of my children.  Have some manners and wait your turn, you are no better than anyone else.

4. The California stop.

It called a STOP SIGN!!!!! Stop means stop! It doesn’t mean think about it, it’s not a suggestion for you to ponder while chatting it up on your cell phone as you go barreling through the intersection!  Dont you dare throw your hands up in disgust as I come to a full and complete stop either.  I will just drive slower to the next intersection, in fact I will continue to slow down and more closely follow all the rules of the road just to frustrate you.  Why do I do this? Because its like this you lackadaisical idiot, in the end if you don’t “STOP” someone will end up injured or killed! And statistics show it wont be you.  

3. Parents who make excuses for their childs obvious poor behavior!

Yes its ok for little Timmy to express himself, but when that involves your 8-year-old telling my 7-year-old to F@#k Off! We have a serious problem on our hands!  If you don’t have the crumpets to reprimand your child I do!  If my child were to speak that way I would hope you would reprimand him quickly and decisively! If that doesn’t sit well with you than politely remove yourself and your child from my inner circle of friends and acquaintances.  I feel as though we as a society have forgotten in the end it takes a village to raise a child. 

2.   Upselling

I am a tightwad! I didn’t used to be, but my glorious wife over the last ten years has shown me the light.  Because I am a tightwad, making a large purchase is a homework driven, educational process that leads down many paths in regards to my purchase.  My point being, when I walk through your door to make a purchase I already know what I want and exactly how much I am going to pay.  Dont play me for a fool, don’t shove useless purchase contracts in front of me and make sure you listen to the words that are coming out of my mouth!  If I tell you I don’t want the 5 year service plan then STOP.  If I make mention the added receiver for only $29.99 is something I am not interested in STOP!  I am blunt, I will let you know everything I need up front, so please just STOP. Because if you dont my next STOP is your competitor.

1.   The little twirp at the grocery store that wishes to “help” me out with my groceries!

Hey junior, look at me, no really look at me! I am a 45-year-old, 188 pound man standing 5’9 who can currently run an 8 minute mile and curl 75 pound dumbbells! I am reasonably sure that I can carry my two little bags of groceries in one hand and your scrawny, “Wheres Waldo” beanie wearing ass in the other! I know you are just doing your job, but somebody needs to train you a little better in the area of qualifying customers.  Someday when you have become my age I hope you will demand the same respect. 

So there it is! A little bolder than in times past, if I have offended anyone I do apologize.   But the way I see it the word unspoken is obviously the word most misunderstood. 

Let me know if you agree or disagree with any of my 5.  Also let me know what your 5 things are that you despise.  Sometimes they are funny, sometimes they are serious but in the end they are what makes us who we are, and that is very interesting. 

Versatile Blogger Award

theycallmebetty7 Comments

I haven’t had an orthodox career, and I’ve wanted more than anything to have your respect. The first time I didn’t feel it, but this time I feel it, and I can’t deny the fact that you like me, right now, you like me!”

You really like me………

I have been nominated for the Personal Blogger Award by Vanessa Chapman http://vanessa-chapman.com 

This is an award bloggers award to each other as a way of showing appreciation for the blogs they enjoy. I am humbled and honored.

(I plagiarized the rules from Vanessa as I feel there is no reason to re-invent the wheel.)

The rules for accepting this award are as follows:

1. Thank the award-givers and link back to them in your post. Easy-Done

2. Share 7 things about yourself. Ok hope I don’t scare anyone, but easy-done.

3. Pass this award along to 15 other bloggers. Fail! Only could nominate 13! 😦

4. Contact your chosen bloggers to let them know about the award. Will let them know as soon as I’ve posted this

Seven things about myself;

  1. I am 45 years old and I can’t wait for retirement. When I refer to retirement it is not in the sense of me walking away from a career, gold watch in hand to sit on some god forsaken island, smoking pot until I die.  On the contrary, I cant wait to start the second half of my life.  To re-invent myself and live life twice.  I have had a stellar first half, the second half can only get better.
  2. I can walk into a burning building, rescue people from a crushed or damaged vehicle, repel off a 5 story building with confidence and walk under a ladder without fear of superstitious reprisal.  But I cannot, and I mean no way, no how can I stand being in the proximity of a spider.  Those eight legged little freaks get me every time.  You want to hear a full-grown 200 pound man jump and scream like a 6th grade school girl then toss a black widow my direction.
  3. My ability to tell the dimensions of something from sight are frustratingly astounding.  Spatial relations are my thing and I am borderline “rainman” about it.  Have a picture to hang, I can tell you one side is off 1/2 inch any direction just by looking at it.  Just had your new bookshelves installed, I am the guy who within 20 seconds of being in the room knows exactly where the carpenter “cheated” or “shorted” you on material.  It makes me crazy and it makes my friends crazy as well.
  4. Scary movies are stupid and a waste of time.  I laugh through them which annoys everyone.  I can tell exactly what is going to happen when it is going to happen. 
  5. 1950’s pin-up girls are awesome.  You can have your skinny, anorexic, vegan, boney butt tooth picks.  I like my women with natural curves, and clothing that leaves something to the imagination. 
  6. When I was 10/11 while walking up my long driveway (we lived in the country) a car pulled up with a creepy guy in it who asked me if I wanted a ride.  Then told me to get in the damn car. He had one hand on the wheel and one in his trousers.  Thank god I had enough sense to run.  I still have nightmares about that guy even at 45. 
  7. I am terrified I will fail as a father.  I put up a good front, but deep down inside I always feel as though failure is right around the corner.  It’s why I write this blog.  It allows me to laugh, vent, and share my experiences.  I can look back on it when I am feeling low and remind myself of all the good I have done with my children.  I know they will laugh looking back on all this as adults.

15 bloggers to pass this award along too.

Soshi-Tech- http://soshitech.com

More valuable information in one blog than should legally be allowed in the states of California and Utah.  Everyone else is OK!

A Detailed House- http://adetailedhouse.com

I love houses and the fine art of decorating them in some of the finest trim.  If you are a closet design geek such as myself who also thinks you can take on any project, than this is the blog for you. The photography is very well done also.

Raising a Realist- http://raisingarealist.com

Scott is a mild-mannered high school English teacher. This blog is his attempt to capture all of his daughters moments.  As a parent of four, I can relate with his tag line. “126 kids but only one will wipe my but when I am old”

Mayahood- http://mayahoodblog.com

Adventure seeker, world traveler turned mother.  She has a mixture of her views on motherhood along with guest posts.  It is an entertaining blog.

Bucket List Publications- http://lesleycarter.wordpress.com

This one is near and dear to me as it is a blog that completely follows the premiss of getting out there and doing all those things you keep putting off.  They even pick some of your bucket list suggestions and through donations make it happen for you.  It’s quite the premise and I enjoy reading it immensely

A Confederacy of Spinsters- http://confederacyofspinsters.com

This is one of my favorites!  Three women from Texas, each one taking a turn writing about life trials and tribulations all under pseudo names.  Grace, Mae and Kate.  Its is always witty, relevant and fun!  I look forward to new postings they way one waits at the window for a long-awaited package from UPS. 

Musings of a stay at home Jewish Father- http://stayathometatte.wordpress.com

Another blog dedicated to a male role model at home raising his child.  Its funny and real with great pictures as he chronicles the day-to-day life of a stay at home dad.

In My Opinion- http://diane-ownes.com

Diane is on a quest to ask a different, relevant question everyday for a year. Interesting concept and I find the answers entertaining.

Debut Dad- http://debutdad.wordpress.com

Brenden is a first time dad who lives in Australia.  He blogs about juggling the changes in his life with the birth of their first-born child. Good luck Brenden and keep em coming. 

Vanessa Chapman- http://vanessa-chapman.com

Vanessa nominated my blog,  and although she is already nominated I enjoy her blog and look forward to every new edition she puts forth.  From superstition to the purchase of a new pair of boots.  She is funny and I find her blog to be a good way to blow a little time at work! Ha!

365 trinkets- http://365trinkets.wordpress.com

This blog is a reminder of how much crap we accumulate as adults.  His mission? To get rid of 365 trinkets he has stored as treasured keepsakes over a 25 year period.  The blog revolves around taking pictures of each one (for memories sake) then getting rid of said item. 

maggiemaeijustsaythis- http://maggiemaeijustsaythis.wordpress.com

A blog dedicated to writing poetry and personal trials and tribulations.  I enjoy the freedom with which she expresses herself.

Take a shower- http://takeashower.wordpress.com

A blog about Eloise and the raising of her five children.  She writes about the past and present, reflecting on the moments in time with the raising of her five children.

I am sorry to say I only have 13 to nominate for this award.  I fail!  But the thirteen I have chosen I follow with great intent.  I enjoy many other blogs but they are new to my collection and I havent gotten the chance to know them well enough yet for a nomination. 

Vanessa you were right, I also anguished over my choices.

Rain

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Falling from the sky at an incredible rate of speed, this miniscule object hits the ground with a tremendous splash. Others follow blindly and before long it feels as though you cannot hide from their obvious presence. If try to pass by them, follow you they will. North to south, fast or slow, they come at you with incredible diligence or smother you with a windless drive. We need their presence in our lives and while some welcome them with a smile and open arms, others curse their arrival. Always at the most inopportune moment. Either way, by the look on your face and the discouraged look on everyone elses face around you there is no denying its presence.

Rain

We need rain to survive. I personally relish its arrival and can sit for hours watching it out my second story window. The view is fantastic. I peer across our farmland witnessing the power of Mother Nature as she rolls out of the foothills onto our flat plain. The waves of water or sheets of rain paint the landscape with a variety of colors, shades and light. These are the pictures of earths never-ending beauty I wish to take with me when I perish.

Yet, as I watch the news I am left dumbfounded by the leading the stories. We have not had any winter yet, the fields are dry, the hills are barren and we are nearer to spring then fall. One would assume people to be dancing in the streets over the prospect of an upcoming three-four day storm. But what I see is just the opposite. Our newscasters, field operatives if you will, have taken the time out of their busy morning to locate, or track down every “nay” sayer on the street. Apparently we are so self-absorbed in our personal lives we have forgotten the simple teaching from grammar school. Sun= growth, rain= hydration, the two combined through our planets cycles help keep us alive. Yet here they are relishing in their apparent 15 seconds of fame letting us all know how inconvenient this rain is to their particular life on this very day.

I bet if you were to track down the very same people during the summer months. Then ask them how they feel about the month of scorching temps we have endured, they would wine and snivel about how inconvenient it was for them to be suffering through such egregious temperatures!
Are you kidding me?

Hey idiot here’s a little hint to help you understand a simple basic concept. It rains/snows in the winter, and its warm/hot in the summer! BAMM, like that I have solved all your problems. You now have nothing to complain about in the weather department. You can go forth and plan your wardrobe accordingly, put your garden or flowers on a feeding cycle and even plan family vacations all around this little educational tidbit!

For fun let me expand on that just a titch. Some winters (get ready for this is a doozy) it rains more than others! (I know you are scratching your head in confusion) Some times during summer it is hotter than years previous! WOOOO HOOOO! Mind Blower huh? And sometimes (sit down you moron, I don’t want you to pass out at this revelation) during spring we receive light showers!! I know amazing huh?

So next time the camera gets shoved into your face and some plastic looking, game show host pronouncing, over educated, self-absorbed glory hunter asks you how you feel about the recent weather. Look them dead in the eye and expound your love for all-weather, then politely remind the field reporter all weather helps our planet to grow and survive. Finish him off with the complimentary; what a stupid question! Dont fall into the complaining trap, especially about something you can’t control.

For those who may have noticed I haven’t commented about actually having to stand in the rain. Or blanketed you with witticisms about driving in the rain, getting groceries in the rain, picking kids up in the rain or walking to your car in the rain. It’s because, I get it! Being wet and cold is no fun but it’s all part of living on this glorious planet. There is nothing you can do about it. Purchase a good umbrella or slip into an excellent rain coat! You don’t have to like it, but please don’t make the rest of us miserable because you have chosen to become “Debbie Downer”.

Now go over to your window and appreciate what ever view our world has to offer you. Because no matter where you are I challenge you to find something beautiful staring right back at you.

Look, It’s a double rainbow……

I want whats on the picture!!!

theycallmebetty2 Comments

Rant Alert! Rant Alert! Rant Alert! Rant Alert! Rant Alert! Rant Alert! Rant Alert!

I am absolutely frustrated and annoyed! I am not sure with whom I am more perturbed, the victims of my tirade or myself for having lived so blindly! Disgusted I have allowed my senses to remain muted by placing my head in the sand as that of the terrified Ostrich!

Since I was a small child I have been conditioned, groomed, some would even say brain washed into believing this is the way things should be! As a parent I have furthered the prophecy by mirroring the exact same thoughtless teachings! Allowing my very own children to gaze upon these fruitless offerings with joy and appreciation! And for what? Nothing I tell you absolutely nothing! It is time for my children’s eyes to opened! For all of our eyes to widen allowing us to gaze upon the fraud that has befallen our lives for generations! So everyone be ready as I am calling for a revolution, an uprising, a stand against the all-powerful lie that has befallen our culture!

Have I peaked your interest? Are you curious what has Betty in a tizzie?

Have you ever received a burger that looked like this from McDonald’s? Have you? I dare you to tell me that any point and time you walked into a McDonald’s and graciously welcomed a burger onto your platter of feasting that resembled anything remotely like the picture of perfection currently adorning your eyes!

Now I believe that burger looked more like this one, huh? Flat, tasteless, no melty cheese, no bounty of lettuce and tomatoes, no harvest of onion or layering of juicy pickles! Nope just a flat, nuked, dry over priced burger! In McDonald’s defense this is one of their specialty burgers so Cheers! Because all of McDonald’s other burgers are sub prime in comparison!

Now being one to not leave Mickey D’s (as the hip crew refers to it), alone on the hook! How about Burger King? The name alone should instill a “burgery” confidence shouldnt it? Say it slowly and let it resonate upon the lips. B-U-R-G-E-R K-I-N-G… See, marketing genius! It lets you know right away that they are the king of burgers! All other burgers should pale in comparison. Just the mere thought of a hamburger from the King of Burgers should automatically send you and your family scurrying through their doors! Right?

Oh man, that looks sooooooo good! Doesnt it? The Flame broiled Whopper, the epitome of a pulled straight from the fire, into your mouth, dripping with goodness hamburger. MMMMMMMMMmm. It COULD actually be the King of Burgers.

Whoops! Yet here again is what you get instead. Boy oh boy I just cant wait to wrap my quivering, hungry lips around that little ball of compressed grease! Looks a little tall for my liking do you think I could get someone to stand on it again so it will flatten out a little more? Is there a special on iceberg lettuce butts? Because it appears I have received the entire shipment of white garden cartilage on my particular sandwich!

Hmmm?? What about Jack in the box? I really can’t say too much about “Jack”. We all know what we get when we pull into a Jack in the Box. There are so many items on the menu it is very clear the restaurant chain is built around the late night crowd trying to sober up with some old-fashioned microwaved grease. The burgers are bland the tacos are a great hangover cure and the egg rolls are, well lets just say they actually do match their pictures. Any place that serves a burger called the “Ultimate Cheeseburger” which consists of meat, cheese, meat, cheese and bread. definitely knows their place in the hamburger sales chain of survival. Jack’s hamburgers look like crap on the menu and arrive looking only slightly better in person. Wow I guess that’s a plus? So Jack, you get a reprieve from my snotty tirade for being only slightly dishonest in you truthful sales approach.

Onward and upward, lets also take a little moment in time to recognize one of the industry leaders! The burger that not only is reported “largest” fast food burger but the highest in caloric intake! The behemoth, the mantabulous, the dare I say it “sexiest” hamburger advertised today. The Six Dollar Burger from Carls Jr. When I see this monstrosity I feel as though all my burger craving whoa’s have been answered. My stomach can feel a sense of hunger relief just by gazing at an illustrious picture of the “god” like creation. It screams flavor, it wreaks of creativity, it yearns to be devoured by every man, woman and child in North America! It looks like no other burger on the fast food market today! In the world of I want it fast and I want it now, this burger is darn near perfect!

;

Oh my goodness I think I just drooled a little on the monitor. I may have actually caused a blood clot to break loose stopping my heart for a few seconds. It is after all a cardiac arrest in a box and yet it calls to me. Of all the other misleading burgers I described today the Six Dollar Burger is the only one that comes close to the advertised picture.

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Ha! Ok maybe not, but they definitely give it the old college try. The only thing redeemable about this blot of meat, cheese and iceberg lettuce shrapnel is its huge! So once you get past the appearance it’s all meat sweats and a painfully full stomach for you!

So America I ask you. When are we going to say enough is enough? When are we going to demand the burger we ordered from the brilliantly displayed billboard behind the counter! At what point are we going to quit frequenting these establishments who run on lies? These towers of carnage built to lure us in for a delicious meal only to be met by charlatans, hustlers, and con artists. All of them trying to persuade you into purchasing the Ferrari of burgers. Only to have you witness a Ford Pinto roll out on your plate! The worst part is you accept the Ford Pinto, and you accept it with a smile, then cruise it around as though it were a Ferrari! Why? Because when you have been told the Ford Pinto is a Ferrari for generations its hard to acknowledge within yourself that you may have been fed a load of garbage and are in fact stuck with a Ford Pinto after all! So shame on you America, shame on you fast food restaurants, shame on you all for allowing this travesty of culinary proportions to be perpetrated over and over again until we become conditioned to belive that crap is ok!

The cycle breaks now. Every time Betty goes into a fast food restaurant, Betty is going to open the box, unwrap the burger and ask for the burger to please look like the picture. If it doesn’t happen Betty is going to ask for the money back! I beg of you all, please do the same! Quit accepting crap, giving up your hard-earned money for crap, and teaching your children its ok to throw good money away on something that is nothing like you ordered! Something as simple as a hamburger is letting your children know sub standard is OK! And that’s just wrong.

NO MORE CRAP!!! NO MORE LIES!!!

;it

Reminiscing about my first car..

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My oldest is almost sixteen, although that may be of concern to some parents for me it brings a sense of excitement and joy. The other day we ventured into the DMV so he could take a shot at passing his driver’s license written exam. I am proud to say he is now behind the wheel of any car we allow him drive. My son handles the pressure of driving a vehicle with incredible confidence. He remains calm and relaxed, very aware of his surroundings and for a new driver relatively smooth on the accelerator. The complete opposite of myself at his age. I was nervous. Terrified really, it scared the hell out of me driving down the roadway. I must have looked like a triathelete crossing the finish line when I finally drove on the freeway! Sweat pouring down my face, shirt soaked in perspiration! 55 mph seemed as though we were traveling at light speed! All those vehicles around me while moving fast, I swear looking out the windshield was like peering out the front of the Millenium Falcon at warp factor one! While we are on the subject of reported space junk, I was always relegated to driving my mothers 1972 Pontiac station wagon. Yuck! Major cool points lost! I prayed everyday that none of my friends saw me in that chocolate-brown hunk of poo with wood siding!

Yet my son doesn’t seem to care. Mini-van or truck, scooter or explorer it means nothing to him. As long as it has a steering wheel and motor he’s willing to drive. I don’t know if that means I had higher standards as a kid or he just enjoys the thought of driving so much he doesnt care. I really wanted to drive too! I started daydreaming about it when I was thirteen. I would spend endless hours on a Saturday just sitting behind the wheel of my dads 1963 GMC truck pretending to drive. I would close my eyes and see myself steering through town, waving at my friends, all while applying the clutch and shifting gears. My dream car was a 1966 Chevy Chevelle. Second runner-up was a 1968 Chevy half ton stepside truck. I dreamt about them, prayed I would own one. I knew exactly what they would look like, from color paint, rims, interior and stereo systems to where I would park them in the high school parking lot. I had it all figured out.

So what went wrong? Why doesn’t my son seem to care the way I did? Why doesn’t he have the same love for cars ? Why are his expectations so low? He has no answer to any of my questions when I ask him.

In my day your car was a rite of passage, a step into manhood, it defined who you were as a young male. Today no one seems to care. His friends don’t care! When I pick him up at the high school there isn’t one nice custom car/truck in the parking lot. Even the little Honda’s are bone stock! What the hell!

Anyway I wrote this a while back in regards to a piece about your first vehicle. I entered it and it was chosen as one of the final stories. The whole reason I looked it up and am posting it to my blog is simple. I am left pondering. Will my children have the same memories of their first vehicles as I did? Or have those days gone the way of cruising and eight tracks? Gone forever, replaced by video games and techno geeks?

Anyways here it is….

My Freedom

The day I brought it home I had no way of knowing the effect it would have on my life so many years later. This machine of dreams made of steel, fabric, glass and wood. It was green and had the smell of old vinyl which hit you hard as you opened the door. The body lines curved, rolled and seemed to run on with no end. The glass was large and bulbous, when you sat inside you felt as though you were a fish looking out at the world from a mobile aquarium. There wasn’t much chrome on this metal masterpiece and that was the way I liked it. Anyone could have a flashy ride with a little money and some elbow grease, but it took someone with confidence and grit to pull off the industrialized look that it held when your eyes fell upon its shadowy form.

My 1964 Chevrolet stepside had a three on the tree with a 289 V8 that rumbled at idle. The gas tank was right behind the seat, which left a hint of petrol wafting through the cab on a warm summers day. Right next to the fuel cell I had carefully mounted a motorized windshield wiper container, which I had filled with whiskey. There was small tubing running under the rubber flooring towards my glove box. When you opened the glove box there were three cup rings where whiskey was dispensed through a small metal wiper fluid nozzle into your waiting glass. The entire thing was wired to a marine switch which ironically in today’s age of not drinking and driving was located next to the ignition.

I loved this truck! I hardly slept at night waiting for the morning, just so I could drive it somewhere, anywhere! I made up excuses to run errands for friends or family just so I could be behind the wheel. It rode rough, had a steering wheel the size of a manhole cover, no air conditioning, and drum brakes that didn’t stop worth a darn. It was primitive, but I loved it! Whenever I see one drive by I am flooded with memories of first dates, parties with my friends, drag racing at the end of the boulevard (yes we still cruised back then) and loading up with my closest buddies then traveling where ever and whenever we felt like it.

You see this was my first truck, my first car, rolled into one. It was the epitome of teenage masculinity, my identity, my solace. It opened the door to freedom from my shuttered world and behind its closed doors it held all the secrets of our journeys together.

Maybe he shouldnt have memories of a first vehicle after all. Sounds like trouble waiting to happen. A Honda civic will do nicely thank you….

Its more than a shirt..

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This started as a story I wrote for my son.  I felt he needed to understand the importance of staying true to yourself.  That people spend their whole lives wasting time on phony images.  I also felt if he understood who I had become, he would understand we have all been in that awkward position at some point in our lives.  Sometimes the things we try to live up to only bring failure.  Sometimes, remarkably they bring success, but in the end I wanted him to know he will become a wonderful person by using all the tools he has been given by his mother and I.  How he uses them will help him to define who he is and who he wants to become…

So here it is…..

 IT’S MORE THAN A SHIRT

It started when I was in high school. I came from a small rural community and at my high school wrestling, football and basketball were the followed sports of choice. I had friends that were on the wrestling team and during the school week they always wore their wrestling shirts or Letterman jackets.  I would marvel at the way people treated them when we were out in public getting something to eat or just hanging out.  (Joe citizen) So you’re on the wrestling team Huh? How’s the season going? (Followed up with) You boys need something to eat? And; don’t let us down at the next match ok! The questions and admiration from adults never ended.  I used to think; if I could wear a team shirt or Letterman Jacket, people would respect me as well.. 

I went to all the wrestling matches and during one of those matches a friend of mine who wrestled varsity, asked me to hold his Letterman jacket.  I ended up putting it on and instantly I could feel other kids and parents alike staring at me as I walked by! It was strange, like I had been instantly transformed into someone special.  I could hear them talking in my head too.  Saying things like; oh that poor boy must be injured, or look at all the markings on that jacket that kid must be some kind of athlete.  As I strolled around the high school gym I also noticed something else.  It didn’t feel right, it felt fake, a sham, this wasn’t my jacket, I hadn’t earned the right to wear it, and I was a complete fraud.  The feeling I had that day stuck with me as I went into adult hood. I always remembered the feeling of shame whenever I had an opportunities to portray myself as something I wasn’t to gain acceptance and admiration. 

There’s more to this than wearing the shirt. 

As I became an adult, I applied and was accepted to a firefighter academy. After several long weeks of intense training, I had the opportunity to become a firefighter upon completion of the class. I succeeded and so started my probationary period with the department. One of the proudest moments of my life was finally being able to discard my red fire academy t- shirt for an official fire department t- shirt.  I wore the navy blue t-shirt around with confidence and pride.  I always felt when people looked at me they were thinking to themselves; “there goes a fireman “with a smile upon their faces.  I had finally arrived. I was now wearing the equivalent of that Letterman jacket from so many years ago.  The only difference was this fire department t-shirt was mine, I had earned it!  All the long academy hours, training at night and in the rain, I had earned it! It was mine to wear when I wanted, where I wanted and everyone was going to see me as someone special! Just look at the large, block letters printed on the back “FIRE DEPARTMENT”.  I mean that alone must mean I’m someone special!  

The truth; I was still a fraud, still a poser, still a fake.  You see it’s not the t-shirt or Letterman jacket you wear that makes you special. It’s what you do with the responsibility bestowed upon you the minute you wear that t-shirt.  The Letterman jacket from so many years ago was earned with dedication, honor, integrity and sheer will.  Matches were won and matches were lost, my friend had numerous injuries along with a few broken bones.  There were skirmishes that went outside the ring and friendships inside the ring that were forged for life.  He honored the sport by always giving one hundred percent and never letting himself come before his team.  The reason people admired him and the others were because they knew or at least hoped they were upholding the honors and traditions of the great wrestlers who walked the matt before them.  They did…

The fire service is no different.  I thought I was on top of the world the day I donned a fresh new navy blue t-shirt emblazoned with our departments name upon the back.   I felt I had arrived to a place of instant respect.   Like so many other young misled lads and lasses I was wrong.  You see my journey had only just begun. For the only thing I had truly earned that day was the right to purchase my uniform shirt.  I was very quickly going to learn that being a fireman was much more than wearing a cool navy blue t-shirt.

Oh sure I had passed the academy, yes I had been assigned a shift, I now had a Captain an Engineer and a firefighter to work for and alongside.  What I didn’t have, what I didn’t realize after all those years of watching others and thinking “I could do that”, was experience.  I needed to put in the time. Time to prove that I really deserved to wear a department t-shirt, time to honor those that came before me with actions not words, time to show my crew and the department that I could give one hundred percent of myself and always put the team first.  I needed to place my co-workers and my community first, ensuring that I would perform flawlessly each and every time an alarm went off.  Earning my stripes meant, staying calm during emergencies and thinking clearly, it meant not getting angry as a citizen is yelling at you for taking too long to arrive on scene of their emergency.  Keeping a straight face as a drunk driver tells you why he parked his car in the living room of someone else’s residence. Telling a patient its ok they vomited on you for the third time, then afterwards calmly letting them know it happens to you all the time.  It means holding a little kid and comforting them while CPR is being performed on mommy.  Telling that child it’s going to be ok, even though you know mommy is never coming home again. Picking up a homeless man and letting him know that you appreciate the warning he gave you in regards to him contracting AIDS. Knowing the law states he isn’t required to tell you a thing as he is bleeding all over you. Carefully picking up body parts off the freeway at 2 in the morning or unlocking a car on a 104 degree day with an infant in the backseat.  It means coming to work even though you don’t feel good or you hurt because you know someone today is going to hurt much worse than you do now. Spending holidays and birthdays, family occasions and children’s sporting events away from your family. Sometimes 48 hours turns into 96 hours and there is nothing you can do about it.  During the summer or “wildland’ season you may end up spending weeks in other parts of the state as part of the Office of Emergency Services response matrix. Its knowing and I mean knowing, that at any moment in time it could all be over!  That we dont live forever and this job at times seems to take additional seconds away from that clock.

After 17 years there are things I have done and seen that are too unbelievable to even mention.  Events more gruesome than any person should have to endure. Pictures lodged in your mind that sometimes rear their ugly head for no good reason at all. Yet there they are and before long you have transposed other people’s tragedies upon your own families’ day to day operations! I have had the misfortune of burying former colleagues, friends and family members.  I have tried my hardest to pay homage to those that have come before me and instill the simple qualities of honor, dedication, and respect into the “new ones” that arrive every couple of years. 

You can always spot the “new ones” too. I see them; they are in every city, in every firehouse, in every town across our nation.  They have “the look” it gives them away every time.  They stand tall and proud, their shirts are shiny and blue, they walk with a certain step that right away identifies them as a “young firefighter”, they’ll try telling you stories even though you haven’t asked.   They end up walking away frustrated with you if you seem indifferent.  They want your respect, they are yearning for your respect, and the problem is they have to work for that respect. They have a long way to go and many experiences to endure.  Obtaining knowledge from actual hands on work in conjunction with countless hours of training, before they even get a hint that there’s more to being a firefighter than wearing the t-shirt.

When that happens, when they have reached the tipping point of knowledge and experience, something else happens.  They calm down, their shirts aren’t quite so neatly pressed, they talk a little quieter, and they brag a little less, they understand the people they serve are not just faceless images erased with time.  It’s then and only then they obtain a different demeanor.  One of confidence mixed with a hint of exhaustion and humility.  When they go home they will stare at their duty shirt as they put it in the wash with pride.  And they will spend the rest of their careers trying to keep the “new ones” on track by passing down all the same lessons and wisdom they were exposed too.  Then and only then the shirt wont define them and it won’t seem so important after all. 

I still wear an occasional retired job shirt from time to time when I am off duty.  Usually they have been relegated to “work shirt” status because they are too destroyed to be used on duty.  But for the most part it’s only around my property.  I hardly ever wear one into town.  It’s not because I am embarrassed or ashamed of what I do, I love being a firefighter! Being a firefighter to this day is still hands down the greatest job in the world!  I don’t wear them because I have finally earned the respect I was looking for, the funny thing is, the respect I was looking for didn’t come from co-workers or the citizens in our town. It didn’t come from family members who are always interested in my job when I see them, or even the wonderful and not so wonderful people I have helped over the years. 

The respect came from me. I have respect for myself and for that there is no t-shirt.  

Sixth Grade Screw Loose…

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

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

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

Its called the Sixth Grade Screw loose!

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

Sample of our repartee

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What makes me happy

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

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

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

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

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

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

16.  Beer on sale.  Enough said…..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

A fathers rant.

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

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

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

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

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

Here we go…..

Babysitting

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

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

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

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

Teacher conferences

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

Baby-Daddy 

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

Poop-Patrol

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

Ummm I have something to tell you...

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

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

Now go sit in the timeout chair!