Reality Check

It’s April and it’s snowing.

Perfect.

A paper cut on my tongue and all will be complete. Not a big fan of Winter type weather you see. Espcially when I'm seriously needing it to be full blown Spring.

I want to take a moment to establish a bit of balance here on the ol' blog. It has struck me that I may have created a bit of an unintentional misrepresentation. Not that I take back or amend anything I’ve written, I just want to be fair. As I read back over my writing lately it all seems quite pastoral, to the point that I find myself doing or saying things in real life and then feeling the guilt saying, “Well, that doesn’t quite live up to the male Mary Poppins image you’ve created for yourself on your blog, does it?”

I love the moments I’ve recorded here. Don't get me wrong. They are the very select. But then there are moments that I haven’t recorded that can make real life resemble the Rosanne show more than a Hallmark special. I got into the car this morning to take the kids to school and my daughter says, “You ok, Dad? You seem kind of stressed.” I felt like the rest of the car was probably thinking, “So, this is what PollyAnna looks like during PMS.”

“I had a hard night,” was all I could respond.

You see, we’re having furnace trouble. And when the guy came out, he took the motor out and had to take it back to the shop because it needed a part----that they had to order, of course, and it wouldn’t be there till the next day. So we were facing a night that was forecast as being unseasonably chill, with no heater. The potential was there for things to get a little “hunting cabin after the fire dies” during the night. My wife, being diligent, began to prepare.

She washed our flannel winter PJs and got out extra blankets to have them handy. The kids are in rooms where they have these built in electric space heaters that they use all winter, so they’d all be warm enough. The final issue to consider was the little Bear. He sleeps in our room just off the foot of our bed on a little bunk that is just the size of his crib mattress. Kind of a tweener bed before we have to fork out for a full size single. It’s worked really well, but for tonight there’s the concern that it seems impossible for him to make it through a night without kicking his covers totally off from all the flopping he does. Half the time we find him partially off the side of his bed, draping nearly to the floor.

Out of concern for the Bear getting cold through the night my wife moved his little bunk into the boy’s room. That made things a little tight, but there was still a passageway and at least everyone would get a good nights sleep.

I was out while all this was going on. When I returned home, everyone was tucked away and the house was quiet. Robo told me this morning as I dropped him off that the Bear took it upon himself to keep them shushed while they were falling asleep. When one of the would talk, he told me, Bear would walk over in the dark and point at them, telling them “Shhhh! Sleeping!” Too cute.

So, as I say, when I got home, there was just the putting to bed of the grown-ups. We put on our cozy PJs and settled down under the covers. I drifted off and was quite in the thick of some deep dreamy place when this terrified scream grabbed me by my throat and yanked me back to consciousness. Even as I was pushing myself up off the pillow, I was still trying to figure out which way was up and what that freaky noise was. Before I got my senses together I could hear my wife in the other room calling out Bear’s name, trying to get to him and comfort him.

It appears that he woke up in a strange place and being disoriented and not able to find his mom, he freaked out. She held him till he calmed down and fell back to sleep, then she put him back in his bed in the boys room. She had no more than gotten herself back to bed and relaxed when he woke up and started crying out all over again.

We soon realized that he wasn’t going to have any part of being in this other room to sleep so we began a little midnight furniture move and pulled his bed back into our room. However, even though it was back in our room, he wouldn’t have any part of his own bed. Can’t really blame him, each time he lay down on it he woke up somewhere different that where he expected.

So we brought him into the bed with us. He lay down between us, but because of this nasal congestion that he’s currently suffering from, he flipped and flopped and squirmed trying to fall back asleep. In the process we were kicked in the ribs, the face, the head and various other sundry places. I knew I’d never get the sleep I needed in here, so at my wife’s recommendation, I gathered my things to go out and sleep on the couch.

My kids think it’s some kind of treat to sleep on this couch. I have no idea why. I’ve even come out and found that at some point in the night they got up and transferred themselves to the couch in the middle of the night. I brought my pillow and blankets and lay down on that thing and it’s as hard as a rock.

I finally fell asleep, fitfully dreaming about our State University football team loosing in extraordinary fashion that defied the laws of physics, and alternating with dreams about backing into luxury motor vehicles that all owned by my Ex-father in law that were lining the streets surrounding my parent’s house. When I finally awoke with the light coming in the windows over the couch, it still felt like I needed another 8 hours of sleep.

Now I faced the day with an aching body and sleep depravation. The ideal combination when preparing for a three day weekend camping trip.

Yes, you read that right. Camping. With the Scouts. All weekend.

Robo is so excited. I am so filled with dread. I know that sentiment really screws up my chances for making the Olympic Fatherhood team, but I’m just being honest. I don’t know what it is but all the activities he has in Scouting have me mentally digging in my heels. I feel like I wish that wasn’t so and that I could just go out and be super leader and help my boy get all the badges and teach him about the outdoors and all that scouting stuff. I want to be like my Dad is what that says---he was exactly that guy. But all I am is me. I’m an Eagle Scout so you can’t say that I haven’t given it a chance to grow on me.

And believe me, I’ve given him every chance to loose interest and quit. But he just won’t.

So I force myself to do this because he seems to love it so much. I do it because I want to be there to at least see him enjoying himself doing the things he seems to have been made to do. Just like I play catch with him in the side yard when it only serves to display my inhuman inability to manipulate sports equipment. I want all my kids to know that they are supported in the things they do---even if I want to crawl out of my skin while I’m doing it.

It just stresses me out. Except when they let me help with fire. For some reason I find it very relaxing to burn things.

Does that scare anyone else?

The phone call of my life!

I got the most amazing phone call in recent memory yesterday---from a three year old. I talk to my wife on the phone daily from work. Yesterday, though, the little Bear saw his mom talking and I could hear him in the background saying “More Hi? More Hi?”

He uses the word ‘more’ to communicate his desire to do something. ‘More eat’ means that he’s hungry, ‘more outside’ means that he wants to play in the yard with the other kids----and ‘more Hi’ means that he wants to talk to his dad on the phone! This is astounding for a couple of reasons. Firstly because he has never asked to talk on the phone that I’m aware of. We’ve held it up to try and get him to talk to relatives at times but the last time I remember doing that to him he just looked at the phone like he was wondering how this thing was talking to him.

Secondly, he never really wants to talk to me much when I’m at home in the flesh. He’s still in that stage where his world consists of the Mamma, and me, who is basically just ‘not the Mamma’. Kim points to herself and asks him who she is and he'll say "mommy" with pride, and sometimes even calls her by her given name. He'll call all his other siblings by name when asked who they are. When she points to me and asks, "who's this" he says "guy" with not quite as much enthusiasm. But now here he was asking to talk to me.

My wife held up the phone for him to talk and he says ‘hi daddy’. Hi Daddy! Are you kidding me! My head exploded.

And then we started actually having a sort of conversation. Now, even though he’s three, he is a little behind developmentally. We found a picture of Lemur at three, taken the very day that Bear was born, and it’s amazing to think of them being the same age at that point. They were both at opposite ends of the developmental bell curve--Lemur being more advanced than the typical kid his age. So conversations with Bear usually go like this right now: He says something, I respond, he either repeats the thing he just said or totally changes the subject.

That is unless he’s involved in some sort of a spontaneous game with us where he’s teasing us. Like when we’re trying to get him to sleep or something and he doesn’t want to go there, sometimes he looks up and growls. We'll say, “No, no tigers now.” Then he’ll pick another animal sound, like squeaking like a mouse. We’ll say, “No, no mousies.” Then he just keeps going down through all his animal sounds, repeating when he reaches the end. That's about as good as it get with him right now.

But today he was asking me questions. And I would ask him something and he would give me an appropriate, albeit one word, answer. And when I would chuckle at how cute this was, that would just crack him up and he would giggle with glee. Then my wife told him to say good-bye, and he did, and she said to tell me that he loved me, and he did! He’s just learning, or just becoming willing, to say “I love you” and he granted me one of his precious few. And then, he gave me a smooch good-bye! My wife got back on the phone and said, “Did you hear what he did? He gave you a kiss goodbye. I’m so jealous, he’s been very stingy with those lately.”

That was one cool phone call.

Remember not to Forget

Sometimes life gets to moving so fast. I've got to remember the things that happen in these busy times. Precious fleeting moments that are so easily lost. I've got remember:

Picking up donated food with Robo on an all city food drive the Scouts sponsored when he looked over filled with pride and said, "I really like helping people dad. This is cool."

The all city music concert that Robo looked forward to all week because it was his first public performance with the orchestra. They only played for a total of 10 minutes but he was over at his buddies house and they were working together to try and get their cello parts down. Quite a change from the usual mud sliding, dirt biking, running around dripping in sweat that they usually do.

That after the concert I ran into the new pastor and his wife and family and ended up going to get ice cream with them. That we shut down the place because we were talking like we've been friends for years and then went into the parking lot and talked some more while our kids ran around together playing tag under the streetlights on what felt like an early summer night.

That Robo cried himself to sleep later that week because he felt like the boys he was playing a game with after Wed night church service were picking on him. In their enthusiasm they had ganged up on him and he felt very overwhelmed. It wasn't a sobbing cry, just large tears that wouldn't be denied rolling down a very brave face. That he seemed very embarrassed by his emotional state and wanted to be alone, so asked if I would leave the room instead of our usual tucking-in. That later he came wandering into the living room, blinking against the light of the T.V., needing a hug he couldn't ask for. That I held him and asked if would like to be tucked in now. He said yes this time and I lay beside him on his bed in the dark while he drifted off.

That the next day we had an excellent talk and decided that the other boys had been his friends for sometime and they probably didn't mean to hurt his feelings----but that it was also important to remember the feeling and make sure that he looks out for other kids that might get into the same situation. That it's important to stick up for the little guy.

That Robo finally finished his knife safety course with the Scouts that we required him to complete before he could receive the pocket knife that his Grandparents got him for Christmas. That Grandma and Grandpa brought it over and even though it was just a mini Swiss army knife with a tiny blade, a nail file and pair of scissors, to him it might as well have been Excalibur.

That I went to the high school early orientation with my daughter and was reminded again what an exceptional student she has become. We looked as the schedule and the accelerated course she was capable of entering. That she'll be taking college courses at the same time she's finishing her advanced high school courses in Maths, Sciences, and English. That my wife and I lay in bed at night and try to comes to grips with what an amazing young woman lives in the house with us. That even though she is so gifted, she still blends well with kids that struggle just to pass their classes. That she seems just at home with them exchanging Buffy and Napoleon quotes as she does doing advanced Math homework where all the numbers have been replaced by letters.

That Kitten wrote this amazing story for her English extra credit and I pressed her to try and find out how much was her original writing and what might be a re-wording of the author that they were assigned to write in the style of---because it just seemed so much better than a 14 year old should be able to write. That the English teacher had her read it for the whole class and several of her classmates want copies of it. That I sat on the edge of her bed discussing college level concepts of story structure and character development where there were areas that could be strengthened a little. That she is going back and re-writing it because she wants to apply what we've talked about to make it better, even though the assignment is over.

That I woke up on a Saturday morning, way to early, to take my daughter bird watching with a group from the local college so she could get extra credit in science. We walked around this nature area in a morning far too cold for April and were guided by this Slavic man (he sounded that way from his accent) who was very birdlike himself. He was so distracted by everything that took flight around us that he could hardly complete his sentences.

That the Lemur has been telling me for weeks that his bike was broken when the only problem was that the training wheels had been removed. That I ran back and forth for 30 minutes beside him on his bike with no training wheels trying to teach him how to ride big boy style. That in the end he decided that he still really wanted to have the training wheels put back on.

That Kitten's friend from down that block that used to practically live at our house, and who has told us that she likes it better at our house because things are kind of tough for her at home, was given partial charge over the kitchen last night on the venture into making deli style Ruben sandwiches. She has often helped around our house, and tonight she stepped it up and helped us pioneer with skill and pride.

That the little Bear walks around the house singing Day-O (the banana boat song) at the top of his lungs, but when I try to get him to do it for he grandparents everything else becomes so much more exciting.

That this weekend we married off my sister in law at the courthouse, and how she was almost reduced to tears when we showed up to find that the judge that does the marrying was in St. Louis. How then a nice judge that was working a court case in a neighboring courtroom put that case on hold to come over and officiate the wedding so that a young woman wouldn't have her special day ripped to shreds. And that in a stellar display of class began the ceremony by saying "I have four lawyers waiting in the other room, but this is more important". That this gave me faith that kindness can be found in more places than you would sometimes think.

That I made the plunge, and while still hoping I haven't made a mistake, am on deck to write and co-direct a summer show for the local community player with my wife, and that we're tentatively set up for the fall show as well. That some of the core people were so glad to have us back that one of them interjected as we were walking to our cars "I'm so excited, I don't think I'm going to be able to get to sleep tonight". That right now I'm hoping I don't disappoint, that I'm also hoping that my kids aren't cheated out of time with me for the time I'm giving the plays, and that I'm able to work with my wife in such a way that I support her as she strives to express herself through this medium after such a lengthy time away.

God is good. Life is good. We are so blessed. That is the most important thing for me to remember not to ever forget.

Illustration Friday---ReInvent

for IllustrationFriday.com
Originally uploaded by CyberJazzDaddy.

I've been a fan of Illustration Friday ever since I discovered it a few weeks ago. It's amazing the diversity that can come out of one little topic word. The link bar to all the artists is the best picture book I've ever seen.

Now I'm being bold. I've decided to take a leap myself and do something I have done for probably 20 years---draw for fun. It's rough at the moment, but I did feel a little of the joy of getting lost in the creation of something on paper that I haven't felt in a while. You'll have to forgive me, I didn't want to let the mood pass so I grabbed the nearest thing I could find to begin drawing, which in this case was a piece of notebook paper. I know it's not Rembrant. Heck, it's not even Schultz. But it's a start.

In this case the theme is ReInvent. And I'm ReInventing----Me.

The Morning After

Rocking with TFK in 2004.
This is what our concert crowd looks like.
(l-r) Kitten, friend Lindz, friend Kels, Robo

Surprisingly, I am doing much better this morning that I thought I would be. But I must confess that I don't think the PTA will be putting my picture up as model dad anytime soon. I took my kids to a rock concert on a school night, I kept them up till midnight--on a school night, and I had my wife call into school so they could sleep in to recover from being up late at a rock concert on a school night! I remember my parents shaking their heads at people that did things like this when I was a kid----and their very son grows up to be one.

But dude, it re-healy Rocked!

All that aside, I must say in my defense that this was a little bit different that just simply going to a rock concert. Oh, it was loud, don't doubt that. And it was packed with people jumping up and down and screaming and lights and it was rockin'---but all the bands that we go see can be classified as Christian bands. This distinction is important because we have a great time together at these things, but it's also an investment in my kids.

It works like this. When you go to these concerts, they have music that can go toe to toe with anything on the radio (some of their songs are even on the mainstream radio), but at these concerts I'm not worried about exposing my kids to any of the associated nastiness that typically accompanies rock and roll. But it goes beyond just cleaning up the scene. The bands are consistently singing about being positive, respecting yourself, reaching out to the people around you, having a hope and a purpose. They still sing about the teen angst things like relationships and fitting in, but through that different lens.

But even with mainstream music is more benign, I try to maintain a balance. I try to keep my kids from getting overly exposed to music (or TV or movies) that places a too much emphasis on things like falling in love and romance, even if there is no mention of any physical expression of these emotions. I wouldn't classify these subjects as detrimental by themselves, I just feel like over saturation in them can create a heightened expectation as to what should receive the most priority in their thoughts and days as they are growing up. We talk a lot about how emotions will be crazy enough over the next few years without that added pressure. I feel like the bands we enjoy give them a broader perspective as to how to approach life (and what makes up life for that matter).

So when I take them to these concerts we are enjoying something together which we enjoy, but I'm also giving them a gift of a sub-culture dressed up in a way that they find attractive, that at the same time is affirming for them. These concerts then, together with lots of other things my wife and I do with the kids, are as much an effort to build a framework on which all other successes can be built as anything else. I guess when I think about it like that, the time away from school is as well spent as a trip to a historic landmark.

Anyway, it went down like this:

I left work at about 3:00 so I could be home in time to pack everyone up and get on the road by 4. Only a couple of friends were with us this time; one friend of my daughter, one friend of my son. I did have a couple of extra tickets that I sold to the older teen girl next door and her friend---they had been planning to go but hadn't pre-purchased their tickets. I saved them $5 off the door prices, so they were quite pleased. She's older though, so they were driving themselves in.

We loaded up in the Roller-Skate (my Kia Rio) and drove off, then got two blocks and turned around and came back to the house. This happens every time. My daughter said it really isn't a concert unless Dad almost forgets the tickets at home. Why do I do that? Well, funny thing is, this time I didn't leave them at home---I just thought I did. They were just right there in the car. Oy.

We got off again with a quick side trip to Wal-Mart to pick up earplugs. I like to equip the kids I take to these concerts with earplugs in case the sound level starts to cause pain. They scoff at the beginning but about half of them end up wearing the things by the end of the night.

I've been made a little sensitive to hearing concerns since my Dad works in a plant where one of his duties is noise levels and hearing protection. He has this little instrument to measure the sound that he then cross references with a hearing health chart. He upset my mom when he threatened to take the glass-pack sport muffler off her Miata when he measured it and said that prolonged exposure to that sound could cause hearing damage. He must not have gotten very far though, because the muffler is still on there.

I also covered my 'No Blood' concert policy. Attendees under my charge are not allowed to engaged in concert activity that may result in bloodletting. These includes but is not limited to the following (parenthetical explanations provided for the uninitiated):

1. No Moshing (jumping so as to slam your body as hard as you can into those around you in a small confined area).

2. No Stage diving (getting up onto the edge of the stage and jumping off like diving into water, hoping the spectators will catch you).

3. No crowd surfing (I like to describe it as the Great Grope Along---this usually occurs following a stage dive where the audience then passes you around above their heads. I have witnessed where if your surf goes long enough, the crowd loses interest in you and down you go---most times head first).

Then, now that I have ruined every ones plans for fun, we progress on to the venue. We stop off at a Burger King for a quick bite before the show, and by now it is pouring rain. For the gang, this only increases the charge in the festivities as now they can fail all attempts to stay dry between the car and the restaurant. I want to just eat and get out, but we are delayed by the boys sudden uncanny ability to win food in these little fund raising games that say "free food if you can catch the coin you deposit". Of course I'm always telling them no one wins at these things--only to be proven wrong. Even this guys who offers to show them how to cheat the games can't actually show them the cheat because he inadvertently wins legit.

When we finally make it to the show, it's loud and hot and dark. Everything that makes it perfect. I took a minute to check out the gear back at sound and light control. I'm a geek, it's what I do. I counted 2 iPods, and 3 out of 4 laptops being used to run the show were Apple (12" Powerbook, 17" Powerbook, 14" iBook). I liked those odds.

I did end up out lasting the gang though. The teens went upstairs into a coffee shop the place has looking over the auditorium after the first two bands. You can't hear much through the floor to ceiling windows, but you have a nice view. They just stayed up there and talked for most of the rest of the night.

The two younger boys moved out to lobby where they found new vending machines. Yes, the Snack Effect had taken place again. I had to tell them to stop buying food or I think they would have eaten all night. And two sick boys throwing up in the back of my car on the way home is the last thing I needed. At one point they went out to the curb to wave traffic toward the curb so they could get splashed from the massive puddles in the street.

I was in the hall jammin' to the bitter end and loving any minute of it.

When the concert was over I did my standard scan of the mosh pit floor for change that falls out of people pockets when they are jumping up and down during the concert. I take that home and put it in the change jar we have where we save coins all year long to use at Christmas to buy presents for low income kids. Then we were ready for the hour drive home.

When we were almost home, Robo's friend asks me what time it was because he told his folks that he would probably be home around 9:30. I look at the clock. It's quarter to Midnight. His folks are going to freak. I called them today, though, and they were wise enough to figure that with the drive and the number of bands, he was probably underestimating.

It was a good time had by all, and today they were asking when the next concert is. There is one in May, but we'll have to see whether we're up for that one or not.

The Lemur

What's Breakfast like at your house?

So, the friend boycott didn't even last 24 hours. The very next afternoon there he was asking if he could go over and get the little curly heady blond haired kid to play with. I said yes, but for now, he would have to play in our yard (so I could keep track of things and keeping any situations from getting explosive again). We're kind of the block hang out a lot of the time, so it's nothing for kids to come down to our place.

I don't want to give the impression that Lemur is a bad kid, because he's not. He's just our little challenge. He has been blessed with that most volital combination of intelligence, inspiration, and spontaniaty. Some day he will gift this world with something wonderful, I have no doubt. It's just my job right now to be sure that he doesn't get killed before he reaches that point.

Sometimes I get this picture that God looked down and said "there are a couple of parents that are doing so well with the two kids they have now, so I have a special assignment that I feel they would be capable of handling. It'll be a little more difficult than what they've been used to, but I think they're up to it." Other times I picture it like "Ok smart guy, you're just thinking that you are just 'all that' with your parenting skills. I think it's time to for a little humbling---here ya go." I've stopped giving parenting advice since Lemur came into his own. I've learned that two, three or even four kids don't give me enough expertice to speak to everyone's situation.

But I love him so much that the prividlige of being his dad is worth every minute of it.


It was 50s day last week.
He can't just wear the costume,
he has to BE the costume.

On Friday night, while all the kids were out playing in the yard and I was in the house doing Mr. Mom duty again, the boy from our carpool knocked at our door. He told me that he thought that I might want to know that the Lemur was in the street playing with the traffic. All I could think was, "Ah yes. . . of course he is."

Actually that's not true, I lept up and burst out of the door, snatched him up and brought him inside. Seems that there was a party at a neighbor's house that had the curbs on both sides of the street lined with parked cars. That meant that any car driving down the street had to go very slowly between the cars to get through. Apparently a car had stopped briefly and Lemur had run out behind it and pretended to push it as it took off slowly. He saw the car, had an inspiration and his spontaneity took off with him.

Now, I’m not a person who is opposed to spanking, but I hold myself to several standards when I come to that point:

1. Use it only as a last resort. I don’t spank for mistakes or childishness. I use spanking mainly when curbing rebelliousness. And even then, it’s not my first course of action. If they know the rule and choose to ignore it, that can lead to spanking. I give lots of warnings, some might think too many. But my thought is, if the threat of a spanking is just a good as a spanking, why not use that. However, sometimes you have to carry through or the threat stops having teeth.

2. Don’t give spankings in anger. I’m no 100% perfect but I try to come as close to that as possible. My aim is to make sure that the kids know that this isn’t my lashing out at them, but a promised judicial type of punishment that could have been avoided if they had chosen more wisely in their behavior. Of course I put in simpler terms for them. “What did you do?” “And what had we decided would happen if you did that?” “Ok, well then, let’s get this over with.”

3. That the spank is not harsh. It’s done to deliver discomfort, not injury.

4. That afterwards I hold them while they cry. Then we talk together to decide how best we could work to prevent a spanking from being necessary in the future. I sit down and look them right in the eye, and I think they believe me when I explain that this is a part of the dad job that I hate. I’d as much like to avoid this as they would, but if I did, I’d be letting them down as their father. When I explain why the spank was necessary, I’ve been know to tear up----for real too, not just for effect. I don’t mean to, but I’m getting soft in my old age----but Good Night, that was a little pillar of my soul out there playing in traffic. I think they understand.

But every kids reaches that age where spanking just doesn’t work anymore. You know you reached that point when, after the spanking, you try to be cool while holding your throbbing hand, and the kid looks back and you can see the “is that all?” just behind their eyes but they know that showing any sign of thinking that will only bring more. I’m not one to increase the ferocity of a spanking just to elicit the same response, so I’m thankful that this moment typically coincides with the moment when psychological punishments become more effective than physical ones.

And such was the case here. I discoverd a punishment that pierces him to his core and I thought that might be most effective in this situation. I advised him that his evening of play was now over and he would now take a bath and go to bed.

Oh the Horror! The writhing and the begging and the screaming. The face contorted in anguish. What kind of monster was I! It was only 7:30 and the sun was still up! Seems that there is nothing so cataclysmic as sitting in bed in a room as darkened as it can be with the sun still seeping in through the edges of the shades, listening to all the fun happening outside. Fun that you are being kept out of and it’s the best fun that will ever happen ever and you’re missing it.

So I got him in the bath and in bed, kissed him goodnight and left him to cry into his pillow.

Later when I passed by his room and I could hear him humming strains of some song from the musical Cats. I cracked the door to check on him and he looked up at me from the dusky light, with an unsure look of not knowing if he was in trouble again.

He had gotten a box decorated in green foil down from the bookshelf beside his bed. This was the box from a school project that he done with his mother. The project was to collect 100 of something to commemorate the 100th day of school (so that the kids would have a visual understanding of how much 100 was). His mom came up with the idea of finding, cutting out from magazines, and collecting 100 smiles. Which is what they did.

He had taken out the smiles and lined up all 100 of them on his bed. In the past he has gotten further into trouble by being sent to his room to sit in time out and later being discovered with a toy help him serve out his sentance less painfully. I could tell he was concerned if he was in trouble for that again.

I answered the question on his face by sitting down beside him on his bed, being careful not to disturb the ranks he had assembled.

“What are you doing bud?”

“These are my 100 smiles from school.”

“I see that.”

“100 sure is a lot.”

“That’s true.”

And then we talked about what I’ve written here. That he has a wonderful potential to be amazing someday. And that he is amazing today. And that if anything ever happened to him it would devastate so many people beyond my ability to describe. He doesn’t often listen to me babble very closely, but this time he seemed to. I hope he did. To learn. And to have no question every how important he is to this family.

He put away his faces and the next time I checked on him he was sleeping.

The next morning was Sunday, and as the kids emerged I let them know that we needed to be extra quite getting ready for Church, because mom had a migraine and wasn’t feeling well. Lemur is a late sleeper and so only heard about it through the grapevine when he finally woke. As I emerged from my shower, I discovered he had taken it upon himself to make his mom breakfast in bed. Peanut butter toast and orange juice on the breakfast-in-bed tray. And it was ok, he advised me, he had only dropped the toast once and it landed peanut butter side up.

It was a new day.


Watching TV on the human tree called Dad.

Another Concert on Monday!

We've seen these two seperately before--they are our favorites (well, for the kids and me---the mom is not quite as enthusiastic). Now they will be on the same stage on the same night! We've been looking forward to this for a while. They'll be preforming at a converted old movie theater building called The Rock.

Pillar

and

Thousand Foot Krutch

(iTunes linked--check 'em out)

(Click here for the tour eCard)

We are so ready.

Doing the Dad thing

Wow, this week has been kind of a slow posting week over here at ol’ cyberjazzdaddy. That would be because it’s been a fast moving week everywhere else. You see, I’ve been playing Mr. Mom this week in the evenings. My wife had an opportunity to help out a very desperate community players group, and she took it. She has been wanting to get back into the theater world and they had one of their backstage people bail on them. So she’s filling in and going to evening rehearsals from 6 to 10:30. That means that it’s all dad at the end of the day.

This week I’ve cleaned up, picked up kids from activities, baby sat the twin nieces, given baths, emptied and refilled the bathwater after the Bear sneezed the biggest wad of mucous into the water that I’ve even seen (!), convinced a naked dripping Lemur to get back into the tub assuring him that all the mucous was gone down the drain, done playroom and bedroom pick up supervision, got boys to bed, apologized and explained why it got to late to do our bedtime book reading, supervised teen online chat, talked to the daughter about day, sent her off to bed after her shower, and then turned out all lights in the house and turned on the ocean sounds CD to rock the littlest guy to sleep. Then I put him in bed, and then put him back in bed about 3 more times because he kept wandering out into the still dark house.

I also had to do the “parent of kid in a fight talking to other parent of other kid in a fight” thing last night. When I got home about 6:00, Lemur was watching the two teen boys across the street play driveway basketball while sitting next to the new little blond curly headed boy from down the block. It looked so peaceful in the first sunset we’ve seen this week (all the other have been blocked by rain clouds). He saw me pull up and ran across the street to our driveway, leaping onto me, and holding on with is arms and legs wrapped around my torso. After the greeting he went back over to join the group again with that "I'm just a big kid hanging with the guys" thing in his step.

I went inside and prepared a late dinner from what was left on the table from the evening meal. A short time later, while I’m eating, Lemur storms into the house. He plops down on the couch beside me and brews for a second, his face getting red. Then explodes, all tears and spittle;

“I’M NEVER GOING TO PLAY WITH HIM EVER AGAIN!!!”

Oh, man. “What happened buddy?”

“HE HIT ME IN THE FACE SO I HIT HIM IN THE EYE AND I’M NEVER GOING TO PLAY WITH HIM EVER AGAIN!”

“Ok dude, I’m right here. You can take it down a couple of notches. You’re kinda blowing my head off.”

After I calmed him down a little, and was trying to get out the door to take Robo to Boy Scouts, I see the neighbor mom coming down the sidewalk, little blond curly haired kid in tow ---and he was still holding his eye.

Believe me, I knew before I even saw that injured little dude that this wouldn't have been a equally matched confrontation. Lemur didn’t even have red mark on his face, but I know from experience that when Lemur lands a punch, it has some power behind it. I had been battered several times while teaching the Lemur to have some control when we’re fun wrestling on the living room floor. He’s a skinny little kid but he’s got a flash temper, and if you cross him badly, the fury can sometimes take over. We’ve been working on that.

But I totally wasn’t looking forward to meeting the other side on our front sidewalk. What was I going to say? What would she want from me? I was sorry, and of course I would apologize (even if it was the other little guy that started it supposedly), but what more could I do? So I got my little boy by his wrist and walked out onto the porch to face this new aspect of parenting.
As it turned out, I sort of ran with the conversation, talking mostly to the two boys, first seeing if I could get a consistent story about what happened, and then making sure there was an apology. The other little boy’s mom was very gracious and made sure her son apologized too. Lemur was so overwhelmed with his sense of injustice I thought he might explode. Every thing he started to say began as a shout and I’d need to stop him and get him to bring it down to a respectful level.

I don't want to create the impression that Lemur is a troublemaker, he's not. He's funny, and smart, and passionate, and so much fun to have around. He's just the first one of our kids that seems to be a little battle prone. This is new territory for me.

The other little boy told a story that was similar but in reverse order for who threw the first punch. I never expected that it would be any different. When there’s an altercation like this, your not going to get anyone to admit blame. While the little blond boy told his side, all Lemur could do was stand there and mumble “yeah, right”---but he mumbled it low enough that it wasn’t an actually interruption because he knows that I insist on the other person having a chance to give an explanation without attack.

In the end I apologized to the Mom, who smiled back and said “Well, you know, boys will be boys” with a shrug. They’ve only lived down the block in a rental home for several months, and I don’t want this to hurt the harmony on our block. They seem understanding enough that I don’t think things like this will cause a major problem. Hopefully the two boys will be able to bury the hatchet and be friends again---probably before the weekend is out. Time seems to heal all wounds when you’re that age.

After all this excitement is a memory and the house is finally quite, my poor wife comes home, around 10:30, all jazzed after her time out doing the theater thing. She’s helping them by working the lights, and helping with props and I guess doing a little greeting as well. This community theater group is struggling back onto it’s feet after several years of inactivity and most of the members are new and not that experienced in theater, which makes my wife’s involvement, with her degree in theater, very coveted.

I say “my poor wife” because she has been coming home all week wanting some conversation from me. After all, she hasn’t seen me since she kissed me goodbye in the morning. Yet even though I love talking to her, I just want to go to bed. Six am comes early in the morning for me, especially when I’m looking forward to getting less than 8 hours of sleep to begin with. So I’ve been falling asleep while she’s sitting there not able to sleep, staring into the darkness.

In the end, though, it’s all been a grand adventure and I wouldn't trade it.

Can we please just stop the madness. . .

Is it just me or does the Jesus doll here look like a jaundiced Val Kilmer.

Update: I hadn’t thought of it till Shelly commented on this post, but haven’t these toymakers ever seen where 12” toy figurine dolls like this end up? Naked and partially dismembered on the bottom of the toy box! It’s been a while since my daughter has played with Barbies but it all came flooding back to me. The only male doll my daughter ever owned was Aladdin from the Disney movie. When one day I found him au naturel in the Barbie case with his little nudist harem I just wanted to smack that little smirk right off of his little plastic head! I think Walt would back me on that.

I know these toymakers have noble intentions, but they just haven’t thought this through. They need to picture the defiling of the sanctity of the playrooms of this nation’s children when disrobed paraplegic holy men are found rolling around with Mattel’s disproportionate icons of eating disorder. They will be the autors of this atrocity, and I'm sure they would shudder at the thought.

Someone get these guys to go back to teddy bears, please.

My mini

Guess what showed up today (well, yesterday actually)?

Here’s how it played out:

I came home last night to the normal chorus of “Daddy’s Home” after walking in the door. Glad to see everyone, and everyone glad to see me (I love that about coming home). Hugs and kisses all around---the Lemur leaping off the back of the couch onto my back. And just like normal I’m hearing everyone’s day as I walk over to the dining room table where the mail gets placed. Its kind of a mess because the kids also put their notices from school there as well as artwork and graded assignments that we need to see. So stuff gets kind of buried and I have to fish through it to be sure no bills get lost or overlooked.

As I’m assembling the days mail, I spy it. Just a corner of a box sticking out from underneath the Schoolastic book order forms. I give a little squawk and snatch it up, suddenly oblivious of what’s being said around me. With my outburst everyone falls silent trying to figure out what’s up with dad. As I’m peering at the tiny print of the return address just to be sure this is what I think it is, Robo asks,

“Dad? Is that. . .?”

I look up at him knowingly and smile a sly smile, “It is.”

The room explodes. Robo starts running towards the basement stairs to get his sister screaming, “DAD’S IPOD IS HERE. DAD’S IPOD IS HERE!”

Lemur realizes what is happening and so, not to be outdone by his brother, runs after him, screaming the same. Little Bear doesn’t have any idea what everyone is going off about, but he knows that it’s very exciting, so he gets excited too and goes running after them. All around the house this little iPod parade goes running, announcing to the world the wonderful little addition to our family and demanding that Kitten come up from her room because dad won’t open it until the whole family is there. My wife looks on chuckling in astonished amusement at the hubbub that this little box has created.

Finally we are all assembled and the wife has grabbed the camera. It may seem kind of silly but I have always assembled the kids around for the opening of any Apple product that I’ve gotten. You have to understand that it is kind of an event. Not only don’t we get cool electronics into our house very often, but Apple builds such a wonderful sense of presentation into their packaging that it just makes it so fun. For almost every other piece of electronics that we have every purchased, the packaging seems to have been viewed more as armor by the manufacturer. Once you got down to opening the box, from the largest to the smallest piece of gadget, no matter, it was always a wrestling match to get whatever it was out into the world.

But not so with Apple. Everything has an aesthetic. Everything. Even when they have to use Styrofoam for packing, it’s sleek with rounded edges and holes where you want them so the packing can be removed like a serving bell from over a gourmet meal . It’s is more like opening jewelry than a computer. No undignified wrestling with plastic theft-proofing or crazy twist ties.

With a gentle cut of the seam tape the iPod box slides out this way, then slides out that way, each step having a little message or logo. Until finally it opens, the iPod there in the center, displayed like a diamond ring. Even the instructions don’t just slide out as a mass of paper into your hand. The are encased in their own little shuttle that slides out and unfolds from the four sides to present you with your documentation, a CD and some Apple stickers as though it were an award.

It’s at this point that I get a little nervous though, because with all the excitement and jockeying for position to get a look at the new thing, there is an ever increasing risk that it will get knocked to the floor. So now I have to stand up and establish the “look, don’t touch, hands at your side” regimen.

Later, after putting everyone to bed, my kind, patient wife let me disappear into my new toy without even a word---and she only sighed the “can this be over now” sigh a couple of times. We were still sitting at the table together, she was reading a book, I was surrounded by gizmos. I was madly making playlists and dragging songs over to try and fill up my 6 gigs manually, being sure to keep the Christmas music off (not that I have anything against Christmas music, just, you know, at Christmas---not in April).

Today I listened to it on the way to work through the FM transmitter that I have had for a while and it’s wonderful. I’ve got to tell you, I’ve been looking toward having an iPod in my life for years (since they first came out and I was watching on the product announcement web simulcast, to be exact). And even after all that, it’s living up to all my expectations.

Every guy has to have a little hobby obsession---I think it’s just in the wiring. I’m glad mine’s Apple. They just do things so goooood.

Daughter

My daughter has a new blog. *sniff* I'm so proud. Go check it out!

P.S. please don't forget to leave comments. She loves that. :-)

New Friend

I made a new online friend just a bit ago. We both had been doing the free, limited participation thing on Chatfinder but hadn't run into each other. Then one day I have this message. It's one of the few prepackaged messages that Chatfinder allows the free members to send---it simply said "contact me sometime". Problem was, as a free member, I couldn't see her contact info. I'd have to pay for that. Hmmmmm.

I've confessed to her through email that "I was a bit baffled at first. Why would this interesting person, female no less, want to talk to me? Out of all the zillions of other people, mostly guys, on that service?

The back ground there is that I never get picked out of the crowd. I wasn't ever the one that was asked to dance. Always picked last for teams. That sounds like a sad thing, but I actually am very ok with it most of the time. It provides a very comfortable anonymity---almost an invisibility. I like to people watch, and when there is nothing particularly striking about you, you can just blend in and watch to your heart's content. It can actually be a tremendous asset. And I recognize it as that.

However, the consequence of that is that it can be almost startling when some on does take notice. And my first reaction is always to doubt and rationalize---it was a mistake, this particular appeal was sent to many others or maybe everyone, or maybe they're selling something. But I've been trying to be a little more daring---so I took the chance. I'm glad I did."

She says she doesn't know why she sent that message. It's the only one she sent, but she felt like we would have things to talk about from reading my profile. And as it turns out, she was right. It's been great having my first "pen pal" right in the thick of my adulthood.

At any rate, through writing her I've been talking up the whole blog concept and she decided to take the plunge! And even though it's only a couple days old, it's got some good reading on it.

So I invite you to check it out at The Enchanted Eye.

#1 of 5 on the 5th in 2005

This is that little meme thing I've been doing---Posting 5 photos from life on the 5th of every month in 2005. I realize I'm a little late, but it still counts. My mornings don't vary much, so it was the same on Tuesday.

This is the morning carpool gang. Little car--full load. And that big black thing in the back is my son's cello. Near to far in the back seat: that's Robo (he's the cellist), next is my daughter Kitten. The other two are neighborhood friends we bring along.

Sidenote: did you know that cello is spelled without a "ch"---obviously, I suppose. You just read it. But I had to look it up. Don't you just love the English language? Where rules mean nothing and phonetic correlation is optional.

#2 of 5 Destination Teen

First we drop the older kids at the Middle School. This is a pretty new building---only 3 years old in a newly developed part of town (it was previously a cornfield). It's cool but the roads around it don't accommodate the before and after school traffic very well. But we manage.

#3 of 5 At the Grade School

Next to drop off my boy at his school. That's his cello on his back.

#4 of 5 Off to work we go

And finally I arrive at work after a 45 to 60 min commute. I really love my current job---and that's why you won't hear me talk about it much on my blog. Don't want to jeopardize anything foolishly. I don't want to much mention who I work for, but I'll give you a hint (iTunes link--if you don't have it, get it! Dude, it rocks--and it's free!).

#5 of 5 At my desk

This is my little corner of the universe 9 to 7ish. I know, it kinda looks like a dorm room---but I'm ok with that. You can see the little toys, R2-D2 and little skeleton pirate, by the family photos. Those were things that made they're way into my pocket when I had to take them off my kids right before I left in the morning. Then when I got to work, I'm like "Oh, well hello. Forgot you were in there. Guess you'll live here now."

Geek. Dork. Dad. Yes, I am all these.

Concert Update

The concert I mentioned we were going to on Saturday night was good and we had a good time. I did have a brush with what I call the childhood food/entertainment paradox though. The foundation of this paradox is laid when you are at home and have to sit down and eat a meal, yet the entertainment possibilities in the lives of your young people at that time (video games, T.V., friends outside) will call to them so relentlessly that it will be almost impossible to get them to sit still long enough to get nourishment into their bodies.

I’ve seen it happen at school, too, when I’ve gone to have lunch with them in their cafeteria. The prevailing philosophy there is, the more time I spend in here eating, the less time I have out on the playground trying to escape the wrath of the all-seeing, fun-hating, playground monitors. Because the whistling and getting pointed at and standing up against the wall just can’t get started soon enough.

But then if you put these very same little people in settings where the entertainment is supposed to be the main focus (concert, carnival, theater, zoo, whatever)---oh, well then it’s ALL about food. All the other stuff at the event is just window dressing for the snack bar.

And even if it’s the exact same food as you could have at home, it always seems to taste better if you’ve driven for hours and hours and made a payment the size of a home mortgage payment for an event you are currently avoiding.

I tell you what; my saving grace is that they have always at least eaten everything that they I've bought for them at these places. I’d weigh 8000 lbs if they didn’t, because I’m not about to fill any local dump with $15 hotdogs and $27 nachos that I’ve paid for.

But Sanctus Real was great---what I got to hear of them. That’s the other thing. Until a certain age they will invariably need to be taken home just as the thing you came to see, or have been waiting all day for, is happening. It typically occurs with either needing to fall asleep but can’t at current said event so become unbearably cranky, or throwing up, or both. This time it was just the sleep thing. Thank you God. As you see I’m not complaining. Given the options, even though I missed half the concert, I’m still counting my blessings.

Total Blogger Makeover

Ok, maybe nothing so dramatic as that---I just picked a new template from the blogger template stash. Why the change, you ask?

My Blog disappeared!!!

Dunno what was going on. I put in my URL. The browser says "done" and it's a white complete nothing. I refresh. Still nothing. I go into my dashboard and launch from there. Nada. I start pulling my hair out. . .

I did look at the blogger news areas to see if there was anything going on that they had to report. That was void of info on my problem. I tried surfing other random blogger blogs and they were coming up (by the way, you know that David Duchovney--formerly from the X-files has a blog---very cool). But still nothing for me. I'm freaking out---Where's My Blog! I was surprised how possessive/attached to these things you can get.

So what is the first action when having a computer problem---REBOOT!

So I grabbed another template and republished, and it seems to have done the trick. It seems that the sidebar my be a little easier to edit, so I may try that a little later now. It is something I've been meaning to get around to doing. So we'll see what happens.

Concert Tomorrow

I'm going to take the boys to see

Sanctus Real

on Saturday.

Should be good. I'm ready to rock my face off.

Ok, ya got me.

I hate this day. April fools day. I'm such an easy target. And the thing is, I can tell it's coming. I feel the shift in attitude, the masked anticipation, the feeling that something just isn't quite right. But then I can never identify what it is before it clobbers me. Then I'm all, "oh, yeah, I should have guessed that was it".

This morning my daughter came into the bathroom while I was brushing my teeth to give me a nickel. A nickel? Why the heck are you giving me a nickel? Well, that would be because it's a fake nickel filled with water and it'll squirt you in the eye which will cause much giggling in both this room and the next (where the rest of the kids were waiting to hear if she was successful).

Bill, the neighbor boy in our carpool to the middle school, loves this holiday. He was armed to the hilt. It was his trick nickel in fact. He had pockets filled with stinkbombs too. That caused me concern. I wouldn't be such a good sport if one of those went off in my house or my car. But he assured me they wouldn't. And I wasn't accepting any candy from him today either.

But it was funny watching him this morning. All morning he'd flinch every time anyone came near him. And he moved through the room and through doors like something was going to get him at any minute. He knew what he might do, and he wasn't about to let it happen to him. He was so nervous, it was hilarious----like in the episode of MASH where they are going to play a joke on Hawkeye, but the joke is that there is no joke so just he goes crazy with anticipation.

I also fell for these online jokes too (Dang it):

Jobs to head Ikea, even monkeys wouldn't use Macs, and other gems
(I just read the first article in disbelief before someone pointed me to the original Register article. It's a little more obvious there.)

Tiger Woods signs long-term deal with Apple Computer as Mac OS X 'Tiger' spokesperson

I've only once ever executed a really good April Fools joke. That's not including the quarter I offered to Bill this morning. He jumped and flinched and wouldn't take it because he wouldn't believe me that it was a real quarter. It was. I had just reached in and took it out of my pocket from change I had gotten yesterday.

But one year when my daughter was 6 or 7 I woke her up for school on April 1st and told her to get dressed and come out for breakfast. Now, the night before, I had gone into her room after she had fallen asleep and took all the clothes off of her hangers in her closet and emptied out her dresser drawers. I took every stitch of clothing out and hid it all in another room. So after I woke her I went to the kitchen and waited for the ball to drop. Pretty soon, here she came. . .

"Dad, all my clothes are gone!"

I just looked over sleepily, like I wasn't in the mood and had a thousand other things on my mind.

"Sweety, stop fooling around. We need to get you ready for school or you're going to be late."

"But Dad, I'm not kidding."

"Honey, please. Go back and check again."

So she obediently tromped off. I stood there trying not to blow it. I could just picture her standing in the middle of her room, opening drawers and shaking her little head. Very quickly she was back.

"Dad! They're gone! Come see!" And the whole time she was just so totally astonished. It was hard to keep from cracking a smile, but I'm a theater major, I'm trained for this type of thing. That degree couldn't get me a job, but at least I could use those skills to plague my children.

When we got in there she ran around the room pulling open her drawers and her closet to prove to me this crazy thing that was happening. I put on my own best astonished face as she led me from point to point. When the room was finally torn apart and confusion reigned, I let this knowing smile pass across my face.

"Ooooooooooooooooh, I get it," I said to her, "you're playing an April Fools joke on me."

She totally wasn't expecting that.

"No, Dad. I'm not. Really. I don't know where my clothes are."

"Ok, very funny. That was a good one. You got me good. Now, no more fooling around. Let's get ready for school."

"But Dad. . . !"

"What?"

Ok, so then I gave in and showed her where the clothes were hidden. We all had a good laugh.

Oh, yeah. And Happy Birthday Apple. (That's not a joke. That's for real.)