There’s nothing better than being a hero to a child. Unless of course that child is your own son and he would rather yell, scream, and kick your walls when placed on a time out for running over his younger brother with a toy shopping cart. Son #1 has the flare for the dramatic, and that’s an understatement. But this entry is less about the chaos that he creates or the walls he destroy and more about the compassion of the boy and my unyielding pride in his heart to be himself. We’re just hours away from his fifth birthday.

There has been some proof delivered on the karmic front by way of New Year’s Resolution. If you recall, I began this year with the intention on executing on the plan of patience and tolerance. This was more directed toward the outside world which routinely disappoints me in its inability to operate horseless carriages. However, my patience with Son #1 could be in question at times. Diligently, I planned on turning over this new foliage from the patient tree.

This has worked out well both of us. The last three months have been epic in the time we’ve shared together. The best part has actually come after bed time when my wife would fill me in on his discussions with her earlier in the day. He’d ask his mom, “I wonder how my Dad is doing today. If he is having a good day.” As much as you would expect your child to care about ‘how you are doing,’ it’s not always the reality. Children are pretty self-centered and have a limited attention span similar to that of a goldfish.

In the essence of time and reader attentiveness, I shouldn’t go into everything but I can’t help but write down some of the great things that have happened:

An Audio/Video Lesson
Unsolicited, Son #1 inquired of his mother about the sound emitted from the speakers of our great room A/V system. While my wife is gifted in many accolades and accomplishments in her life, electrical circuitry is not one of them. “Go ask your father,” she says. So he asks me how this stuff works. I have a question of my own, “Do you want the easy description or the scientific explanation?” He wanted the ‘scienticif’ explanation. The long and short of this story is that I crafted a drawing of the A/V system detailed down to the polarity of the wiring. That answered his question and he actually understood. Here is a one of the sheets of the drawing:


Planes, Trains, and buildable Aerospace Inventions
Because I don’t think we have enough clutter in the house, I decided to excavate 20 or so Lego sets from my parents’ attic and bring them home. Our formal dining room became a construction zone with parts strewn like a tornado tipped the Lego factory over. We built a motorized space train, about a dozen spaceships, construction vehicles with lights, and an airport and with accoutrements. Then we decided to freestyle and build our own elaborate spaceship and space station. This took about three weeks to complete. Lego’s were, and still appear to be, a major element of my life. Building with him and watching his excitement brought me back 25 years.

Is it the Z-button that I push?
Much like Lego’s, video games are an element of my generation. Son #1 and I have played Wii Sports Bowling and Golf. He will spank you at both. Don’t believe? Come on over and play him. The next step was the introduction to the Lego franchise of games. We have both Star Wars and Indiana Jones. The latter of the two is much more able to accommodate two players of varying degrees of skill. The one thing I didn’t realize is how well his little mind could master the puzzles of the game. Varying degrees of skill are no longer a problem. He and I are dominating the adventures together. As he accomplishes feats and levels, he becomes more and more excited.


Culinary Arts at NASA
Out of the mouths of babes; Son #1 periodically rambles and occasionally will spill some interesting comments. One evening, he and I were preparing dinner when an advertisement about technology or something was uselessly running on the television. In a trance, he tells me that he has ‘never been to outer space.’ Yes. This comes as a surprise. He was sincere and worried that in his five whole years on this green planet, that he’d missed a unique opportunity to offer his ‘scienticif’ skills to NASA. So I explain that by studying hard he can become and astronaut and achieve an outer space voyage. Worried, he explains to me that he wants to be a chef and since he believes one is mutually exclusive of the other, he can’t have both. Chefs don’t go to outer space.

And while sounding cliché, Son #1 can become whoever his vision for himself defines. I had the privilege of figuring out that very vision of me. That’s not to say my parents didn’t intervene when I was spending too much of my allowance on candy or writing dirty words in Madlibs, because they did. I was fortunate enough to have parents who believed in my ability to make my own educated decisions. They were (and still are) comfortable with their parental skill sets and how they deployed their will on my growth. ‘Give them enough, and let them figure out the rest.’ While I was jealous of my friends who were forced to take piano lessons and committed to one sport or club, I was never coerced into joining or competing when I didn’t want to. In retrospect, the decisions and interests were pushed down to me, for me to choose, for me to fit to my liking and my comfort level. My jealousy has long since faded. I realized that those small exercises in decisions led to larger and more balanced thinking and greater balanced existence. Those same friends as children who were forced to play soccer every year and practice their flutes are the same adults who are inflexible in their ways dividing their family and fostering resent.

Many nights I’ve slid into his room and stood in amazement of the fortune I’ve had in having him as a son. You could say that the communication between the two of isn’t the most efficient. If both of us are sleep or food deprived, I would strongly warn you to keep your distance from any confrontations between the two of us. What makes our relationship complicated at times is the common fact that he and I are emotionally equivalent. An educated individual would think that he and I would recognize this detriment/commonality and step out of a potentially combustible situation.

It never works out that way. I suppose that’s why I have so many worries. He’s so much like me I worry that he’s destined to travel the same emotional path. I’ve always wanted to do better for him, do more, and give him more opportunities I’ve never had. Better yet, opportunities I’ve had, but where I made mistakes. With all of the pain and heartbreak in the world, I struggle with my inability to shield him from the inevitable bumps in the road. That’s part of the parental job description; learning to let go. I can only pray that I equip him with the courage to follow his heart regardless of risk and heartache. As I sit here and wrap up this entry, I’m a little misty-eyed about the little man growing up more and more each day. I’m watching as a finite number of days with him pass. Despite my awareness of the trouble he will encounter on his journey through life and my inability to protect him from all of the heartache, I know the apple didn’t fall far from the proverbial tree. His heart and passion are real. They are mine and he is me, but better.


Son #1 has the blessing (read: curse) of responding to the outside world in an identical fashion as his father. So here’s to the next ‘scienticif’ explanation of where gas goes when you pour it in to the gas tank of the car, and more importantly, Son #1’s fifth birthday.

For those that are paying attention, I missed February 22. It was the last Monday of the month and that marks “New Music Monday” around our house. Unfortunately, no new music was added during the month. Let me rephrase that. No new music was added that I remember explicitly making an attempt to acquire out of desire and need for something new. Instead, I was in recovery mode.

Here’s the reason: Flatten and reload.

Basically, my laptop decided that during one of my many late-night download fests of bit torrents that it was going to acquire some sort of debilitating malware/virus/self-destructing/registry editing code. Interestingly enough, it wasn’t even music I was downloading. It was a innocent exercise in trying to make my wife happy with yet another vampire-ridden form of television entertainment.

I knew it was bad when during the download even the multiple layers of protection on my system were brought to a screeching halt and nonoperational. I kept trying to scour the system, knowing that if I turned it off or rebooted, that would be the end of the laptop as I knew it. I kept at it and swore like a sailor. I eventually gave in and tried to reboot to the last know good configuration. I think it is safe to say that when you reboot and no reboot actually occurs, that is bad. The system wouldn’t even get past the splash screen. Suck balls.


Once or twice, I was able to get to the login screen but no further. It was inevitable. Rather than waste my colorful metaphors and curses on a reboot that was never going to succeed, why don’t I just flatten and reload the machine. A fresh install wouldn’t hurt. I routinely back up my hard drives but in the most recent past, I had acquired quite a substantial amount of new entries into our musical catalog. Furthermore, I had not backed these albums up on my external storage device. So I was facing two tons of lost music. Other files that were potentially lost had no bearing on my emotions, but the music loss was substantial.

After the reload, I spent most of the next week or so trying to repopulate the music directories. I tried piecing together what I remembered having. I slaved my MP3 player back on to the laptop as it had many music files that were lost in the viral contamination of my system. I drug those back over and rebuilt the archive of music. The others, I didn’t have backed up or on the MP3 player had to be reacquired online. Both legally and illegally.


To make matters more challenging, I had an overloaded work statement for the month:

I did a flatten and reload on the wife’s laptop. It didn’t have the viral symptoms that my laptop had. Hers was just overrun with stuff and needed to be wiped clean; I also took on two new challenging wheel designs for a client; Then began to rough out a new webpage for another client; I coordinated a surprise birthday party and invitation design for my father’s 70th throw down; Valentine’s Day (men around the world…you know the horror of this day); A major re-organization at my employer which has had everyone on pins and needles wondering the effectiveness of their work ethic and necessity of their existence; And the general day-to-day requirements of building with Legos and playing video games with Son #1.

February was busy and March is shaping up to be similar. With any luck, I won’t have flatten and reload anything other than my liver in the next month.

Until this, I had yet to find the appropriate moment and subject to grace this blog with an entry in this New Year. Since my last posting here, we have been adjusting to the reduction of holidays and increase in mouths in our house. While natural in its occurrence, having an infant in the house is challenging and tiresome, even if it is your second child.

Son #2 does not like to sleep. When it is time to crash out for the evening, he likes to do what I so endearingly call, ‘riding the donkey.’ This terminology was coined on an international trip to the tropical isle of Jamaica. Briefly, a cohort and I came up with this phrase in one of our deeply insightful conversations stimulated by about a case of indigenously crafted rum. At some point in the evening, you hit the proverbial wall. It is then and only then, that you dig deep and find that one ounce of resiliency to power through the urge to take a dirt nap. Back to reality. Son #2 has the innate ability to summon his inner demon, saddle up and 'ride that donkey' with the greatest of commitment. So much so that it unties every thread of patience of your parental existence. Eventually, after hours of calming, coaxing, and pacifying, Son #2 gives in. But then, he is back up to eat again in a few hours. The sleep habits of Son #2 add to the challenge of being alive.


Now that the holidays are over, I have had the pleasurable experience of returning to my place of work. It comes at the opportune time when there is a need for a new balance to occur. With that, comes the concern for Son #1. He has had my uninterrupted attention for the past few weeks. Well, at least he has had my attention when I was not totally hypnotized by the phenomenon that is Lego Star Wars. Going back to work, left him alone to fend off his mother. More importantly, would my wife have the energy to handle both Son #1 and #2 on their worst of days? So far, so good. Every day is a work in progress yet Son #1 seems to be adjusting well to being the older brother and the man of the house while I am out. Still, Son #1 presents a volatile volcano of passion and spite. You have to be ready.


I welcomed the employment routine back in to my daily life cycle. Going into work has its feeling of contribution to the economy. Maybe I am making the world better. The work week was marked with returning to the intellectual speed of thought required to be productive in the workplace. This is challenging after spending the past two weeks with Lego Star Wars, playing as Obi-Won and trying to rid the universe of Clones. As the week progressed, I eased my way back in to professional responsibility. By Friday, I was ready for the weekend as most people are. But as life generally goes, I was thrown a curve. It was official. A company wide message was received outlining the head count reductions coming in Q1 and Q2. It was described that natural attrition and retirement would not reach overhead cost controls alone. This means layoffs. The number, location, and date of the reductions were loosely outlined. While nothing is certain, I must be realistic and believe that my position may be a victim of this reduction. Strangely, I am calm and poised with the message. Especially given the seriousness of the effect this could have on my family. Two sons, a wife, and pets. Not to mention the numerous bills and financial obligations. There is a magnitude to this news, yet I have found myself not overly emotionally about it. I am worried and concerned. However, I have found some sort of peace in chaos through the years of my life.

It is in the terror of change and disruption, I find clarity and direction. I have never found it easy to make life changing decisions when the seas of life are calm. It is in the stormiest of squalls I find that I have the uncanny ability to craft my best decisions and execute my greatest performance goals. The news of potential job loss still comes as a surprise and raises alarm. The timing of this with the economic climate could cause serious changes in lifestyle and stress levels of our household. Today was marked with considering my options, reconnecting with network associates, and playing Lego Star Wars. My employment has never defined me. Yet I am strangely ambitious and find major satisfaction in the intellectual challenges of a profession. It is that which has made me pursue advanced degrees, intriguing employment positions, and intellectual challenges. Ultimately, professional challenges offer an element of uncontrollable chaos in life. The news of change never comes at a convenient time but always comes at the universally appropriate time. The company message on Friday was a re-education that my employment is not the definition of my life. But my employment creates the experiences in my life where I can understand more about my character and what matters most to me. Son #1, Son #2, my wife, my dog, and the cat sometimes. I can’t lose my job; I want to spend obscene amounts of money on bike parts, A/V equipment, and a new car.