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.

When you spend the majority of your conscious day working for the man, you look forward to the solace of your own abode and the compassion of your family unit. It’s easy to lose sight of the comings and goings and daily happenings around the house when you are chained to a desk. It’s no different in my house. Coming home from the office always presents and interesting set of daily circumstances. Will I lose my patience with a driver who seems to have lost his or her ever-loving mind? Will I speed down a suburban street ‘above’ the speed limit only to have a local yahoo on a motorcycle chase me to my house, pound on my front door, and scold my wife in to lecturing me about posted speed limits? Or, will I enter the house only to hear the siren-like screaming of children being firmly, but parentally, accosted by their mother for the latest in disorderly conduct?

Typically, it is the latter of the list above.

I like dinner. My kids like dinner. My wife, I think, likes dinner. The problems lie on both sides of the dinner equation. For the parents, it’s the patience required to prepare the dinner. On the kids’ side, it’s the patience required to wait for the dinner to be prepared and the ability to outlast the parents when the dinner is not to their expectations. The stage has been set, dinner is on the table, now for the drama.

Son #2 used to eat everything we put in front of him. If you recall from previous posts, he skipped the bottle and baby food phases of development. He likes adult sustenance. Well, he did until recently. Son #2 believes, or at least I’m interpreting the screams as this, that it’s his God given right to eat cupcakes and crackers for dinner. He used to like meat and veggies. Now, it’s fish crackers and confectionary goodness followed by a glass of soy milk. Unfortunately for him, and my ears, this isn’t an acceptable meal. Let the screaming and arm waving begin.



Son #1 is a different breed. He has developed a liking for certain food products. And by that, I mean two specific items. The first being French fries, nondescript fried potato goodness. They can be crinkle cut, shoe strings, or tater tots. The second food of preference is chicken of the crispy outer covering variety. According to Son #1, this is how chicken naturally occurs in the universe. Apparently, we have visited KFC a few too many times. No matter how many times I try to explain that chicken exists in many other forms, some much more healthfully than others, he denies my culinary claims.



We don’t eat cupcakes and crispy chicken every night so you can tell there are 'disagreements' at the dinner table.

Because of such differences in opinion and the heated conversations which occur while seated at our table, I’ve devised a way to make this experience much more enjoyable. A drinking game.

Each time that Son #2 throws a veggie on the floor, points toward the cookie dish, and exclaims, “Cup,” we drink. Each time Son #1 asks the food related question, “Have I had this type of chicken before?” we truthfully answer, “Yes,” and he then retorts with an enthusiastic, “No I haven’t!” we drink. It functions on the same premise of the Sarah Palin drinking game. Each time she utters the word “maverick” a player takes a swig. Simple rules, just like Palin, for a simple game.

An unsuccessful dinner will ALWAYS lead to a successful drunk. Feel free to modify these rules to fit your household.

In all seriousness, we have defiance and crying at the dinner table. And typically, it comes from all four members of my family. Have we have created a little bit of this defiance and reactionary behavior by the way we portray ourselves? There’s a little nature here where the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. But I think nurture might be heavily outweighing it in this instance. I’ve been thinking lately about how much children attempt to emulate their parents.

Think about it. How many times have you watch little Johnny pick up the phone, place it to his ear, and pretend to talk? We all think that it’s cute. Son #2 does it and we pretend he is calling his grandmother. But the reality is that he learned this from observing us. Why would dinner behavior be any different? I’m concerned that when we discipline our children, we raise our voices, especially if at first shot they don’t listen. They’re learning that it’s acceptable to raise their voices. I can’t help but wonder, are we raising our voices too often at our children? At times during dinner, it feels like it’s a no win game.

Most times, dinner is full of humor. It’s the occasional circumstance like the other night which paints a negative picture. Arguing about eating, timeouts, and early bed times are sometimes necessary but still sting afterward just the same. I love my two boys and need to remember to reflect back on my resolutions as well as how I like to be treated as a person and project that on to them.

Until then, the drinking game is a great idea. Here's to college and everything I learned there. Bottoms up!

Now I’m not one to wait until marquee moments on the calendar to make changes in my life. I’m an advocate of implementing change when and where it’s needed. However, given my sincere and loathsome disdain for the fortune which the year of 2009 provided, I’m opting for a change in my stubborn behavior.

If you’re reading between the lines here, you’re correct, I’m going to practice the ancient, yet never followed by anyone, tradition of the New Year’s Resolution. I have an elephant load of behavioral modifications which need to be addressed. But in the essence of time and in the honor of actually completing a goal, I’m selecting my five most important targets. I’ve got to keep my goals realistic and reachable. Otherwise, I lose focus. I’m a dad after all.

Most people set unattainable resolutions such as ‘lose weight’ and ‘quit smoking’ and never quite get there. Resolutions become about setting unreasonable goals, never reaching them, and making a person feel like shit. Instead, everyone should to take a hard look in the mirror and consider the serious aspects that need improvements in your life that CAN be met. So let’s talk about the areas where I suck.

1. Exercise patience with the children
While inherently obvious, this challenge is probably the most difficult to succeed at. This resolution is about MY children. I don’t have to be patient with anyone else’s kids because it’s not my fault their kids suck.

In the recent past, I’ve been pulled in so many directions that it’s made it easy to misinterpret Son #2’s screaming and Son #1’s fits as plausible attempts at ruining my life. This isn’t the case.

Both are great little boys and most of my humorous subject matter here is in regard to them. Taking a step back from my misdirected temper will help me enjoy the beautiful moments with my children that will be gone all too soon.


2. Practice acceptance of unchangeable and sometimes intolerable aspects of life
The underscore of this resolution is the simple fact that I can’t control everything. Some shit, I just have to let alone and accept that it ‘is what it is.’

Here’s an example: People who drive motorized vehicles in Washington. I just can’t understand how some people can be licensed to drive metal coffins and be completely oblivious to the world in which they operate them. MANY curse words have been hurled through the air toward this segment of people and their inability to successfully and safely negotiate their equipment.

It’s a waste of my energy to obsess and curse during my commute. Therefore, I’m going to accept the fact that people can’t drive. Just one example of accepting what I can’t change.


3. Focus on balance in my life to reduce the health effects
It’s no secret that 2009 was an energy sapping sycophant when it came to my health. I joked about the fact that it was the only year that I had a flu shot and ended up with the most injuries, maladies, and illnesses of any time in my life.

There was that one year where I had meningitis, three spinal taps, and spent a week in the hospital. But 2009 was holistically worse. It’s obvious that it comes down to my Type A personality and my inability to balance the emotions with the occurrences in my life. Work, home, personal, professional, and etc. are all at fault here. Practice mental and emotional balance.


4. Refuse to join the latest pop culture phenomenon
Late night TV is bludgeoned with some of the worst exercises in advertising. Even worse than the ads are the products being peddled by these ads.

The latest craze: the backward microfiber robe called the Snuggie. With its purchase and adornment, you too can become a recluse that never leaves the house, never get a date for the prom, ruin your child’s social life while wearing it in public, and look like a complete tool. No thanks.


5. Refuse to save 15% on my car insurance
I’m becoming extremely relentless and homicidally violent toward British-accented reptiles, bug-eyed stacks of bills, and Cro-Magnon man with the increased frequency of Geico advertisements on television.

Three annoying ad campaigns don’t make me want to source my insurance needs to this company. Save 15% on my insurance? Eat it. I would rather funnel that 15% of my hard earned cash to an out-of-style vapid country singing insurance agent with State Farm. As disturbing a visual as that is, I’m not subject to the aggressive marketing spin with annoying jingles, slogans, and foreign accents. I’d pay 15% more just to not see hairy guys bowl.


My resolutions for 2010; some appropriate and some just because. Enjoy.