On a Rainy Monday...

My Summer Vacation

I remember as a young boy, every school year started with the same ridiculous assignment. "Class, let's write a one page essay on what we did or learned this summer."  This assignment always drove me nuts because A.  It was my time. If I had wanted to share it with any of y'all, I would have. B. If I knew there was going to be a quiz, I'd have taken notes all gd summer, and C.  It was SUMMER. I was supposed to be doing and learning NOTHING to begin with.

However,

At the ripe ol' age of 38, I had a summer where I finally did learn some things about myself. Some good, some bad, some ugly. This Clint Eastwood summer showed me strengths I never knew I had, weaknesses I need to fix, love that I never thought possible, and sadness that would bring me to my darkest places. 

So without further adieu, I give you my summer in a nutshell:

• I loved and lost
• I learned that my beautiful daughter is a closet Guns n Roses fan and knows every word of "Sweet Child of Mine"
• I learned that I'm strong enough to bash in the skull of dying deer after clipping it with my car.
• I learned that I'm not strong enough to bash in skull of said deer without throwing up for 10 minutes after.
• I learned that pride and stubbornness can make me say some pretty nasty things to people I love.
• I learned that you really realize who's important to you in that nanosecond before you're in a violent car wreck.
• I learned that I can love someone enough to walk away.
• I learned that I don't even have a fraction of the handle on my depression as I thought.
• I learned that my ex-wife is an absolutely horrible person and I feel like a fool for giving her 7 years of "benefit of the doubt".
• I learned that I'm a good father, but I have a long way to go there as well.

And sure, there were myriad other things I learned and did along the way this summer, but these were just a few that stuck out, and I guess the important thing is I am in fact learning.  Hell, I've pretty much got valedictorian locked up for the "School of Hard Knocks" from so much learning.  Which reminds me, I should probably be getting back to class...

Pirates or Parenting?

I like to think of myself as a pretty "judge-free" person. We all have our idiosyncrasies that despite my contempt for most of the human race, is one of the things I find fascinating about y'alls species. Tonight however, I found myself treading that fine line between "Am I the asshole here?" And "You gotta let a kid be a kid.".

Allow me to expound.

Buddy has had football practices for a month now and almost all of the 5 year olds on his team have a sibling. One though has a sibling that comes dressed to every practice dressed as a full on pirate. Pantaloons, sword, eye patch, puffy shirt, etc. Now normally I wouldn't bat a lash at a 5 year olds brother dressing as a pirate, but this little Jack Sparrow is 9 years old. NINE. Week one, I thought, "Maybe he's in a play and came straight from school?" but quickly remembered school hadn't started yet. Week 2 I thought, "Well, pantaloons do look pretty testicularly liberating, maybe he knows something we don't!" But by this evening, the writer and the 3 Budweiser's in me couldn't "not ask" when that little bastard child of Penzance showed up in full pirate regalia again, albeit, this time he had obviously sharpied in a mustache and, (wait for it), CHEST PUBES out of the top of his puffy shirt. So I lean in to the dad, and say in my best "I swear I'm not trying to imply your sons an idiot..." voice, I say "Soooo...a pirate huh?". He says "Yep, wears that shit three days a week. To school even. I don't get it, but if I suggest its concernable, my wife gets mad." I quickly turned the subject back to football to avoid the myriad "arrrrrgggh" jokes trying to explode out of my mouth, but it got me thinking, if Buddy was 9 years old and dressing like a pirate to football practice, or publicly and consistently dressing like a pirate, would I nip it, or would I just let it ride? We all know 9 years old is about where concernable bullying starts but is it curbing who our children think they are to save them an ass kicking, or stifling who they want to be out of fear?

Long story short, I like to think I explained child social hierarchy to Buddy growing up to the point that even at 5 he knows pirates are right at the bottom of the food chain, right below the kids that dress like Hobbits. I love individuality, but sooner or later parenting, individuality, and common sense need to have a sit down.
Thoughts?

Corinne Bailey Rae-"Like a Star"

Felt like an R&B Sunday...

Paul Simon and Fatherhood

As infants neither one of my children were big on the whole "sleeping" thing, and the nighttime routine was always an exercise in patience and understanding. Making it even more taxing, was the fact that apparently, at the time, I was married to a woman who possessed neither of these traits, leaving the task of putting the children to bed squarely on the shoulders of yours truly.

After countless trials, errors, and bottles I quite by accident found myself  rocking my screaming son in the middle of the night and subconsciously singing a song under my breath. As I rocked and hummed and sang, it got quieter and quieter, and his eyes kind of smiled as they lazily started shutting, and soon he was asleep. That song?  "St Judy's Comet" by Paul Simon. From that day forward, any time I was having a hard time getting him down, I'd put that song on his radio, and he'd be asleep within minutes. I tell him about this story anytime the song comes on in the car or in passing and he says he doesn't remember it.  It's funny though, because sometimes I swear I see a flicker of recognition in his face when I look in the rear-view and see his eyes smiling as he hums the song note for note, not even realizing he's doing it.

Anyway, this is for you son. I love you. Happy birthday Buddy...

-Daddy

Paradoxes

You said you needed me like oxygen, but that you needed room to breathe.
You told me that I lightened your load, but was a burden and a chain.
You said I was your lighthouse, but that you're in a really dark place.
You said I was your true north, but then said everything went south.
You said I helped you heal, but only caused you pain.
What did you mean then,
When you said you loved me?

Home Alone

There's a scene out of the holiday classic "Home Alone" where Kevin runs into a blatantly obvious mall Santa and says, "Look, I'm nine years old, I know how this works.  I know you're not the real Santa, but I know you can get to him..." and he then proceeds to ask for his family back.

Welp,

I'm 38 and I also know how this works.  I know you're not the real God, but I know you can get to him.  I think you probably know better than anyone that there isn't a whole hell of a lot I believe in.  But, one of the only things on this planet I do believe in, is her and I.  This is probably going to be the closest thing I'll ever get to a prayer, so I really hope you appreciate and weigh in the effort when you hear the favor I need.  So...here goes.

Sir/Ma'am

Please.  Pretty please. Help her. You ask entirely too much from her. Throw it on my load, but please take it away from her.

Sincerely/Amen,

Me

P.S.  Keep the change you filthy animal.