Last night I had the most incredible dream.
Really it was more like a nightmare, because in it my older brother was in an accident. He was in the hospital and the odds were not in his favor. The whole family was there.
The doctors decided the best treatment was some kind of air-chemical infusion. Not exactly sure on that part, only that it made sense in dream-world. So Chip's (my older brother) chest puffed up immediately due to the treatment.
He was in bad shape. He couldn't talk or communicate in any way.
Soon after administering the medicine, the staff realized it was the wrong treatment. It was irreversible, and untreatable. Although we begged and pleaded, there was simply nothing they could do. Chip was dying and would be gone soon.
Then I opened my eyes.
It felt so real, and my heart was racing. 'We have to do something,' I thought. But soon thereafter the grogginess retreated and I realized, 'it was just a dream!'
With that revelation joy replaced anxiety. Elation erased panic.
But my conscious mind continued to press forward, despite me trying to linger in the happiness of everything being o.k.
I couldn't stop the the next moment from arriving, and bringing with it the fact that Chip has been in Heaven now for 10 years. It wasn't an accident that took him, nor was there any hospital staff that mistreated him.
Regardless, there was a tangible sadness that swept in and took up residence for a few minutes. The roller coaster of emotion - the fear of the nightmare to the euphoria of waking up and realizing it wasn't true - to remembering that Chip is in fact gone - was taxing.
Chip was a great older brother. He couldn't talk. Or walk. His cognitive development was somewhere between 2 weeks and 2 months. His life expectancy was a mere 2 years. Yet he defied the odds, thriving in a home that loved him unconditionally by parents that sacrificed willingly for 36 years.
I sure do miss him.
I wish Nate could have met his Uncle Chip.
They both would have been better because of it.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
I love this kid
I can't help it, he's really amazing.
Sometimes I wish I didn't care soooo much. Yeah, I know that sounds strange. I just mean that it feels like it would be easier if I could put some distance between my heart and his. But I can't, and I won't. And even if I could, I wouldn't, because it's not about me at all - it's about him.
Love is so funny that way.
The more I love him truly, completely, and unconditionally - the more vulnerable I am to be hurt. And oh, ouch, wow, sheesh, yikes, hj&^&9(*(* it can REALLY hurt.
But so what? I don't mean to diminish the hurt, because when I'm in it I'm wallowing like a stuck pig. (Am I turning country? I just said, "A Stuck Pig" bubba! ut - oh...)
But then you forgive, and move forward. And I think to myself, 'be cautious, this could happen again' (if I was smart I would say, 'this WILL happen again!'); but I just can't resist throwing caution to the wind and loving with reckless abandon!!
I marvel at the way this child is growing right before my very eyes. He's sensitive, smart, clever, witty, charming, personable, engaging, honorable, respectable, he loves his mother, and he loves the Lord.
He's my son, and I'm proud to be his step-dad. We don't concern ourselves with steps, as they lead us away from one another, so I'm just proud to be his dad.
Tonight we went to the Milwaukee Bucks basketball game. We go, a lot. We are rabid fans. It was the preseason opener, and it's a 2 hour drive (1 way) from our home. After school I asked him if he was interested, and he lit up like a Christmas tree. So we went, and had a blast. And incredibly, right in front of me - seemingly overnight, this boy has become a young man. We now (literally) see eye-to-eye. He is 15, and I know time is slipping through my fingers faster than I can hold it.
Our relationship is evolving. Our dialogue is more mature. I listen more, and talk less. He shares, and my opinion comes more by request these days than unsolicited. And as we sit court side (our seats got upgraded for free!), he leans in to me and says, "Dad, this is great. Thank you so much for bringing me!" I look at him and think, 'there's no where else I'd rather be than here, with you, now..'
I tell him, "Son, thank you for coming. You're really fun, and I love doing this with you. I love you." We smile at each other and start cheering for our team.
And I realize, these are the days. These are the times. These are the memories we will hold on to for a lifetime. These are the stories the other kids, and grand kids will one day hear.
This is it.
I love this kid.
Sometimes I wish I didn't care soooo much. Yeah, I know that sounds strange. I just mean that it feels like it would be easier if I could put some distance between my heart and his. But I can't, and I won't. And even if I could, I wouldn't, because it's not about me at all - it's about him.
Love is so funny that way.
The more I love him truly, completely, and unconditionally - the more vulnerable I am to be hurt. And oh, ouch, wow, sheesh, yikes, hj&^&9(*(* it can REALLY hurt.
But so what? I don't mean to diminish the hurt, because when I'm in it I'm wallowing like a stuck pig. (Am I turning country? I just said, "A Stuck Pig" bubba! ut - oh...)
But then you forgive, and move forward. And I think to myself, 'be cautious, this could happen again' (if I was smart I would say, 'this WILL happen again!'); but I just can't resist throwing caution to the wind and loving with reckless abandon!!
I marvel at the way this child is growing right before my very eyes. He's sensitive, smart, clever, witty, charming, personable, engaging, honorable, respectable, he loves his mother, and he loves the Lord.
He's my son, and I'm proud to be his step-dad. We don't concern ourselves with steps, as they lead us away from one another, so I'm just proud to be his dad.
Tonight we went to the Milwaukee Bucks basketball game. We go, a lot. We are rabid fans. It was the preseason opener, and it's a 2 hour drive (1 way) from our home. After school I asked him if he was interested, and he lit up like a Christmas tree. So we went, and had a blast. And incredibly, right in front of me - seemingly overnight, this boy has become a young man. We now (literally) see eye-to-eye. He is 15, and I know time is slipping through my fingers faster than I can hold it.
Our relationship is evolving. Our dialogue is more mature. I listen more, and talk less. He shares, and my opinion comes more by request these days than unsolicited. And as we sit court side (our seats got upgraded for free!), he leans in to me and says, "Dad, this is great. Thank you so much for bringing me!" I look at him and think, 'there's no where else I'd rather be than here, with you, now..'
I tell him, "Son, thank you for coming. You're really fun, and I love doing this with you. I love you." We smile at each other and start cheering for our team.
And I realize, these are the days. These are the times. These are the memories we will hold on to for a lifetime. These are the stories the other kids, and grand kids will one day hear.
This is it.
I love this kid.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Sticky Nate
Jill & I have been married now about 6 1/2 years. Our blended family consists of two teenagers (Andrew, 15 & Hannah, 13) and Maddie (9). Our son Nate will be three years old on October 20.
From the onset, we have been very fortunate that each of our children have given us "parental rights." Meaning our kids act, talk, and generally consider us (regardless of DNA) to be their parents. We do not spend any time worrying about step/half/etc. siblings, parents. We work hard to love each child individually, fairly, and appropriately. Parental rights have to be earned over time in a blended family, but I contend that unconditional love given is an incredibly powerful, spiritual force that over time overcomes all.
So Nate is getting bigger now, and his life represents so much that is good to us. Although he has a disability and at times that can present its own challenges, we firmly believe God created Nate perfectly, and we wouldn't change him even if we could. Similarly, a blended family can be a challenge at times, but to us it's our family and we are thankful for it just the way it is!
Having a child with a disability is, frankly, great. Maybe not for everyone, but all the people I know share this sentiment. And the truth of the matter is, I'm not trying to paint some rosy picture over a dark cloud in my heart. I genuinely love being this kids parent. But that's not the point of this post.
Seeing what Nate has done in our family is far more impressive. He was born 3 years ago, 3 years in to our marriage and 3 years in to our clan being fused. The kids were 12, 9, & 6, and generally getting along really well. However, those ages are when selfishness and division can really set in. And then there was Nate...
Just adding a baby to the mix would surely change the dynamic. But this isn't just any baby, it's Nate.
Nate is contagious. He's highly addictive. He's charismatic and clever. He's funny. He's charming. He's needy and clingy (in all the right ways). He's affectionate. He's adorable. He's unforgettable. He's one of a kind, he's just Nate.
So at a time when selfishness could easily take hold of this home, Nate comes along and forces everyone (including me) to focus on him. Not in a bad way, but in a necessary one. All of Nate's triumphs are earned. Every milestone is achieved by everyone in this home working together. And when we take ourselves out of the mix and collectively focus on Nate, we find our family is bonding. Growing closer, growing together, growing.
In so many ways and in so many times I am grateful for Nate. He's not only changed me in countless ways, he's also helped bind this family together. Everyone here is hopelessly and unapologetically stuck on Nate. Among all the other amazing things he is, I believe he's like heaven-sent glue that brought, and holds us together.
Sticky Nate.
From the onset, we have been very fortunate that each of our children have given us "parental rights." Meaning our kids act, talk, and generally consider us (regardless of DNA) to be their parents. We do not spend any time worrying about step/half/etc. siblings, parents. We work hard to love each child individually, fairly, and appropriately. Parental rights have to be earned over time in a blended family, but I contend that unconditional love given is an incredibly powerful, spiritual force that over time overcomes all.
So Nate is getting bigger now, and his life represents so much that is good to us. Although he has a disability and at times that can present its own challenges, we firmly believe God created Nate perfectly, and we wouldn't change him even if we could. Similarly, a blended family can be a challenge at times, but to us it's our family and we are thankful for it just the way it is!
Having a child with a disability is, frankly, great. Maybe not for everyone, but all the people I know share this sentiment. And the truth of the matter is, I'm not trying to paint some rosy picture over a dark cloud in my heart. I genuinely love being this kids parent. But that's not the point of this post.
Seeing what Nate has done in our family is far more impressive. He was born 3 years ago, 3 years in to our marriage and 3 years in to our clan being fused. The kids were 12, 9, & 6, and generally getting along really well. However, those ages are when selfishness and division can really set in. And then there was Nate...
Just adding a baby to the mix would surely change the dynamic. But this isn't just any baby, it's Nate.
Nate is contagious. He's highly addictive. He's charismatic and clever. He's funny. He's charming. He's needy and clingy (in all the right ways). He's affectionate. He's adorable. He's unforgettable. He's one of a kind, he's just Nate.
So at a time when selfishness could easily take hold of this home, Nate comes along and forces everyone (including me) to focus on him. Not in a bad way, but in a necessary one. All of Nate's triumphs are earned. Every milestone is achieved by everyone in this home working together. And when we take ourselves out of the mix and collectively focus on Nate, we find our family is bonding. Growing closer, growing together, growing.
In so many ways and in so many times I am grateful for Nate. He's not only changed me in countless ways, he's also helped bind this family together. Everyone here is hopelessly and unapologetically stuck on Nate. Among all the other amazing things he is, I believe he's like heaven-sent glue that brought, and holds us together.
Sticky Nate.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
In my mind, I'm the perfect parent
That's right, I said it. In my mind, I have a good handle on things. Well, that may not be entirely accurate. I willingly concede that many of my concepts don't always translate well from my brain to to my mouth. But in general, I think my approach is spot-on.
But then when I get to thinking about it, I bet everybody feels that way. It's easy to justify my behaviors and reactions as a parent. I find myself thinking a lot about how the kids need to get on my wavelength. The reality is, I'm the adult, and I need to get on their plane, not vice versa! I can't stand it when the kiddos show such little regard for the material things that have cost a lot, or even a little. But before I can get too worked up all I have to do is look in my car, my closet, my garage, my basement, etc....
Another thing that really torques me off is the back-talk. Man oh man, it really irks me. Sure, there's common respect, and kids need to be taught it, but I wonder what kind of example I set when I smart off in frustration to their mother? I've taught my kids to be sarcastic (I think it's funny, and clever - at least that's how I've justified it), to tease ("it makes them tough"), and to be judgmental. Whether it's other people's driving habits, personal quirks, or other things I find amusing, I've actually taught them to notice and exploit these differences in others.
I've reasoned that children are immature, although that's what I've modeled to them. I've said that this is not a democracy, and I've made sure everyone knows it. I've dismissed their input and disregarded their feelings by calling it invalid and hormone-induced.
I want my kids to be caring, understanding, passionate, merciful, humble, wise, affable, and reverent toward their Creator while fully surrendered to their Savior.
I have not done my best in developing these attributes.
In my mind I may think I'm the perfect parent, but in reality I'm far from it. There's a bible verse that says, "Love covers a multitude of sins" and it really speaks to me about my errors and missteps. Mercifully, my love both for them and Christ covers me and them alike.
Today I'm committing to becoming the best parent I can be. Will you join me?
No matter how good or bad it's been up until now, there's always room for improvement, and it can start right here and now! And no matter how old or young our children, it's never too late to make a fresh start.
Our kids are counting on it.
But then when I get to thinking about it, I bet everybody feels that way. It's easy to justify my behaviors and reactions as a parent. I find myself thinking a lot about how the kids need to get on my wavelength. The reality is, I'm the adult, and I need to get on their plane, not vice versa! I can't stand it when the kiddos show such little regard for the material things that have cost a lot, or even a little. But before I can get too worked up all I have to do is look in my car, my closet, my garage, my basement, etc....
Another thing that really torques me off is the back-talk. Man oh man, it really irks me. Sure, there's common respect, and kids need to be taught it, but I wonder what kind of example I set when I smart off in frustration to their mother? I've taught my kids to be sarcastic (I think it's funny, and clever - at least that's how I've justified it), to tease ("it makes them tough"), and to be judgmental. Whether it's other people's driving habits, personal quirks, or other things I find amusing, I've actually taught them to notice and exploit these differences in others.
I've reasoned that children are immature, although that's what I've modeled to them. I've said that this is not a democracy, and I've made sure everyone knows it. I've dismissed their input and disregarded their feelings by calling it invalid and hormone-induced.
I want my kids to be caring, understanding, passionate, merciful, humble, wise, affable, and reverent toward their Creator while fully surrendered to their Savior.
I have not done my best in developing these attributes.
In my mind I may think I'm the perfect parent, but in reality I'm far from it. There's a bible verse that says, "Love covers a multitude of sins" and it really speaks to me about my errors and missteps. Mercifully, my love both for them and Christ covers me and them alike.
Today I'm committing to becoming the best parent I can be. Will you join me?
No matter how good or bad it's been up until now, there's always room for improvement, and it can start right here and now! And no matter how old or young our children, it's never too late to make a fresh start.
Our kids are counting on it.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
How was school?
I bet almost every parent in every corner of the world asks their children this question on a daily basis. "How was school?"
No matter the culture, language, school district, or child, most every parent is at least mildly interested in finding out how junior did in school today. Any drama? Suspensions? Fights? Expulsions? Then by all measures, a decent day.
When I ask our normally chatty-cathy's this question, they suddenly become tongue-tied. Maybe the question short circuits their brains or something, because I always get the same answer. You know you do, too. "How was school?"
-every child in the world, "good."
Huh?
"Good" just isn't good enough any more. I've wised up. I've figured out new ways to ask an old question. I ask follow up questions. But they've apparently braced for this, too.
Me, "So, what was good about your day today?"
Say it with me...EVERY kids response, "I don't know."
Defeat. Stonewall. Iced out. They're just not budging, no matter what. I've even gone to the very creative, "tell me the most interesting thing you learned so far today." I mean, come on, THAT'S a conversation starter.
But no, still I hear, "I don't know..."
So now it's time to get serious. A new, fresh approach. A way to make them understand. Be the ball, Danny...speak their language....
Any kid in any town, anywhere..."Dad, can I go outside and play?
Dad: "I don't know."
Kids: "Dad, can I have some money for the movies?"
Dad: "I don't know."
Kids: "Dad, can I go to the Justin Bieber concert with my friends?
Dad: "I don't k..."
Kids, interrupting: "But Dad, he'd awesome, I mean, come on...even YOU must think he's....
Dad, smiling: "....good."
No matter the culture, language, school district, or child, most every parent is at least mildly interested in finding out how junior did in school today. Any drama? Suspensions? Fights? Expulsions? Then by all measures, a decent day.
When I ask our normally chatty-cathy's this question, they suddenly become tongue-tied. Maybe the question short circuits their brains or something, because I always get the same answer. You know you do, too. "How was school?"
-every child in the world, "good."
Huh?
"Good" just isn't good enough any more. I've wised up. I've figured out new ways to ask an old question. I ask follow up questions. But they've apparently braced for this, too.
Me, "So, what was good about your day today?"
Say it with me...EVERY kids response, "I don't know."
Defeat. Stonewall. Iced out. They're just not budging, no matter what. I've even gone to the very creative, "tell me the most interesting thing you learned so far today." I mean, come on, THAT'S a conversation starter.
But no, still I hear, "I don't know..."
So now it's time to get serious. A new, fresh approach. A way to make them understand. Be the ball, Danny...speak their language....
Any kid in any town, anywhere..."Dad, can I go outside and play?
Dad: "I don't know."
Kids: "Dad, can I have some money for the movies?"
Dad: "I don't know."
Kids: "Dad, can I go to the Justin Bieber concert with my friends?
Dad: "I don't k..."
Kids, interrupting: "But Dad, he'd awesome, I mean, come on...even YOU must think he's....
Dad, smiling: "....good."
Saturday, September 12, 2009
From hero to zero
Nate is at it again.
Not really all that surprising, considering he's closing fast on 2 years old in the next month or so. He's reached quite a few milestones, such as the ability to stand - which we find incredibly amusing and quite possibly the greatest feat known to man in the last 1,000 years or so.
Now at this point I should probably include one of those explicit content disclaimers. If you're hungry, or maybe you've just eaten, feel free to come on back later. If however you're hungry and trying to lose weight, by all means read on as you will most likely lose your appetite.
You see, awhile back I was bragging about getting Nate to stop his kissing obsession with the toilet. Sure, he stopped....once.
And yes, it's funny (and gross). But in my foolishness I thought it couldn't get any worse (funny, every time I think that, it usually does!!).
I mean really, what's worse than a toilet....no matter how clean? Nothing, right?
W
R
O
N
G
Much to my chagrin, horror, and utter disgust, let me introduce you to Nate's latest crush.......
Now what??!!!??
Not really all that surprising, considering he's closing fast on 2 years old in the next month or so. He's reached quite a few milestones, such as the ability to stand - which we find incredibly amusing and quite possibly the greatest feat known to man in the last 1,000 years or so.
Now at this point I should probably include one of those explicit content disclaimers. If you're hungry, or maybe you've just eaten, feel free to come on back later. If however you're hungry and trying to lose weight, by all means read on as you will most likely lose your appetite.
You see, awhile back I was bragging about getting Nate to stop his kissing obsession with the toilet. Sure, he stopped....once.
And yes, it's funny (and gross). But in my foolishness I thought it couldn't get any worse (funny, every time I think that, it usually does!!).
I mean really, what's worse than a toilet....no matter how clean? Nothing, right?
W
R
O
N
G
Much to my chagrin, horror, and utter disgust, let me introduce you to Nate's latest crush.......
Now what??!!!??
Friday, July 17, 2009
Why (I think) I'm my son's hero
At some point or another, every parent (competent or not) is their child's hero. This morning I believe I saw great envy and admiration in my son's eyes. I believe the task that I accomplished so effortlessly yielded adulation in him that I had never seen!
See, baby Nate is infatuated with bathrooms. He thinks crawling in to them is really neat. I'll spare you the details of his affinity for the commode, but trust me, he's not old enough to sit on it but he's big enough to pull himself up....fill in the blanks.
Anyway, today he was crawling down the hall at breakneck speed, headed straight for his 'promised land' when he was obstructed by some cardboard box inners. At this point I had not yet had my hero revelation, so needing to wash my hands I simply walked over the immovable (to him) mountain.
He looked at me as if I had just leaped the moon (to him, I did) and I proceeded to his wonder-world to wash up. So to him, being able to go in to the bathroom WHENEVER YOU WANT is the best, the tops, hero-worthy.
Ahhh, having a toddler is so rewarding!
Epilogue:
Eventually he navigated his way around the obstruction and once he was clear he put his little motor in overdrive. He made it in record time and was making a bee-line for the lid (mouth high) when suddenly I bellow...
"NATTTHHHAAAAAANNNNN....."
He pauses, momentarily....then chuckles like 'yeah I hear you, and yes I know, and no, I don't care...'
"NAAAATTTTHHAAAAANNNNNNN NOOOOOOOOOOO...."
Normally he processes this as, 'continue when ready' but this time he actually looked at me. Upon seeing my frown and disapproving head shaking, he tilted his head to the side.
There he was kneeling at the crossroads.
Toilet.
Dad.
Toilet....Dad....toilet......
He looks at the toilet as if to say, 'see you later sweetie, nothing personal,' and
Crawls Away from the Toilet!
YESS~ He CAwT!
So now I'm sure I'm his hero, because not only can I go to his favorite place whenever I want, I can get him to stay away from it, too!
I wonder if this will work when he's 16?
See, baby Nate is infatuated with bathrooms. He thinks crawling in to them is really neat. I'll spare you the details of his affinity for the commode, but trust me, he's not old enough to sit on it but he's big enough to pull himself up....fill in the blanks.
Anyway, today he was crawling down the hall at breakneck speed, headed straight for his 'promised land' when he was obstructed by some cardboard box inners. At this point I had not yet had my hero revelation, so needing to wash my hands I simply walked over the immovable (to him) mountain.
He looked at me as if I had just leaped the moon (to him, I did) and I proceeded to his wonder-world to wash up. So to him, being able to go in to the bathroom WHENEVER YOU WANT is the best, the tops, hero-worthy.
Ahhh, having a toddler is so rewarding!
Epilogue:
Eventually he navigated his way around the obstruction and once he was clear he put his little motor in overdrive. He made it in record time and was making a bee-line for the lid (mouth high) when suddenly I bellow...
"NATTTHHHAAAAAANNNNN....."
He pauses, momentarily....then chuckles like 'yeah I hear you, and yes I know, and no, I don't care...'
"NAAAATTTTHHAAAAANNNNNNN NOOOOOOOOOOO...."
Normally he processes this as, 'continue when ready' but this time he actually looked at me. Upon seeing my frown and disapproving head shaking, he tilted his head to the side.
There he was kneeling at the crossroads.
Toilet.
Dad.
Toilet....Dad....toilet......
He looks at the toilet as if to say, 'see you later sweetie, nothing personal,' and
Crawls Away from the Toilet!
YESS~ He CAwT!
So now I'm sure I'm his hero, because not only can I go to his favorite place whenever I want, I can get him to stay away from it, too!
I wonder if this will work when he's 16?
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
The blood was gone
I got home and the trail of blood was gone.
Gone, I said....gone.
Whose blood, and where it went require me to start back a ways, so sit down, grab some bon-bons and listen up...
It all started back over Father's Day weekend. We went camping at a state park with our friends. There were some great hiking/biking trails (my thought...'how nice for the hikers and bikers'), but our friends are rather active so we brought our 2-wheelers along. Now, in order to bring our heart-attack inducers I had to connect our large (6x12) utility trailer and bungee-cord down the bikes. Lame, to be sure - but it worked.
So we bike and such and suddenly I'm Lance Armstrong. Pulling the trailer henceforth is simply not going to cut it. What to do? Well, I've come to discover some discounted treasures (used junk) that I thought could be useful to me on the Craigslist site. After realizing that a 5-bike trailer-hitch bike rack will run far north of $450, Craigslist is looking better and better by the moment.
A search brings up.....absolutely nothing. Man, I hate Craigslist.
Only kidding there.
So I'm 0-for-1 when I see a new cool little feature 'Craig' added. If you don't get your desired result (meaning, zilch-squat-zippo-nada-nothing), the search engine searches near areas (communities) for what you're seeking.
And there I see it - A SIX BIKE RACK!!
Six bikes? Yes, six bikes!! Now, Nate can't ride yet (nor can he walk yet, but hey, he'll get there) but eventually we'll need a six-bike rack!
The only catch?
It's attached to a camper.
Now most people might see that as a deterrent, but not me. I see that as an expensive bike rack with a free pop-up camper to boot!
Fast forward a day and bingo-bango, I'm pulling a pop-up home, happy as Clark Griswold on his way to Wally World.
I love used stuff. You beat the depreciation, and if it's been well taken care of, you score big. However I like to customize my purchases to make them 'mine.' So after changing out the door and drawer handles, the floor is the next obvious choice.
I'm also a believer in having the right tools for the right job, so a quick trip to Home Depot and a new 'super sharp tile cutting' Husky utility knife later, I'm ready.
I begin installing the new floor and it's looking good. I'm feeling confident about the decision to upgrade the floor, and looking forward to going camping again the following day when all of a sudden my blade somehow jumps over the metal straight edge and fillets the end of my finger.
For a second that seemed to last much longer, there was no pain. Then like 1980 Mt. St. Helen's, the finger erupted and the molten-lava (blood) started gushing. I rush inside, leaving a gruesome track of every step, and race to the sink to wash it out.
I can't even see the cut, but can feel the skin barely hanging on, so I wrap it with medical bandages and tape and head off to the E.R.
1 hour and seven stiches later, I return home to complete the job, finger throbbing and all. When I get inside I look down expecting to see that awful dark-crimson stained reminder of my miscue but can find nothing.
I head in to the laundry room, where I left quite an impression trying to find the proper bandages. Again, nothing.
The kids come rushing in to see how the patient is, and I ask about the blood trail. Maybe it wasn't as bad as I had originally thought, but in fact it was; and worse.
While I was gone Andrew (14 y/o) voluntarily cleaned up everything. EVERYTHING. He got down on the tile and cleaned up the mess.
I didn't tell him to, I didn't ask him to, and I didn't expect him to.
But he did it anyway. And I was (and am still) totally blown away. When I was 14 I would NEVER have done something like that. And although it's somewhat grotesque, it makes his self-less act that much more impressive.
Sometimes our kids drive us to the brink, and other times they make us bonkers. But once in awhile you get these little pockets of behavior that reveal who they really are inside, and it makes you so proud of them it takes your breath away.
That day, there was no step-this or step-that, we were just a family helping one another out. What a day, and what a great kid!
Gone, I said....gone.
Whose blood, and where it went require me to start back a ways, so sit down, grab some bon-bons and listen up...
It all started back over Father's Day weekend. We went camping at a state park with our friends. There were some great hiking/biking trails (my thought...'how nice for the hikers and bikers'), but our friends are rather active so we brought our 2-wheelers along. Now, in order to bring our heart-attack inducers I had to connect our large (6x12) utility trailer and bungee-cord down the bikes. Lame, to be sure - but it worked.
So we bike and such and suddenly I'm Lance Armstrong. Pulling the trailer henceforth is simply not going to cut it. What to do? Well, I've come to discover some discounted treasures (used junk) that I thought could be useful to me on the Craigslist site. After realizing that a 5-bike trailer-hitch bike rack will run far north of $450, Craigslist is looking better and better by the moment.
A search brings up.....absolutely nothing. Man, I hate Craigslist.
Only kidding there.
So I'm 0-for-1 when I see a new cool little feature 'Craig' added. If you don't get your desired result (meaning, zilch-squat-zippo-nada-nothing), the search engine searches near areas (communities) for what you're seeking.
And there I see it - A SIX BIKE RACK!!
Six bikes? Yes, six bikes!! Now, Nate can't ride yet (nor can he walk yet, but hey, he'll get there) but eventually we'll need a six-bike rack!
The only catch?
It's attached to a camper.
Now most people might see that as a deterrent, but not me. I see that as an expensive bike rack with a free pop-up camper to boot!
Fast forward a day and bingo-bango, I'm pulling a pop-up home, happy as Clark Griswold on his way to Wally World.
I love used stuff. You beat the depreciation, and if it's been well taken care of, you score big. However I like to customize my purchases to make them 'mine.' So after changing out the door and drawer handles, the floor is the next obvious choice.
I'm also a believer in having the right tools for the right job, so a quick trip to Home Depot and a new 'super sharp tile cutting' Husky utility knife later, I'm ready.
I begin installing the new floor and it's looking good. I'm feeling confident about the decision to upgrade the floor, and looking forward to going camping again the following day when all of a sudden my blade somehow jumps over the metal straight edge and fillets the end of my finger.
For a second that seemed to last much longer, there was no pain. Then like 1980 Mt. St. Helen's, the finger erupted and the molten-lava (blood) started gushing. I rush inside, leaving a gruesome track of every step, and race to the sink to wash it out.
I can't even see the cut, but can feel the skin barely hanging on, so I wrap it with medical bandages and tape and head off to the E.R.
1 hour and seven stiches later, I return home to complete the job, finger throbbing and all. When I get inside I look down expecting to see that awful dark-crimson stained reminder of my miscue but can find nothing.
I head in to the laundry room, where I left quite an impression trying to find the proper bandages. Again, nothing.
The kids come rushing in to see how the patient is, and I ask about the blood trail. Maybe it wasn't as bad as I had originally thought, but in fact it was; and worse.
While I was gone Andrew (14 y/o) voluntarily cleaned up everything. EVERYTHING. He got down on the tile and cleaned up the mess.
I didn't tell him to, I didn't ask him to, and I didn't expect him to.
But he did it anyway. And I was (and am still) totally blown away. When I was 14 I would NEVER have done something like that. And although it's somewhat grotesque, it makes his self-less act that much more impressive.
Sometimes our kids drive us to the brink, and other times they make us bonkers. But once in awhile you get these little pockets of behavior that reveal who they really are inside, and it makes you so proud of them it takes your breath away.
That day, there was no step-this or step-that, we were just a family helping one another out. What a day, and what a great kid!
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
The blind leading the blind
It's an old expression.
I find it particularly applicable today.
This is a true story about today's adventure and how little siblings look up to the big ones! There's a great leadership lesson in here for all of us!
So we're working on honesty, namely with 14 y/o Andrew. "Working On" as in failing miserably. So the untruths seem to be increasing in frequency, yet everytime they are discovered this very smart boy goes to the new 'sorry shuffle'
It goes something like this:
Me: "andrew, what were you thinking?"
A: Approaches me shagrinned, head down, shuffling feet...."I don't know, I'm reaaaal sorry Daaaad."
M: Trying to stay mad, but can't resist this repentant-routine, "It's ok, don't do it again, though o.k?'
A: "O.K."
Repeat, constantly. For variation, throw in the, "I'm not mad at you honey, but I am disappointed."
Anyway, this silliness can only go on for so long. Although I'd like to think I am an endless supply of mercy, quite the contrary is true.
SO he leaves me no choice but to go to the....
WRITE IT DOWN PUNISHMENT.
Andrew actually ASKED FOR MORE DAYS OF GROUNDING INSTEAD of the write it down business, which tells me this one may work (for now).
Anywho, we're at my office today for a bit, and he is writing,
"I will not lie or deceive"
Over and over and over and over and over again.
Namely, 1,000 times.
Now before you gasp and scream "teenagers rights!!" (who in their right mind would scream that, anyway?) you should know we didn't start at 1,000 - we worked our way up to it.
So I get him a legal pad and pen and he's off to the races...or not. But he is writing.
15 minutes later Maddie comes in and says, "Dad, can I have a piece of paper and a pen?"
Oblivious to why, I ask.
Me: "Are you going to draw Daddy a picture?" (Again, she's 8, but sometimes I talk to her as if she's 2)
Mads: "No."
Me: "What are you going to do?"
Mads: "I am going to write something 1,000 times, I want to be like Andrew."
Me: "What are you going to write?"
Mads..thinking of something....considering her options...Hannah Montana, High School Musical 3...Suite Life of Zach and Cody....she ultimately proclaims,
"I love to play!"
I find it particularly applicable today.
This is a true story about today's adventure and how little siblings look up to the big ones! There's a great leadership lesson in here for all of us!
So we're working on honesty, namely with 14 y/o Andrew. "Working On" as in failing miserably. So the untruths seem to be increasing in frequency, yet everytime they are discovered this very smart boy goes to the new 'sorry shuffle'
It goes something like this:
Me: "andrew, what were you thinking?"
A: Approaches me shagrinned, head down, shuffling feet...."I don't know, I'm reaaaal sorry Daaaad."
M: Trying to stay mad, but can't resist this repentant-routine, "It's ok, don't do it again, though o.k?'
A: "O.K."
Repeat, constantly. For variation, throw in the, "I'm not mad at you honey, but I am disappointed."
Anyway, this silliness can only go on for so long. Although I'd like to think I am an endless supply of mercy, quite the contrary is true.
SO he leaves me no choice but to go to the....
WRITE IT DOWN PUNISHMENT.
Andrew actually ASKED FOR MORE DAYS OF GROUNDING INSTEAD of the write it down business, which tells me this one may work (for now).
Anywho, we're at my office today for a bit, and he is writing,
"I will not lie or deceive"
Over and over and over and over and over again.
Namely, 1,000 times.
Now before you gasp and scream "teenagers rights!!" (who in their right mind would scream that, anyway?) you should know we didn't start at 1,000 - we worked our way up to it.
So I get him a legal pad and pen and he's off to the races...or not. But he is writing.
15 minutes later Maddie comes in and says, "Dad, can I have a piece of paper and a pen?"
Oblivious to why, I ask.
Me: "Are you going to draw Daddy a picture?" (Again, she's 8, but sometimes I talk to her as if she's 2)
Mads: "No."
Me: "What are you going to do?"
Mads: "I am going to write something 1,000 times, I want to be like Andrew."
Me: "What are you going to write?"
Mads..thinking of something....considering her options...Hannah Montana, High School Musical 3...Suite Life of Zach and Cody....she ultimately proclaims,
"I love to play!"
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Gosh
Remember the story of my cousin, 'Little James?' (If he becomes a rapper, Lil' James) If not, check out the previous post called, "pronouns & curse words."
Anyway, he and his twin brother are in town this week for VBS (vacation Bible school).
So we're outside wrestling and during a brief pause in the WWE action I ask him how it is.
Me: "So how's VBS going?"
LJ: "Good."
Me: "Are you having fun?"
LJ: "Yep."
Me: "Who are you learning about?"
LJ: Wants to get this one right, yet seems pained by the answer. I'm waiting patiently as his 8 year old mind wanders to and returns back from Sponge-Bobville, and he finally says:
"Gosh."
I look at him, he looks back at me. He doesn't say it like he's exasperated, he says it like he means it, as if he is spending his days learning about Gosh.
Me: "You mean, "GOD?"
LJ: "Ummm yeah."
Me: "There is no Gosh Almighty, you know."
LJ: "I know."
Now this exchange is really funny to me because our kids (and cousins) know saying "Oh my God" is not an acceptable thing to say. So apparently in his pee wee brain he figures he can't say "God" because he may get in trouble. So he says "Gosh."
Brilliant, actually.
Gosh.
Anyway, he and his twin brother are in town this week for VBS (vacation Bible school).
So we're outside wrestling and during a brief pause in the WWE action I ask him how it is.
Me: "So how's VBS going?"
LJ: "Good."
Me: "Are you having fun?"
LJ: "Yep."
Me: "Who are you learning about?"
LJ: Wants to get this one right, yet seems pained by the answer. I'm waiting patiently as his 8 year old mind wanders to and returns back from Sponge-Bobville, and he finally says:
"Gosh."
I look at him, he looks back at me. He doesn't say it like he's exasperated, he says it like he means it, as if he is spending his days learning about Gosh.
Me: "You mean, "GOD?"
LJ: "Ummm yeah."
Me: "There is no Gosh Almighty, you know."
LJ: "I know."
Now this exchange is really funny to me because our kids (and cousins) know saying "Oh my God" is not an acceptable thing to say. So apparently in his pee wee brain he figures he can't say "God" because he may get in trouble. So he says "Gosh."
Brilliant, actually.
Gosh.
Monday, June 15, 2009
You said WHAT? (a/k/a You're gonna' get knocked up)
We are passionate people.
A very spirited family.
An abundance of ambition (although sometimes a deficit of motivation).
We can also be quite sarcastic, dramatic, stubborn and ill-tempered.
There is really nothing we don't joke about. A kid throws a temper tantrum (any of them, ages 14/11/8/1.5), within an hour or so we're re-enacting it with dramatic flair to the cheers and jeers of the family crowd.
A true (albeit embarrassing) family story:
Let's just say for conversation's sake that your in Canada with the kids driving around down by Niagara Falls at night on what is apparently the Canadian Labor Day Weekend (who thought to check the Canadian calendar before our trip?? No wonder that dive motel was so expensive!) and your SUV stops running. By the way, you're leaving the next morning because you HAVE to be be back in town in two days for a court-custody hearing. So you're coasting, that's right, COASTING down the road in neutral trying to get off the road (there is, apparently, every Canadian in Canada at the Falls this night at 11:30 PM).
You almost get through the intersection, 3/4 the way turned when you run out of momentum. So you're kind-of blocking 1 lane of traffic. Apparently people are not too happy that time of night, because Mr. Minivan behind me honks his horn. Granted, an inconvenience, but sheesh pal go around me. I did have my flashers on, what could I do?
So MV Man honks again, this time a little longer. I of course am oblivious (except apparently in my subconscious where it's building like 1980's Mt. St Helen's), as Andrew, Hannah, Maddie and 8-month pregnant Jill wait for me to do something great.
HOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNKKKKKKKKKKK. As if the guy is sleeping on his horn.
Snap.
I fling my door open and bum rush MVM. I start yelling passionately about how my truck is stalled as in it won't start and although I can appreciate this driver's impatience I'm sure he can understand I AM NOT DOING IT ON PURPOSE.
The male driver (mid-60's) is just staring straight ahead like, 'cooo-cooo bird' which of course makes me more frustrated. Just when I realize what a dufus I am being, and when I finally pause to catch my breath, his unlovely wife leaned over and very patronizingly stated,
"you need to caaaaalllllllmmmm down."
Composure? gone.
Reason? gone.
Good sense? gone.
Mild yelling tone? long gone.
Calm down? Calm down? You and your jerk husband have the audacity to sit here in the comfort of your glorified station wagon, which unlike my vehicle at this point, WORKS - while my three children and pregnant wife are sitting in the middle of the busiest intersection in North America a mere 8 hours before we're supposed to go home all the while knowing not a single auto shop will be open in the morning because of your stupid labor day holiday, smack dab in the middle of summer, and blah blah blah...
They drive off, and I am left seething. The locals came over and applauded my tongue-lashing (making me feel worse).
By the way, I work in ministry.
So we got it all ironed out (eventually), and wouldn't you know it, now all the kids have to say is, 'remember Canada?' I did apologize profusely to them and beg their forgiveness, telling them it was a perfect lesson in WHAT NOT TO DO, and that I was in every way wrong.
Remember Canada. Brilliant.
Ok, so I shared that loooong story so you know that everyone and everything is fair game. After all, WE ARE TEASERS!
So yesterday Andrew and I were teasing and wresting. This is quite fun for both of us, and of course he tests the boundaries of how far he can take it. So we're jockeying for position and he's running his mouth like a marathon-er, and in my mind I meant to say (again, we're teasing here...)
knock it off and shut it up
But what came out was, "You're gonna' get knocked up!"
How he knows what this means, I have no idea. But of course, game over. Hysterics. Andrew, Jill, Hannah (who has no clue what this means, but just joins in the laughing anyway), even Nate find my slip up amusing.
Guess what I've heard constantly for the last 12 hours?
A very spirited family.
An abundance of ambition (although sometimes a deficit of motivation).
We can also be quite sarcastic, dramatic, stubborn and ill-tempered.
There is really nothing we don't joke about. A kid throws a temper tantrum (any of them, ages 14/11/8/1.5), within an hour or so we're re-enacting it with dramatic flair to the cheers and jeers of the family crowd.
A true (albeit embarrassing) family story:
Let's just say for conversation's sake that your in Canada with the kids driving around down by Niagara Falls at night on what is apparently the Canadian Labor Day Weekend (who thought to check the Canadian calendar before our trip?? No wonder that dive motel was so expensive!) and your SUV stops running. By the way, you're leaving the next morning because you HAVE to be be back in town in two days for a court-custody hearing. So you're coasting, that's right, COASTING down the road in neutral trying to get off the road (there is, apparently, every Canadian in Canada at the Falls this night at 11:30 PM).
You almost get through the intersection, 3/4 the way turned when you run out of momentum. So you're kind-of blocking 1 lane of traffic. Apparently people are not too happy that time of night, because Mr. Minivan behind me honks his horn. Granted, an inconvenience, but sheesh pal go around me. I did have my flashers on, what could I do?
So MV Man honks again, this time a little longer. I of course am oblivious (except apparently in my subconscious where it's building like 1980's Mt. St Helen's), as Andrew, Hannah, Maddie and 8-month pregnant Jill wait for me to do something great.
HOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNKKKKKKKKKKK. As if the guy is sleeping on his horn.
Snap.
I fling my door open and bum rush MVM. I start yelling passionately about how my truck is stalled as in it won't start and although I can appreciate this driver's impatience I'm sure he can understand I AM NOT DOING IT ON PURPOSE.
The male driver (mid-60's) is just staring straight ahead like, 'cooo-cooo bird' which of course makes me more frustrated. Just when I realize what a dufus I am being, and when I finally pause to catch my breath, his unlovely wife leaned over and very patronizingly stated,
"you need to caaaaalllllllmmmm down."
Composure? gone.
Reason? gone.
Good sense? gone.
Mild yelling tone? long gone.
Calm down? Calm down? You and your jerk husband have the audacity to sit here in the comfort of your glorified station wagon, which unlike my vehicle at this point, WORKS - while my three children and pregnant wife are sitting in the middle of the busiest intersection in North America a mere 8 hours before we're supposed to go home all the while knowing not a single auto shop will be open in the morning because of your stupid labor day holiday, smack dab in the middle of summer, and blah blah blah...
They drive off, and I am left seething. The locals came over and applauded my tongue-lashing (making me feel worse).
By the way, I work in ministry.
So we got it all ironed out (eventually), and wouldn't you know it, now all the kids have to say is, 'remember Canada?' I did apologize profusely to them and beg their forgiveness, telling them it was a perfect lesson in WHAT NOT TO DO, and that I was in every way wrong.
Remember Canada. Brilliant.
Ok, so I shared that loooong story so you know that everyone and everything is fair game. After all, WE ARE TEASERS!
So yesterday Andrew and I were teasing and wresting. This is quite fun for both of us, and of course he tests the boundaries of how far he can take it. So we're jockeying for position and he's running his mouth like a marathon-er, and in my mind I meant to say (again, we're teasing here...)
knock it off and shut it up
But what came out was, "You're gonna' get knocked up!"
How he knows what this means, I have no idea. But of course, game over. Hysterics. Andrew, Jill, Hannah (who has no clue what this means, but just joins in the laughing anyway), even Nate find my slip up amusing.
Guess what I've heard constantly for the last 12 hours?
Sunday, June 7, 2009
You can't handle the truth
It's classic exchange between a zealous, young prosecutor and a complex, senior ranking military general that most of us recognize instantly from the classic movie, "A Few Good Men."A great line, a great lesson. Today the point was driven home in a very memorable way.....
Earlier Maddie and I were watching the Brewers game after church, snuggled up on the couch. Relaxing, having some good laughs and just being goofy. I like to check in with her once in awhile on the 'boy' front, if you know what I mean.
She is, after all, 8 big-years-old, headed in to 3rd grade and quite the bright one. She of course scoffs at the mere suggestion of boys, which I reinforce emphatically. She understands that dating begins sometime in the late-20's, and marriage talk....30 minimum! This all sounds good to her (now), and I consider it good ammo for the future.
Me: "Sooo, any boys catch your eye lately?"
Maddie, "Daaaaad.."
Me, "Whaaaa??" (feigning innocence and ignorance)
Maddie, "Noooo Daaaaddddddd" (cue eye roll and slight head shake)
Me, thinking 'whew, so far so good', "Well, do you think any boys are cute?"
June-bug, "Nooo"
Me, wondering if I'm still the apple of her eye, "Well, so, ummm if you had to rank from like one to ten, you know, one being awfully ugly and ten being really really cute (I smile reaaaal big, like a cue), what would you rate Dad?" (Why I'm speaking in 3rd person to her here, I have no clue!)
Madalishous, staring at me intently, "Hmmmm..."
Me thinking, 'come on junior, it's not a trick question....'
Mad-dogg, still eyeing me up....
Me thinking, 'sheesh, I feel self-conscious now...out with it already....come on, come on...I can help you with it....one number after NINE....say it with me Teeeee.."
Maddie, "5"
Me, "Whaaaaatttt?"
Maddie, staring even harder now for what seems like an eternity, but in actuality is about 3 seconds...."and-a-half?"
This is her consolation prize. Her vote of confidence. Her telling me, 'gee Dad, you're not average...just ever so slightly above..'
That is vintage Maddie.
And just like that young attorney, I apparently can't handle the truth, either!
Thursday, June 4, 2009
A chart to help
A chart I made may help the uninformed....
This chart should be preserved for future generations. Parents (especially Dad's) should print it, post it, and memorize it!
:)
This chart should be preserved for future generations. Parents (especially Dad's) should print it, post it, and memorize it!
:)
Sunday, May 31, 2009
My kid, the rock star!
Our munchkin has been munchin a lot lately. Apparently teeth accelerate the food consumption process.
Anyway, Nate's at the age now where (most) everything is really cute. Sans the incessant groan/grunt/whine/gutteral moan-scream to get attention; he's quite the entertainer.
He waves at everyone. Even grumpy old coots at Wal-Mart simply cannot resist the Nate-wave. I never noticed how much people scowl until I started watching the reactions to Nate's greeting - ignore it, ignore it, for heaven's sakes that kid won't stop waving....a crack of a smile....the obligatory wave-back. To see the change caused just by one little tyke's wave is amazing!
Not to mention when he starts blowing kisses....grown men are standing in line, clutching their Marlboros (no filter), 10-gallon hats on, Kodiak cud and Harley Davidson chaps waiting to pay for their fuel fill up at the gas station when all of sudden Nate puckers up and tosses an air kiss. Suddenly Mr. Scar Face-Terminator-Rambo-Tough Guy is speaking baby babble catching air kisses and blowing them back.
Quite a site to see. (slightly akward)
But that's not what makes my boy a rock star.
Nope.
It gets even
b
e
t
t
e
r
Because last weekend we pitched our tent out in the wildnerness (local county park) in the elements (a manicured campsite) among wild animals (chipmunks) and really roughed it (ate junk food and store-bought treats like slobs, capped off by the burley "Tenderloin Steak over the campfire" meal!)
So Mr. Best-Friend-to-everyone comes crawling over. And I notice he's eating something (not unlike mom & dad) - but he seems to having a rough go of it.
Eventually he spits it out on the dirt.
His delicacy?
Rock. Not rock candy.
R-O-C-K, rock.
Greeeeeeat. I was wondering why his tooth chipped. I guess now I know.
Rock on!
Anyway, Nate's at the age now where (most) everything is really cute. Sans the incessant groan/grunt/whine/gutteral moan-scream to get attention; he's quite the entertainer.
He waves at everyone. Even grumpy old coots at Wal-Mart simply cannot resist the Nate-wave. I never noticed how much people scowl until I started watching the reactions to Nate's greeting - ignore it, ignore it, for heaven's sakes that kid won't stop waving....a crack of a smile....the obligatory wave-back. To see the change caused just by one little tyke's wave is amazing!
Not to mention when he starts blowing kisses....grown men are standing in line, clutching their Marlboros (no filter), 10-gallon hats on, Kodiak cud and Harley Davidson chaps waiting to pay for their fuel fill up at the gas station when all of sudden Nate puckers up and tosses an air kiss. Suddenly Mr. Scar Face-Terminator-Rambo-Tough Guy is speaking baby babble catching air kisses and blowing them back.
Quite a site to see. (slightly akward)
But that's not what makes my boy a rock star.
Nope.
It gets even
b
e
t
t
e
r
Because last weekend we pitched our tent out in the wildnerness (local county park) in the elements (a manicured campsite) among wild animals (chipmunks) and really roughed it (ate junk food and store-bought treats like slobs, capped off by the burley "Tenderloin Steak over the campfire" meal!)
So Mr. Best-Friend-to-everyone comes crawling over. And I notice he's eating something (not unlike mom & dad) - but he seems to having a rough go of it.
Eventually he spits it out on the dirt.
His delicacy?
Rock. Not rock candy.
R-O-C-K, rock.
Greeeeeeat. I was wondering why his tooth chipped. I guess now I know.
Rock on!
Thursday, May 28, 2009
pronouns and curse words
Last week my niece graduated with a Master's Degree of some specialty. This particular branch of the Kocian family tree is sagging mightily with all the college degrees. My eldest sister returned to school as an adult and not only finished her undergraduate, she went to attain a master's. Apparently that started some kind of race within her clan of who can acquire the largest amount of school-loan debt; no, who can earn the most degrees. My side of the tree however, is lighter....much lighter....
Anyway, we're all sitting at a fancy Italian restaurant, awaiting our super-sized portions of simple carbs when I say to my nephew,
"Do you know what a verb is?"
I get a look that only 2nd graders give when highly insulted by such innocuous banter...
"Yeaaaaaah"
Me: "Well, what is it?"
Him: "An action word."
Little does he know I'm setting him up. As a child I always found great humor in what I am about to entrap him with.
Me: "Ok smarty-pants, how about a pronoun, do you know what those are?"
The eyes roll back in the head, an exasperated sigh, followed by a pained grimace...
Him: "Duuh, yeah."
Me: "Give me an example of some pronouns then."
Him: "He, She, It.."
Me: "Huh?"
He's getting really torqued off now...
Him: "He, She, It"
Me: "What did you sayyy?"
Him: "HeSheIt"
A quizzical look...
Him: "Heshe it"
a pause....
a smile....
Him: "He..."
RAISES HIS VOICE TO NEAR YELLING
"SH**"
Everyone at the table gasps, the patrons look over at the rude exclamation, he looks at me...
And I wink.
Anyway, we're all sitting at a fancy Italian restaurant, awaiting our super-sized portions of simple carbs when I say to my nephew,
"Do you know what a verb is?"
I get a look that only 2nd graders give when highly insulted by such innocuous banter...
"Yeaaaaaah"
Me: "Well, what is it?"
Him: "An action word."
Little does he know I'm setting him up. As a child I always found great humor in what I am about to entrap him with.
Me: "Ok smarty-pants, how about a pronoun, do you know what those are?"
The eyes roll back in the head, an exasperated sigh, followed by a pained grimace...
Him: "Duuh, yeah."
Me: "Give me an example of some pronouns then."
Him: "He, She, It.."
Me: "Huh?"
He's getting really torqued off now...
Him: "He, She, It"
Me: "What did you sayyy?"
Him: "HeSheIt"
A quizzical look...
Him: "Heshe it"
a pause....
a smile....
Him: "He..."
RAISES HIS VOICE TO NEAR YELLING
"SH**"
Everyone at the table gasps, the patrons look over at the rude exclamation, he looks at me...
And I wink.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
"You're grounded"
Those have to be some of my favorite words. The elicit such a definitive and swift punishment, so much finality and authority.
I, unfortunately have learned that I say it about as often as "good morning!" Homework not done? You're grounded. Dogs not taken out? You're grounded. Back talking? Grounded. Rude? Grounded. Crabby? Grounded, grounded, grounded! WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU WON'T SCRATCH MY BACK?? YOU'RE GROUNDED!
Ok, I'm just joking around here, but really I've gone to that well far too often. See my last post about an all-time low I hit by going to the lame-brain "double-grounded" card.
So we are going to go back to an idea that we tried once that worked well (so why didn't we keep doing it? I'm asking myself that same question...).
When someone is grounded, they have to right their offense and the duration of grounding on a piece of paper. Then they attach it to their magnet on the fridge (each family member has their own magnet, a cool Christmas gift - available here: http://www.personalcreations.com - search for family character magnet) - they look like these:
So we're going to try it again. It shouldn't be long before all the names have something attached to them....
:)
I, unfortunately have learned that I say it about as often as "good morning!" Homework not done? You're grounded. Dogs not taken out? You're grounded. Back talking? Grounded. Rude? Grounded. Crabby? Grounded, grounded, grounded! WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU WON'T SCRATCH MY BACK?? YOU'RE GROUNDED!
Ok, I'm just joking around here, but really I've gone to that well far too often. See my last post about an all-time low I hit by going to the lame-brain "double-grounded" card.
So we are going to go back to an idea that we tried once that worked well (so why didn't we keep doing it? I'm asking myself that same question...).
When someone is grounded, they have to right their offense and the duration of grounding on a piece of paper. Then they attach it to their magnet on the fridge (each family member has their own magnet, a cool Christmas gift - available here: http://www.personalcreations.com - search for family character magnet) - they look like these:
So we're going to try it again. It shouldn't be long before all the names have something attached to them....
:)
Friday, May 15, 2009
Check the K-dar
I'm quick to take things away from the kids. Too quick, actually. I've threatened to leave a child home from some great activity we're about to do together (while in the car) knowing full well I'm not really going to leave the child out. I'm betting the threat of punishment is enough to correct the bad behavior, and usually it works.
there's a crack in the dam, a hole in the story, a slip of the tongue....
and it all comes crashing down.
Let me stop here and interject how emphatically I believe trust is a MAJOR issue in any family, and especially a fused family like ours. Many a time the kids have saved their proverbial bacon by confessing the truth before I hear it from the teacher/neighbor/friend/fill in the blank here. They know EVERYONE makes mistakes (including mom and dad), and it's not the mistake that hurts (or heals) as much as how we deal with it. Everyone in our clan knows this, which makes the unraveling of the story even worse...
Finally we get the truth, and although it's sandwiched between some exaggerations, it is still evident.
Waterworks (tears), hugs, bingo-bango, we move forward.
That is; after my obligatory, special-edition, especially long-winded diatribe on honesty, integrity, and trust. Then before I knew it I had put myself right smack dab in the middle of an enigma. You see, this child was already grounded.
Now what am I supposed to do? I've never had to ground an already-grounded kid, think fast.....
"You're double-grounded!"
A perplexed look as if to say, "huh?"
I maintain my posture, sure as ever and trying to sell that this is a much more serious state than the normal grounding. I don't flinch, and suddenly I'm gaining ground. Questions appear to fade, as the reality of double-grounding settles in.
Now of course I have to figure out what this means....
So I go with it for a day, and the jobs that normally Andrew has are now relegated to Hannah (the double groundee). But not all the jobs. Just some...and which ones exactly? I'm straight up improvising at this point.
Everyone is confused, including the dogs who apparently didn't get let out - so they show their disapproval for my intuitive double grounding tactic by relieving themselves - indoors.
Luckily my wife intervenes and privately asks, "can we have a more definitive schedule of who's doing what?"
We'd been talking about it for some time, and now this is the perfect opportunity to unveil what I've dubbed the "K-DAR!"
'K-Dar?' you're wondering, 'what on earth is that?'
Simple, the Kocian DAily Routine!
Every child's name is on the list, with jobs simple and beyond (from brush teeth to do dishes, and understandably - take out the dogs!) It's broken in to day parts - before school, after school, after dinner, before bed.
Everyone clearly understands what is expected, and everyone seems to be enjoying it thus far (probably a honeymoon phase, and that's o.k!)
Even Nate (who's 1 1/2) made the K-Dar. Here's his list:
Before school - sleep
After school - sleep (nap)
After dinner - play
Before bed - cuddle
The perfect day!
The K-dar bought me some time - to figure out what exactly the double grounding is anyway!
Usually.
Last week we had a stealing episode, followed by the look-you-in-the-face, promise-I-didn't lie about it afterward issue. That's a beaut. Your kid looks at you with those puppy dog eyes and convinces you that not only did they NOT steal, they most likely have NEVER done anything wrong! It sounds crazy, but you begin to think your child is saintly.
Until....
there's a crack in the dam, a hole in the story, a slip of the tongue....
and it all comes crashing down.
Let me stop here and interject how emphatically I believe trust is a MAJOR issue in any family, and especially a fused family like ours. Many a time the kids have saved their proverbial bacon by confessing the truth before I hear it from the teacher/neighbor/friend/fill in the blank here. They know EVERYONE makes mistakes (including mom and dad), and it's not the mistake that hurts (or heals) as much as how we deal with it. Everyone in our clan knows this, which makes the unraveling of the story even worse...
Finally we get the truth, and although it's sandwiched between some exaggerations, it is still evident.
Waterworks (tears), hugs, bingo-bango, we move forward.
That is; after my obligatory, special-edition, especially long-winded diatribe on honesty, integrity, and trust. Then before I knew it I had put myself right smack dab in the middle of an enigma. You see, this child was already grounded.
Now what am I supposed to do? I've never had to ground an already-grounded kid, think fast.....
"You're double-grounded!"
A perplexed look as if to say, "huh?"
I maintain my posture, sure as ever and trying to sell that this is a much more serious state than the normal grounding. I don't flinch, and suddenly I'm gaining ground. Questions appear to fade, as the reality of double-grounding settles in.
Now of course I have to figure out what this means....
So I go with it for a day, and the jobs that normally Andrew has are now relegated to Hannah (the double groundee). But not all the jobs. Just some...and which ones exactly? I'm straight up improvising at this point.
Everyone is confused, including the dogs who apparently didn't get let out - so they show their disapproval for my intuitive double grounding tactic by relieving themselves - indoors.
Luckily my wife intervenes and privately asks, "can we have a more definitive schedule of who's doing what?"
We'd been talking about it for some time, and now this is the perfect opportunity to unveil what I've dubbed the "K-DAR!"
'K-Dar?' you're wondering, 'what on earth is that?'
Simple, the Kocian DAily Routine!
Every child's name is on the list, with jobs simple and beyond (from brush teeth to do dishes, and understandably - take out the dogs!) It's broken in to day parts - before school, after school, after dinner, before bed.
Everyone clearly understands what is expected, and everyone seems to be enjoying it thus far (probably a honeymoon phase, and that's o.k!)
Even Nate (who's 1 1/2) made the K-Dar. Here's his list:
Before school - sleep
After school - sleep (nap)
After dinner - play
Before bed - cuddle
The perfect day!
The K-dar bought me some time - to figure out what exactly the double grounding is anyway!
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Do Your Best
Our kids are entirely different. This has nothing to do with DNA, last names, or anything of the sort. They're just wonderfully unique in so many ways. One particular arena that reveals each child's singularity is school.
For a long time my wife Jill and I would place a premium on the highest grades. Not only would an A be rewarded with verbal accolades, some highly coveted greenbacks may also accompany the congratulatory backpats. This system worked fine and well in preschool, kindergarten, 1st and even 2nd grades, but 3rd grade challenged our ko-losophy (kocian philosophy).
Around age nine, it became apparent that A's are no longer a given, and that there are certain subjects each child both excels and struggles in. As the oldest progressed through school (sometimes barely!), we found the younger kids facing the same hurdles at the same age.
Another obvious revelation (it took us years to recognize!): each child has their own strengths and weaknesses that translate to good (and no so good) grades in particular subjects. One child aces math and breezes through hardly cracking the book earning an A+, while another studies nightly just to squeek by with a C-.
What to do??
It doesn't seem right to just reward the high grade, because we feel there's more to life than straight A's. So I think back to my own upbringing, and the words I heard so often when I found myself facing a goliath sized battle,
"do your best."
So simple, yet so profound. Let's face it, we all can't be in first place. Some people are more talented, smarter, faster, stronger, and on and on and on than us. But that does not give us a license to give 60%, 80%, or even 90%. All we can do is all we can do. And around here, there's nothing more celebrated than doing your best.
It doesn't guarantee an A+, first place, or even honorable mention; but in our home it will get a hug, smile, and the words everyone loves to hear, "I'm proud of you!"
I never in a million years thought I'd be excited over a C-, but when I know all the effort and determination that has gone in to earning that passing grade, I could not be more pleased! Why? Because they did all they could, and I will never fault anyone who eagerly accepts any challenge with the "do your best" attitude!"
For a long time my wife Jill and I would place a premium on the highest grades. Not only would an A be rewarded with verbal accolades, some highly coveted greenbacks may also accompany the congratulatory backpats. This system worked fine and well in preschool, kindergarten, 1st and even 2nd grades, but 3rd grade challenged our ko-losophy (kocian philosophy).
Around age nine, it became apparent that A's are no longer a given, and that there are certain subjects each child both excels and struggles in. As the oldest progressed through school (sometimes barely!), we found the younger kids facing the same hurdles at the same age.
Another obvious revelation (it took us years to recognize!): each child has their own strengths and weaknesses that translate to good (and no so good) grades in particular subjects. One child aces math and breezes through hardly cracking the book earning an A+, while another studies nightly just to squeek by with a C-.
What to do??
It doesn't seem right to just reward the high grade, because we feel there's more to life than straight A's. So I think back to my own upbringing, and the words I heard so often when I found myself facing a goliath sized battle,
"do your best."
So simple, yet so profound. Let's face it, we all can't be in first place. Some people are more talented, smarter, faster, stronger, and on and on and on than us. But that does not give us a license to give 60%, 80%, or even 90%. All we can do is all we can do. And around here, there's nothing more celebrated than doing your best.
It doesn't guarantee an A+, first place, or even honorable mention; but in our home it will get a hug, smile, and the words everyone loves to hear, "I'm proud of you!"
I never in a million years thought I'd be excited over a C-, but when I know all the effort and determination that has gone in to earning that passing grade, I could not be more pleased! Why? Because they did all they could, and I will never fault anyone who eagerly accepts any challenge with the "do your best" attitude!"
Monday, May 4, 2009
What's my job, anyway?
I didn't quit the job. I couldn't, and although sometimes I'd love to (at least I romanticize the idea), I'm quite sure I wouldn't.
I'm over it. I'm mostly over it. It still bothers me. Man, I'm still mad. Only kidding here, everything is fine. The resolution came slowly, but culminated not with sorrowful repentance, but by being the parent and pouring about 20 minutes of the good stuff in to a very impressionable young man.
So I'm back to my job. Parenting. That's the job. Not really a job description other than, "Looking for someone to love unconditionally, despite being taken advantage of, deceived, manipulated, and (at times) despised. Benefits include hugs, kisses, laughs, tears, and a bond that if applied properly will never be broken. Must be financially resourceful. Vacations mandatory, sick days often."
I'm making light of the responsibility side of parenting, but we all understand the gist here, right? But when you add being a stepparent, there's many different opinions on what the job is, and who's supposed to do what. So I got to thinking, "what's my job, anyway?"
I'll let you in on a family secret here. Although our family is fused, we strive to eliminate all barriers and hindrances by treating everyone age-appropriately, equally loved and disciplined. We don't consider 'step' this or that, we are simply the Kocian family.
Now, I've been advised by many people that I should "remember my place," and that in the end our "approach is destined to fail." Geee, thanks for the encouragement!! It bears mentioning that as parents we're not denying the existence of the other birth-parents. On the contrary, we are supporting the parenting by building up the qualities that are in alignment with our approach (biblical). I also concede that it's been the historical norm for stepparents to step aside with their stepchildren. To us, this is just impractical, outdeated, and from what we've seen, not the best for the kids. So we're trying something new! As mentioned in a previous post, unconditional love is our highest goal.
So if we were that typical step-family, the job would be much easier. I could focus much more on myself and not get as caught up with what feels like an uphill battle. But around here, we don't much care for 'typical' (see this great post http://riversofjoy21.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post.html). At the end of the day, when your (step)child looks at you an says, "I love you, thanks for everything. I feel better," frankly, there's not much that tops that! We're not the typical fused family (by design), and we wouldn't have it any other way!
I love this job.
I'm over it. I'm mostly over it. It still bothers me. Man, I'm still mad. Only kidding here, everything is fine. The resolution came slowly, but culminated not with sorrowful repentance, but by being the parent and pouring about 20 minutes of the good stuff in to a very impressionable young man.
So I'm back to my job. Parenting. That's the job. Not really a job description other than, "Looking for someone to love unconditionally, despite being taken advantage of, deceived, manipulated, and (at times) despised. Benefits include hugs, kisses, laughs, tears, and a bond that if applied properly will never be broken. Must be financially resourceful. Vacations mandatory, sick days often."
I'm making light of the responsibility side of parenting, but we all understand the gist here, right? But when you add being a stepparent, there's many different opinions on what the job is, and who's supposed to do what. So I got to thinking, "what's my job, anyway?"
I'll let you in on a family secret here. Although our family is fused, we strive to eliminate all barriers and hindrances by treating everyone age-appropriately, equally loved and disciplined. We don't consider 'step' this or that, we are simply the Kocian family.
Now, I've been advised by many people that I should "remember my place," and that in the end our "approach is destined to fail." Geee, thanks for the encouragement!! It bears mentioning that as parents we're not denying the existence of the other birth-parents. On the contrary, we are supporting the parenting by building up the qualities that are in alignment with our approach (biblical). I also concede that it's been the historical norm for stepparents to step aside with their stepchildren. To us, this is just impractical, outdeated, and from what we've seen, not the best for the kids. So we're trying something new! As mentioned in a previous post, unconditional love is our highest goal.
So if we were that typical step-family, the job would be much easier. I could focus much more on myself and not get as caught up with what feels like an uphill battle. But around here, we don't much care for 'typical' (see this great post http://riversofjoy21.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post.html). At the end of the day, when your (step)child looks at you an says, "I love you, thanks for everything. I feel better," frankly, there's not much that tops that! We're not the typical fused family (by design), and we wouldn't have it any other way!
I love this job.
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