Father's Day follow up.....

Father’s Day

So thanks so much to our guest, Mrs. Hellenbrand. 

Top notch job, but I would expect nothing less.  And to her comment, I begged her to write for me mostly due to the writer’s block.  But now that she got the ball rolling I will keep it pick it up and keep the celebration going….  

Despite her inability to you know, actually be a man, I think she’s got the gist of it.  We are Fathers.  We are the last to sit down.  We handle the things that go bump in the night, whether they are real or imagined.  And when it comes to our families, there is no doubt we love them. 

But perhaps she gives us too much credit.  I’ll never forget the first time my wife came tearing around the corner of the house, screaming that there was a snake in the backyard.  “SNAKE!”  She yelled in a terrified voice, “GO KILL IT!”  YES!  We must do this I thought to myself.  I waited a beat or two for somebody to go back there and get it.  Then I waited a little longer.  Then I realized she was talking to me.  

I think the lifecycle of a dad is a little messy for a lot of us dads, and luckily we have understanding families that allow for us to grow and learn.  This year has held many opportunities for me to look back and reflect on life and fatherhood.  I somewhat recently attended my high school reunion and approach “the big 40”, both events ripe for reflection.    

Here is what I’ve discovered:  We have covered some ground now.  We stopped by “cute little boy” for a few years, went to “obnoxious teen” for awhile, and then to a slightly blurry phase I call “irresponsible personal exploration” that covered the late teens and early twenties.  I seem to recall having a lot of fun and finding piles and piles of ATM withdrawal slips by my bedside most Saturday mornings, but the details escape me.  

Now were deep into “adulthood”.  Growing up watching my dad, I always perceived it to be horribly boring.  Work, mow the yard, and then go to bed by 10pm.  It didn’t seem like much through my eyes.  What I didn’t realize is that there are a hundred little challenges and moments with your family that make it fun and exciting.  My interests and what I do with myself have changed (let’s be clear: for the better).  

For us seasoned dads, we have gotten pretty good at the basics.  We make three trips to the car to haul in the family luggage while our crew excitedly explores the vacation housing.  We stand when there are one seats too few.  And yes, we go eradicate the unwanted pests from the area, whether it’s is a snake or some other unknown assailant.  As encapsulated by the man standing: Dads are often the last to eat off the carcass in today’s world.  We come to learn how to do all of these things and accept all of the glorious awards that come with it (read: few).  

But these are small sacrifices.  Now we are getting to the hard part.  We are no longer needed to feed our kids, hold their hands to help them balance as they take their first steps, or change diapers.  They are growing up before our eyes.  As a father of three daughters ages 5-15, more and more I am hearing “I can do it”.  This is a good thing, of course, so what is my role now?  How can I help?  I say it’s getting harder.  How do we teach our kids to harness their talents?  How do we give them the ability to take care of themselves?  Can we expose them to the positives in life, helping them to have the skills and knowledge to make smart choices down the road?  How can we show them the way to become happy productive adults?  How do we coach/lead/teach them everything they need to, gulp, leave us behind one day?

We are Dads.  We have embraced this.  The women that captured our hearts so long ago have grown into families that we love so much.  As Kristi wrote about, we do dad things that include trips to Home Depot and profusely sweating after exercise.  As Father’s we must change as our families do.  We do our best to tackle the obstacles that life throws in our way, and in the way of our families.  Even in today’s world where so many traditional roles have been turned on their heads, this is our responsibility and we love it.  Even if (when) our execution is a little off sometimes, it is still better to have a dad who cares.  So take a day to celebrate dad and all the little quirks that make him who he is.  Take him to the stadium or let him sit on the couch.  Make him his favorite meal as a symbol of your appreciation.  Celebrate the day and have fun with it.  Heck, just taking a time and telling him he is appreciated is a gift in and of itself.  So, I’m off to see help plan my Father’s Day menu.  To any Dads reading this:  Happy Father’s Day!

John is the proud father of three and author of Dude You’re Gonna Be a Dad. You can check out his fatherly advice (gripes) and ramblings at http://www.dudeyoureadad.blogspot.com/ and follow him on Twitter at @johnpfeifferdad .

Father's Day!!! Welcome Our Guest.....

With Father’s Day fast approaching, I felt the pressure to come up with a brilliant blog post.  So instead of jumping right on it, I called in a favor from a friend.  This week at “Dude” blogquarters we are honored to have fellow author Kristi Hellenbrand as a guest.  She is author of the wonderful book, “Today is a Good Day for Marshmallows” which can be purchased on Amazon.  For those dedicated readers, you may remember I was a guest on her blog for Mother’s Day (todayisagooddayformarshmallows.blogspot.com).  Just as Kristi had a chance to attack me, um, I mean, respond to my article, I will do the same.  

Dads: Their Roman Catapults & Nasty Gym Shorts

To keep with the spirit of the upcoming Father's Day weekend, my good friend John asked me to guest blog on the topic of fatherhood. Note: I am a mother. Now, this may be payback since he guest-blogged (marvelously, I might add) for my website on the topic of Mother's Day. He probably wants a turn to kick up his feet and drink a few Corona beers this weekend, or maybe he just has writer's block. Either way, I am happy to oblige.

Warning!(here comes the disclaimer...) No, I have not suddenly sprung a pair. Therefore I write this piece from an overwhelmingly estrogen/progesterone perspective. I do not hold an academic degree that makes me any kind of expert on fathers and will not pretend to know even a smidgeon about how it feels to be a father in these modern times. I will, instead, muse on what it looks like it feels like.

As I write this, I am sitting comfortably in an oversize window of a local coffee house. Directly outside my window there is a cute little family sitting on a bench waiting for a table at Ted's Montana Grill. There are five of them, two young elementary-aged boys sandwiched between their mother and their big sis. They have grabbed the last remaining bench and there is no room for Dad. Repeat: Dad is standing. Stationed a few feet in front of them, like a captain commanding a ship, this man knows it is his fatherly/manly duty to relinquish his seat for the sake of his woman and his children. Not exactly Titanic here, but the social message is the same. I am witnessing what it means to be a man with a family. Correction: an upstanding man with a family.

My children have asked on numerous occasions why there is not a Sister Day or Brother Day on our beautiful nation's calendar. I am quick to laugh(!?!) and inform them it is because their job is too easy. Meaning they eat, sleep, might put their dishes in the dishwasher, but definitely never provide dinner or field work phone calls until 9pm. Our 401K does not receive contributions from them, and the refrigerator is not stocked by their hands. They consume, use, devour and generally disrupt order in our home. If they put away their laundry they do so only because they have run out of underwear and prefer not to go commando.

Besides, I further explain to them, children get their birthdays to loaf around and take advantage of the kindness of their family members. We, parents, rarely get to bum around being waited on hand and foot. Even the details of our birthdays are often orchestrated by our own hands. So, in 1972 President Richard Nixon signed Father's Day into law. It seemed fair, mothers had been celebrated for forty years already, so dads received a day to be renowned and to decompress a bit. Therefore, I authorize you, fathers, to drag your family to the golf course this weekend! Make your wife take you to the Braves game! And then force everyone to watch that same game on ESPN later that night! Because it is Father's Day and it is your right.

All fun aside though, fatherhood is tough. Fatherhood begins the moment you are drawing spirals on your wife's back with your fingertips in order to keep her distracted while in the throws of natural childbirth. A few weeks later, fatherhood is defined by waking in the wee hours of the night to change diapers before your wife nurses your prodigy back to sleep. It is only later as our little munchkins grow into romping, running, giggling little people, that the enjoyment of fatherhood increases exponentially. You thrive on your children's smiles, their laughter, and their unadulterated love for you. Coming home from an exhausting day at work, hearing their feet pitter-patter across the floor in a mad rush to greet you, they leap into your arms screaming, “Daddy!!”  And you wouldn't have it any other way. It makes the hassles of board meetings and sales calls, and even the ache you feel deep in the lower half of your spine from having been on your feet all day, fade into oblivion.

When our baby girl, Brooklynn, joined our household I quickly realized that I would have to give up a share of my husband's heart. No longer was I the only woman in his life. Because Daddy was smitten. He loved her piggy-tails, her white sundresses, and her gritty way of telling him that she wanted to wrestle. Yes. Wrestle. This is where we, mothers, lack. Without her daddy, Brooklynn would never have realized her love for rough-housing. Her love for hand to hand combat. I will not comment on whether that would have been a tragedy or not, I will simply state that things would be different around here without the things a father innately brings to family life.

Daddy is the one that baits the worm on the hook, kills the snake in the barn, and dusts the ceiling fan from atop the extension ladder. And while he is up on that ladder he finds time to build the world's tallest Lego tower. He helps his son build an ancient Roman catapult for a school project, and saves the frantically squealing field mouse from the determined jaws of our barn cat in order to console  a distraught daughter. Daddy teaches us how to kill carpenter bees with a tennis racket and explains the difference between a BB gun and a .22 long rifle. Kids eat this stuff up.

Every father would agree, I think, that these are the true joys of fatherhood. The reasons that men awake each morning and continue to drive to those nine-to-fives. The reasons for financial planners, 529 college plans,  and savings accounts strictly devoted to family vacations. The reasons they ultimately forgo bachelorhood and hitch themselves to a good woman.

Dear fathers, the woman in your home adores you. You probably do not hear it enough, but please know it. Know that we appreciate your strength, your calm and your sensibility. We love that you can rewire something, find a stud in the wall, and reposition furniture on a whim. We love it when the baby falls asleep on your lap, when you toss the kids into a four-foot-high vertical in the swimming pool and when you agree to swing by the grocery store on your way home because dinner is not at home waiting for you tonight. We may not love your crazy, loud music or your nasty gym shorts, but we cannot imagine, and hope never to experience a life without you in it. God bless all of you fathers on this happy holiday!

Kristi Hellenbrand is the newly published author of  Today is a Good Day for Marshmallows– A Mother’s Memoir, which received an honorable mention at the 2012 New York Book Festival. She is also the mother of three nutty children (whom she loves and adores anyway), is a chiropractor, a backyard gardener, and an animal lover. She is on a personal quest to be the best mother and wife that she can be, but confesses that she is “no Yoda.” She is simply a woman that is willing to share her many successes and failures in the name of her goal. Please join her and her followers on her blog page. She welcomes your comments and emails. She lives in Georgia with her husband, three children, and two dozen pets.

Crow Soup for the Father's Soul

Feeling a little sentimental and philosophical today,  thanks.  

Fatherhood is a many splendored thing.  It tests many parts of your mind, body, and soul.  It is a challenging role that you often appreciate late at night or when you realize your child is growing up and crossed into a new phase by their actions or their words.  When young children get frustrated, parents when often tell them to stop throwing a fit and “use your words”.  Well, the beauty, passion, and depth of fatherhood is sometimes too much for me and my words, so I thought I would use somebody else’s.  When it comes to beautiful lyrics I cannot think of too many of my favorites who can outdo the beautiful and haunting lyrics of the Counting Crows.  Plus I get to pay a little homage to their music, and when it helped me to scream out some of these words depending on where I was or what song the situation called for.  This section is meant to be a little philosophical, and hopefully, a little inspirational.  Perhaps you will not need this section, or maybe you will need it on day 3 of fatherhood, I don’t know.  Hopefully if you haven’t clicked off this………..are you still reading?  Ok, thanks.  So hopefully you will find some spark in the thoughts contained below.  Of course, there is about a 100% chance that I will be “coloring” the lyrics to apply to fatherhood-

“Have you Seen Me Lately”

 Get away from me
This isn't gonna be easy
But I don't need you
Believe me
You got a piece of me
But it's just a little piece of me
And I don't need anyone
And these days I feel like I'm fading away
Like sometimes when I hear myself on the radio
Have you seen me lately?

I am sure the Crows and Adam didn’t intend it this way, but this song could go out to any stay at home or single parent.  “Have you seen me lately?”  I was having a conversation with the Father’s of my youngest daughter’s friend.  One of us actually said this phrase out loud, “I am really looking forward to seeing Beauty and the Beast 3d.”  I am not going to say who, but isn’t it enough to know it was said?  And that the other dad did not even flinch at the comment?  “Have you seen me lately?”  No, because I have become something different.  We are now fathers, and although we may never get there our goals is to put the needs of our family first.  Sometimes we become so wrapped up in our families and jobs we lose ourselves.  That’s why along the way, we need to renewal.  If we lose ourselves and why we are doing this, we’ll become Bobby Petrino.  So if you haven’t seen yourself in awhile, go find him.  When I say give everything to your family, I also mean to take care of yourself so you can give the best version of you.  Give everything to your family, including a strong, renewed, engaged version of yourself. 

 “Rain King”

When I think of heaven
Deliver me in a black-winged bird
I think of flying down into a sea of pens and feathers
And all other instruments of faith and sex and God
In the belly of a black-winged bird.
Don't try to feed me
I've been here before
And I deserve a little more

These lyrics are more symbolic than anything, and may or may not mean much to you or I.  But in an interview Adam (lead singer/songwriter) spoke about this song, and how it was about pouring everything he had into his goal without feeling self conscious about it.  I think this is important, especially for men as Fathers.  We are so programmed growing up to “win” and achieve status.  But as a parent all your child really wants is for you to be there for them.  That is winning.  So as we find ourselves in circumstances where we must be foolish to bond with our kids, we should do it every time and not be self-conscious about it.    So our craft and goal as parents is our child or children.  We have to use everything we have to raise our child.  The saying used to be that “It takes a village” to raise a child.  But now the villagers live in different parts of the country, and visit on birthdays and holidays.  Less often are aunts, uncles, cousins, etc.  involved in your children’s life like they were 30 years ago.  So, for most people, it may take a village but all you have is you child’s mother and yourself.  You will get some outsourced help from teachers, coaches, and the like, but they are not invested in your child’s success like you are.  So pour yourself into your child.  Find ways to make their spirit come alive, and honor and celebrate who they are. 

 “Round Here”

Step out the front door like a ghost
into the fog where no one notices
the contrast of white on white.
And in between the moon and you
the angels get a better view
of the crumbling difference between wrong and right.

This is just a reminder about just how tough life and in turn parenting can be.  As your life progresses, you may wake up and feel totally disconnected from everything.  You energy and creativity aren’t there, something isn’t plugged in.  As this goes on and happens over and over, you start to think this is the life you thought you would have at this point.  This song represents how the things you were told that were “rules” in life growing up, how they don’t seem true as an adult and you begin wondering about the fairness and meaning of it all.  Your dissatisfaction with some aspect of your life and your inability to do anything about it has got you down, and then your child awakes and needs your care and attention.  At some point I will have to post about the new definition of control (or lack thereof) that you have as a parent.  In short, about how you are going to need to redefine your definition of control.  You thought I just meant your daily schedule?  You have to give up more control than that. 

 “Mercury”

And then runs away
It's a sin to be fading endlessly
Yeah, but she's all right with me
She is leaving on a walkaway
She is leaving me in disarray
In the absence of a place to be
She stands there looking back at me
Hesitates, and then turns away
She'll change so suddenly
She's just like mercury

This song is very likely about a relationship with a woman.  But for our purposes, this will be about our relationships with our family.  They will indeed change like mercury.  They are fluid things that are constantly changing and moving.  If you are not happy with the ways things are, be it in a specific relationship of at your home, hang in there.  Things will change soon, and you can help it along and take steps to facilitate positive change.  If things are good, appreciate the moment.  Don’t be afraid of what the future holds, for it can be just as good. 

“Anna Begins”

And I'm not ready for this sort of thing
But I'm not gonna break
And I'm not going to worry about it anymore
I'm not gonna bend. And I'm not gonna break and
I'm not gonna worry about it anymore
It seems like I should say "as long as this is love..."

This is just a reminder to Father’s that being a parent is hard.  Always putting your children before yourself is hard.  Using a great deal of your mental, emotional, and financial resources is hard.  This song is actually about the difficulty of a relationship and two people that were not ready for both the feelings they felt for each other, but the fact that the relationship that had to end.  For dads, you might just discover that despite the difficulty of raising a child, many parents actually cry and feel sorrow when their children grow up and leave them behind.  The parenting contract is hard to execute, but do everything you can to make it memorable.  Enjoy the moments; don’t be afraid of the bad times.  They will make the good times all the more enjoyable, because in some alternate universe where things make sense, you’ve earned it.   

Father's Day

As father’s Day approaches, I thought I would reflect on a
few thoughts about childbirth and parenting from long ago……

The soft chirp of a bird and the arrival of the sun signal
the start of a new day as my children and I meditate together and practice tai-chi
in perfect unison on an empty, scenic beach. I am part Father/part Yoda as I regularly impart stunning wisdom that my
offspring can instantly apply to real world situations. We eat only what we
need from the land, taking our part in the natural circle of life.  My smart, informed, well-adjusted children and I share the ideal relationship, and our days together near perfection as we
slowly strive for self-actualization and to slowly become one with the universe.  At least that’s how I thought fatherhood would be before I had kids . . .

Abject fear.  That’s what I recall my first synapse contained upon hearing my wife was pregnant.   It wasn’t really a fully formed thought, just a feeling.  Similar
to the feeling I imagine if, in some alternate universe, Charlie Sheen showed
up to escort my daughter to Prom.  It was driven by the self-assessment of my readiness to be responsible for a baby.    I was not confident in my untested abilities that so far had only been so much as responsible for me, and for a few lovely weeks, a goldfish.  My wife Alana, on the other hand, seemed to be ever calm in the eye of the pregnancy storm.  When we got married, I became a
step-father.  I had been growing as a parent from that day on.  But she was
three.  This was going to be a whole other challenge. 

The actual birth? Terrifying.  It’s hard in today’s world not to sit there and think of everything tha t might go wrong.  Is that procedure covered by insurance?  Why isn’t the doctor providing a running
commentary?  But, just like other times throughout the pregnancy, it was time for me to man up and do my part to help her through the birth of our child. After all, she has the hardest part.  As for the birth, I thought we would all sing “Kumbaya” while our child arrived, not covered in blood and afterbirth, but just as speck of light
emerging from my wife or perhaps even floating down from above.  But back in the real world, I learned that life can be messy and beautiful at the same time, a lesson that has only been
reinforced in my life going forward. 

Since that first pregnancy, we have added another child and
layers of complexity to our lives.  We are now responsible for our three kids’ widely varying ideas of what is good.  What my four year old wants to do
my fourteen year old isn’t so keen on, unless we count it as babysitting and
pay her.  We are striving to be good parents by trying to satisfy multiple appetites, interests, and maintain some balance (cookies for breakfast anyone?). Although my confidence has increased, my kids test me in new ways every day.

In that way, I think raising kids can be the ultimate challenge, because parenting is a very inexact science.  Just when you think you have it mastered—something blows up in your face, and you end up thinking perhaps you don’t know anything at all about being a good parent.  Parenting is a messy operation, and there isn’t a single parent in history that is perfect.  It’s humbling in that way.  Kids test you physically, mentally, and emotionally.  They push you to be a
better person, and to strive to be the hero they think you are, at least until
they become teenagers.    They provide their own kind of tough love not by criticizing me or telling me I need to work on my physique, but by the mere fact I know they are counting on me, are part
of me, and the fact that I my actions, along with some help from the miracle of
childbirth, brought them into this world.  Even as they seemingly take, they give. 

Life and parenting as I know it can confound, frustrate,
exhaust, and reward.  It is a mix of many emotions, successes and failures. Instead of our meditation and tai-chi, I find myself shuttling my three
kids to three different activities that happen to start at the same time, only
at three different locations.  But despite the fact that the schedule makers conspire against me (let’s see him get them here on time this week!), we make it work and that’s how we earn our
title.  Not the titles I’m given when I ground my 14 year old, but the title of “Dad”. As the cliché says, “It’s the hardest job in the world, and I wouldn’t
trade it for anything.”  And that’s why on this Father’s Day, I won’t need any gifts. For the ultimate gifts, as well as the ultimate responsibility, were
already given to me on the birthdays of my kids. 

But if a perfectly cooked steak is included in the deal, I
won’t be upset. 

John Pfeiffer is an author and Father of three
beautiful girls.  He enjoys informing,
entertaining, and occasionally getting sidetracked on a philosophical rant with
his readers.  His book, “Dude, You’re
Gonna Be a Dad” is now available online and in bookstores everywhere.  

Turn Back the Clock Night.....

I’m getting old. 

This is simply a fact, one that cannot be avoided. It’s harder to get up in the morning, and harder to stay up late at night.  And let’s not even discuss the degree of difficulty of not yawning if I try to GO anywhere during the evening hours.  Work, kids, and life have taken their toll on me, but mostly, it is the work of Father Time.  I don’t really enjoy it, but it happens. 

          The other night I was taking my two daughters to try a new activity at the local “rec”
center, which we have never been to. They heard about it from a friend, and we like to try new things, to here we were.  We paid our money, got directions, and off we went.  As we
entered the doors, I noticed something. 

A basketball court. 

         Not just a court, but a semi-crowded court where, to my ancient eyes, appeared to be a game
of pick-up basketball going on.  For those who do not know, basketball is a game I used to play quite a bit, when I was young.  Quite a bit younger actually.  It appeared these high school-to-college aged
kids were going up and down pretty good.  As I paused to access the competition, one of them invited me into the game.  “hey, old man, we need one more”.  Now of course, the “old man” part was all in
my imagination.  But it is what part of me heard nonetheless.

          After checking with the director that my girls would be fine in there, and assuring
myself that anyone who attempted to make off with my girls would have to cross
the basketball court to exit, I joined the game.  After wishing I had a 70’s style headband in
my pocket and giving brief thought to doing weird stretches and running a few
wind sprints to get loose (Jim Carey in Cable Guy) I decided just to hope no
hamstrings or tendons were on their last miles and stepped onto the court. 

           For non-ballers, in this style of game, everyone takes a player, and you match
up.  Unfortunately, the kid I was assigned looked like he could run all day, loved the weight room, and ate a chicken and egg white only omelet before coming to the gym.  My goodness. After the game had been going on for a few minutes, nothing hurt, so I decided it was time to do something.  Besides, we were losing, and I paid $5.  So I figured I had the right to put up a few shots.  As the ball came to me, my man played off, giving me plenty of room, as I had showed no signs of knowing what I was doing out there.  One dribble, then two, and I launched a three.  SWISH!  Wow, that felt really good.  Then the next time, it came back to me, and he was back there again, giving me room, as if to say I was lucky the first time. I shot, and it went in again.  Hooray for old guys!

           As the game continued, I at least proven dangerous enough for my opposite to actually guard
me.  I felt good, making a few, missing a few, even dribbling off my foot once, a feat (feet) that, viewed ina vacuum, would assure the viewer that I had no athletic ability whatsoever.  As we got to the end, I had to pull out one more move.  It’s the old fake-behind-the-back pass and any of my high school buddies would swear they have seen me do it a million times.  But not these guys.  These guys were either unborn or pooping in their diapers when I perfecting this particular maneuver.  So, when it came to “next point wins” I knew it was time to reach into the bag of tricks.  There I went, and apparently the youth of America still can be tricked by a move invented a long, long, time ago.  As I victoriously went to collect my daughters, I could tell his buddies were giving him a hard time for being schooled by the old guy.  As they walked by, “good game” and all that, he wanted to assure me he was still recovering from knee surgery, I felt implying that once he was at full speed I was in trouble if we ever played again.  “I’m 38” I replied, assuring him that I was at quite an advanced age compared to him, and next time we played I would probably be slower, grumpier, and unable to remember his name.  But for one night it was nice just to relive a little bit of those days of so long ago. 

Men and Directions

     Something interesting happened in the Sunday school class that I co-teach (yes, we can
argue about my credentials for teaching Sunday school at another time).  To help pass the time, I mean re-enforce the lesson on this day; my cohort had created a craft project for the
students.  She is very organized, and does a great job.  It came complete with
a kit for each student containing what they needed, along with the
directions.  Stereotypes aside, it did appear by my informal count that the girls got right on it while the guys just kind of stared at the bag, maybe wondering what kind of commotion would ensue
if they inflated it and stomped on it sending beads and string into the
atmosphere.  That’s when the most interesting thing happened.  Not thirty
seconds after he had received his kit, one of my students approached me and
said, “What do I do?”  I replied, “Just look at the directions.”  To which he sniffed,
paused, and said, “I DON’T read directions.” 

                Several thoughts occurred in my sleepy Sunday brain. But the first one out of the mouth was, “So what do you do in
school?  I bet you read them at school.”  “Nope. I always just ask.  I NEVER read
directions.”  This took me a second to process.  Maybe this was the evolution of
man.  Instead of refusing to ASK for directions, he simply had evolved to refusing to even GET directions in the first place.  Instead, he relied on whomever was fortunate enough to be in the area, and seemed to have some sort of clue as to what was going on, or for this ten year old, probably the nearest adult. 

               But after some reflection, I had a different thought.  Like, “Where did this kid go to school?”  Because at some point it seems possible that
an authority figure should have laid down the law and let this angel sink or
swim on his own.  I asked a teacher friend of mine, and he said he has seen stuff like this before.  “If the parents don’t correct the behavior, then nothing changes” he told me.  I
guess that makes sense.  If your parents never say, “Hey, it’s time to put on your big boy pants and take care of a few things yourself without the hand-holding” I guess he will continue to get by
until this particular technique burns him.  I just picture a sixteen year old version of him, down at a Braves game, GPS turned off, asking the nearest homeless guy, “Hey, which way to the
Interstate?”

Goodfellas

  I am going to make some assumptions, despite the catchy saying I always hear about them.  I will assume that there are not many current high school or college students reading a blog about being a Dad.  I will further hypothesize that there is not a lot of women reading this thing either.  That leaves us with some early middle age guys, like me, just trying to keep it honest.  So, if I am correct in these statements, then it probably holds true that you've seen "Goodfellas", since even if you missed it its been in heavy rotation on cable. 

 Today I had a flashback.  It was a flashback to a simpler time, circa early 1990's.  It was the first time (of many to come) that I saw "Goodfellas".  Remember the part where Henry (classic Liotta, probably on a powder diet) is making the sauce, running guns, checking the sauce, avoiding the helicopter, running drugs etc?  Oh the busy life of a mobster.  Today, I felt he had nothing on me.

 My wife is a CPA and she's slammed this time of year.  So the first 2 hours of my day were getting the 3 kids (and dogs!) roused, semi responsive, fed, watered, and to school before the dreaded bell.  Then it was off to work in Atlanta, taming the Atlanta traffic by use of overly loud hip-hop, and the best car dancing moves my seat belt would allow.  Despite my day at the office (and my Post Traumatic Work Syndrome that followed) it was back to pick up the kiddies, feed them again, and then the whirlwind of multiple gymnastic classes at different times, followed in rapid succession by a Girl Scouts meeting.  It was kinda like juggling knives.  One misstep, and the whole night goes up in smoke.  It was very similar to Henry's day, minus the drugs, guns, and cops (I did chug a sugar free Rockstar, which I suspect contains liquid crack).

   But this is no pity party.  I realize there are all over doing this same thing, and many single parents making the magic happen happen as well.  But I am beginning to have the feeling that trying to stretch ourselves as parents so thin so our kids can "have it all" may not be the right thing.  Maybe 1 activity for each child and "no technology" Sundays are a better way to bond as a family.  Thoughts?  Let's all grab our 7 hours of sleep before we rewind and hit the beach head again.