Don’t Lose It. The Wild Hour is Almost Over

After being at work all day thinking about what the kids are doing at school and daydreaming about what we’ll do together tonight at home while staring at their pictures … after all that wonderment about our kids, it takes less than an hour for me to be “up to here” with them.

A fitting response to that would be, “Wow, dude, chill out.” Or “ Now, not made for parenting, are we?” But I’m a good parent, I truly believe. And, I’ll quickly admit, I can lose my temper pretty quickly. That said, if you find yourself like me: ready to lose it on your kids whether it’s been an hour, or all day, don’t do it because your reward is around the corner and coming sooner than you think.

I pick up the kids at school at 5:00 planning to take them straight to soccer practice at 5:30. Before we leave the school building my daughter asks, “Are we going home?” “We’re going to soccer practice,” I say as brightly and optimistically as I can. “Ohhhhhmmmmm” … she flops to the floor like a rag doll. “I don’t want to go to soccer practice,” she whines. She’s in tears by the time I load her into the car.

“I’m hungreeeeee,” the whining changes topic as we pull out of the parking lot. “Do you have anything to eat?” (No) “Why?!?!?!?!” She’s far-enough gone that I feel I need to right her ship, so I turn away from the direction of practice and toward the convenience store to buy ANYTHING that won’t jeopardize their health. Power bars and Gatorade stop the bleeding of tears, but I changed all that by asking over my shoulder as I drive, “Hey, can you guys get your socks and pads and cleats on? We’re just gonna pull up in time for practice.”

“These socks are so tight! They’re impossible to get on!” she says as tears resume. Then comes the kicking of her feet as I try to help get her shoes on while we’re finally in the soccer parking lot. I’m seriously checking around me to see if there are any parents because I’m so ready to lose it by now. But this is far too public a place and I choose instead to take a deep breath.

Not one minute after I release her to her team am I standing in the warm sunset over a rich green field surrounded by glowing orange and red leaves on a picture-perfect fall evening. Somehow the chatter and ref’s whistles around me fade – and I am alone. This is, I realize, my reward for not losing it. Keep an eye out for yours. It’s well deserved!

Morning Drill (Sergeant)

Please note, this blog does not provide the answers to parenting. As brought to life below.

OK, so why is it that kids wait until we are supposed to be walking out the door for school to remember a book, to put on their other shoe, to begin eating breakfast, to realize they have a sore throat, … the list goes on. While, in fact, they fought me every step of the way during the past hour as I tried to get them out of bed, dressed, teeth brushed, downstairs, eating anything for breakfast, shoes on (the right feet) and out.

While stomping the accelerator far too forcefully for our sleepy neighborhood, I felt I needed to explain my erratic driving habits and my overall dictatorial presence every morning.

So I say, “Guys, I’m not trying to be mean. And I’m not trying to punish you by asking you to do all these things each morning before school. I’m just trying to make sure you get dressed in time so we’re not rushed for breakfast, and then get rushed in putting on shoes and coats, and then are rushed so much that I’m scaring our neighbors who are reaching for their leashed dogs as we fly by." (humor always seems to help)

But just when I feel I’ve explained things perfectly clearly, my six-year-old daughter says very quietly, “Sorry, daddy.”

I am now a terrible father – I’m certain of it. I’ve drummed her into apology and our son into silence and hanged head.

So I quickly explain they have nothing to be sorry about. And, in fact, maybe I do. Maybe I can have less of an edge every morning. Maybe we can work together to make mornings better for everybody. Then, on cue, the school drop-off monitor pulls open our door, I insert a very hopeful “I Love You” and, thank God, hear responses as they rush out. Even so, I drive away with a pit in my gut. Ugh, parenting hurts.

I don’t have the answer to this puzzle other than to say that I feel these moments are necessary in parenting. I learn, they learn and I feel we understand each other a little better. I’ll let you go – don’t want to rush you.

It All Comes Out in the Wash

Though I do not have any dirty ‘laundry’ to share with you (sorry to disappoint) I do want to share with you my amazement at how doing the family laundry replays the highlights and lowlights, of our family.

Just now, I went to check on the dryer to see if the clothes are ready for folding. I expect socks or something to tumble out upon opening the door. But shark teeth? Two tiny shark teeth clicked across the floor, past the fallen socks, and led me to shake my head. That’s a tribute to our exploring children who often carry shark teeth, rocks and broken paper clip pieces in their pockets. They were gonna do something with these pieces, I’m sure they just got diverted along the way and then forgot.

As for rocks: upon picking up our daughter from school yesterday, the first thing she said to me was, “Here (handing me two decent sized rocks). I discovered these today on the playground and we need to wash them to make them shine. (Name of after school caregiver) said if we put them in the washing machine, they’ll come out shiny.” The washing machine???!!! These rocks are the size of golf balls … golf balls with angled jagged edges! I love our school and its after-care program, but somebody in those walls has it out for our household appliances!

And I have found a sure-fire mood-kill in folding a dryer load because each and every piece: sock, shirt, shorts, pants, long-sleeve shirt, long pants, sweatshirt, underwear … every piece … is inside out. &$%#@!! I spend 80% of my time turning things right-side-in and 20% of my time folding and stacking. A conspiracy I tell you!!! As I fold the little things, I’m sure that our kids are out to get me by simply turning each piece inside out as they peel it off. My wife's clothes, too! Is she in on it with them? And then, my own shirt! Aw c’mon!! The least I can do is give myself a break.

How can so many child smiles and scrunched up father faces comes from the laundry room? It all comes out in the wash.

PT Cruiser...

You may be familiar with the “punch buggy” game where, while driving, if someone in the car sees a VW bug they can yell “punch buggy!” and slug the person of their choice in the shoulder. Well, we’ve added to that – as I’m sure many families have.

We can also yell, “PT Cruiser, give you a bruiser” (slug) or “Mini Cooper give you a whooper” (slug) and our latest addition “Mustang, boomerang” (swirl hand in front of another’s face, over their head, then whap ‘em in the back of the head).

Two things can go wrong with these games: age and exposure. Age is not a problem in our family since the oldest is just 9 and knows not to truly clobber his 6-year-old sister. But I can see where teenage boys and girls can do some damage. As for exposure, we played this on a road trip to Indiana this summer and by the time we got to West Virginia, our 6-year-old had had it. “I don’t want to play,” she’d plead as her older brother sang the make & model and punched her already-sore shoulder. Over-exposure also occurs when passing a dealership. Fists are flying in the back seat and I’m confused if it’s a comedy or tragedy occurring in my mirror.

I called a Time-Out after that trip. But I’ve since re-instated the game, and here’s why: Siblings show their love in many different ways. And, yes, I feel this is one of them. I honestly believe siblings feel the “he loves me enough to slug me” in addition to the thrill of competing in the game itself. I've been slugged by my brother and pinned and 'tickled to death' by my sisters - and I loved it (in hindsight, of course).

So whether it’s wrestling at home or slugging in the backseat, I want our children to feel the contact of their sibling’s fist from time to time.

A Working Dad, Laid Off

In the blink of an eye…
… I was escorted into the conference room where my CEO was seated before my “Terms of Termination” file folder.
… I was one of hundreds of people in my town with my skills, my level of experience, a comparable professional background – and applying them all to the same open positions.
… I was defending each day’s busy agenda loaded with “meetings” and “projects” so my kids would not think less of their father.
… I was wondering just when it happened that a single generation created such a chasm between my father’s professional resume (two employers) and mine (9 and counting).

These, and hundreds of other fleeting thoughts, have circled through my mind in the eight months I’ve been laid off.

It’s hard to fight these detractors – these energy suckers – these ‘bad day’ seeds. But here’s what I’ve found most helpful in starting a day without them.

• Write an affirmation stating your personal and professional self-worth. Read it aloud to start every day.
• Connect with old business contacts and friends on the phone or online to set up a meeting with them for coffee or lunch. Meet in person and let them know what you’re looking for in your next job so they can keep an eye out. Ask them to recommend the name of one person who they feel you should meet with to expand your network. Then call that person, say your friend recommended them as a personal resource, and ask them to meet (they’ll meet with you more often than you think). When you meet, ask them for a similar name of a new contact. This is a great way to build your network.
• Volunteer – at your kids’ school, at a local non-profit, for any organization that help other people. Give your time while you’ve got it.
• Be honest with your kids. Explain to them why your previous company had to let go people like you. Explain what you’re doing to contribute to your part of the world each day whether it’s volunteering or working odd jobs in the meantime.
  

Although you may not have been a part of the decision that has put you in this situation, you will have to be a decision maker to change your situation.

I’ll continue writing, but it will be more on the topic of fatherhood. Being a participative dad is a big job in and of itself. So let’s keep talking about all we have to give as we walk down that road.