Category: Parenting

Coaching The Little Things – Soccer Edition

I co-coached my older son’s soccer team this past few months, boys aged 7 to 8, the U9 level. Last year I coached his team, also, in a less-competitive league with 4v4 play. This year we had the step-up, 7v7 with a goalie, and 11 kids instead of 8. It was much different in terms of energy from the number of players, plus welcoming new players into a squad that played together last season. Pretty early on I talked with my co-coach about how we’re going to have to Manage more than Coach. He runs a large furniture manufacturing company, and his insight saved me I don’t know how many shots of Jameson at practices and games.

I observed early on in my sports “career” (I threw shot put and discus in college) that successful teams put players where they are most naturally suited. If a talent shows up, how can a coach ensure the success and interest of the player AND the success of the team? Do what’s right for the player and the team, it’s easy to find that balance. We got a returning kid who was so fast and athletic and had such a motor that we created the Ranger position. He could play anywhere on the field, F-MF-D, because he was going to run the field anyway. It wasn’t in his nature to stay in an area, so we didn’t force him to. Put ’em where they fit. My co-coach was able to see how kids had a certain skill that would translate to a position, and he’d get them to really shine. And we wanted them to have fun. There’s no pay, no public glory, no shoe contracts. In fact, with the amount of driving, emailing, snacks, and gear, it’s wise to put a line-item in the family budget for “Soccer, Misc.”

And there were kids who were first-timing it. Rookies in the world of organized sports, or just soccer. And every dude comes out with his own experiences and ideas of how it’s going to go for them. But hey, as a coach, you have to help the players understand the boundaries and intention of the relationship. We’re here to get better via practice, so we’re the best in the game. Sportsmanship can be tough to teach, the idea and practice of being respectful of the game and players by playing fair, playing hard, and encouraging your teammates at all times. We called that last one “Teamsmanship”.

This was a tough one, because we had kids from 4 different schools. Last year we had 8 kids from 2 schools. So this year we had 11 kids: 6 from 1 school, 3 from another school, and 2 from different schools. I think I researched “youth sports team dynamics” as much as “drills for youth soccer that aren’t monumentally boring”. We weren’t as cohesive as I’d hoped, but that fell on my shoulders as the coach, in that we could have done some more team-building stuff. Some kids were like cousins, some like brothers, and some like professional wrestling rivals getting ready for the Bunkhouse Brawl at the KeyStone Fieldhouse this Saturday.

We had Alpha performers, Alpha personalities with Beta skills, Beta performers with Alpha drive, and everyone had their own Omega (not interested, gonna quit) moments. All of these have to be identified, welcomed, and addressed. As each kid had his own way of expressing happiness, effort, and disappointment, we were learning quickly how to help them embrace it and turn it into positive energy.

The league’s pre-season meetings and seminars rarely give you the heads-up about the dynamics of personalized coaching styles. I’m far from a guru, but I’m thankful I had experience with some of the players from last year, as well as the works I’ve read about working with boys, their energy, and especially with the Positive Coaching Alliance.

We’d get 2 hours a week with the kids before the game. I’d like to get more, but instead we’d encourage them to play soccer at recess, practice those passing drills, and ask parents to remind their guys about Sportsmanship and Respect. We had a great group of parents, too. It was so loud at a couple games that I had to give kids hand-signals instead of shouting directions. Preparation was a huge lesson!  By the time we started the game, we didn’t want to coach, we wanted to just remind the guys of where they should be and let them play and make their own decisions on the field. They all showed the ability to play well, play with a team, and everyone got a lot better by season’s end.

Our record, for the record, was 7-0-1. UNDEFEATED! 2 of those wins came against teams that were far more technically proficient than we were. Really great at passing out of the cluster – if you’ve watched a kid’s soccer game, the Cluster is the maddening huddle that migrates around the ball as it rolls around the field – and getting back on defense. We won against those teams sheerly by just PLAYING. Our guys were just out-hustling the other team, challenging everything. Usually around the 5th game, about 7 weeks in, I tell myself “This is it. Next year is no-go.” But this year I was already looking for ways to get better as a coach, in Soccer and elsewhere. If you make the practice/learning a FUN thing, the play/game takes care of itself. The best part of it all, for me, is when I see the kids and their families around town, and they say “Hey coach! I’m playing this sport this Winter, but are you gonna coach XYZ in the Spring?” Yeah, I probably will. Just gotta get the shoe contract worked out.

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Coaching The Little Stuff

I wrote recently about letting one of my kids quit playing a sport because of how little he enjoyed it, and how that was only being fed by a coach not trying to make it more fun for the players. These are kids. 6-7 year old boys who are naturally hyper and want to move a lot and do the glory stuff in the sport (hitting, catching TDs, driving the lane on Kaidon and dunking on his goofy ass in front of Caitelynne).  They don’t like doing the dirty work. But that’s where the professionals excel, the little stuff.

Experts master the little stuff to a point of muscle memory and contextual perfection. It might not look perfect every time, but the golf swing or the jump-shot or the omo plata, it’s all 2nd nature. But it has to start somewhere. And the best way to get kids to get used to doing the little stuff to the point that they pretty much master it is to make it a fun thing to do, and disguise it as a game.  Last week, at home, we started a contest to see how many footballs my son could catch, in a row, without dropping one.  He got to 21.  Then he was kinda burned out on it.  So we stopped.

Then we did a little bit yesterday before our flag football game, and he got to tell the team he caught 21 in a row. So now they’re all in to how many times they could catch it.  And bingo, we have a drill looking like a game.  We won 21-0 with 2 long runs and 1 long pass for TDs.  This was a different kid than the one 2 weeks ago who didn’t want to play football because he was scared of messing up.

But in moments of the game, I put my son at Center because he’s the best at snapping, and can catch in a crowd as a taller kid. On our 2nd to last play, I put him at Center to try and get a specific play to throw to him.  His face dropped. He broke eye contact. He said he wanted to play Running Back. We have a rule that if you ask to play a position, you won’t play that position. We tell the kids we put them in the places they do the best, and if we want to change it, the coaches have to agree. He called the huddle, snapped the ball, and kind jogged to his spot with his hands up.

After the game, on the way to the car, we had a talk about doing your best no matter where you end up, and how I put him at Center because he is best at starting the play and catching the ball in a crowd. He also got to play Receiver on a reverse that gained 14 yards.

And I started down a path of “You did great today, but…” and “Do you think there was something you could do better next week? I can help you with any skill you want to get even better at.” And it hit me… I’m alluding that he wasn’t trying that hard, and that he needs to be thinking about his performance… in a kid’s flag football game… and how he can improve. I stopped. Instead I told him what I really felt. That I was proud of his big run, of his flagging a kid who tried to spin away, and that he played great in spots he didn’t really want to play.

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I was starting to make it “not fun” for him.  We won, and I’m still COACHING. Some kids get the fun of a sport from the Competition of it, playing with a fire that is fed when the play starts and comes their way, even at 5 years old and up. Other kids need motivation to stick with it but they flourish in their moments, and that’s really great to see.  Some kids are there as a social thing and they like playing with their buddies and that’s enough for them. And that has to be enough for me, too, as their coach, and especially as his dad.

So I told him, later on, that I would play him at Running Back next week if he practiced with me twice this week. And if he would practice twice and do all the games we practice without grumbling, I’d also get him a pack of Pokemon cards.

A BRIBE? No… Incentive. Pro athletes get them in contracts all the time for yards, attending off-season work outs, losing weight, etc.

For a kid who has his dad’s ability to do well at things he feels like doing well at – when the mood strikes him – I am hoping to instill some confidence in his own abilities, and it might take some incentivizing.  So why would I do it if it’s “just a kid’s game” and it’s “just for fun”?  Because I know what drives him. And it’s gotta be more fun for him, even if he doesn’t become a world-class flag football star, and instead is just an Agent for most of them.

And I needed to practice the little stuff – make it fun, pump up the positives, explain their success, encourage and reward EFFORT – more than twice this week.

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Time Travel

The past almost-6 months have been crazy in various ways.

Work-wise I as given a project that is like living with a demanding, under-medicated chimp. It could rip your arms off and eat your hands, or just kinda hang out and cuddle, READY HERE WE GO nope, all good.

Life-wise, we’ve had some vacations (LegoLand: We Hope You Like LEGOs All The Time!) ed. note: We do…. and some trips to the ER (on my birthday! for me!)… and some other life-lessons (don’t have a discussion about money the day after you buy expensive stuff).

Societally, I now know the politics of 78% of my kids’ classmate’s parents, and some of them are pretty surprising, if not downright frightening. Lotta people buying bunker supplies already. Not sure if I’m nervous or turned-on.

ANYway, I wanted to say that I’m sorry for not writing more. Between the Project, the Infection, and the Election, my life was all sorts of crazy. I feel like I aged from 38 to 43 in the past 3 months. But as I always try to do, the lessons I’ve picked up have been wonderful.  For example…

  1. Quitting Is Not An Option:  Look, sometimes, it sucks. Work. The day. This party. Stain removal from the party. Your kid’s friends. And I want to say F THIS S, and just stop doing what’s not fun and move on with whatever. But I don’t. I wake up, I thank G-d for another day to try to get it right, and I check “Didn’t Kill A Punk Bo-Hatch” off my list.  I can’t quit. I have bills.
  2. Quitting Is An Option:  Yes, you can chuck it all and bounce. You can. Your moral level-line likely keeps you from doing so, but yeah, you can escape. My older son quit coach-pitch baseball this season after 6 weeks. 3 of which were rained out.  3 games. 90min practices. And the coach, meh, he’s a great coach for 10 year olds. But not 6-7 year olds, like my son. And my kid’s happier, getting to focus on soccer and football and reading. And I got 8 hours of my week back.
  3. Apologetic Assertiveness: I’m not assertive unless what I’m dealing with is Wrong, on a moral, practical, or personally financial sense. I was called “a push-over” at work by somebody on another team, because I didn’t push back on a topic 3 other people had talked to death. When I remarked that any agreement and discussion on the call would have just been expensive noise, seeing as how we’re all being paid to talk instead of work on the problem we all agreed on, I don’t really care what he thinks of me. Then I had to assert myself when asked why so many people were in a particular meeting.
    1. Because the initial invite list was 8 people, and 3 of those people invited 2 other people (14 now), and 3 of those 6 invited 1 other person each (17 now), and 2 of them invited 2 other people (21).  And only 5 of the original 8 are even talking. So this went from a discussion to a weekend party when the parents are gone and everyone heard about it. Why don’t we ask the people who aren’t talking why they’re here?  (Silence)

So, yeah, I don’t dictate attendance, I just make the meeting go.

ANYwho, we’ll come back around to some stuff at some point.

The biggest news is that I’m down 20lbs from the start of the year, and my Flag Football team started the season with a 20-7 romp over the Northshore Vikings. So, things are good.

Thank you for reading. Anything I can write up for ya?

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The Brain Game

I have low-level, high-function (when I want to be) form of ADD. It’s been there most of my life, and when I look back on my years in school where I was taxing my physiological resources just to maintain a 3.0, I think I could have done more, or better, had I known – or accepted – that I had something different happening.  The more I learn about how our brains work, the more I realize that ADD is not taboo or a sentence to a muddled, unfinished life.

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Accused of being a “Grammar Nazi,” I simply detest lazy writing, but I am in no way “anti-Semantic.”

Here’s kind of what it’s like to have ADD when I’m not feeling great:

  1. I recently lost an argument with my wife, which took place ENTIRELY IN MY HEAD.  I didn’t want to go to a certain place for a home project, but I knew she’d want to, and every time I thought up a reason why we should NOT go, her voice kicked back why it was better to go there. I just agreed and, outloud, said “Fine, fine, we’ll do it your way.”  I WAS ALONE IN THE KITCHEN AT 6:45AM, WAITING FOR COFFEE TO BREW.
  2. I started to empty the dishwasher, which I hate doing but wanted to “get something done.” The top rack was a mish-mash of cups and smaller plates, and… plastic dishes with no tops.  There were no tops in the dishwasher. And my brain put the brakes on, and started figuring out ways to wiggle out of this.  “I can’t do THIS. There are no tops. I’ll have to dig through the cabinet for tops.  Who the hell is using these as dishes? We have perfectly good dishes.  We have small bowls.  What if there are no tops for these, like we got them from somebody else? Who did we get these from? Was I there? Are these from a kid’s friend’s house?  What play-date did they go on?” 

That’s how an ADD brain works.  Sometimes the smallest thing causes my Professional Crastination skills to fire up.  I’m a ProCrastinator.  When a task seems “too big,” I pump the brakes. I pretend, sometimes, that I’m “planning” or getting notes together to do it right.  But we all know that you can’t eat an elephant in one bite.  You have to own a national sandwich shop and have the money from that pay for your big-game excursion to hunt and kill it!

I heard about Dr. Robert Cooper, Ph. D. on a podcast a while ago, Bulletproof Radio with Dave Asprey.   Dr. Cooper’s a neuroscientist who has studied not only How our minds work, but Why they do what they do.  His insight into the natural programming of our brain’s commands (Find something that works, stick with it, avoid change so we don’t falter or die, etc.) and how to change (i.e. UpWire or “hack”) the command center via Conscious Awareness has changed a lot for my own life. I highly recommend his podcasts for insights for everybody’s better understanding of how our minds work, and how to be conscious of little things that could hinder our Best Selves.

Eventually I’ll have something pretty funny to enter here.  I hope.  Right now my comedy brain is inundated with some new material about our upcoming elections, voting, and using drugs. Pretty sure one thing leads to another there.

Please leave any comments or tips you have for getting focused for Life stuff.  I know sleeping enough, getting some exercise, and eating well are three main components.  What else?  High-grade fish oils?  The will to see your enemies drown in the wake of your success?  Whatever’s good…

And as always, my deepest thanks for reading.

 

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Blog Fatigue in Bloom

A friend of mine on Facebook and in life who is also a mom raising a 3 year-old kiddo by herself (explained below) posted this on Facebook on Jan. 31. 2016.  I think it’s absolutely brilliant and necessary.  If you’ve ever been into a niche of blogs you likely picked up on common threads, thoughts, and trends.  The niche here is “Mommy Blogs,” written by moms (presumably) about their child rearing, parenting, advisory efforts and often make it appear to be simply easy.  And some of whom are very authentic.  Regardless, this post was timely in that we’re easily inundated with information we seek… My inbox is about 40% Unreads from blogs, sites, or apps I tried a few times and *might* revisit, shrug.

So… here ya go.

Why I’m Unsubscribing From All the Goddamned Mommy Blogs

For fucks sake.

After a day of taking my kid to the skating rink and bowling alley and celebrating the birthday of my best friend, I finally get my threenager to bed (at like 12AM, I shit you not) and I scroll through my Facebook bullshit only to find out that I’m…

…a douche bag…

Yep.

Those moms at home, those moms at work, the moms with 3, the preggers ones…it’s such a fucking kill joy. I’m doing it all wrong. Somehow, some way.

Being a parent.

Blows.

It blows sometimes. More than sometimes…

I’m a single mom of a 3 year old. There is no dad to take her every weekend. (Not a bad thing, he’s batshit crazy)…I’m the Saint and I’m the Asshole. 24 hours a day.

But for fucks sake…

It seems like there’s a constant reminder. A spotlight on the shit stew of parenthood.

So what?

Maybe you haven’t found the right wine. Or right friends. Or family.

Ok.

Get yer blog on.

But why am I fucking subscribing to this shit?!

I realize it’s written with the intent to let you know that you’re not alone, but…

For fucks sake.

This little asshole sleeping on the couch. The love of my life. Is really awesome. And in the little bit of free stupid browsing time I have, I don’t want to read about the negative shit.

I want to be reminded of the good shit (and there is enough of it to go viral)

So….

….You don’t wanna have a 3rd kid (I don’t care why, just don’t),
you don’t know if your kid is gonna be ok because he ate formula (he will), you’re afraid your kid will be weak because you co-sleep (my head strong a-hole 3 yr old proves NOPE. Hell nope.)….

I have a feeling we shared some pretty helpful and relevant shit back in the day. MORESO! I think we supported each other much more personally.

You want to relate?

Make a meal. Offer to babysit. Clean the house. Sit around and talk the shit out of parenting…there’s a lot to be shared.

But don’t post your negative bullshit online. Women don’t need that. Men don’t need that. And kids don’t need their parents fed that.

So I’m Unsubscribing.

I don’t want to hear about why you aren’t doing this or that. Or why you’re judging someone for doing this or that.

My little asshole is 3 and she can’t help it. Scientifically, her brain just can’t control the ups and downs. And she is bright, and funny, and gorgeous, and way more outgoing than I’ll ever want to be…she’s got a charisma that I can’t begin to describe.

Write more stories about that. Meet me in person to focus on that stuff.

We’re all doing the best we can. Did they wake up alive? Were you parenting out of love?

Good on ya.

That’s the manual we’re all searching for…

 

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Are You Too Good of a Parent?

I have a term in my vocabulary for people who do little else than bupple-up negative stuff from around the world, things that perhaps aren’t in the brightest of lights, and they feel you really need to understand how this is hurting you them.  The term is “ShamePolice.”  These are people who were likely the kid in grade school raising their hand on a Friday afternoon to remind the teacher of that homework assignment she mentioned before recess.  This is the person who drives 61 in the passing lane, because that ought to be “fast enough.”

Don’t let them pull you over, because if you do, it validates the life-time they shit into the gaping abyss of their self-importance spent discussing ideas and articles about it.  And if nothing else, Misery loves Company.  That being said, “philosophers” Adam Swift and Harry Brighouse are two of the biggest fucktard ShamePolice officers I’ve ever come across, and I have unlimited internet access.  They call themselves philosophers because “part-time thinker, part-time Sandwich Artist” wouldn’t fit on their pocket protectors (unconfirmed).

In their “study” of familial structure, parental involvement, and nurturing a child’s life, they theorize that parents who are involved in their kid’s lives in thoughtful, loving, nurturing ways that are aimed at creating an environment in which to Parent a well-rounded, empathic, intelligent, world-friendly citizen are creating an “unfair disadvantage” in society. To whom is this an “unfair disadvantage?”

“‘What we realised we needed was a way of thinking about what it was we wanted to allow parents to do for their children, and what it was that we didn’t need to allow parents to do for their children, if allowing those activities would create unfairnesses for other people’s children’.”

To kids and families and parents who are NOT taking steps to create similar environments and/or children. The “advantaged” families are creating an “unlevel playing field” against kids who are NOT being nurtured.

I just pooped the OUTSIDE of my pants.
The article states, and I’m paraphrasing, that reading to your kids before bed is a stronger foundation builder than the ability to send the child to an elite private school. Bonding with the kids in any way possible, therefore, is more valuable than an education that may get a “ooh wooow!” from external people.  If you’re kid loves to read about dinosaurs, and you’re building that interest with reading and movies and play, you’re way better off than the parent who ships the kid off to study geology and biology and natural selection.

I have the softest, tear-filled place in my soul for kids who are neglected in any way whatsoever. I can barely look at the words of a link about babies being left alone for 9 hours while “dad” played FarmSubsidy on facebook.  I have met, coached, and played with kids who aren’t from the best family situations, and they have all been the first-in for a big hug or high-five when it’s time to go. Kids need attention from people who care.

This also assumes that children who aren’t read-to or aren’t in elite schools are being victimized by those who are.  It starts at home, period. If a parent says their loud, rude, whiny 6 year-old is “just being 6”, I’m going to assume they are a shitty parent who doesn’t understand the term “Product of Environment.”

But this is what philosophers do, after all.  They THINK about stuff, and imagine what it would be like if… Hypothesize Me! And this study brought forth just the most ridiculous aspect of how to raise, nurture, discipline, and foster the growth of a child into, at the least, a decent member of society.

And then there’s me, making my Citizen’s Citations against the ShamePolice.  I should be above it, but I care too much about raising kids to see this horse-S and keep my fingers still.
“Do not train a child to learn by force or harshness; but direct them to it by what amuses their minds, so that you may be better able to discover with accuracy the peculiar bent of the genius of each.” – Plato

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A 4 Year-Old Asks of Love

There was a recent uproar in the world of ignorance when ESPN, the world-wide leader in Deification & OverDramatizing the Lives of Athletes, briefly broadcast 2 adult men kissing… ON THE MOUTH.  In the post-Janet Jackson’s-boob-world!!!

It was a moment in the lives of Michael Sam and his boyfriend, Vito Cammisano.  Sam is the first openly-gay collegiate football player, from the University of Missouri, and was the Defensive Player of the Year in the SouthEastern Conference.  When Sam was drafted by the St. Louis Rams in the 7th round of the NFL Draft, cameras captured the moment/announcement/phone call from the Rams on TV.  In their excitement and happiness, Sam and Cammisano kissed… ON THE MOUTH.

773959792193016495Source: Deadspin.com

And my oldest son, who is 4.75 years old, happened to see it.  As did I.  It raised my eyebrow, because I immediately wondered how much of an issue this non-issue would become in social media, and then later, the starved-for-content Media.  And knowing my son’s inquisitive nature – he once woke up with the question “Where do we go before we’re born?” – I expected him to ask me something about the ON THE MOUTH kiss he just witnessed between two men.  My family is very affectionate; we are huggers, squeezers, cuddlers, snugglers, pinchers, and kissers with those whom are comfortable with it. But among the men, we don’t kiss.  So I expected a tough question…

So he turns to me and asks, “Dadda, why did those two boys kiss each other?”

And here’s what I said, after my years of living with relationships, learning from loving, and understanding what there is to understand about People and Love…

“Well buddy, those boys love each other.”

And he asks, “Do boys love each other like you and mommy?”

And I can’t extrapolate genetic predisposition or evolutionary precursors of attraction based on brain chemistry and/or the shape of a woman’s hips as a signal of fertility and loin-revving physicality, so in a moment if divine inspiration and minor panic, I told my son this…
“Love is who you like the most.
Most boys like girls. And most girls like boys.
Some boys like boys.  And some girls like girls.
But, just be nice to everybody no matter who they like, and be extra nice to who you like.
And if somebody’s not nice to you, then stay away from them.”

He turns to me and says, “Oh! OK,” and then he paused to work this out in his head.  Then he gets a big smile on his face and he says... “Well I really like that girl Maggie in my class, she is good at coloring and smells like pancakes.”

And I said “Well that’s great, she tries hard at art, and pancakes are always good. So be nice to everybody, ok?”

“Okay,” he said.  “Sometimes it’s hard, but I try to be nice to everybody.”

And I was happy and proud to hear that.
But then he asked me a question I couldn’t answer.  He was loading up with a question that even the deepest of thinkers, the most romantic of romancers, those with far more hues than 50 Shades of Grey and people with remixes of Song of Songs could find an answer for in the 271+ years of human history.  A question so heavy that sinkhole opened in my brain.  My son, not yet 5, asked me…

“So… when do girls start being nice?”

I’d like to address the pre-birth location question now.

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I feel like there’s an innate ability to parent a child under the age of 1, basic care and feeding. Most people who have a baby can do that, unless they are warped in some way. Most of it is a game of getting the kid on a schedule of sleeping, eating, and playing so they develop eyesight, body control, and communication skills. Also, you can’t leave them alone with a gun or a violent-breed dog, which are about the same thing in cultures that see either a gun or a pit bull as a status symbol above having a child. Anybody can have a baby, but it takes about a week and a couple hundred dollars to get a gun or a pit bull. I’m not saying I’m doing all of this perfectly, but I’m sure as shit not letting people I know, and people you know, get away with being or raising narcissists.

Anyway… After the kid’s 1 they need boundaries. Not just a boundary of a baby-gate to keep them from barrel-rolling down the basement staircase. Nor a leash to keep them in peripheral view while Parent does some on-line gaming. No, I mean intellectual & behavioral boundaries. In other words, working to help the child understand why NO is not a bad thing. I have seen up-close the effect of no “No,” in people my age (sociopaths) and children (theirs and others), and it is about as unnerving as watching a pit bull gnaw at a loaded Glock .40cal.

 The first thing I noticed was a person’s whining. For the adults it was usually an issue in a restaurant where they equated a missing item on the menu with a personal attack. A guy I grew up with pulled this a few times, and the second time he did, I saw what he was doing… because he’s a cheap asshole who plays this game, and doesn’t realize he’s the flat tire on the fun bus. Here’s the ploy:

1)      Ask to modify a menu item by complicating the order (The cheeseburger, but with swiss instead of cheddar and an onion roll instead of regular and no pickles and medium-well).

2)      Keep talking while the server tries to read it back, to confuse the server or muddle the communication.

3)      Fries on the side, not on the plate.

4)      Act like it’s no big deal and be just oh-so-sweet about it.

So, by telling this server to greatly change a simple thing, they set the entire chain up for failure. And usually it’s a break at how the meat was cooked. The average person doesn’t know Medium-well from Medium, but this fuckpuddle would always eat half the burger then send it back for being under- or over-done, and ta-daaa!

We all have to wait while they make a new burger for this dick, and he gets his for free as an apology for upsetting a grown man over the hue of the center of his meat patty. The heavens nearly crumbled…

 As a child he got what he wanted by whining, because his parents had 4 other kids, and his whining was quickly shut-down/rewarded with the cookie, the toy, the shoes, the extra hour of TV, the 17”-rims on the new truck, and eventually the family landscaping business which he plowed into the ground after 4 months and zero work. Whining isn’t in his DNA (his brothers and sisters are talented, fun, hard-working people) but it is hardwired in at this point. He’s now divorced and bankrupt and it’s his parent’s fault for not helping him out of these jams, of course.

The last time I saw him he started to pull the prank, I told our server, “He’s fine, don’t listen to him, he’s just joking.” He got pissed at me and sat quietly staring at SportsCenter while the other 4 of us laughed and drank. That’s right…

HE POUTED LIKE A LITTLE KID. Later he told another friend I was a dick. Behind my back. Good.

Now, a friend’s kid is a spoiled little brat if ever I’ve seen one. As an only child, he is treated like THE only child. His deal is that if he’s told “No” he reverts to pouting (he’s almost 6) and whiiiines and starts to fake-cry. His parents let it roll for about 3min while the kid stews in his own stink and then eventually, while the kid is still in pout mode, his parents say “Ok, you can have this now.”

So the kid hasn’t detached Pouting from Reward. Maybe his mom & dad think they have instilled a clean break between the whining and the lesson, but all they’ve shown the kid is, “Hey, hang on to being rude and withdrawn and eventually you’ll get what you want. You don’t have to apologize or ask nicely. Just be stubborn.”

I know this because I’ve seen it happen a few times. One time he tried to take a toy from another kid, and I said “No, you have to ask nicely if you can play with the Ninja Monster PitBull Cannon.”

Then he cries and says he hates me, which I find a way to overcome. Then he sits right there and turns away and cries loudly, as if his fingernails were being chewed off by a bullet-powered Rottweiler.  Because of a “no,” and a reminder to mind our manners.

His dad swoops in, lest his child be scarred for life with such harsh discipline! After explaining to his dad what happened, his dad does the fatherly thing…

And asks the kid with the Ninja Cannon if his kid could play with it. Well of course the kid’s gonna give it up because a grown-up just asked him to. So not only did his dad miss the teachable moment, he killed the kid’s chance to build manners and a bridge to another kid. Double Middle Fingers, folks. But hey, at least his son quit crying, pouting, whining, or moving on towards growth. Yay.

It’s not easy to have your own boundaries, but it’s a basic need for most of us to keep our sanity. And it starts early. If we’re always told “No,” then we don’t think we’re worth anything and deserve nothing. If we’re never told “No” we don’t understand that some things must be earned, asked-for, or are just off-limits until further notice and some sweet talking and probably a bottle of wine.

But if somebody brings a loaded gun or chain-jerking pit bull into a Farmer’s Market, and nobody says “Hey, come on… This could get ugly, and it’s better safe than sorry,” and something terrible happens then either we have no market for these dipshits to come to, or we have boundaries that say “You have to stop here.  There are very sensitive people within.” 

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Recap of Crap

Well it’s been a pretty crazy 2 weeks for me.  Even as the year comes to an end, the world of business begins it’s own Casual Friday, and insurance companies stare back from the Abyss, my life has sped up a bit.  In good ways, mostly.  I can’t complain… WAIT, I take that back.  I can, and will, because otherwise I’ll start crying and yelling at the same time and then i won’t be able to go back to that Starbucks.

Let’s work backward from today about crap I want to leave behind.

  1. Negative Self-Talk: Before 9am today I had counted about 12 put-downs of myself, for everything from the shape of my body to “not being retarded and forgetting Gift XYZ I need to return!”  Well I forgot it anyway because I didn’t take my ADD pill, and had no coffee because I was going in for a doctor’s appointment and wanted a clean blood stream.
  2. 30min late!  I was 30min late for the doc because, well, I don’t know why. I had apparently transposed the times of appointments and was 30min early yesterday for a different one.  So I had less time to talk with this doc.  But soon after arriving, I was told they no longer accept my insurance (as of last week), albeit for a noble cause.  Doctors sometimes do NOT get paid by insurance companies for any number of reasons, and the cost falls back to the patient, so in this case the doc decided to cut my carrier out as of MONDAY.  So… a short, intense appointment nearly followed by $500 worth of blood tests, so already my day’s just going greatly…
  3. No Blood Test; A $500 hit in the next month isn’t totally undoable, but certainly it is NOT a budgeted expense at the moment.  I know I have ranted against the insurance system in America before, although it does have its place and can be helpful… But I’m the child in the divorce of Doc and Carrier, so I have to deal with the overflow there.
  4. NO COFFEE OR ADD PILL: By the time I got to work there was already a lot of mental traffic to sift through, from paying for the doctor’s appointment that barely happened, to rescheduling with a recommended doc for Monday, and 2 other phone calls I need to make.  All of this without the quieting effect of a low-grade stimulant for which my career and many relationships should be thankful.
  5. Light and Sweet, AH SHIT: I get to work and get a machine-made cuppa, and when I reach into the shared fridge for my cream (real cream, not fat-free Hazelnut Cinnamon Elf Creamer) some dickbag had knocked it over with his bagged lunch, spilling a good 50% of it onto the shelf.  So let’s add another 10min blankspot to my day while I clean that up.  Pill still hadn’t kicked in, and my coffee was getting cold, so the emotional weight of the moment was pretty palpable.
  6. Ante-up: The Fed is tapering off their dollarly funneling of stimulus into the American economy, which means anything subsidized, backed, hugged, or accepted by the Fed as “good for business” will get less financial backing.  Fannie and Freddie’s demands and rates will go up if you wanna buy a house, unless you have great credit and/or a phaaat down-payment.  Not great news for this family here trying to save for a new house in the next 12 months.
  7. Figuring The Finances:  Soon, businesses with big ticket items, including “Tom’s House of Oversized Novelty Tickets and Certificates,” will have to decide if they will stand firm on their pricing in an effort to not lose a profit percentage on every sale, or if they can drop their prices in an effort to drive volume.  This is where the real “Trickle Down” economics lesson could apply:  If suppliers charge less and retailers charge less, everybody’s money aligns a little better.  Idiots trying to outbid each other for homes that aren’t worth $450K just piss all over those of us waiting in line for a good $350K house.
  8. Check, Please?:  I have a couple hundred in outstanding invoices for comedy shows I performed recently.  One of the checks is overdue, the other was mis-dated and easily fixed with a group I love working with.  So I have calls to make. (Or I could write a blog entry)
  9. Duck Dynasty Dismissal: One of the hill-billies from a TV show called “Duck Dynasty” had some comments that amounted to his not being even a little bit accepting of sexual encounters between men.  WHY that concerns him, I don’t know.  If he’s thinking about it a lot, well he has some of his own blinds to quack from.  He got ousted because his employment with the show depends on the show being watched by people who advertisers will target and pay for commercial time during said show. Ultimately, too many Americans would rather support dummies via viewership than ignore them, drive viewership to the bottom of the holler, and move on down the road.
  10. Holiday Spirits: I got accidentally drunker than a Kennedy on Saturday night, not factoring in the few tugs of Fireball I had in between my 3 cocktails over 5 hours.  Took me all day to recover on Sunday, so I am pretty sure, yeah, I need to pace my Fireball consumption.  I just cannot recover the was I used to.  It wasn’t until I had a bottle of low-cal Gatorade, dinner, and half a beer that I felt somewhat normal.  Oh well, lesson learned.  STOP MIXING SHOTS WITH COCKTAILS!
  11. Wrap it Up: It is a great fear of mine that my 4 year-old son will make realizations about the existence of Santa Claus and feel disappointment at a young age.  I was 5 or 6 when, overcome with excitement, I awoke to sounds at 3am and snuck down the hallway to see my parents “in the Santa way.”  It crushed me.  I laid in bed and cried.  A co-worker told me her 10 year-old son just figured it out earlier this year which I think is on the other end of the spectrum, possibly a disservice to the kid AND the parents.  I don’t think parents and family members should bypass getting some credit for their giving and thoughtfulness by letting Santa take all the glory in his absence.  Instead, I think we’re doing a decent job of involving our oldest guy in gift-giving to others, as he got to choose a few toys and some clothes for other families in need.  He may not get his head or heart around it, but I’d rather have THAT take root in his sweet little heart as a part of Christmas than the idea of giving Santa all the credit after we’ve worked all year to pay for new underwear.

So hey, there ya go.  I’m done.  Friggin’ tired and gotta hammer away at this work stuff.

Have a Merry Merry Christmas, with family, friends, lovers, and losers.  The gift of selflessness is what it seems to be about, no matter how it’s advertised.

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A New Set Of Tireds

Just before she lay down her beautiful head to sleep the other night, my wife took the water glass from next to my laptop (I was working on a presentation for the next day around 9:15 that night), sipped from it, and said…

“I’m f***ing tired.  The house is always dirty, I’m being disrespected, I hate this house, if I’m not here cleaning I’m off doing a bunch of other stuff just to keep the boys busy or in school, and I’m sick of it.” 

So, what did I do to respond?  What COULD I do?
She was done for the day. She had gotten up pretty early to go workout, raced home to get our kids in the car for preschool and general out-of-house tasks (what non-stay-at-home parents call Life or Work), and they were going a bit nuts the rest of the day.  I got an earful when I got home from the kids, after a long day and meeting with a local entertainment comedy talent mastermind.  Kids will wear you out.  They will grind on you and they will break you down and they are unreasonable under the age of 5 or 19 and will just beat on your brain walls and sometimes you want to tell them to shut their damn mouths and go the fuck to sleep because you are a grown up, sex has been had, you’ve thrown an angry punch, and paid taxes but not enough to really help this flailing society you want to build a wall around to protect them, so go to sleep.

But you cannot do that.  I cannot.  I’m an adult. I’m nearly 40. I have embraced and accepted all facets of Parenting, which is a much more advanced form of caregiving, and shouldn’t ever be equated to having a pet. [ed. note; Equating child-rearing to pet care is on the same shelf as equating an compound femoral fracture to a sprained finger.  It’s minimizing to do so, and you should really not do it, or I will punt your dog right down the frozen aisle of this Trader Joe’s it’s not even supposed to be in.]  Because I’m an adult.

And no, you cannot flip out on your kids at the ages of 4 and nearly 2. You look like a complete asshole, first, because the kids don’t fully fathom the rage and the cause.  You only scare them, you don’t teach them.  And it’s much much much more frustrating than you’d think it may be to tell a kid for the 5th time who knows what you’re saying to put.
on.
the.
monkey.
underwear.  Then they cry, and it’s like…

“Why are YOU crying? You did this to yourself! 5 times I’ve asked you to put your monkey underbips on and you keep trying to put your bobo on the gorilla pillow!  Put your monkey underpants on, don’t put your business on the monkey!”

As adults, we’re supposed to be in control of things.  I’m not. I control very little.  I control myself, usually (except I’m a bit of a choc-o-holic, GUILTY!), but sometimes I just have to ask somebody at a grocery store “What’s going on here?” I know what’s going on. They are blind to anything else around them, dead-stopped in the aisle, looking at their phone. I promise you, ma’am, you are NOT about to get a prescient message that has the PowerBall numbers.  I can’t always control what happens to me, but I can control whether or not I tell somebody their head is in their ass.

So here’s what I did the other night.
I wrote a note to my wife and left it up on the monitor for her to see in the morning.
This is what it read:

  1. I have a great marriage to a man who loves me and works hard to provide for our family.  He doesn’t gamble or drink or tattoo or buy cars and shit we don’t need.
  2. I have 2 great sons who are young and sometimes they are just little kids who don’t know any better while trying to be funny.
  3. I get tired and that’s OK
  4. My house is a house, not a hut, not on fire, and not a pit in a shitty jungle.
  5. I woke up today healthy.  This is a good start.
  6. My sons woke up today healthy and with food in their house.  This is a good start.
  7. My sons have two parents who love them even if my sons don’t know it yet.
  8. We will be in a new, better-sized house soon and we’ll do it the right way so that we don’t destroy our family financially.
  9. I am a great mom and wife who does what she can to make every day matter to my family.  
  10. For all of these things, I am grateful.

Here’s what I did NOT do, after she made her statement of frustration and walked away with my glass of water while I worked on my presentation…

“Hey hon?  Hon?
Could I get that water back?”

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