The longest pseudo-comment ever

My large friend over at Huge Orange Enigma wrote a post asking for stories about, among other things, the general life of a married couple dealing with real life when real life isn't what you expected it to be. I'm paraphrasing. I started to leave a comment but realized after my scroll bar got REALLY tiny that I might want to take my thoughts in another direction. So, here goes...

I know Wifey will be over to Enigma's site to tell you all about the idiot who comes strolling through the door right as dinner is getting on the table but I wanted to jump in and say my piece (hopefully peacefully :0) before she could tell you the truth.

Enigma mentioned the heroic (yes, heroic... not many guys would have figured out the "right" thing to do in that instance) thing he did when he got home and found hope and love throwing up all over his house. (I've really got a flair for imagery don't I?) Then he went on to talk about the disparity between man-chores and woman-chores in their household. It was almost like looking into a mirror. This is something that Wifey and I have struggled with for our entire relationship. I've always not held up my end of things on the 'ol score card (the one I've been assured hasn't been kept but we all know the truth of that don't we?). I suck at seeing what needs to be done. Unless it's staring me right in the face, or maybe even biting me, it just doesn't register. I know it, all of her friends know it, it isn't a secret. Trouble is... even with everyone knowing it, despite my good intentions, not much gets better. No, that's not true exactly. If I take a look back at the day we got married and compare that poor schmuck (RUN!!!!!! Why didn't anyone convince him to RUN!!!!!!) to this poorer schmuck, I know I'm head and shoulders above where I've been. But, let's be honest... that wasn't hard to do.

One thing about our life nowadays, my schedule doesn't allow for picking up any of those daily (during the week), mundane things that happen before we're done with dinner. If Wifey wanted to share some of those fantastic tasks with me she'd have to step over and around them all day waiting for me to get home. I'm blessed, really and truly blessed, to be able to walk in and see my three wackadoo kids still breathing let alone playing, with JAM's homework done, and dinner almost ready to be put on the table. I know I'm not even close to being worthy enough for all of that.

I know I don't take on nearly the same amount that Wifey tackles during the weekends. We've tried all sorts of ways to get me to see what needs to be done... doesn't seem to help much. But it isn't like I'm sitting around filing my nails or anything, I'm always on the go with chores, projects, etc., but it isn't the same inside the house-type stuff she takes care of. The real kicker is when she has to do all the things on her list while still refereeing the three amigos while I "get to" go to Costco or Safeway or to the various home improvement stores for that one thing I forgot all about. I often try to grab at least one of the little ones when I go on my jaunts, but it still isn't the same.

I do take care of "all" the outside stuff (to varying degrees of competency and completion), the errands, the attic trips, etc. and I do try to help with some of the other chores. Again, I am absolutely blessed that Wifey takes care of a TON of the routine-suck-out-your-soul stuff during the week, like a lot of the laundry, dishes don't pile up, etc. etc. etc. I know I should grab some of the other things from her, and recently I've tried to be more aware. It probably won't ever be absolutely equal, but the best we can try to do is work as hard as we can and pull our family in the right direction. As long as we don't add to the problem, like I've been known to do at times in the past (and maybe a little bit today even with an impromptu invite to some friends to come over for dinner when there was a million things to do before I left for a trip next week - yeah, totally didn't foresee that idiot move), I think the family running smoothly is all that matters. If it gets too out of whack then something needs to change but you'll be sure to see that coming a mile away. Just listen for the steam shooting out of her ears, it's a dead give-away.

All this is to say I know Enigma's pain. Well, its not really his pain we're talking about is it? The best I can say is grab something, anything, that she usually takes care of and make it yours. Unless your married to Super Woman who gets it all done before you get a chance, I'm sure it will be most appreciated.

Now, to try and own my own words....

To Facebook or not to Facebook

Wifey and a lot of other friends have jumped on the Facebook bandwagon. I... have not. I have my reasons, both public and private ones. My friends all tell me that using Facebook is a great way to connect - with new friends as well as old ones. My usual comment is that if I wanted to get in touch with someone I would, Facebook or no. That is a safe answer. It is easy to say, understand, and get away with. I end up looking like a grump but that is a small price to pay to cover up the truth.

Back in March I posted about an instance where an old high school acquaintance contacted me and how much it scared me because I still carry a lot of baggage from that time in my life. I am still not at all comfortable with the idea of reconnecting with people that knew me when I was less than the person I wish I would have been. It's really tough for me to know how to work through that.

So, what's the reason for the timing of all this? Wifey showed me a page on Facebook that has dozens of people who graduated with me from HS back in 93. As I looked at the names and faces of kids I went to school with I couldn't help but feel all those same feelings again. Man, I've got a lot of work to do. Proven by recent events within my own family, getting over old impressions is about as tough as can be, even when you desperately want to move past them. How would it be dealing with people who have no personal interest in moving past old impressions? I know I still have all those thoughts and feelings about certain people. If I'm feeling this way, with all that I wish about moving on, I can only imagine how people would act who have no such feelings.

Maybe someday.... lot of work to do first.

With the good....

...comes the bad right? With all the excitement and joy that followed last Tuesday's historical election I've been remiss in not using my teeny tiny little soapbox to speak up and decry the work done by a minority to outdo the wishes of the majority. I'm speaking, of course, of Prop 8 in California. I'm not going to waste time, or paragraphs, trying to change the minds of those set against the love of one person towards another. I do, however, want to speak to those who blindly followed any religion in opposition of the right of one person to enter into a commitment with another person, whatever the title attached to it.

In my knowledge of history each and every religion has in some way been persecuted against by members of their society or other religions. The Celtic Pagans were wiped out by the Catholics, the Native American's spirituality was wiped out by the Christianity of the American government and pioneers, the early adherents of Christianity were summarily executed for their beliefs by the ruling Roman government, the leaders of the American Mormon Church battled each other and were driven from their homes and murdered in cold blood, and the list could go on and on. The point? Simplistically stated, in my mind, members of any organized religion should be some of the most understanding and supportive members of our community. They have felt the point of the sword from those that don't understand, they have suffered by the hand of those that sought to oppress. How could anyone who adheres to any religion that I know, that teaches love and hope, possibly find enough animosity or (I don't want to use the word hate because I don't know if that strong a word is true) fear to take a stand against two people entering into a loving and committed relationship?

I know there are folks out there that are far more eloquent than I could ever be speaking on this topic. I don't have legions of production assistants or graduate students finding sources or writing copy for me. What I do have is the pleasure of picking up pieces produced by such organizations. I'd like to point to a piece done by Keith Olberman. Normally I watch Olberman because he makes me smile, laugh, and I have to admit that he and I lean in the same direction; although I fear he is a little more diagonal than I am. But in this instance, he is speaking not through a political lens, this is about people, about real human beings being denied basic human rights. And here I was thinking that we already fought for all of this back in the 60's.

Where I live, people are people. Love is love. Instead of spending your time finding fault with how other folks live why don't you volunteer at a local homeless shelter or at your local school? It might teach you some humility and increase your love for others less fortunate or just plain different than you. We could all use a little bit more of that.

| |

This Stuff Ain't Easy

I always knew being the father I wanted to be was going to be pretty hard to do. Not going too much into where I came from (not in this post anyway) I didn't exactly have the greatest of models. So now that it's my turn to be the Dad it just amazes me when I look into the mirror and realize that Yeah buddy, it's up to you. So, when I run into articles or stories that make sense, or that provide a good dose of "DUH" I like to reflect on them and share them when possible. Two such pieces are now sitting in front of me, both coming from Parents Magazine. While magazines of this type are typically geared toward the fairer sex (Wifey and I have had plenty of conversations about that - she holds that it is the women who take the time to be the readers and caregivers, I say it is a piece of a larger societal problem where fathers aren't expected to invest themselves in the thought process of parenting - thank God Obama called fathers out in his acceptance speech last night!!!) I still tend to find at least one thing in each issue that I can relate to.

So, from this month's issue...

"Memo to Mommy" - see what I mean? Why not "Memo to Parents?" Sexist?

Anyway, this article provides 10 good little "quotes" that every adult should keep in mind when raising little ones...

1. Stop freaking out about the mess! There's always time to clean - but how often do we get to make mud pies?
2. Love me, even when I'm naughty. I'll only be this age once.
3. Be patient. I do everything for a reason, but I don't know enough words yet to give you an explanation.
4. Let me do it. I know you can do it faster and better, but sometimes experience is the best teacher.
5. Don't expect too much of me. I want to do what you ask and make you happy, but I'm still little.
6. Don't try to reason with me when I'm having a tantrum. Trust me - I can't hear you over my own screaming.
7. Keep your promises. It's all about trust. When I'm a teenager, you'll understand why it's so important.
8. Don't keep asking me if I've been good. I'm not even sure what that means, but if I was bad I'd never admit it!
9. Don't let me think that you're perfect. I feel a lot better knowing I'm not the only one who makes mistakes sometimes.
10. Set limits. I can't actually eat a whole box of cookies - I just want to see if I'd get away with it.

So, there is the first. Great advice to read each and every day. In fact, Wifey even posted it up on our bathroom mirror. Not sure what she is saying about me/her/us but I'll take the help any way I can get it.

The second article is bigger, with far too many words for me to retype the whole thing so I'll just give their main points. It is titled "Teaching Old-Fashioned Values in a Modern World."

1. Don't interrupt adults in the middle of a conversation.
   
   Wifey and I have worked on this since JAM was tiny and we are now getting into it with Red. It is actually pretty funny when we tell her to not interrupt and she yells out "I don't wanna wait!!!!" Well, it's funny right now, but not so much when it actually happens.
   
   
2. Say "Thank You" without being prodded.
   
   JAM is so amazing at this - with everyone else but us. lol We expect them to say please and thank you each and every time. I've even gotten so far into the habit of prompting that I'll hand a glass of milk or something to a friend's kid and say "What do you say?" only to feel like a doofus for overstepping. Good thing we have such good friends.
   
   
3. Greet adults with "Hello" and a proper name.
   
   This is something that we honestly haven't worked on much at all. We are very informal people, so we expect kids of friends to call us by our first names and we have always let our kids call other adults by their first names. This is really strange because some of our friend's kids do this by matter of course, but others, who had been students in Wifey's classes way back when, still call us Mr. and Mrs. even though we've tried to get them to stop. This is where having different sets of norms (does this qualify as a value?) is so interesting. I don't want to step on their rules or expectations but I also feel strange when my kids call their parents by their first names and they're calling us by our formal names. I'll have to ask more about that this weekend when we see them for Labor Day.
   
   
4. Hold the door.
   
   DUH!!!!! Why wouldn't you teach you kids to help, treat others with respect, etc.? Honestly, I think the thing I like most about myself is that I'll go out of my way to help others and holding the door is such a simple way to do this. So when JAM sees me doing this, and now Red sees it too, I'm happy to be a positive role model for this. I'm also so pleased that the magazine chose this one thing as something to focus on. Too many people, especially college kids at UMD where I went to school and still visit and interact with quite frequently and high school-aged kids in my neighborhood, don't think about anyone else around them. I know, it is developmentally appropriate for this up to a certain age, but there is no point in not showing them the right way to act right? I especially love it when I hold the door for another guy. Some guys just don't know what to do with that. Good manners is good manners though right?
   
   
5. If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.
   
   Oh! Thank you for saying this! I had a funny sign on my wall when I taught that had some goofy sayings on it. One of them was "Never miss a perfect opportunity to shut up." A bit ruder than maybe called for but my teen-aged audience got it.
   
   
6. Give up your seat.
   
   Did you read that everyone? I can't tell you how many times Wifey has come home from riding the bus somewhere and told me that someone didn't get up for her. Oh, did I mention that this was usually when she was visibly preggers? And if you know her, she doesn't do 'just a little pregnant.' When my beautiful wife gets knocked up she goes all out so it is very obvious that she is "in that way." So when I heard about college kids knocking over each other, and her, to get on the shuttle buses when she was trying to get on, sometimes with another kid in tow, I wanted to go stand out there with her and b*$%-slap anyone I saw cutting her off or not getting up for her. On second thought, maybe it is a good thing I wasn't there with her. But, I digress as usual. I try to model this one too, on the Metro when we use it, is usually the only place where this might come into play but it all comes down to manners and class. By God my kids will know how to act civilly in their community.

All right, that's it for now. Can't say enough about this topic though, especially when we are surrounded by the area where we live and its lack of basic civility and common courtesy. It's hard to raise your kids "right" when they are constantly being inundated with "wrong" but I'll be dammed if I am going to give up.

Take a deep breath

Today was a hard hard day.

Today was D-Day. "D" as in Done with current job. "D" as in Destitute. "D" as in I woke up with a huge headache after having bad dreams all night about the prospect of not getting the phone call I was hoping to get. Yeah, that didn't start with D but I D-serve some slack after the last three months.

June 30 marked the last day of my position with the Center of Technology in Education at The Johns Hopkins University. I spent the last (almost) year there working with some wonderful people in creating an online graduate program for technology leaders in a local school district. The teachers I worked with were great and the folks I worked with at CTE were great but I can honestly say I was not exactly stretched. I spent my time learning and reading and conversing about all things e-Learning, emerging technologies, instructional design, etc. But, there is only so much time you can spend in a day with your head buried in a journal (or staring at a computer screen reading online journal articles as the case may be). I needed more, I asked for more, but more was not forthcoming. I anticipated the end, but I hoped that I was being neurotic. Turned out I wasn't. I was given a few months to find a new position, under the guise that funding had been cut for my position (which I think was at least half-true), but it turned out to be the hardest few months of my life. This is especially true because I had just gone through the whole job-search process a year earlier when my position at PGCPS had been cut by the fabulous new CEO. I wasn't ready to go through all that again. I knew how hard it was to find a new job. I had thought I found the one. Oh-well.

So I started looking. I sent out countless applications and resumes. I was invited to dozens of interviews. I was down to the wire for about 4 different jobs. I didn't get any of them. I started to lose hope. It was hard. With Wifey home with the kids it is pretty old-fashioned around here with it being my sole responsibility to "bring home the bacon." Forget that, it really looked like I wasn't going to be able to bring home a pig's foot, let alone the bacon.

Then, something D-vine happened...

Wifey has a wonderful friend who married a wonderful man. That wonderful man happens to have a job at a place that I had been trying to get an interview with for (literally) months. I knew I was ready for that job. I knew I had what they wanted. But after being up against hundreds of other people for each of the previous jobs (thanks to our wonderful leader and his war in Iraq and the resulting depression that we aren't allowed to call a depression) it wasn't looking too good that my resume would be picked out of the pile. But, this is when Wifey's lovely friend's lovely hubby stepped in and got my foot in the door. I did have a few fall-back opportunities with local school systems but this was the job I wanted. I wanted to stay within the JHU community, I wanted to be challenged, I wanted to be able to build a position and have real responsibility with real people counting on me. That was what this job offered. I wanted it.

I got a call for a phone interview. It went well. It got me a second phone interview. It went well again. It got me a many-hour interview with a few different wonderful people. That went really well. I was invited back for a final interview and the most nerve-wracking presentation I have ever given. I didn't know the topic, I was not an expert, and I was standing in front of a panel of folks who lived what I was trying to tell them about. The nicest thing was that they didn't laugh at me. They listened, they asked impressive questions and I was able to provide reasonably coherent answers. It went well.

I got a call today. "D" day. The day when I no longer had a job or insurance or any way to support my family. I got the job. And there was much rejoicing.

I am very much looking forward to my first day. This next year is going to be a hUGE learning experience for me. But the folks I will be working with are amazing, they are all interested in learning as much from me as I am from them, and they seem to be willing to let me grow into this position. I can't wait. The challenge is long overdue.

The miracles of modern life

I've been reading and learning about a very interesting thing we are all doing to ourselves without even realizing it. To set the stage - think about all of those plastic water bottles we all tote around. Even the refillable ones, the ones we all use thinking we are saving the environment by not buying throw-away water bottles from the vending machine. Good intentioned right? Well, not so much I guess. If you are like me, you never heard of or considered BPA. HUH? Is that like ERA or RBI? (no, and sorry, baseball is upon us once again and I am a very happy guy.) BPA is bisphenol A. Yup, bisphenol A. And what I want to know is if this stuff is so bad for us, I'd hate to see what bisphenol B or C would do. :)

So, why is this stuff on my mind? Check out a report by Consumer Reports:
Q&A: Baby bottles and bisphenol A

Now think about all of those bottles that our kids use. Are you one of the parents that boil your baby bottles in the hopes of making them cleaner? Well, thank goodness wifey and I are so lazy! No boiling for us! But we do use a ton of plastic reusable water bottles each and every day. Modern convenience is wonderful, but we have to think about all the garbage we are putting into our bodies. We will either all kick it at 55 or live to be 200 with all the chemicals we are ingesting.


***Update*** 4-21-08 - Another reason to move to Canada...
Canada may designate BPA a toxic substance

Connecting with your past.

The title of this post is a bit incomplete. What I should call it is: "Connecting with your past, even if you are terrified to do so." The reason for this is that I am not all that comfortable with certain parts of my past. It's not that I've ever really done anything that I wouldn't want my mother to know about... well, maybe a few things. But, there are certain times that I much prefer staying where they are.

So why write about this now? Tonight I was briefly put in contact with someone that I knew way back in high school. She was one of the nicest people you would ever hope to meet. But myself, we'll just say that I am still not sure I have grown into myself. While wifey and I struggle to find JAM all the help we can to deal with his ADHD I spent the first 28 or so years woefully unaware that there was any help available for people like me. The same things that JAM deals with, I dealt with and in some respects still do. I, then and now, have trouble with social situations. I don't know how to read or react to people in the same way that "normal" people are able to do. I am loud when I don't mean to be, or when it is obviously inappropriate to be, I act a bit over the top when I don't know I am, etc. etc... All of this really affected me growing up, as it does for JAM, because other kids just didn't know how to react to me, or if they did react it was appropriate for them to think I was a nutter or a moron. Often both I imagine. I was not treated very well in my mind but in everyone else's defense how they treated me was most likely absolutely appropriate considering the circumstances. That is one of the biggest reasons we have sought help for JAM... I cry thinking that he will go through the same things I went through. I know he already is, even with all the help we are trying to get for him.

So again, why do I write about this now? Because this wonderful person, who I just found out is doing amazing, awe inspiring things with her life, was looking for me to contact about a high school reunion. The thought of that scares me more than anyone should have to admit. It isn't that I don't want to see some people, it is that I don't want to be remembered for the person I used to be. I have worked so hard at becoming the person I am today that I want to literally throttle anyone who still thinks of me as the "old me." My close family included. They are the worst if truth be told. But they aren't the point of this post. The point being, before my hand falls off for the length of this post, that I want to be the new me, but how does that work when I haven't spoken to, seen or otherwise interacted with any of these people in a decade and a half?

Time will tell, but it still scares me far more than it should.

And yes, I did reach out and contact that old 'friend' even though it was one of the scariest things I have done in a while. If it was any other person I am not sure I would have done that, but for some reason the person I knew then, and added to that what I learned about her from her blog, she is a wonderful, caring and (I really hope) forgiving person, and it seemed appropriate to contact her. It might be the beginning of accepting my past and reconnecting with a world that I thought lost and burried forever.

Manners

There are all sorts of things you can get happy about in life. What I have realized as I've gotten older is that you can pretty much boil sources of happiness down into two categories - superficial and actually worthy of caring about. Into the first category, superficial, go things like new cars, the Giants beating the Patriots (it almost happened), the Yankees beating the Red Sox (it could happen), chocolate (my wife would disagree), all the lights being green on your way to work, things like that. Into the other category, the one that really matters, go far fewer items. And, most aren't even items at all. Having a job that provides for you and your family, unconditional love, a warm place to sleep, things like that.

Where am I going with this? The point of this post, or points as it may be, are my kids. My son J, gap toothed, high-energy, crazy, amazing ball of activity JAM, and my daughter Red, willful, funny, inquisitive Red, are both high on the list of the most polite kids I have ever met. In some way, unbeknownst to wifey and myself, we are in the process of raising kids who have wonderful manners. To everyone but us most times, but great manners nonetheless. What brought this on? It really is an everyday occurrence, but two nights ago, as I was changing the diaper of baby Pudge, Red was walking past me and said "escoose me daddy." She is 19 months old and she thought enough about the fact that she needed to brush by me to get by that she said excuse me! Then, last night, as I was rocking with her before I put her down to sleep, I coughed. A few times. Each time, she looked up, tool her thumb out of her mouth and said "bess you daddy." I didn't have the heart to tell her that I didn't sneeze. :) I just said thank you and squeezed her a little tighter and thought to myself that we are so fortunate to have kids like this.