My girls are coming home tomorrow after spending the last three days with their mother. When they leave, I take a deep sigh of relief and enjoy a little piece and quiet. However, it isn't too long after their departure that I am ready for them to hurry back to me.
Tomorrow isn't one of those days. May God strike me down for even uttering the previous sentence. But, it's true.
Stay away girls... let me have tomorrow all to myself. Let me enjoy the last football game for the next seven months all on my own.
Despite the plea, they will come and take every bit of my attention away from the the big screen TV. Oh, I'll try and watch, but it will be fruitless.
My girls will try and let me enjoy the game. Bless their heart, they really do love me and want me to be happy. But, any attempt on their part will be short-lived.
They will soon forget about Daddy wanting to watch the game and will request to put a puzzle together with me, or go for our Sunday afternoon walk, or cause me to run to the aide of one of them while the others are beating the hell out of her. Just your typical Sunday afternoon fun in my house.
I have tried everything in the past to get them to enjoy a game with me. I make snacks, sit us all down together, and start trying to teach them the game I love. But, it never works.
They ask questions like, "How come they don't just run away from the others guys? They keep running right into them. That's dumb." I have never have the right answer for them and the question keeps coming up.
Or, they start complaining that the cheerleaders aren't on TV enough and it is dumb that they don't get to be on the field. While I agree a little more cheerleader shots would be cool, I certainly don't think they should be the focal point like my girls do.
As hard as it is for me, I am slowly coming to the realization that it might be best to forget about trying to watch the game. You can't get disappointed and upset about them ruining my viewing experience if I don't watch the game.
To those who will be hooting and hollering it up at home or at a party, I say the hell with you. I hope your cable or satellite goes out right before kickoff.
Why should I be the only one to miss the game?
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Parenting technique
I am becoming an expert on parenting. Or, at least at one technique that has been working wonders for me lately.
Some may say my methods are a little extreme. To them, I say you have never been a single father of four daughters under 10.
My method is the often-criticized but underutilized tactic of brainwashing. I have mastered it so well, I would be fine with one calling me the Jim Jones of parenting.
Tell your kids something and repeat it enough times, the desired outcome eventually happens. The key, as with most things in life, is repetition, repetition and more repetition.
With almost everything that happens, I have a simple sentence that corresponds with an activity. Pretty soon, my kids know exactly what I want to happen and how it should happen.
From the mundane every day tasks to the lessons in life that will keep my children on the right track, I have a saying for it.
When my youngest daughter was an infant and suffering from a seizure disorder, I was constantly taking her to Doctor appointments. The nurses were telling me what to do and not do when raising children. One of the ones that stuck with me, was when a nurse told me, "When you are changing and cleaning your daughter, make sure you wipe front to back. Otherwise, you are just wiping everything into her vagina."
Wow, now there is something I would never known, but it made sense. I followed her advise, and then began to tell my daughters front to back after they were potty-trained.
When they head out of the bathroom three years later, they still tell me, "Dad, I front to backed. You don't have to ask."
I often wonder how long they will continue to tell me that when the exit the bathroom. I hope not much longer.
Other examples are, "Food in, mouth closed", "Dad gone, pool closed", "Multiple flushes when pooping", and the one I tell them the most, "Say no to boys and drugs."
It is the last one that I hope prevents what gives me the most nightmares as a father. They can drop out of school, join a cult, become a vegetarian, do just about anything but become a teen mother or have a drug problem. I have seen too many teens as a teacher who had one of the two, if not both, happen to them.
My daughters are going to be attending the high school I teach and coach at, and the last thing I want is to be known as is the coach with the drugged-out or pregnant teen daughter. I'll love and support them if it happens, but I am going to do whatever it takes to prevent it from happening.
I started saying it to them when they were still in car seats. When I would leave them at daycare, the single women thought it was cute as I would drop them off with a kiss and a "Say no to boys and drugs" farewell.
There still hasn't been a day that I left without saying it to them. While my others sayings can actually be applied by young daughters on a daily basis, I never really knew if they understood what I was trying to convey to them with the boys and drugs thing.
That changed for me recently with an outing to the park.
I was sitting on a bench reading a book as my girls were playing on the swings. Looking up, I noticed a boy walking toward Shelby as she exited one of the swings.
The two of them talked and as they did, Shelby kept looking over at me. She finally put her hand up in the air toward the boy and then sprinted to me with a question.
"Dad, Dad, Dad, " she said, while huffing and puffing from the run. "That boy wants to know if I can play with him. Is it Ok? I know you always say to say no to boys, but I don't think he has any drugs. So, can I?"
It took everything I had not to fall over with laughter as I told her she could play with him. The hard work paid off, and just hearing Shelby ask the question was music to my ears. I didn't even need any of Jim Jones' Kool-Aide for Shelby to remember what I have been preaching for years.
I told you I was an expert.
Some may say my methods are a little extreme. To them, I say you have never been a single father of four daughters under 10.
My method is the often-criticized but underutilized tactic of brainwashing. I have mastered it so well, I would be fine with one calling me the Jim Jones of parenting.
Tell your kids something and repeat it enough times, the desired outcome eventually happens. The key, as with most things in life, is repetition, repetition and more repetition.
With almost everything that happens, I have a simple sentence that corresponds with an activity. Pretty soon, my kids know exactly what I want to happen and how it should happen.
From the mundane every day tasks to the lessons in life that will keep my children on the right track, I have a saying for it.
When my youngest daughter was an infant and suffering from a seizure disorder, I was constantly taking her to Doctor appointments. The nurses were telling me what to do and not do when raising children. One of the ones that stuck with me, was when a nurse told me, "When you are changing and cleaning your daughter, make sure you wipe front to back. Otherwise, you are just wiping everything into her vagina."
Wow, now there is something I would never known, but it made sense. I followed her advise, and then began to tell my daughters front to back after they were potty-trained.
When they head out of the bathroom three years later, they still tell me, "Dad, I front to backed. You don't have to ask."
I often wonder how long they will continue to tell me that when the exit the bathroom. I hope not much longer.
Other examples are, "Food in, mouth closed", "Dad gone, pool closed", "Multiple flushes when pooping", and the one I tell them the most, "Say no to boys and drugs."
It is the last one that I hope prevents what gives me the most nightmares as a father. They can drop out of school, join a cult, become a vegetarian, do just about anything but become a teen mother or have a drug problem. I have seen too many teens as a teacher who had one of the two, if not both, happen to them.
My daughters are going to be attending the high school I teach and coach at, and the last thing I want is to be known as is the coach with the drugged-out or pregnant teen daughter. I'll love and support them if it happens, but I am going to do whatever it takes to prevent it from happening.
I started saying it to them when they were still in car seats. When I would leave them at daycare, the single women thought it was cute as I would drop them off with a kiss and a "Say no to boys and drugs" farewell.
There still hasn't been a day that I left without saying it to them. While my others sayings can actually be applied by young daughters on a daily basis, I never really knew if they understood what I was trying to convey to them with the boys and drugs thing.
That changed for me recently with an outing to the park.
I was sitting on a bench reading a book as my girls were playing on the swings. Looking up, I noticed a boy walking toward Shelby as she exited one of the swings.
The two of them talked and as they did, Shelby kept looking over at me. She finally put her hand up in the air toward the boy and then sprinted to me with a question.
"Dad, Dad, Dad, " she said, while huffing and puffing from the run. "That boy wants to know if I can play with him. Is it Ok? I know you always say to say no to boys, but I don't think he has any drugs. So, can I?"
It took everything I had not to fall over with laughter as I told her she could play with him. The hard work paid off, and just hearing Shelby ask the question was music to my ears. I didn't even need any of Jim Jones' Kool-Aide for Shelby to remember what I have been preaching for years.
I told you I was an expert.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Male chatter
After a weekend and last night in a house with seven females, I was ready for some attention from a man. I am completely secure in my sexuality, so I have no problem making that statement.
Who could blame me?
After all, I just spent three days playing Barbies, painting fingernails, running to the local pharmacy to grab tampons for a roommate, and hearing about the discomfort of hot flashes from the house mom. Doesn't anyone in my house know that I am not one of them? I mean, shit, I do have testicles!
This morning when I walked into work, all I wanted was some good ole male conversation with the other PE teacher who shares an office with me. I knew he would be up for some football talk, or chatter about the sex we didn't have this weekend, and maybe even some arguing over whether or not Heath Ledger should have received the Oscar nomination for his role in The Dark Knight.
Any of that would of been have been great and exactly what I needed. I knew he wouldn't disappoint me.
"Morning Coach, what's up?" I said, waiting anxiously for his response.
"Hey... You should have seen the Chicken Soup I made for dinner last night. I made it from scratch."
I cook and take great pride in it, but, really? Are you kidding me? This is what we were going to talk about? Who traded the male chauvinist I was used to working with for Betty Crocker?
"Really? It was good?" I said, trying to sound interested.
"Oh yea, even my son liked it and he doesn't like anything. Don't you hate cooking something for your kids and they don't touch it? That's him all the time."
Almost as much as I hate where this conversation is going. But, Ok, well that has to be the end of it. Time to move on to something else, right?
"It was awesome cutting up everything and actually cooking it myself. You should have smelled the house... it was like we were in the kitchen of some great chef. But, it was me!"
"Oh, yea?"
"I never thought that soup could be a meal in itself, however, it was so rich and full of vegetables and chicken. I was full after one bowl. I made plenty... I brought some if you want to try it at lunch. You'll love it."
"Sure, Rob. I'll try it. What part of the chicken did you use?" I asked, hoping his answer would lead to the type of conversation I wanted.
"The recipe called for a whole chicken, but I bought these big chicken breasts and cut it up in big chunks. I like the breast the best." Bingo... he took my bait.
"Me too, Rob. I have always been a breast man."
Finally, we were talking like men.
Who could blame me?
After all, I just spent three days playing Barbies, painting fingernails, running to the local pharmacy to grab tampons for a roommate, and hearing about the discomfort of hot flashes from the house mom. Doesn't anyone in my house know that I am not one of them? I mean, shit, I do have testicles!
This morning when I walked into work, all I wanted was some good ole male conversation with the other PE teacher who shares an office with me. I knew he would be up for some football talk, or chatter about the sex we didn't have this weekend, and maybe even some arguing over whether or not Heath Ledger should have received the Oscar nomination for his role in The Dark Knight.
Any of that would of been have been great and exactly what I needed. I knew he wouldn't disappoint me.
"Morning Coach, what's up?" I said, waiting anxiously for his response.
"Hey... You should have seen the Chicken Soup I made for dinner last night. I made it from scratch."
I cook and take great pride in it, but, really? Are you kidding me? This is what we were going to talk about? Who traded the male chauvinist I was used to working with for Betty Crocker?
"Really? It was good?" I said, trying to sound interested.
"Oh yea, even my son liked it and he doesn't like anything. Don't you hate cooking something for your kids and they don't touch it? That's him all the time."
Almost as much as I hate where this conversation is going. But, Ok, well that has to be the end of it. Time to move on to something else, right?
"It was awesome cutting up everything and actually cooking it myself. You should have smelled the house... it was like we were in the kitchen of some great chef. But, it was me!"
"Oh, yea?"
"I never thought that soup could be a meal in itself, however, it was so rich and full of vegetables and chicken. I was full after one bowl. I made plenty... I brought some if you want to try it at lunch. You'll love it."
"Sure, Rob. I'll try it. What part of the chicken did you use?" I asked, hoping his answer would lead to the type of conversation I wanted.
"The recipe called for a whole chicken, but I bought these big chicken breasts and cut it up in big chunks. I like the breast the best." Bingo... he took my bait.
"Me too, Rob. I have always been a breast man."
Finally, we were talking like men.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
What's next???
I got some parental advise from my seven-year-old the other day. She is concerned with the way I am bringing up her little sister - the 4-year-old who thinks she is 18.
Seems Savannah is trying to make up for the fact that I don't have their mother around to make sure I don't screw my kids up too much with the way I raise them. Cute for sure, however, what the hell does she know about molding a young child?
After all, I have been doing it on my own for four years and aside from telling Shelby to hide a quarter her in mouth to keep it away from Savannah two years ago, I think I have done a pretty good job. (Shelby would go on to swallow the quarter and we would end up spending the rest of the day in the emergency room.)
In addition to making sure they are provided for, I read to them every day, help them with homework, play games with them, let them apply makeup to my face, wake up at a ridiculous time on the weekends to make them pancakes, and never go out at night because I feel guilty about them spending so much time with a babysitter while I work.
What could I possibly be doing wrong?
"I just think you need to do some things differently around Alani,'' Vanna said.
"And what is that baby? Don't be afraid... just tell me."
"You need to stop saying bad words around her. Me and Shelby know that just because you say them doesn't mean we can. I am worried Alani will be saying them all the time at school when she starts Kindergarten next year. It's bad, Daddy."
Wow. . . just like that, I was speechless. She had a point. I do spew out four letter words a lot in the house. I don't direct them at my girls, but they leave my mouth quite regularly. And Alani has gotten pretty good at including them in her own vocabulary.
I always tell her not to, but it hasn't seemed to deter her too much. It probably doesn't help that the girls and I laugh after hearing Alani talk as if she is walking the halls of my high school.
Some of her classic sayings that have brought laughter from her siblings and I include:
"What the fuck did you do that for?" Said after I hit the back of her mouth while brushing her teeth recently.
"This is bullshit... I am going to play with my Barbies." Said after being frustrated at losing when playing the game Sorry with the rest of us.
"Dad, don't you think Hannah Montana is cool as shit?" That one needs no explanation.
And her favorite and one that was said recently while I had some coaching friends over watching an NFL playoff game. "More fucking football? Don't you watch anything else?"
Did I mention she is four?
After replaying all this in my head for a few minutes, Vannah brought me back to the present by asking me, "Don't you think it will be your fault if she is cussing in class next year and in trouble all the time? What do you think she is going to say to the teacher when she is told that snack time is over?"
I answered her, "What the fuck? I am not done yet."
"Yea, Daddy. You have to stop it around her."
She was right. Son of a bitch, she was right. I gave up smoking last week, now I have to stop cussing?
I hate to think of what's next.
Seems Savannah is trying to make up for the fact that I don't have their mother around to make sure I don't screw my kids up too much with the way I raise them. Cute for sure, however, what the hell does she know about molding a young child?
After all, I have been doing it on my own for four years and aside from telling Shelby to hide a quarter her in mouth to keep it away from Savannah two years ago, I think I have done a pretty good job. (Shelby would go on to swallow the quarter and we would end up spending the rest of the day in the emergency room.)
In addition to making sure they are provided for, I read to them every day, help them with homework, play games with them, let them apply makeup to my face, wake up at a ridiculous time on the weekends to make them pancakes, and never go out at night because I feel guilty about them spending so much time with a babysitter while I work.
What could I possibly be doing wrong?
"I just think you need to do some things differently around Alani,'' Vanna said.
"And what is that baby? Don't be afraid... just tell me."
"You need to stop saying bad words around her. Me and Shelby know that just because you say them doesn't mean we can. I am worried Alani will be saying them all the time at school when she starts Kindergarten next year. It's bad, Daddy."
Wow. . . just like that, I was speechless. She had a point. I do spew out four letter words a lot in the house. I don't direct them at my girls, but they leave my mouth quite regularly. And Alani has gotten pretty good at including them in her own vocabulary.
I always tell her not to, but it hasn't seemed to deter her too much. It probably doesn't help that the girls and I laugh after hearing Alani talk as if she is walking the halls of my high school.
Some of her classic sayings that have brought laughter from her siblings and I include:
"What the fuck did you do that for?" Said after I hit the back of her mouth while brushing her teeth recently.
"This is bullshit... I am going to play with my Barbies." Said after being frustrated at losing when playing the game Sorry with the rest of us.
"Dad, don't you think Hannah Montana is cool as shit?" That one needs no explanation.
And her favorite and one that was said recently while I had some coaching friends over watching an NFL playoff game. "More fucking football? Don't you watch anything else?"
Did I mention she is four?
After replaying all this in my head for a few minutes, Vannah brought me back to the present by asking me, "Don't you think it will be your fault if she is cussing in class next year and in trouble all the time? What do you think she is going to say to the teacher when she is told that snack time is over?"
I answered her, "What the fuck? I am not done yet."
"Yea, Daddy. You have to stop it around her."
She was right. Son of a bitch, she was right. I gave up smoking last week, now I have to stop cussing?
I hate to think of what's next.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Money matters
Today's lesson with my kids was on the importance of saving money. Since I have a combined $236.33 in my savings and checking accounts until the end of the month, I may not be the best role model for my kids.
This definitely qualifies as one of those "Do as I say, not as I do" moments. There are a lot those in my household.
But, nevertheless, it was my duty to get my kids on the right track when money is involved. It is going to be a challenging task to say the least.
Over the weekend, my second-grader has been finding change all over the place. In two days of looking, she has amassed just over $5 in quarters, dimes, nickles and pennies. After spending over an hour counting and recounting her loot, she was ready to go shopping...
"Dad, can we please go to the dollar store? I can buy five things. Five, Daddy!!"
"Baby, why don't you save your money so you can buy something better a little later?"
"What's better than five things from the dollar store? I can get a pencil, crayons, a notebook and two bags of M&M's!"
She certainly had already mapped out a shopping list. However, I tried to use reasoning to get her back on my side.
"Listen... Why don't I let you look on the internet and you can see if there is anything on the Toys R Us page you would want. Ok?"
She agreed to take a look and I left her to do some window shopping, so to speak. Two hours later, she had an impressive list. Nothing on the list was close to costing $5. A sample of what she had found:
1) Carnival Games for Nintendo Wii
Price: $39.99
2)Baby Alive Potty Training
Price: $34.98
3)Barbie & The Diamond Castle Playset Doll and Pet
Price: $92.99
4)18" Girl's Disney Fairies Bicycle - Huffy
Price: $99.99
5)Nintendo DS Lite Onyx
Price: $129.99
She was really excited about the list until I explained to her how much more money she would need to get each item. Disappointment was written all over her face.
"Do you know how much longer I am going to have save to get them? It's going to take me for ever! But, I'll do it... I guess."
As she walked away from me with her money and headed upstairs, I told her I was proud of her and the decision she made. She turned around to me and I thought she was going to say thank you. I was wrong.
"You are just glad you don't have to take me to the dollar store. Now, you can keep watching football."
Wow... she is smarter than I thought.
This definitely qualifies as one of those "Do as I say, not as I do" moments. There are a lot those in my household.
But, nevertheless, it was my duty to get my kids on the right track when money is involved. It is going to be a challenging task to say the least.
Over the weekend, my second-grader has been finding change all over the place. In two days of looking, she has amassed just over $5 in quarters, dimes, nickles and pennies. After spending over an hour counting and recounting her loot, she was ready to go shopping...
"Dad, can we please go to the dollar store? I can buy five things. Five, Daddy!!"
"Baby, why don't you save your money so you can buy something better a little later?"
"What's better than five things from the dollar store? I can get a pencil, crayons, a notebook and two bags of M&M's!"
She certainly had already mapped out a shopping list. However, I tried to use reasoning to get her back on my side.
"Listen... Why don't I let you look on the internet and you can see if there is anything on the Toys R Us page you would want. Ok?"
She agreed to take a look and I left her to do some window shopping, so to speak. Two hours later, she had an impressive list. Nothing on the list was close to costing $5. A sample of what she had found:
1) Carnival Games for Nintendo Wii
Price: $39.99
2)Baby Alive Potty Training
Price: $34.98
3)Barbie & The Diamond Castle Playset Doll and Pet
Price: $92.99
4)18" Girl's Disney Fairies Bicycle - Huffy
Price: $99.99
5)Nintendo DS Lite Onyx
Price: $129.99
She was really excited about the list until I explained to her how much more money she would need to get each item. Disappointment was written all over her face.
"Do you know how much longer I am going to have save to get them? It's going to take me for ever! But, I'll do it... I guess."
As she walked away from me with her money and headed upstairs, I told her I was proud of her and the decision she made. She turned around to me and I thought she was going to say thank you. I was wrong.
"You are just glad you don't have to take me to the dollar store. Now, you can keep watching football."
Wow... she is smarter than I thought.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Here's to Guilt
It is not often that I embrace the feeling of guilt.
Who does? It's an emotion that makes us feel like we screwed up and is notorious for not letting us forget about it.
Today, I was glad to feel guilty.
Laying around and enjoying the pleasure of complete silence in my house, I realized that I had left my cell phone upstairs the night before. Confident that I had probably missed a call or two, I ran and grabbed it from my nightstand.
I already had 13 missed calls and four messages. One message stood out from the rest.
"Hey man, our girls are having Lunch on the Lawn today at school and we should go,'' said my lifelong friend who my kids refer to as Uncle DJ. "Call me back and we can go up there together.''
I am a single parent and have my kids fifty percent of the time. My kids went to their mother's house yesterday morning and will be there until Friday afternoon. I had no idea about today's big day at the school and planned on enjoying one of my last days of vacation at home alone.
Despite the message, I tossed the phone on the couch without returning the call and tried to go back to doing nothing. I am a high school teacher and coach and after a rough football season in the fall, I felt like I needed and earned a break from it all.
I was going to sit on the couch surfing the web and watching rerun after rerun of SportsCenter. The only thing I was getting up for was to get anything and everything I desired from the kitchen. To hell with everyone and everything else!
Then guilt hit me and hit me hard. It was as if it was coming at me from every direction and all I can do was picture my beautiful second-grader walking around by herself while her friends were at lunch with their parents.
Quickly, I grabbed the phone and called DJ and told him I was ready and looking forward to going. He didn't need to know that just minutes earlier I was completely Ok with blowing it off.
As soon as I walked into the school's cafeteria I spotted my daughter in line to get some cardboard looking piece of pizza with a cup of corn. After seeing that, I then started feeling guilty about not making lunches for her and taking the easy way out by paying for all her meals at the beginning of each month.
I'll tackle that guilt on another day.
I walked toward her and heard the most beautiful sound a father could hear...
"Daddyyyyy!!!!! Hi!" Vanna said as she sprinted to me. "Are you here for Lunch on the Lawn day?"
"Of course baby. I wouldn't have missed it."
We had a great lunch and then spent the rest of time walking hand-in-hand while she pointed out friends and things she enjoyed doing at school. It couldn't have gone better.
While she thanked me for coming, I couldn't help but thank guilt for coming to me.
Just hope it waits until after vacation to come again.
Who does? It's an emotion that makes us feel like we screwed up and is notorious for not letting us forget about it.
Today, I was glad to feel guilty.
Laying around and enjoying the pleasure of complete silence in my house, I realized that I had left my cell phone upstairs the night before. Confident that I had probably missed a call or two, I ran and grabbed it from my nightstand.
I already had 13 missed calls and four messages. One message stood out from the rest.
"Hey man, our girls are having Lunch on the Lawn today at school and we should go,'' said my lifelong friend who my kids refer to as Uncle DJ. "Call me back and we can go up there together.''
I am a single parent and have my kids fifty percent of the time. My kids went to their mother's house yesterday morning and will be there until Friday afternoon. I had no idea about today's big day at the school and planned on enjoying one of my last days of vacation at home alone.
Despite the message, I tossed the phone on the couch without returning the call and tried to go back to doing nothing. I am a high school teacher and coach and after a rough football season in the fall, I felt like I needed and earned a break from it all.
I was going to sit on the couch surfing the web and watching rerun after rerun of SportsCenter. The only thing I was getting up for was to get anything and everything I desired from the kitchen. To hell with everyone and everything else!
Then guilt hit me and hit me hard. It was as if it was coming at me from every direction and all I can do was picture my beautiful second-grader walking around by herself while her friends were at lunch with their parents.
Quickly, I grabbed the phone and called DJ and told him I was ready and looking forward to going. He didn't need to know that just minutes earlier I was completely Ok with blowing it off.
As soon as I walked into the school's cafeteria I spotted my daughter in line to get some cardboard looking piece of pizza with a cup of corn. After seeing that, I then started feeling guilty about not making lunches for her and taking the easy way out by paying for all her meals at the beginning of each month.
I'll tackle that guilt on another day.
I walked toward her and heard the most beautiful sound a father could hear...
"Daddyyyyy!!!!! Hi!" Vanna said as she sprinted to me. "Are you here for Lunch on the Lawn day?"
"Of course baby. I wouldn't have missed it."
We had a great lunch and then spent the rest of time walking hand-in-hand while she pointed out friends and things she enjoyed doing at school. It couldn't have gone better.
While she thanked me for coming, I couldn't help but thank guilt for coming to me.
Just hope it waits until after vacation to come again.
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