My kids, students and the Luau

School is over in a week. The more years I pile on in my career, the quicker they seem to fly by.

With each year, I have become more and more thankful for the career path that I have chosen. I love my job and 14 years doing it has shown me that there is no better career for me.

What fuels my love for the job isn't the satisfaction I get from teaching kids about the positives of being physically fit for a lifetime. Rather, it is the joy of building relationships with the high school kids.

I love them. Each and everyone of them. Sure, there are times when they piss me off or disappoint me. But, there is no greater satisfaction than watching them come in as freshman and seeing them grow, mature and turn into young adults who appreciate the hard work that myself and the rest of the faculty, administration and other school employees do for the kids.

My favorite event at the end of each year is the Luau. Having graduated from the school that I have been employed at since 1994, I have missed this event only six times since 1985.

Yearbooks are passed out, carnival-like games are played, great food is eaten, and memories from the last year are reminisced. Since I spend so much time at the school as both a teacher and the school's head football coach, my daughters go with me so they can say goodbye to so many students who have watched my kids during football practices and games.

My girls love it. They dance with the students and eat more crap than any 4- to 7-year-old should ever eat. The students love to see them and take them from me for much of the night and teach them dance moves like the "Jerk". It is a move that has been a craze on our campus all year and is one that I could never duplicate.

While my girls are off having fun with cheerleaders and watergirls from my football team, I am able to walk around and talk to kids that I have spent so much time with over the last fours.

During this time, I run into a kid who was my quarterback during my first two years as the head coach. A kid that I would gladly and proudly call my own son.

With no reservations or doubts, I tell him that I will never coach a kid again who has his tireless work ethic in the classroom and football field. He was and is everything a coach could want from a player.

As easy as it was for me to Coach my quarterback, my Most Valubale Player from last season was without a doubt the most challenging athlete I had when I took over the program two years ago. I saw a kid who had more potential than any other player on the field who didn't work as hard as I would like, and he saw a 5-7, 150-pounder who looked like he never played the game.

We yelled at eachother, cursed at eachother, and sometimes went a week or two without saying a word to one another. He drove me mad as I tried everything to get him to see that all I ever wanted was for him to become to best player and person he could be.

I don't know when it happened, or how it happened, but, sometime during the last year the tension between us went away and we quickly became eachother's greatest ally. When I saw him at the Luau, we took a picture together and had a few words that I will never forget.

"Who would thought that you and I would actually like eachother after the start we had together?"

"I know Coach. I hated you when you got the job. But, I would do anything for you now. I can't thank you enough for everything you did for me. I owe you so much."

Little do his he know, that I owe him.

It has been kids like him over the last 14 years that has made a career, my passion.

My own National Lampoon's Vacation

For one day, I was Chevy Chase. And, not the good Chevy Chase who made America laugh on Saturday Night Live, or in his movies Caddy Shack or Fletch. No, I was Chevy Chase from National Lampoon's Vacation.

And, my girls will never let me forget it.

In the movie Vacation, Chevy Chase plays Clark Griswold, a family man who plans a cross country trip with his family to visit the fictional amusement park Wally World. After mishap after mishap, the family finally arrives to Wally World only to find it closed for a week due to repairs.

A great watch for the audience, however, in real life with four daughters in a car on a five-hour round trip drive, it's nothing short of hell.

I came up with a plan Sunday morning to take my girls to one of my favorite destinations as a child. Nestled under in the Eastern Sierra mountains, the Mt. Whitney Fish Hatchery is one of the oldest in the state and one of the most visited.

I told my girls all about the hatchery during breakfast and tried to convince them that it was worth the long drive. They were skeptical to say the least, but agreed that it beat staying home on a beautiful Spring day.

We took off shortly after breakfast and it didn't take long for the 4-year-old to start doing what 4-year-olds do on long trips.

"Are we there yet?"

That was quickly followed by, "Can we stop? I have to go to the bathroom?"

When she wasn't asking one of those questions, the other three were in the back fighting over what road trip game we should play next. Twenty questions, I Spy, and Name that Tune were being played over and over again.

"Dad, I don't want to play that again,'' said Shelby. "They always win and get to pick what they want to play because they are older."

After hearing this, I morphed into my Dad when we used to go on long trips when I was a child. I couldn't believe it was happening, but there was no stopping it.

"Hey girls, why don't you play the Quiet game?"

"What's that?" asked Vanna.

"Let's see who can be the quietest the longest. The winner gets to pick the next CD we play. OK?"

For one minute, it worked. They were quiet and were doing nothing but looking at each other waiting for the other to crack. Then, it was over.

"Dad, this game sucks," said Kern, the oldest and less apt to fall for the trick. "All the CDs are yours any ways, so we don't want to listen to them any way."

With that, we were back to the, "Are we there yets?", "I am hungry,", and "How much longers?". I was about to scream when I finally saw what I was looking for:

Mt. Whitney Fish Hatchery, 2 miles

The girls began to scream as I turned on the dirt road that led to the hatchery. After driving for a mile, we reached the entrance only to find the gate closed and locked.

"Dad, what does the sign say?"

"Alani, it says its closed because it is damaged from a flood,'' said Kern. "Well, Dad, that was worth the drive."

I couldn't respond to that the way I wanted to, so instead I unloaded the girls and we had lunch outside the gate while sitting on the dirt road. They asked a few questions about the surrounding mountains and it appeared as if I was forgiven.

Then, Vanna asked a question that she didn't like the answer to.

"Can we go to the mall here?"

"Babe, this is a little town. They don't have a mall here."

"Why did we come here?"

"I don't know, babe. I don't know."

Bested by a Kindergartner

As a parent, you always want your children to have more than you did and to be better than you. As far as being better than me, my girls don't have to do much to best me.

It took six months in Kindergarten for my second youngest to do something I never did as a student. She made sure I knew about it as soon as I got home from work Friday afternoon.

"Hey, Dad?"

"Yea, baby?"

"Were you ever the Student of the Month when you were in school?"

"No, I don't think I ever was Shelby."

"Ha Ha. I was just name Student of the Month, Daddy! What do you think about that?"

"That's awesome, baby!"

After saying that, I scooped her up and gave her the biggest hug. While she was in my arms, she whispered something in my ear that I will never forget.

"Don't be mad at me, Dad. But, I am already better than you. And, I am six!"

Little turd. But, I couldn't argue with her.

A word from a sponsor

A little warning before you continue reading: I am going to pimp myself out for little to next to nothing. I can't help it. I will do just about anything to get something for free.

Even if it something that I don't see myself using. Ever.

I received an email today from someone asking me to promote a "Save our Saturday" Program from the Krylon company. If I write about it, Krylon will send me a can of its' Wood Stain Spray. Huh? The only wood I work with is my own and I am not willing to spray anything on my "wood".

I am not the kind of guy who does "Tool Time Tim" type of work. If the there is anything that is needed to be done around my house I grab the local newspaper, find a handyman, call him, and then sit back and let him fix whatever needs to be fixed.

I know my limitations and I am OK with it. As Popeye said so eloquently, "I am who I am, and that's all that I am."

Nevertheless, promoting a program that helps guys getting their Saturday's back and limit the amount of time they are doing chores around the house is something that I have no problem doing. Men should have more time to drink beer and watch mind-killing TV on a Saturday.

Here is a detailed description about the program straight from the email:

"Krylon is launching a “Save Our Saturday” Program, which will have a sports trivia contest for free tickets to the World Series and a free HDTV on its site. The site will be promoting Krylon’s new Exterior Wood Stain Spray for refinishing old wood furniture, floors, fences, etc. The product is not so much for handymen or woodworkers, as much as it is for dads who want to SAVE TIME on their weekends (the spray takes about ¼ the amount of time that conventional wood stain takes)."

The email also stated that they hope their program will help men with the "dreaded" honey-do list. I must say, this is another thing that I can't relate to like other men can.

I have been on my own for so long now, I don't even know what having a honey-do list is like. What I have is a shit-to-do list. May not seem like there is big difference between the two, but the difference is huge.

A honey-do list is something you better get done on a Saturday or you will be spending the night on the couch. A shit-to-do list is the shit you are thinking about doing while you are sleeping on the couch all day long.

See the difference? I'd much rather have my shit-to-do list.

To the Krylon Company, I hope I did a good enough job promoting your new program. I want my can of Wood Stain Spray.

I can't wait to see the damage my daughters will do with it.

Date night with Shelby

While growing up, I was a klutz who spent many nights in the emergency room. There was never a year that I didn't spend some time in the hospital.

There was a concussion after running into a pole while in a kindergarten, a broken rib suffered in a baseball game as a 12-year-old, a deep cut to my right knee from a bike spoke, and I almost cut a pinkie finger off while working as a slicer at an Italian restaurant as a teenager. Throw in four surgeries for various health issues, and it shouldn't surprise that many of the hospital staff knew me on a first name basis.

After each trip, my parents always had some gift waiting for me at home. It always made me feel loved when I walked into my room and found some present waiting for me on my bed.

On Thursday afternoon, I was able to do the same thing for one my own daughters. I received a call during my last class from her mother that Shelby split her chin open after falling on a toy box. I left work in a hurry and spent the afternoon with my six-year-old in a local urgent care.

The result was a night that neither of us will ever forget.

She received six stitches to close up a cut that the doctor said was one of the worst she had seen. My daughter was a trooper during the ordeal and I knew I had to come up with something to give her like my parents had for me after my hospital visits.

I had two tickets to a Los Angeles Lakers' game later that night and had troubles finding someone to go with me. While waiting to be seen, I had received a number of text messages from friends saying that for some reason or other they would not be able to join me to watch one of the best teams in the NBA.

Shelby kept telling me different friends I should try and invite to the game, but never came up with person I knew I should take.

"Hey, I know someone I can take to the game," I said.

"Who?"

"You!"

She smiled so big at my response that the doctor warned her about possibly reopening her cut. We both laughed at that and walked hand in hand out the door.

She talked endlessly during the two-hour drive and never stopped asking questions about what she was going to see. I have never seen her so excited, however, it would have been nice for a few quiet moments while trying to navigate through LA traffic.

As soon as we walked into Staples Center, she had to have a Lakers' t-shirt, a foam finger in the shape of the No. 1 sign, an ice cream cone, and a large bottle of water. She was quickly becoming an expensive date.

While waiting for the game to start, she asked me what I thought was an innocent question. It ended up being a dig at her old man.

"Dad, who do you think will win the game?"

"The Lakers are going to win for sure, baby."

"Well, that will be nice. Your basketball and football teams never win."

She is definitely my daughter.

Despite that comment, we had a great night and the Lakers did win. She stood up the entire game cheering and yelling "MVP" every time the Kobe Bryant got the ball.

As we walked out, she said thanks and that she had a great time. Shelby even said that she was glad that she got hurt and was able to spend the night all on her own with me.

I couldn't have agreed with her more.

Realizing a dream

Remember when you were a kid and someone would ask what you wanted to be when you grew up? I do. And, I lied every time.

I would answer with the customary pilot, fireman, teacher, or policeman response. Sometimes, to get a laugh, I would poke fun of my small stature and say that I wanted to be horse jockey.

All were bullshit responses, of course. I, unlike my classmates, knew what I wanted to be since I was a 5-year-old.

I wanted to be the head football coach at our local high school. My Dad took me to a game when I was in first grade and that night was all I thought about for days.

I kept bugging my Dad to take me again and he finally did. Over and over again. All I could think about while watching the games was one day playing on that field and then later coaching on it.

Ten years later, I did play on that field and would for four years. Unfortunately, God dealt me a cruel blow by stopping my growth in seventh grade. I played as a 5-6, 120-pound wide receiver who offered the team very little in my playing ability.

What I did offer was someone who gave it his all at every practice and game and one who became a spiritual leader. While my teammates were doing everything on the field to get us a win, I was on the sidelines rooting and waving a towel to get the crowd involved.

I loved every minute of it, but often was embarrassed about being nothing more than a cheerleader in pads. What I really wanted was the chance to make a difference on the field.

That never happened in high school. However, two years ago I realized my dream of becoming the school's head football coach. With the same enthusiasm that I had as a player, it is now my responsibility to bring the winning tradition back to the proud school.

It's the opportunity I always wanted.

For more Wordful Wednesdays go to Seven Clown Circus.

Calgon for men

I remember being a kid and seeing a commercial with a woman having a rough day with her children. Her only escape was running to her bathroom, drawing a hot bath, and slipping deep inside with a smile spread across her face.

I never got that commercial. What could be so hard about spending the day with your children? You wanted them, didn't you?

Some 30 years and four daughters later, I get it. I get every fucking bit of it.

Kids are nuts and aren't satisfied until you are, too. Do they ever slow down and shut up for two seconds? If I wasn't the one who fed them every meal and snack, I'd wonder what the hell they ate to give them all that energy.

The energizer bunny has got nothing on my kids.

For those who want to offer me advise on how to control my kids or what activities would keep them better occupied without my constant attention, kiss off. I have tried them and they don't work.

Not with these girls. No, they can't seem to do anything without including me or allowing me to do anything without including them. What the hell do they do when I am work? Walk around the house all day calling, "Dad? Dad? Dad?"

They really are pathetic little things. In the four years of being a single father who has his kids as much if not more than their mother, I think I can count four or five times that I have gone to the bathroom without one of them walking in and sitting down to have a conversation with me.

It really is a big joke to them. They seem to get so much pleasure out of watching me get so flustered by their actions.

"Dad, your funny. You always make me laugh," said to me today as I threw my hands up in disgust after the four-year spilled her cup of milk for the fourth time at one sitting.

"Yea, Dad," the oldest one piped in. "My teacher always says don't cry over spilled milk."

Alright, that was funny. We all laughed for a few minutes as I wiped up the mess. Again.

But, it was short-lived. They were right back to causing havoc within minutes.

Like I said, I now know what that old commercial was all about. I totally get it.

So, to the Calgon people and their commercials of women jumping into bath tubs, I challenge you to make a commercial for me. Something that includes a keg of beer, endless amount of pizza, big breasted women that don't talk, and a television that doesn't play Disney movies.

Oh, and no kids.

(For those who haven't read my blog, I love my kids more than anything, so forget about leaving me a comment about how lucky I am to have four beautiful girls. I know how lucky I am, so shut the hell up!)