Man vs. Child has transformed! It has become Vivid Technicolor Life. The new URL address is http://www.vividtechnicolorlife.blogspot.comBe sure and update your links and feeds. Sorry for the inconvenience.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Man Vs. Child has Transformed!
Man vs. Child has transformed! It has become Vivid Technicolor Life. The new URL address is http://www.vividtechnicolorlife.blogspot.comBe sure and update your links and feeds. Sorry for the inconvenience.
Do you hear what I hear?
It's about seven-thirty. I'm mostly awake, still getting there. I can hear my wife breathing. I can actually hear her drawing a breath in, letting it out, soft and rhythmic, peaceful in her sleep. I hear the A/C in the window. Its guttural hum is a constant in the background but sometimes the sound comes forward to have its own say. I can hear the dog begin to yip. She's awake and ready to be let out of her pen. The children are awake, too. I can hear them talking, maybe laughing. It's another thirty minutes before anyone should be out of bed. Oh, well.
The sounds of the day gather, like factory workers lining up before the start of their shift. The noise grumbles and has its coffee then gets down to the hard work of filling our house. The toilet flushes and water runs. Hard heels drum across the hardwood floor. I go down the creaking, squeaking staircase and start the coffee-maker making its own hissing speech.
Our home is not quiet. The hard-surfaced acoustics make that nearly impossible. Besides, kids are never quiet and we have four. They shout when they mean to speak and speak when they mean to whisper and they whisper when they don't mean to talk at all. They fill their space completely with a symphony of sounds, big and little, that go on continuously throughout the day. They live out loud.
This is how it is supposed to be, I think. Life is noisy. It is a sensory experience meant to fill us completely. The music we hear on the radio or in a concert hall is only a pale imitation of the harmony we hear all day, every day. It is like a painter trying to capture what he sees with a handful of man-made colors and a flat canvas. Real music really moves you. When I hear my son cry out in fear, I run. My heart pounds and I race to the rescue. No song can do that. It is the sound of his peril that drives me. It doesn't matter what the cause is or whether he's really in danger.
For me, sound is like a prophet, testifying to the unseen. It speaks of what has been, what is, and what will be soon. Sometimes I can hear the beginnings of disaster while it is still in the planning stage and I can intercede. Sometimes I don't hear until it is too late and the atonal chimes of breaking glass are my only warning. Even so, my life is filled with the soundtrack of reality, the music of children, the bedlam of domestic life. And I wouldn't have it any other way. I, like most parents, am uneasy to get what I ask for. The most frightening sound of all is silence.
The sounds of the day gather, like factory workers lining up before the start of their shift. The noise grumbles and has its coffee then gets down to the hard work of filling our house. The toilet flushes and water runs. Hard heels drum across the hardwood floor. I go down the creaking, squeaking staircase and start the coffee-maker making its own hissing speech.
Our home is not quiet. The hard-surfaced acoustics make that nearly impossible. Besides, kids are never quiet and we have four. They shout when they mean to speak and speak when they mean to whisper and they whisper when they don't mean to talk at all. They fill their space completely with a symphony of sounds, big and little, that go on continuously throughout the day. They live out loud.
This is how it is supposed to be, I think. Life is noisy. It is a sensory experience meant to fill us completely. The music we hear on the radio or in a concert hall is only a pale imitation of the harmony we hear all day, every day. It is like a painter trying to capture what he sees with a handful of man-made colors and a flat canvas. Real music really moves you. When I hear my son cry out in fear, I run. My heart pounds and I race to the rescue. No song can do that. It is the sound of his peril that drives me. It doesn't matter what the cause is or whether he's really in danger.
For me, sound is like a prophet, testifying to the unseen. It speaks of what has been, what is, and what will be soon. Sometimes I can hear the beginnings of disaster while it is still in the planning stage and I can intercede. Sometimes I don't hear until it is too late and the atonal chimes of breaking glass are my only warning. Even so, my life is filled with the soundtrack of reality, the music of children, the bedlam of domestic life. And I wouldn't have it any other way. I, like most parents, am uneasy to get what I ask for. The most frightening sound of all is silence.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
My Old Flame...
When I was a kid, a company in Japan invented this new game console. The idea of a home video game machine had been around for over a decade, but I had only played Atari a few times. This new console was something different. It was an entertainment system; the Nintendo Entertainment System. And it came with a game. It was a funny little game about a plumber (and his brother if you wanted to take turns in two-player mode) who is inexplicably on a quest to rescue a princess from an army of sentient fungi and assorted turtle-like adversaries.
At the head of this army is your arch nemesis, Bowser. Is he a dragon? A lizard? A dinosaur? We're not told and we don't care. Why a plumber and not a knight or other more traditional hero? Who knows. Perhaps they were going for a protagonist more approachable, more working class.
Whatever the reason, this strange little game from the Land of the Rising Sun has grown into an entire subculture and Mario, the princess-rescuing plumber, has become synonymous with Nintendo Entertainment.
Twenty years later there may be as many as a hundred game titles feature the mustachioed hero. An exact count is difficult because he has appeared cameo-style in many more games than he has titled himself. As a kid I loved playing all of the Super Mario titles, including the first three for the NES and the sequels that appeared on the Super Nintendo. Even today I spent an hour plugging away at Luigi's Mansion in which Mario's brother must rescue him from a haunted house. Mario RPG, Mario Kart, Paper Mario, and now that masterpiece (in my humble opinion) New Super Mario Bros. Wii.
The last thing I want to point out is that Nintendo's signature character, who has had blockbuster release after blockbuster release, who has sold titles that were downright awful based on his name alone, who has entertained generations of children and adults alike, often side by side, carries no gun, sheds no blood and advocates fair play, mercy, generosity and kindness toward others. Those who think I'm being sappy or exaggerating need to go back and replay some of those old titles. They're still available for download for the Wii, the latest Nintendo console. I've heard kids and adults alike complain that there are no quality games out there (quality meaning actually fun to play) that don't have at least some blood and violence or other questionable content. As a life-long Super Mario fan I protest that this simply isn't true.I gave up my PS2 because I was spending too much time playing it and the titles were increasingly too 'adult'
for me to comfortable sharing with my kids. Now, I'm as excited as they are to play the Wii and my mom has to call and ask for her copy of Super Mario Bros. back when I borrow it. Talk about habit-forming.
(By the way, if you clicked on the 'awful' link up above, I have to confess I learned how to type on that program. And I was in high school. Guess it wasn't so awful.)
Monday, September 6, 2010
New name, same bat-content...
In the next week, my blog's name and web address with be changing. Man vs. Child will become Vivid Technicolor Life. I want to get it out there so interested parties can update their links or whatever. I'm not really sure how this stuff works. Anyway, the new address with be www.vividtechnicolorlife.blogspot.com
The change will take place sometime this coming weekend.
The change will take place sometime this coming weekend.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
So, who do you call...?
I have this theory. I've discussed it with a few people and I think I have a good point, but not everyone may agree with me. Still, hear me out.
Young children can be trained with the same techniques as dogs.
The best way to train a dog is with positive reinforcement, lots of praise, lots of treats, and above all, clear and simple directions. Dogs respond to consistency and routine. Sound familiar? That's because many child-rearing books teach the same techniques. Young children are concrete thinkers. That means that if a thing does not directly affect them (and probably in a physical way) then it is mostly meaningless to them.
I've read that even the smartest of dogs has the mentality of human toddler. They are pleasers that seek affection and are clever and persistent in the reaching of goals. Likewise, children are scary in their ability to devise plans to get what they want but ultimately they desire to be loved and approved of.
We treat kids to privileges when they behave and enforce punishments when they don't. When they don't understand what's expected of them they get nervous and act out. Changes in routine make them uncertain. The more you think about it t he more you'll see. Maybe a good dog training manual out to sit on the shelf next to Sal Severe and Kevin Leman. I recommend The Loved Dog by Tamar Geller. Part of the book is her personal story and why she likes dogs so much. It might be a really good story. I don't know. I skipped to the training part. Geller believes in non-aggressive training that build dogs up rather than bullying them into behavior. Good for dogs and kids if you ask me.
So, now you just have one question you have to answer. If you think I'm way off base and have no business rearing children with this kind of whacko philosophy, who do you call?
DCFS or PETA?
Young children can be trained with the same techniques as dogs.
The best way to train a dog is with positive reinforcement, lots of praise, lots of treats, and above all, clear and simple directions. Dogs respond to consistency and routine. Sound familiar? That's because many child-rearing books teach the same techniques. Young children are concrete thinkers. That means that if a thing does not directly affect them (and probably in a physical way) then it is mostly meaningless to them.
I've read that even the smartest of dogs has the mentality of human toddler. They are pleasers that seek affection and are clever and persistent in the reaching of goals. Likewise, children are scary in their ability to devise plans to get what they want but ultimately they desire to be loved and approved of.
So, now you just have one question you have to answer. If you think I'm way off base and have no business rearing children with this kind of whacko philosophy, who do you call?
DCFS or PETA?
Thursday, September 2, 2010
I don't get it...
humor - n. wit, a message whose ingenuity or verbal skill or incongruity has the power to evoke laughter
 | |
| How many psychologists does it take to change a light bulb? One, but it has to really want to change. |
Where, exactly, did this whole sense-of-humor thing come from? Is it something that's absolute or is it strictly objective? It seems to be the latter. At least as far as I can tell with my kids. My wife and I tell jokes and make witty banter throughout the day. (Perhaps we laugh only to keep from crying?) Anyway, the kids have quickly discovered that humor is well received and are constantly trying to participate as well.
Now here's the problem, at least from my perspective. While my own wit goes sailing over their heads like a weather balloon they return fire with a volley of knock-knock jokes that leave me waiting for the punchline. And I look like the goon when I don't laugh at the right time.
Don't get me wrong, I love a good knock-knock joke.
'Knock knock.'It's funny, right? What I struggle with is jokes with a punchline like 'Flying-chicken vegetable-head.' I know, kids are learning, in this case they are learning the concept of a joke. They grasp the format, but they have a hard time understanding why one thing is funny and not another. We're working on improving the content so we get to more real laughing and less weak 'Ha-ha. That's a good one, son.'
'Who's there?'
'Interrupting cow.'
'Interrupting c-'
'Moo.'
The second issue is the vast chasm that exists between what a kid thinks is funny and what an adult with a more, uh, 'sophisticated' sense of humor thinks is funny. I'm reluctant to use that word, sophisticated, because I know fathers and sons have been sharing the working of Mel Brooks and The Three Stooges for generations now. All the same, the subtly of satire or parody is lost on children who think in such concrete terms. To be fair, the comedy of bodily functions is mostly lost on me.
Whatever the solution, I encourage everyone to share laughter with your kids, help them learn the joy of finding humor in life's difficult situations. Teach them to look for irony. And for crying out loud, teach them so decent jokes so they don't get that confused deadpan at the jr. talent show.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Wasn't there a road paved with those...?
intention - n. 1. a course of action that one intends to follow 2. an aim that guides action, an objective
I had good intentions when I started this blog. I thought I could share some thoughts and comments on fatherhood each week to inform and entertain my friends. As it turns out, I’m so busy being dad, (and playing Super Mario) that I don’t have much time to come up with witty and insightful blog posts.
While the wildly talented among us mortals may find success hiding under every leaf, the rest of us are forced to resort to hard work and persistence to reach our goals. Bleh!
Anyway, none of this is exactly your problem. My wish for you is to reap the bounty of my renewed Good Intentions. I shall, henceforth, try to post on a regular (I'm too non-committal to say 'daily') basis, at least until something shiny catches my eye. I'm still working in the theme of Fatherhood, providing anecdotes, points of interest and the occasional platform video game tip to the general public.
Thank you for sticking with me. Persistence is not what Tiggers to best but,...oh look something shiny...
Monday, July 12, 2010
If knowledge is power...
Why is it that kids (I'm not even talking teenagers) think their friends or cousins know more about everything than I do? I mean, I'm a pseudo-successful adult. I pay my bills, do my job. I read. I know things. But when I talk, I get this glassy-eyed stare that tortured POW's must use to avoid giving information. Or I get random information that has nothing to do with the conversation. (i.e. In a recent conversation about housebreaking the dog, I was informed about the authors of a dog training book the kid had read)
Anyway, my point is that, somehow a nine-year-old has more credibility in matters of life than I do. What's up with that? I've tried explaining that friends don't so much care whether they get someone else in trouble as long as they don't get in trouble themselves. Even after a stint in the corner this message falls on deaf ears. I've tried predicting the consequences for obviously foolish actions. They are still surprised when that tree branch breaks and they spill gracelessly to the earth.
In retrospect, I guess I didn't realize how wise my own parents were until I was an adult looking back. Turns out they were right pretty much all the time. Go figure. So, until my little wild ones grow up and have the benefit of hindsight, I suppose I'll just have to watch and laugh. And occasionally plaster their limbs with band-aids and antibiotic. God bless Neosporin.
By the way, guys, we still do it too. When was the last time your wife warned you something was a bad idea and it turned out she was right? Even though a friend of yours told you it would work. Yeah. I know.
Anyway, my point is that, somehow a nine-year-old has more credibility in matters of life than I do. What's up with that? I've tried explaining that friends don't so much care whether they get someone else in trouble as long as they don't get in trouble themselves. Even after a stint in the corner this message falls on deaf ears. I've tried predicting the consequences for obviously foolish actions. They are still surprised when that tree branch breaks and they spill gracelessly to the earth.
In retrospect, I guess I didn't realize how wise my own parents were until I was an adult looking back. Turns out they were right pretty much all the time. Go figure. So, until my little wild ones grow up and have the benefit of hindsight, I suppose I'll just have to watch and laugh. And occasionally plaster their limbs with band-aids and antibiotic. God bless Neosporin.
By the way, guys, we still do it too. When was the last time your wife warned you something was a bad idea and it turned out she was right? Even though a friend of yours told you it would work. Yeah. I know.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Updates...
I added a few elements to the blog. I'm trying stuff out. Feel free to hit me with your suggestions or thoughts.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
The good thing is...
Children are a gift, God says. The 127th psalm goes so far as to call a passle of yard-apes a 'full quiver'. As in that bag that hangs on Legolas's back where he keeps his arrows. I have to agree, like arrows, children dangerous when if played with incautiously. And, they have a point. (Children, I mean. Not the Psalmist. Well, he had a point too. But...nevermind....)
The point of children is manifold. Childhood is a transition from birth to adulthood. No mother I know woud ever agree to give birth to an adult-sized baby. Also, children are especially pliable and open to learning in ways that adults are not. They absorb daily what they need to become healthy, well-adjusted adults. Hopefully.
But kids provide one valuable service that, recognized or not, God no doubt intended. They give us one of the most complete pictures we have of out relationship with Him. Children rival the Bible itself in teaching us about God. And, I'm not just talking about those times when we look to heaven in utter frustration and pray the five or six words we can remember of that Serenity prayer before we're interrupted. Again.
Children are born sinful, but ingnorant of it. No one thinks a baby is selfish or demanding for it's behavior. But a baby cannot have a real friendship either. It has to grow, to mature. Children behave outwardly exactly how we behave inwardly. As Christians, we are trying to learn a better way, but it is God who is teaching us. As kids grow, they pass through stages of concrete thought into the abstract We see how we are being lifted up out a world made only of what we can see and touch into spiritual world that's just as real with rules and consequences of its own.
Pay attention. This metaphor applies to every part of your relationship with God. What do you want for your children? How do you want them to talk to you? How comfortable should they feel at home, the home you provide for them? What do you fear for them? Hope for them?
Smart parents teach their kids cool stuff. Wise parents learn cool stuff from their kids.
The point of children is manifold. Childhood is a transition from birth to adulthood. No mother I know woud ever agree to give birth to an adult-sized baby. Also, children are especially pliable and open to learning in ways that adults are not. They absorb daily what they need to become healthy, well-adjusted adults. Hopefully.
But kids provide one valuable service that, recognized or not, God no doubt intended. They give us one of the most complete pictures we have of out relationship with Him. Children rival the Bible itself in teaching us about God. And, I'm not just talking about those times when we look to heaven in utter frustration and pray the five or six words we can remember of that Serenity prayer before we're interrupted. Again.
Children are born sinful, but ingnorant of it. No one thinks a baby is selfish or demanding for it's behavior. But a baby cannot have a real friendship either. It has to grow, to mature. Children behave outwardly exactly how we behave inwardly. As Christians, we are trying to learn a better way, but it is God who is teaching us. As kids grow, they pass through stages of concrete thought into the abstract We see how we are being lifted up out a world made only of what we can see and touch into spiritual world that's just as real with rules and consequences of its own.
Pay attention. This metaphor applies to every part of your relationship with God. What do you want for your children? How do you want them to talk to you? How comfortable should they feel at home, the home you provide for them? What do you fear for them? Hope for them?
Smart parents teach their kids cool stuff. Wise parents learn cool stuff from their kids.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Tiger pits and self-control...
"I understand that kids will be kids but you can't just let them get away with it."
--Anonymous
The person who said this was frustrated and actually mispoke what they were trying say, but the quote was so perfect. It appealed to me. On the surface, it seems harsh and unforgiving. After all, we've been indoctrinated by decades of Disney Family Movies to respond to a child's hijinks with a shrug and a laugh. 'Oh that Johnny, what a prankster. Why just the other day he trapped the mail man in a Burmese Tiger Pit.' Other parents nod, appreciating the gift that Johnny must be to his parents.
That's stupid. Kids are dangerous and ill-suited to making their own decisions. Would a child actually dig a Burmese Tiger Pit to trap a Federal employee? Of course! Especially if he saw it on TV! All he lacks is stature, strength and commitment. And, don't bank on any kid's attention span to save you. They may not be able to attend to a three-second warning about digging holes in the yard, but they can spend hours plotting some diabolical shenanigan when you're not around.
The chaos of children is forgivable, strictly because they are children. They sin in ignorance. After all, they didn't know it was wrong to capture a mail man and they forgot (sometimes they really do!) you told them not to dig in the yard. But they will not be little forever. Kids that act like kids are called rowdy or a handful. Adults that act like kids are called psychopaths.
But, they can learn. That's what kids do best. They learn at an almost instant rate and to a near permanent degree. Ask anyone who has accidently cursed in front of a toddler. They can learn self-control, empathy, virtue. They learn them from us, just like the colorful adjectives and inappropriate song lyrics we wish they hadn't heard. So while it is okay for kids to be kids, we can forgive them, we must not let them get away with it. We are not raising children. We are raising adults from birth. By all means, teach them to act like one. That's what we do isn't it? Act like adults?
Saturday, June 5, 2010
He said what...!?
We were driving around this morning when a familiar mini-van started tailing us. We pulled over and stopped to visit with Grandma and Grandpa for a minute. My youngest son just recieved an RC truck from them as a gift and so Grandma asked, 'How's the truck?'
'It's an apple.' He said, holding out the fruit he was chomping on.
He wasn't the least confused.
I love to watch my kids use language, to interact with other people. They can articulate their thoughts and feelings like only children can.
Too bad it takes them another ten years before they learn to think before they speak. Later, we went out to eat. For a long time I've jokes that teryaki chicken looks like a rat on a stick. My wife shared this joke with the kids while I was supervising a bathroom run.
So, my oldest son decides to check the truth of this with the waitress at the top of his considerable lungs. Just so everyone knows, the fine people of the Chinese Buffet don't seem to appreciate this kind of inquery.
So what's the deal? Do we, as parents, do this? Do we speak without thinking? Do we mispeak and overstep? I'm pretty sure we do. And they are as innocent as we are, which is to say, most of the time we don't mean to offend.
But ignorance is no excuse and so we will continue to be vigilant. Maybe someday they will all learn to watch what they say and think of manners as more than something other people have. As for me, well, every once in a while I open my mouth and the stupid just falls out. Ask my wife. Good thing fogiveness is divine.
'It's an apple.' He said, holding out the fruit he was chomping on.
He wasn't the least confused.
I love to watch my kids use language, to interact with other people. They can articulate their thoughts and feelings like only children can.
Too bad it takes them another ten years before they learn to think before they speak. Later, we went out to eat. For a long time I've jokes that teryaki chicken looks like a rat on a stick. My wife shared this joke with the kids while I was supervising a bathroom run.
So, my oldest son decides to check the truth of this with the waitress at the top of his considerable lungs. Just so everyone knows, the fine people of the Chinese Buffet don't seem to appreciate this kind of inquery.
So what's the deal? Do we, as parents, do this? Do we speak without thinking? Do we mispeak and overstep? I'm pretty sure we do. And they are as innocent as we are, which is to say, most of the time we don't mean to offend.
But ignorance is no excuse and so we will continue to be vigilant. Maybe someday they will all learn to watch what they say and think of manners as more than something other people have. As for me, well, every once in a while I open my mouth and the stupid just falls out. Ask my wife. Good thing fogiveness is divine.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Busted...
It's friday night. Finally, all the kids are in bed. You look at the misses and she looks back. You realize you are both thinking the same thing. You want it, she wants it. You go for it.
And it is good!
Suddenly, you hear the patter of feet. You know you should've taken this to the bedroom and closed the door. What were you thinking? Right here in the couch!? You look, deer-in-the-headlights at the innocent four year old child in the hallway. Should you lie? Try to explain?
Before you can say anything she says it for you. Oh yes, she knows what your up to.
"You guys are eatin' ice cream!"
You've been busted.
(What did you think was going on? Come on man, you got kids!)
And it is good!
Suddenly, you hear the patter of feet. You know you should've taken this to the bedroom and closed the door. What were you thinking? Right here in the couch!? You look, deer-in-the-headlights at the innocent four year old child in the hallway. Should you lie? Try to explain?
Before you can say anything she says it for you. Oh yes, she knows what your up to.
"You guys are eatin' ice cream!"
You've been busted.
(What did you think was going on? Come on man, you got kids!)
Friday, May 21, 2010
Children and the expression of thought...
laundry piles high
noise like flood water drowns all
child fills all life up
--- I decided to open with a haiku because, who doesn't love haikus, right? Seventeen syllables and you don't even have to make 'em rhyme. I realized it's been like a long long time since I wrote anything here and maybe my idea of putting out a witty and meaningful commentary on a weekly basis was a little ambitious.
Children are a two-fold in everything. You get baby coos and gahs and baby poop. You get inspired insights into life from their perspective and fart jokes. You get heaps of material for writing from their countless antics and your so exhausted by them you can't quite couple two coherent sentances together.
Hence, my obsession with coffee.
So this week I will do my best to be a careful observer and try to retaion some of what I see and learn. I want to share my experiences as a father and be able to express it in something more substantial than a haiku. So for now, happy parentin'. And may God go with you. Yer gonna need it.
noise like flood water drowns all
child fills all life up
--- I decided to open with a haiku because, who doesn't love haikus, right? Seventeen syllables and you don't even have to make 'em rhyme. I realized it's been like a long long time since I wrote anything here and maybe my idea of putting out a witty and meaningful commentary on a weekly basis was a little ambitious.
Children are a two-fold in everything. You get baby coos and gahs and baby poop. You get inspired insights into life from their perspective and fart jokes. You get heaps of material for writing from their countless antics and your so exhausted by them you can't quite couple two coherent sentances together.
Hence, my obsession with coffee.
So this week I will do my best to be a careful observer and try to retaion some of what I see and learn. I want to share my experiences as a father and be able to express it in something more substantial than a haiku. So for now, happy parentin'. And may God go with you. Yer gonna need it.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Will work for Bubble-Yum...
We started a vegetable garden this week. On the surface, this seemed like a brilliant idea. Homeschool family and all, growing vegetables all summer is a great lesson on where food comes from, how to take care of a garden, etc. Besides, kids love to dig, at least, my kids do, and there's lots of digging in gardens.
Except, that kids are actually really hard workers, surprising but true, and if you give them a job they enjoy, they will do it day and night forvever and ever amen. My backyard is starting to look like a shelled out battlefield and mom and I have to be vigilant about keeping the digging away from the already planted parts of the garden.
But, to harness that drive, that power...who knows what you could accomplish. The trick is making it fun. For instance, our kids wanted to play with their toy shovels, so mom set them in garden beds and in no time they had the soil tilled up. I think I'll invent a game where ninjas must wash and wax the whole car to defeat evil. Hmm. Needs work.
Anyway, the point is, that kid's have limitless energy for playing, and they don't mind pushing themselves. They're natural workers, just like they're natural learners and natural problem-solvers. You don't have to ask them to do it, you just show them how. Who knows what a kid can accomplish if he's given a little encouragement and the right tools? Oh, and the right currency. For some reason, a pack of gum is like gold bullion in the kid economy. So turn 'em loose on something and see what they can do.
Except, that kids are actually really hard workers, surprising but true, and if you give them a job they enjoy, they will do it day and night forvever and ever amen. My backyard is starting to look like a shelled out battlefield and mom and I have to be vigilant about keeping the digging away from the already planted parts of the garden.
But, to harness that drive, that power...who knows what you could accomplish. The trick is making it fun. For instance, our kids wanted to play with their toy shovels, so mom set them in garden beds and in no time they had the soil tilled up. I think I'll invent a game where ninjas must wash and wax the whole car to defeat evil. Hmm. Needs work.
Anyway, the point is, that kid's have limitless energy for playing, and they don't mind pushing themselves. They're natural workers, just like they're natural learners and natural problem-solvers. You don't have to ask them to do it, you just show them how. Who knows what a kid can accomplish if he's given a little encouragement and the right tools? Oh, and the right currency. For some reason, a pack of gum is like gold bullion in the kid economy. So turn 'em loose on something and see what they can do.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
On brevity...
Sorry. I just saw how much text that was to read. I'll try to keep it shorter from here on out. Thanks to anyone who took the time to read it.
A Father's Presents...
Okay dads, what is the greatest gift you can give your children? What's the best thing your dad gave you? Was it your first bicycle, first pocket knife, first car? Did he give you toys, tools, tickets, trips? I venture to say, you can't remember the majority of thing your dad gave you as a kid. A friend of mine likes to start a conversation by asking, "What did you get for your eighth birthday for you dad?" Well...?
If you can remember at all, I venture to guess it was a struggle, dragging up vague impressions of things that might have seemed vital at the time but became all but worthless a year, maybe as little as a month, later. Why? Because things, possessions don't last, not in our hands, not in our minds. If it was easy to recall the answer to that question then it's because some special significance was attatched to the answer. Something made it memorable.
Now, another question. Do you remember that time your dad took you fishing? Bowling? Camping? What about watching a movie with you? Teaching you a game? Teaching you a skill? Maybe you do remeber that pocket knife because dad taught you how to use it. My dad gave me an old knife of his for my first. And when I cut myself, he was there to bandage the cut, too. Chances are you have at least one memory of doing something with your dad. For some, it may be a rare and precious thing. For others, the memories run together because he always seemed to be there, even when he wasn't. His presence seemed to fill the home.
And that it. His presence. Presents or presence? Which did you recieve? Which do you give? Fathers, we know we must provide. It is a drive set deep in our hearts. We must provide food, clothes, shelter, opportunity, education. We are drawn to the responsibilty, can hardly help ourselves to do it, cannot help bear guilt when we can't. The unemployment line is harsh for that guy who has no one else but himself to depend on. It is a terrifying prospect to a man who has children at home who survive by the sweat of his brow. This is truth. We feel it, an invisible yoke on the shoulders of all mankind, to feed and cloth those who share our name and our home.
So, we have to work because we have to provide, now here comes the rest. What else must we provide? Fashion is important to kids, for social standing, for self-esteem. Toys and games for entertainment. Clubs and sports for opportunities. More than a man could ever hope to pay for is out there to buy for you and yours. And mine. And what can I do? How can I be sure they have everything they need? Every dollar I spend must be earned. So we drudge to the offices and factories and log our hours, building prestige with the company or storing up overtime pay. We spend those precious hours of our life working and hope that our families, our children will understand. Our wives apologize for us when we cannot come to the ball games, the recitals, the graduations. And we provide. We provide all that we can.
Except ourselves. They receives years of presents without our presence. Are we doing what's best for them? According the US Dept. of Health and Human Services, if you see ten kids, homeless or runaway, nine of them are without a father. Of ten tragic stories you hear of a young suicide, six were without a father. The statistics run like this into every area of human suffering. But statistics are dead and dry. Think of you're own children. Working two many hours, will by no means, drive them to run away or commit suicide, but if a father's presence is so critical, is it then the best gift you can give?
This week, decide to give your kids the present of your presence. Consider how you spend your money and your time decide if you could use more or less of each. Above all, remember that you ARE your children's hero. You didn't have to earn with it, they were born loving you and nearly worshipping your every action. Make the most of that opportunity. Be there, be the hero they already believe you are. You don't have to be perfect, you just have to be there.
If you can remember at all, I venture to guess it was a struggle, dragging up vague impressions of things that might have seemed vital at the time but became all but worthless a year, maybe as little as a month, later. Why? Because things, possessions don't last, not in our hands, not in our minds. If it was easy to recall the answer to that question then it's because some special significance was attatched to the answer. Something made it memorable.
Now, another question. Do you remember that time your dad took you fishing? Bowling? Camping? What about watching a movie with you? Teaching you a game? Teaching you a skill? Maybe you do remeber that pocket knife because dad taught you how to use it. My dad gave me an old knife of his for my first. And when I cut myself, he was there to bandage the cut, too. Chances are you have at least one memory of doing something with your dad. For some, it may be a rare and precious thing. For others, the memories run together because he always seemed to be there, even when he wasn't. His presence seemed to fill the home.
And that it. His presence. Presents or presence? Which did you recieve? Which do you give? Fathers, we know we must provide. It is a drive set deep in our hearts. We must provide food, clothes, shelter, opportunity, education. We are drawn to the responsibilty, can hardly help ourselves to do it, cannot help bear guilt when we can't. The unemployment line is harsh for that guy who has no one else but himself to depend on. It is a terrifying prospect to a man who has children at home who survive by the sweat of his brow. This is truth. We feel it, an invisible yoke on the shoulders of all mankind, to feed and cloth those who share our name and our home.
So, we have to work because we have to provide, now here comes the rest. What else must we provide? Fashion is important to kids, for social standing, for self-esteem. Toys and games for entertainment. Clubs and sports for opportunities. More than a man could ever hope to pay for is out there to buy for you and yours. And mine. And what can I do? How can I be sure they have everything they need? Every dollar I spend must be earned. So we drudge to the offices and factories and log our hours, building prestige with the company or storing up overtime pay. We spend those precious hours of our life working and hope that our families, our children will understand. Our wives apologize for us when we cannot come to the ball games, the recitals, the graduations. And we provide. We provide all that we can.
Except ourselves. They receives years of presents without our presence. Are we doing what's best for them? According the US Dept. of Health and Human Services, if you see ten kids, homeless or runaway, nine of them are without a father. Of ten tragic stories you hear of a young suicide, six were without a father. The statistics run like this into every area of human suffering. But statistics are dead and dry. Think of you're own children. Working two many hours, will by no means, drive them to run away or commit suicide, but if a father's presence is so critical, is it then the best gift you can give?
This week, decide to give your kids the present of your presence. Consider how you spend your money and your time decide if you could use more or less of each. Above all, remember that you ARE your children's hero. You didn't have to earn with it, they were born loving you and nearly worshipping your every action. Make the most of that opportunity. Be there, be the hero they already believe you are. You don't have to be perfect, you just have to be there.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
A dangerous job...
Fatherhood has got to be the most insanely difficult thing a guy can take on. The only thing more difficult, I think, would be motherhood. Since stuggling seems to be entertainment in this country I thought I would start broadcasting my fatherhood triumphs and failures across the internet like a good American. After all, isn't that why Al Gore invented the internet? Or was it military intelligence? Umm. Must do more research.
Anyway, since this is my first post and I'm new, I'll info dump and get it all out of the way. I have four kids and a loverly wife who stays home with them while I trot off to work in the afternoons. We homeschool, so it's a full contact kind of parenting situation. We generate chaos at a rate of about ten incidents a minute, and for the most part that's the way we like it.
Anyway, since this is my first post and I'm new, I'll info dump and get it all out of the way. I have four kids and a loverly wife who stays home with them while I trot off to work in the afternoons. We homeschool, so it's a full contact kind of parenting situation. We generate chaos at a rate of about ten incidents a minute, and for the most part that's the way we like it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)