When I was growing up I remember the adults in my life telling me things like "Slowdown! Life is gonna pass you by," or "The older you get, the faster the days go." I remember shrugging off these crusty old sayings and hurrying off to my next girlfriend or place I just had to be. Now I find myself saying those same things to my kids. The things I told myself I would never say to my kids come flying out of my mouth like Andy Rooney on a "60 Minutes" rant.
Some of my favorites I use are, "Don't be in such a hurry to grow up, all you have to look forward to is work." "Things were a lot different when I was a kid! We couldn't chew gum or wear shorts." "If you think you're wearing that to school, you better think again." These nuggets of wisdom seem to be in our parental DNA. Sometimes when I hear myself saying them, it seems as though they are coming out of my mouth like my father was saying them for me.
All parents, whether they admit it or not, decide the future of our kids or label them in the toddler to Elementary school age. "This one is gonna be the genius." "This one's gonna be the Go Getter." "This one is gonna be the teenage nightmare." "This one is heading for disaster." We seem to think we have them all figured out by how well they pick up their toys and how they play with the other kids around. They haven't even made it into kindergarten and we have figured out if they're heading for Harvard or as the head fry cook at Burger King!
Most of the time we are wrong. The genius is the troublemaker. The slacker is a straight A student. The one headed for disaster is organized and mature. Every once in a while we nail it right on the head. I certainly have seen that the time is flying by and the last 12 years with my kids seem like 12 weeks! When they were little I would get frustrated at how much they bothered me. Now I wish they would bother me more.
Amanda is our middle daughter. The Jan Brady if you will. I call her Sunny, because she has a smile that can light up a room. She also reminds me a lot of myself. I see the same patterns of thinking and impulsiveness that was a part of my life for so long. She is a free spirit. Just like the "Ol' Man," she definitely would have made it to Woodstock and Haight/Ashbury if she was born a few decades earlier. Thankfully she doesn't share the chemical connection with me. I can read her like a book. The good thing about our similar personalities is that when I talk to her about "grown up stuff" she usually relates to me pretty well.
Sometimes the transition from kid to young adult seems to happen overnight. This was definitely the case with Amanda. I remember the day like it was yesterday. I rolled out of bed and headed downstairs for a cup of coffee to get my day started. To my shock and surprise there was a strange woman eating Cocoa Crispies at my kitchen table. She was beautiful, curvy and the "Boob Gods" had visited her overnight. I remember pouring my coffee and acknowledging this woman at my table with a simple greeting and then went racing up the stairs to find my wife.
I found my wife in the bathroom putting on make-up and slammed the door behind me, frantic and out of breath. "Squeaky, there is a strange woman eating cereal at our kitchen table," I cried as she curled her eyelashes with some horrible looking contraption. She glanced, unmoved in my general direction and said "Honey, that's Amanda." I was horrified. I told her she had to be mistaken. This woman was built well on the top and the bottom. Our daughter is built like a board!
My Amanda is a "Tomboy" who prefers tee shirts and sweat pants to girlie stuff! Again she remarked, "Our baby is growing up." NO! I cried. Take this one back! What happened to the little, brooding, innocent child who used to play Guitar Hero and snack on bags of Doritos! I want the sleepovers and the all night giggle fests as I cooked frozen pizza and officiated the overnight festivities. I was in a tailspin, my mind was racing. I agreed that the young woman could stay but the boobs and bottom had to go back.
It all happened over night! Like the "Boob and Butt" Fairy visited my daughter's room in the dark of night and waved her magic wand, transforming my baby girl into a WOMAN. If I ever get my hands on that little so and so, I am gonna give her a good swift kick in her big Fairy butt. For the first few weeks I could only look her in the eye or shoot my gaze left or right. I couldn't bear to see those nasty boy attractors pointing my way. When she turned to walk away Bam! Right in the kisser! Her JLO bottom was following her everywhere she went.
She is 18 now. A woman by the letter of the law. Last night she came over with her boyfriend Chris and I made a wonderful spaghetti dinner for the whole brood. Remember, I am the Irishman who can make better red gravy than my Italian wife. Before we sat down to break bread she asked me if I wanted to see her tattoo. It was no big deal. I had bought her packages of Britney Spears and 'N Sync tattoos before. They were harmless fun that could be easily cleaned up with some soapy water and a little elbow grease.
I knew I was fooling myself. It was real. I was grateful that her permanent choice was that of a Celtic cross. It was done tastefully on her back shoulder and is really quite beautiful. No anger or "Daddy speeches" would make it disappear. I have 3 of the darned things. One is a Spirit shield, a tribute to my Cherokee blood. One is the earth with Celtic wings, symbolizing the world's endless possibilities and the third is a hawk flying into the moonlight. Hawks and birds of prey are my favorite animals.
She did it to me again. My baby girl is a woman now. I can give my advice but whether she takes it or leaves it is up to her. I am grateful that it is a cross, making a statement about her spiritual life. I have to bite my tongue sometimes. I want them to snap into line like when they were little. Now when they walk out the door I lose control of the decisions they make. We have raised our kids the best that we could. She didn't call from a jail or school office. She works and goes to school. She is beautiful and respectful. Most of all I am grateful that as we sat down to dinner last night she didn't say,"Da, I'm dropping out and heading for California!"
Acceptance and faith are the key to parental and personal harmony for me now. I have done all I can to raise her right. I have showed her things in life that will help her succeed and have been a living example of how to become a drunken failure. I am glad we both made it safely to the other side. She is a smart kid and I know that as parents we do our best, then roll the dice. Sometimes it works out, sometimes it doesn't. I can live with her Celtic cross. Sometimes when I get angered by a boy or man looking at her in an un-Christianly way, I wish that darned "Boob and Butt" fairy would come back to our house and refund my little girl. God Bless!
Showing posts with label Boyfriend. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Boyfriend. Show all posts
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Fatherhood Episode 1....Nelson Fox, Hemingway and DADDY!
Being a father is tough. It is both the greatest and worst job in the universe all rolled into one messy package. The responsibilities and leadership role that comes with being the patriarch are many and often boggling. All fathers are a little nutty about protecting their daughters and sons, but add obsession, addiction and recovery into the pot and the mental stew gets thick really fast. Addicts and alchy's have an extra sensory gift that develops during our use. It is the ability to read people quite accurately and in a matter of seconds or minutes.
I remember when I was growing up and I would get in trouble for something. I would think things like "When I have a kid I'm not gonna be so mean." or "I'm not gonna treat my kid like that." There are a lot of those statements I could add here but it would read like a scroll from a "Three Stooges" sketch, where the scroll unfurls, and unrolls across the whole room. I will save you that misery. But as a parent, you know you had these same thoughts. I also had the strange notion that there was some sort of "Parenting Handbook" that was in the bottom of the box when you brought the kid home. Not so!
You all know I have 3 daughters and a son. My daughter, Ange, is the oldest. Sunny is in the middle. Bro is the youngest in the house. Kelly, my youngest daughter is with my Ex-wife. Where? I don't know.
After you have made it through the tender years and into "teenage hell" there is a new character introduced into the family unit. That is the boyfriend or girlfriend!
Ange didn't date until late in her teens, as far as I know, and after my reaction to her first boyfriend I can see why she wasn't anxious to bring "new prospects" over to meet me. During her senior year of high school she started working at a local restaurant. I was thrilled that she had a great work ethic and was inspired by her positive attitude when looking ahead to a night at work. At work was a boyfriend. A father's nightmare, or at least for the first few victims.
He was a handsome "MAN" and twice her age. His marital status was unknown but the age difference was enough to trigger my "ohhhh, Hellll No!" button immediately. I regret embarrassing and hurting her deeply after I terminated the relationship for her. I handled the situation wrong, because I did not consider her point of view and the level of emotional connection she had with this MAN. My reaction to the relationship was wrong by textbook definition. Hurting her, like I did, was one of the last bricks in the wall that caused her to flee when she was 18. With that being said, I would not change a thing regarding how I "informed" her boyfriend that the relationship was terminated. I had not been given the user's manual so I reverted to the primal fatherly instincts and rage overtook me.
The place where they worked was just down the street from our home, easy walking distance for her and a quick getaway route for what I had planned for the "perp." I am a die hard White Sox fan and lover of the Great American Pastime. I played until the age of 17 and swing a mean bat. Oops, I'm getting ahead of the story. On a calm summery night I picked up my Nelson Fox bat, and decided to take a stroll to the restaurant. As I stomped my way down the street my rage built and my batting average went up as I envisioned splattering his melon like hitting a 12" softball on the sweet spot. I made it to the restaurant and Hemi was surprised to see her daddy so unexpectedly. I gave her the look of "which one is he?" She tilted her head uncomfortably in the direction of her suitor. I was gentlemanly enough that I didn't take my "Nelly" bat in the front. I left it waiting patiently in the bushes outside. After capturing his photo in my terminate database like Arnie, I headed back out of the restaurant making my way back around to the kitchen entrance. I picked up my trusted friend and set off to introduce "Nelly" to the guy's cranium.
Standing at the screen door of the kitchen I beckoned my baby girl's friend to come outside and have a "discussion" with me. Looking back on it now, I don't think that knocking on the door with my Nelson Fox bat was the right way to convince him that he was in for a warm "father to boyfriend" chat. He didn't come out so I began to shout and bang my proposals on the door to him like a demented Irishman sending out Daddy Morse Code. The crux of my suggestions were that it would be in his health's interest if he ended his fascination with my daughter. I assured him we were not negotiating terms. It was take my advice or get used to the nickname "lemon head."
I am grateful the "Po Po" weren't called. I was manic in those few moments. To my delight, he accepted my terms, and left my baby alone. I think I taught that MAN a valuable lesson about dating etiquette and finding more appropriate subjects that day. No one got hurt physically. I know I had hurt Hemi and it hurt me like hell that I did. There are things we do as parents that our kids don't understand when the shite storm is swirling, but they often come around years later. I think she understands I was just looking out for her. As a guy I have laid every lying, cajoling, sympathetic and assuring line on the ladies to get what I wanted in the past.
Ange, Hemi, G, Preshus are all nicknames I use for her. She has got game! Her husband is wonderful and she is happy. The fact that they live in Hamburg, Germany is difficult for all of us but I admire her tenacity and dedication to her marriage. As for the boyfriends in between that first restaurant fling and her marriage to Joerg, there were other suitors I met along the way. My daughters have 2 bits of wisdom they share about me with the guys they date. Number one is, "shake his hand like a man, not a fish!" The second one is "look him in the eye when you're talking to him."
My middle daughter Sunny's dating habits are more like a "flavor of the week." I'll save that for another time. Nobody is issued a handbook on raising our kids. We do the best we can and sometimes the worst of us comes out trying to achieve that goal. How they turn out is a roll of the dice. You can do everything right and they still may end up in Singh-Singh or they can be faced with huge obstacles and become President of the United States. All we can do is pray and nudge them in the right direction. When they walk out that door, they are free to make choices out of our control. Worry doesn't help. We've all done that. Faith and guidance is all we got. Sometimes the discipline we hand out hurts us just as much to us as it does to them.
Like I said, being a father is the greatest and worst job in the world. Today I think I'm getting the hang of it. I really like my kids. The love is automatic. The like is sometimes here, and sometimes not. I keep the faith and never lose hope in their character and the choices they make. I bite my tongue more now than rattling it at them. I do the best I can, plain and simple. The rest is up to how the dice were rolled and what number comes up, and the grace of God.
I remember when I was growing up and I would get in trouble for something. I would think things like "When I have a kid I'm not gonna be so mean." or "I'm not gonna treat my kid like that." There are a lot of those statements I could add here but it would read like a scroll from a "Three Stooges" sketch, where the scroll unfurls, and unrolls across the whole room. I will save you that misery. But as a parent, you know you had these same thoughts. I also had the strange notion that there was some sort of "Parenting Handbook" that was in the bottom of the box when you brought the kid home. Not so!
You all know I have 3 daughters and a son. My daughter, Ange, is the oldest. Sunny is in the middle. Bro is the youngest in the house. Kelly, my youngest daughter is with my Ex-wife. Where? I don't know.
After you have made it through the tender years and into "teenage hell" there is a new character introduced into the family unit. That is the boyfriend or girlfriend!
Ange didn't date until late in her teens, as far as I know, and after my reaction to her first boyfriend I can see why she wasn't anxious to bring "new prospects" over to meet me. During her senior year of high school she started working at a local restaurant. I was thrilled that she had a great work ethic and was inspired by her positive attitude when looking ahead to a night at work. At work was a boyfriend. A father's nightmare, or at least for the first few victims.
He was a handsome "MAN" and twice her age. His marital status was unknown but the age difference was enough to trigger my "ohhhh, Hellll No!" button immediately. I regret embarrassing and hurting her deeply after I terminated the relationship for her. I handled the situation wrong, because I did not consider her point of view and the level of emotional connection she had with this MAN. My reaction to the relationship was wrong by textbook definition. Hurting her, like I did, was one of the last bricks in the wall that caused her to flee when she was 18. With that being said, I would not change a thing regarding how I "informed" her boyfriend that the relationship was terminated. I had not been given the user's manual so I reverted to the primal fatherly instincts and rage overtook me.
The place where they worked was just down the street from our home, easy walking distance for her and a quick getaway route for what I had planned for the "perp." I am a die hard White Sox fan and lover of the Great American Pastime. I played until the age of 17 and swing a mean bat. Oops, I'm getting ahead of the story. On a calm summery night I picked up my Nelson Fox bat, and decided to take a stroll to the restaurant. As I stomped my way down the street my rage built and my batting average went up as I envisioned splattering his melon like hitting a 12" softball on the sweet spot. I made it to the restaurant and Hemi was surprised to see her daddy so unexpectedly. I gave her the look of "which one is he?" She tilted her head uncomfortably in the direction of her suitor. I was gentlemanly enough that I didn't take my "Nelly" bat in the front. I left it waiting patiently in the bushes outside. After capturing his photo in my terminate database like Arnie, I headed back out of the restaurant making my way back around to the kitchen entrance. I picked up my trusted friend and set off to introduce "Nelly" to the guy's cranium.
Standing at the screen door of the kitchen I beckoned my baby girl's friend to come outside and have a "discussion" with me. Looking back on it now, I don't think that knocking on the door with my Nelson Fox bat was the right way to convince him that he was in for a warm "father to boyfriend" chat. He didn't come out so I began to shout and bang my proposals on the door to him like a demented Irishman sending out Daddy Morse Code. The crux of my suggestions were that it would be in his health's interest if he ended his fascination with my daughter. I assured him we were not negotiating terms. It was take my advice or get used to the nickname "lemon head."
I am grateful the "Po Po" weren't called. I was manic in those few moments. To my delight, he accepted my terms, and left my baby alone. I think I taught that MAN a valuable lesson about dating etiquette and finding more appropriate subjects that day. No one got hurt physically. I know I had hurt Hemi and it hurt me like hell that I did. There are things we do as parents that our kids don't understand when the shite storm is swirling, but they often come around years later. I think she understands I was just looking out for her. As a guy I have laid every lying, cajoling, sympathetic and assuring line on the ladies to get what I wanted in the past.
Ange, Hemi, G, Preshus are all nicknames I use for her. She has got game! Her husband is wonderful and she is happy. The fact that they live in Hamburg, Germany is difficult for all of us but I admire her tenacity and dedication to her marriage. As for the boyfriends in between that first restaurant fling and her marriage to Joerg, there were other suitors I met along the way. My daughters have 2 bits of wisdom they share about me with the guys they date. Number one is, "shake his hand like a man, not a fish!" The second one is "look him in the eye when you're talking to him."
My middle daughter Sunny's dating habits are more like a "flavor of the week." I'll save that for another time. Nobody is issued a handbook on raising our kids. We do the best we can and sometimes the worst of us comes out trying to achieve that goal. How they turn out is a roll of the dice. You can do everything right and they still may end up in Singh-Singh or they can be faced with huge obstacles and become President of the United States. All we can do is pray and nudge them in the right direction. When they walk out that door, they are free to make choices out of our control. Worry doesn't help. We've all done that. Faith and guidance is all we got. Sometimes the discipline we hand out hurts us just as much to us as it does to them.
Like I said, being a father is the greatest and worst job in the world. Today I think I'm getting the hang of it. I really like my kids. The love is automatic. The like is sometimes here, and sometimes not. I keep the faith and never lose hope in their character and the choices they make. I bite my tongue more now than rattling it at them. I do the best I can, plain and simple. The rest is up to how the dice were rolled and what number comes up, and the grace of God.
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