Horrible Parents

Ok, so in a nutshell––we suck as parents. No, no, honestly…we do. We are horrible parents. You may not agree now, but you will…

My son, Caleb, had a Thanksgiving performance today at his school. You know, the kind where all the kids dress up like pilgrims or turkeys (didn’t the pilgrims eat the turkeys? Anyway…) and then sing some silly songs. If you’ve been to one of these things than you realize what the kids tend to do. They all stand up there performing for an audience of one––their parents. Their eyes are locked onto each and every expression their parents make, and likewise. So our son is up there singing away, proud as can be, looking for his parents (us) in the crowd. He looks, and looks, and looks…and looks……and looks. But he cannot find them. Why? Because we suck as parents, that’s why. We forgot!!!! Crap! (I could use another explicative, but I’ll choose this one). His poor little heart. Just sitting up there; the two people dearest to him are not there. Crap.

So when I go to pick up Caleb from school this afternoon he asks, “Dad, did you see my play?”

“Ughhhh…….no bud, I’m sorry, I didn’t even know about it.” Which I didn’t. So I suppose that gets me off the hook, a little.

“But mom knew,” he said.

“I’m really sorry, bud,” trying to change the subject, “Did you sing good?” Crap.

We came home. Jen saw his pilgrim hat and just crumbled. Then to rub salt on the wounds, Caleb began to sing some of his songs from the performance. Open the floodgates of tears. “Mom, why are you crying?” Because we suck as parents, that’s why!

But, I take comfort––all be it twisted––in the fact that we are not the only parents who suck. Two of our friends forgot too. But at least they had the wisdom, unlike me, to lie to their kids: “Um, yea honey, I saw it. I was in the back where you couldn’t see me.”

Crap. Why didn’t I think of that?

P.S. I hope you picked up on the sarcasm and tongue-in-cheekness! ;-)

Grandpa

We just got a phone call that Jennifer’s (my wife) last living and favorite Grandpa just died.

A Daddy’s Nightmare

About two months ago, our one year old daughter, Ashlyn, was carrying a mid-to-high fever. She is normally a very energetic, active little girl, but on that afternoon she was just laying in our arms, moaning. All of a sudden, her body started convulsing and her eyes rolled up into her head. She was having a seizure. Jen looked at me and for a moment we just froze. A split second later we decided that since we live only a few blocks from the hospital it would be faster for us to throw her in the van and drive her ourselves than to wait for 911. Decision made.

We all loaded up into our green van. Jennifer held her in the front seat as Ashlyn’s body just shook. We hit our first stop light and Jennifer yelled, “She’s not breathing. She is not breathing.” I looked over at my little girl. She was blue. Her eyes were rolled up, motionless. Her body stiff and still. And I was stuck at a light. It turned green. No breathing. Bluer. Caleb (our son) was being so brave, but he was very nervous. I was freakin’ inside, but trying to remain calm and present. My little girl, blue and not breathing.

The light before the hospital, she began breathing again. Her color returned. She had been blue for about a minute or two. Her eyes resurfaced and she began moaning again. But she was breathing!! She’s alive. Once in the hospital, they got her fever down (which had spiked at 105) and within about two hours, she stopped moaning and our girl, whom we knew and loved, returned to us.

I just stared at her. For the longest time, all I could do was watch her. Her smile. Her eyes. Her walk. Her hands. Every move she made and every part of her body became miraculous. I just stared. Grateful.

I will NEVER forget those few hours. Life and our kids are gifts that can vanish in a blink.

Can You Say That?

So Caleb (7) just got Guitar Hero 3 and he has already mastered it (on easy). Last night, his Grandma was over watching him while Jen and I were at an adoption meeting. When we came home we asked if he and Grandma played Guitar Hero. He said, “Well I did, but Grandma didn’t. My Grandma sucks.”

Can you say that?

Mouth Like A Two Year Old

So Halloween, right. Tons of chocolate around the house. This, with Ashlyn’s sweet tooth, makes for a great combo. But not if she keeps cussing like she does. Whenever she asks for chocolate, she says, “Daddy, cha-s@#t, cha-s#@t daddy?” And we buckle over in laughter, just like good parents are supposed to (so I’m told).

A Quiet (sorta) Moment

Tonight was one of those moments in a father’s heart that transcends the normal. I am sitting on the couch. My son is playing Guitar Hero III rocking out to the tune of “My Name is Jonas“, by Weezer. So now that the peaceful stage is set, enter my 2 year old daughter. I have her blanky draped across my chest as she snuggles in tightly, laying there still and quiet. For almost ten minutes she layed there––motionless, except her breathing; at peace. Time stood still. My heart, transcendent. Life does not get any better than these still, quiet moments…Weezer or no Weezer.

Controlled Chaos – Happy B-Day Caleb

So my son just turned 7 years old this last Friday. We are not the family who gives their kids a bigger-and-better birthday party each year. We try to do something different each year, but every 3-4 years, we’ll do the big party thing. This was that year. We began with a list of 7 kids and ended up with 14, six and seven year olds. Insane, I know. But between the water guns, the inflatable punching bag, our tree fort, a pirate ship craft, hot dogs, cake, games, a pin’ata, the hurt feelings, grass stains, random shouts of anger, dog piles (yes, both kinds), tears (both the male and female variety), presents, tons of laughter, and more energy than a small thermonuclear device, we managed to fill an entire two hours. Our house and backyard were destroyed, but our son has a memory…and he BETTER remember it for a long, long time.

P.S. Does anyone have a good remedy for blazing headaches? I am hoping mine goes away before our next party in 2011.