MarriedandWhatnot

Losing my patience is a funny topic because to all my friends, family I have always been Mr. Laid back. In my family (outside of my home) I have the most patience (have to dealing with those bastards) and try to mimic my grandmother who let the weight of the world roll off her shoulders and kept trucking. In my home, I tend to have more patience with the boys than my wife (of course because I am not there all day). And at my job, there is a running joke that I have the patience of Job due to the way I tend to deal with difficult customers (business line and end users). When asked how I do it, I always joke about having a house full of boys. If I can deal with them in a house with vaulted ceilings, then certainly I can deal with these frustrated users. Just walk a day with me and you’ll see why.

Lately Texass has been having an incredible heat wave. As a northern boy, it took me a while to get used to the heat. Literally so hot it makes you religious…because you know you can’t go to hell if it is hotter than Texas. Open your car after work and feels like you are standing in front of an oven full of Thanksgiving fixin’s.

I had already been frustrated this day for various reasons. I started the day waking up late. Drove for a little bit and felt I needed new brake pads…which the shop was too full to fit me in. I get to work and the streets were blocked for some convention. I am trying to merge over and got attacked by a gang of senior citizens in Crown Victorias. I escape to discover no parking and me having to pay for a lot. Worked like a Hebrew slave today on some Cognos reports, then left work to run a never-ending list of errands from not finding what I needed and traveling to 3 different stores, to prescriptions not being filled correctly.

On the way home there was a little bird in the road. As a teen I would speed up (the hell with you PETA), but as a adult I just keep my same speed. I have never hit an animal. It seemed like everytime a bird was in my path, God would send a wind to lift their wings up, so I thought today would be no different. Well this little bird must have missed the memo…thud…rest in tweet.

I get home hot, frustrated, back soaked from sweat, paranoid thinking this birds father was stalking me (still traumatized from watching Hitchcock’s The Birds when I was little). Walk through the door and see my 5yr old on the couch with an ice pack on his forehead. I ask my wife what happened, and she just shook her head. When things of this nature render her speechless it usually makes my blood boil because I know it has to be bad. I go look at my son and he looks like Haseem Rakmeen after the Holyfield fight. Ok, maybe I am exaggerating a lot…but he had a nice size cartoon knot on his head. I ask once more what in the hell happened, then he, she, heck one of em (at this point I was about to blackout and go into rage mode) told me his older brother slammed the door on him.

I suppose I have to pause and explain these brothers. My wife and I had the nerve to say we’d never have two kids in diapers and how horrible that would be, and don’t you know it happened. Back to back. They love each other to death, but couldn’t be more like night and day. I dub them the wonder twins. I joke with my wife about living with all guys because guys can fight, go at it, then be cool 10 mins later. The wonder twins, as small as 3 & 4, would go outside on the patio with chairs next to each other, and talk like Grumpy Old Men. Their bond is the funniest thing you ever want to see. Now ages 5 & 6 they STILL fight 90% of the time, but when they are just conversing, it is hilarious.

So as a parent, you often have to play Inspector Gadget because kids tend to pay attention when they aren’t supposed to (e.g. cursing while driving, smacking mom on the butt, etc). We always get on them for tattle telling about minuscule stuff, and teach them about taking care of one another. Then soon as something like this happens, it is the Usual Suspects…nobody wants to talk. I ask the 5-yr old why were they fighting, and he said, “I dunno.”

“I dunno?” I replied voice raising. “What in the hell does I dunno mean?”

Then I had to just laugh because I remember teasing my wife about her getting frustrated at them…and telling her that is just how guys are. There were other things too. My 2yr old pulled a pack off light bulbs off the table and broke on the kitchen floor, someone wrote on my office carpet with a permanent marker, somebody tagged (graffiti) my tote full of electronics in the closet, they moved all the icons on my PC desktop so I can’t find nothing (and I have serious OCD), and managed to break the leg on one of our kitchen chairs…just to name a few things. And this was a light day. Don’t get me started on the day I came home to a dent/hole in the living room wall because somebody didn’t properly strap on the Wii controller and it went flying.

If I can deal with these children terrorists daily, surely I can deal with people at work.

Most of my buddies know I have an affinity for Kung-Fu / martial arts flicks. My ex-bro-in-law was in the Navy and had a closet full of tapes he acquired from overseas. I’d visit their home when I was younger and sit there watching all types of dubbed martial arts flicks. Of course he had recognizable names like Bruce Lee & Jackie Chan, but I liked the older joints with subtitles. I am not really a fan of Crouching Tiger, but prefer the cult classics like 5 Deadly Venoms, Wu-Tang Clan collection, Shaolin Monk flicks, White Lotus and most of Jet Li’s older movies (e.g. The Tai Chi Master).

A few years ago, one of my friends was in a mood to give a thoughtful gift, so he bought me a Samurai Sword letter opener. I recently located this in an old tote, and nested it on my computer desk behind the monitor and the blue lava lamp from college (yes I said lava lamp, don’t hate).

Last night I am on my pc trying to design a campaign poster for my oldest son. Midway into my design session, the 5yr old (#3) walked in and said, “Daddy can I sit on your lap while you do your work?” Usually annoyed by his persistence, I was amused by his smile so I obliged.

I have to pause here to tell you this brief story. A couple nights ago my office looked like a hurricane aftermath. Children’s school papers, bills, junk mail, magazines, weights, CDs, hats, routers…I mean it was a mess. I waited until everyone was sleep and began cleaning. In the midst of tearing envelopes without looking at the contents, in walks my 5yr old to talk my head off. He starts drawing letters and pictures on some scrap paper (which I now discover was an important bill) then out the blue he blurts out, “And Daddy, sometimes when everyone goes to sleep I am up by myself and I sometimes get scared because I hear noises and I cover my head with the sheet and go to sleep.”

Mind you this kids imagination trumps mine on a good day and he starts every sentence with – and Daddy. I respond to the little peanut head child, “You’re not scared so stop saying that. It is nothing but the ice maker.”

He draws a bit more then continues his thought, “And Daddy sometimes when I go to sleep I have nightmares about the big KingKongGorillaMonster coming to get me and the KingKongGorillaMonster is bad and I don’t want the KingKongGorillaMonster to get me so I tell it to leave me alone.”

He said that sentence with at least 12 more words added and without taking a single breath. And yes, KingKongGorillaMonster is all one word. All I could do was laugh.

Back to last night. I am designing stuff for my oldest while little Picasso is busy vandalizing our electric bill with graffiti. In the middle of his artistic expression, he discovers the letter opener which has been sitting there for several months now. I immediately think (censored) – Oh Lord, I need to go hide that joker now before he cuts his brother. As a parent, and especially one with all boys, your brain visualizes the absolute worst case scenario. I mean sometimes these visualizations have the equivalent over-the-top blood splatter of a Kill Bill movie. Anything from them falling through the patio glass head first, to getting their hands chopped off in the garbage disposal. Or maybe them throwing a football into the street, a car slamming on the brakes, flipping ten times while taking out two squirrels until it explodes at the end of our cul-de-sac sending up a mushroom cloud of smoke. Then we’d get sued for everything we have by the homeowners association as well as the family of the driver and up selling all our furniture on Craig’s List just to make ends meat. I guess that’s why I have so many grey hairs stressing and fussing and making sure they are safe and don’t do stupid things (like I did when I was younger). I always thought I’d be a cool Dad, and I am to a certain extent, but as a daddy you find yourself constantly scolding them from running in the house and jumping off furniture, to wrestling moves and body punches they deliver.

So #3 pulls this beautifully crafted Samurai sword it out the sheath and I swear it made the “sha-ching” sound just like the Kung-Fu flicks. He gently placed it back, and withdrew it once more admiring his reflection in the blade. At this point I am at that bad parenting place where it is late, you are tired, and don’t have the energy to fuss. I figured I’d let him play with it for a second, then hide it in my closet never to be seen again. In my purgatory state of good parenting (helping one son with school) and bad parenting (ignoring the other) I lean forward and don’t you know that pointed lil bastard of a sword almost sliced my nose. I immediately grabbed and put it up before my nasal septum resembled Amy Winehouse.

I sat there thinking what would have happened if he really cut me? Imagine me going to work the next day with a band-aid holding that little flap of nose together. My co-workers asking me what happened and me responding, “Oh nothing serious. I just got my nose sliced by a KingKongGorillaMonster dreaming 5-yr old toting a mini Samurai Sword.”

My wife just had our 5th son, so I have been trying to help out around the house as much as I can (insert sympathy here).  Washing clothes, cleaning, cooking…whatever I can so that she can heal. My employer was nice enough to allow me to work from home this week and I don’t have a problem doing any of these things for my wife, but hell…these kids are driving me insane.

Our baby is really good. Him a cute lil thing (funny how babies make you talk silly). He is a really good baby that just wants to be fed, changed and held. But heck, who doesn’t? He is not the problem…it is the others. We give our children ALL crazy attention, and they really love the baby and spoil him. It is just the normal brother wrestling, fighting, annoying each other thing.

My brain is too much ooze to recall all the events from yesterday, let’s just say I woke up trying to rush to others off to school. Oldest two can get up, make themselves oatmeal, it is all gravy. Youngest two are a different story. Them and my wife started throwing shoes and remotes at me telling me to cook or else. I had to manage that, in-between taking calls at work (seemed like my Blackberry would not shut the hell up). I am cleaning the kitchen trying to cook and bam…out of Cascade. Of course my pre-historic brain wouldn’t remotely think of hand washing all this stuff. In my household due to the size, one meal could employ a small cleaning staff. I worked around it and prepared a nice size breakfast (yes I can get down when needbe).  My 2-yr old lil terrorist said, “Ummm” which made me feel a tad bit better. Like hell at least he is enjoying it.

Had a couple meetings they made me dial into, constant calls, steady work…meanwhile kids fighting in the tub, diapers leaking, spilled milk on the carpet…just one thing after a freaken other. I am on a conference call with my BB on speaker answering questions when they called my name and I was paying no attention…meanwhile I am simoutaneously rubbing lotion on my 2 year olds butt (fresh out the tub).  Meeting ended and did a little bit more work, cleaned my office a little bit while joking around with the mrs (I swear I need to get snipped asap before we end up with a #6), then took a quick shower. Had to run to the store to get some items for dinner and more importantly dish detergent. Rushed home before the older two got in, then almost ran this guy off the road a block from home daydreaming about all I need to do before days end. Guy pulls in front of my house right behind me, so I am thinking aw hell…wrong day bruh. Well this wasn’t a road rage incident, but a nice surprise. Guys at work bought my wife one of those edible fruit arrangements. Come put it on the table while I bring the rest of the groceries in. Two little ones surround it and stare like there are leo diamonds inside. Smallest keeps asking for an apple…which was his way of saying ‘pineapple.’

Fast forward. Guy I used to coach with was going to pay for some tickets for us to see his son play (spring football). My schedule was already stacked, and I had two reports that my mgr asked me for earlier that day. I had to throw a stall tactic telling him I would have in his inbox first thing in the am. In the meantime I had to prepare dinner, get the kids dressed…oh and did I mention I had to register #3 for kindergarten?

We eat, I take #3 to school and get hit with…not exaggerating…44 million questions from this kid – So will I start school tomorrow? Where is my bus? What am I going to do? This school thing confuses me. What will I be doing? So I start school next week then? Will I see my teacher? I mean literally this went on for the hour we were there. This is the most inquisitive child ever. By this time in the day my brain was slowly seeping out my ears. I could just ear my wife chuckle from miles away as she sent me off with this folder of birth certificates and shot records to register him. I should have known from the smirk on her face.

I walk in there, and I swear kids were swarming like red ants; coughing, sneezing, no hands covering their mouths all shapes and sizes red ants. Seemed like every other woman was pregnant too. Yes, we get down in TX We go in, and they give us this packet to complete. Went over to a kids lunch table to begin filling out this stack of papers longer than a mortgage application. I am immediately pissed because I absolutely HATE writing (I type everything). Looking at the clock trying to time how long it will take and if we will make it to the game on time. I look at these forms and between the noise and my hand cramping, I felt like kicking one of these kids square in the their shirt logo…with soft clown shoes on of course. I rushed through, took over to another table to get his shot records validated, then stood in another long line to turn everything in. I am sitting here like a retard hearing my wife’s voice in my head scold me about not letting them keep the originals and to make copies…trying to remember all this stuff  so I don’t get my tail reamed later in the midst of 200 screaming kids whose parents apparently have discovered some way to mute the volume and ignore them.

Copies were made, and I can say this part of the day was my favorite. I walked my son around the school and showed him his brothers lockers. Ended up running into some teachers who knew my oldest son and each one glowed and went on and on about how sweet he was. Parenting is a duanting task and sometimes you think what is the point? You are not listening anyway. You win you little booger! Then you have someone rant and rave about your children and it makes you feel good. Like well at least something stuck.

We left, went home to pick up 1, 2 & 3 then headed to the game. Felt it would be a nice detox and a way for mrs to get some rest while we were gone. I call my buddy to get directions. He bluntly told me, but I must have processed wrong. I was driving about 10 miles in the wrong direction. Good thing he called me because I was headed towards another city. We finally make it and besides my smallest one putting his hands on the steps then attempting to suck his finger minutes later, my kids were pretty good. We watched this other team whip on his team, but it was good to get out and get some fresh air. We also got to see a nice campus. Texas football stadiums are no joke!!

After making all the kids wash their hands thoroughly, king of the plum plum pickers made all the kids clean the house prior to taking a bath. Baby (nickname for #4) kept asking for apple, so after they cleaned for a while I pulled her arrangement out the fridge and gave them some skewers. As soon as I pulled off a strawberry or pineapple for one of the others, baby would have his hand out like he wanted another. I looked and noticed he didn’t have anything on his napkin, and realized this little monkey was eating the entire strawberry…leaf and all. I sat and watched him plop the entire thing in his mouth. I couldn’t do anything but laugh. My oldest (who talks just as much as #3) started telling me about this kid he goes to school with whose father eats orange peels. Guess my kid is not that strange after all.

I fell into the recliner and felt my ankles swelling. I am sitting here like what the hell? Am I growing breasts? I am all tired and feel like crying and complaining. Is 2% milk coming out this joker? I didn’t squeeze to check, but my goodness. My wife deserves a salary for all she does. This Mr. Mom crap is out of control. I can do the cleaning because I am a dictator and make the kids do it. Besides mothers tend to be control freaks and daddy’s have to come behind and cut the cord. They need to know how to clean up. I had these boys scrubbing their bathroom the other day. I REFUSE to clean that crap. The cooking part is what annoys me. Seems like they eat every freaken 2 hours. Where do they put all that food? Then there are the little things. Baby (#4) always asking for purple (his way of saying grape Kool-aid) and the other asking for stuff ALL DAY LONG – Daddy can I get on the big computer? Daddy can I have fruit snacks? Daddy purple? Daddy I pee-pee. Daddy he hit me. Daddy can we go to the park? Daddy you going to work? Daddy can I hold baby? Daddy how to you spell pizza party pick-up? Daddy do we have to take the baby back to the doctor?

Safe to say I have an pretty normal day. I at least had the foresight to set my alarm for midnight because I knew I would pass out watching the Cavs smash ATL and I needed to turn those reports in (which are time consuming). I have always said that jobs I worked that are mentally strenuous take a bigger toll on you than jobs requiring physical exertion. I could argue that a call center job in a lot of ways is tougher than a construction job (worked both as a teen). Being a stay at home mom/dad is mentally exhausting. I was on messenger with my dude Juggernaut earlier, and I told him the kids had me sitting at my computer desk fresh out a shower half naked…taking breaks standing in front of the window staring out at the lawn while drinking herbal tea with one hand on my waist trying to remember if I put deodorant on or not. My mind was so far gone, I just can’t remember if I had a towel on or not.

When I was in my early 20s, I had a problem that I mentioned to my grandmother. In turn, she told me if I thought that problem was tough, to keep on living. Of course at that age you don’t get it, but I have seen so much since then. I realized that just because people smile doesn’t mean everything is ok in their lives. The person you work with may be going through things your wildest dreams couldn’t imagine. Folks always look at your situation like it is peachy, but the flip side of this coin is something else.

My wife and I were expecting our 5^th child…dubbed ‘The Finale.’ With this last pregnancy, I have had a lot of time to reflect on life. Not so much the in-between, but the before and after; birth and death. I don’t share much about my past, but safe to say I have spent a fair share of time in the hospital. Aside from child birth, my mother worked in a hospital, so bring your kid to work day was exciting and I felt like part of her work family. When I was in my teenage years, she had a stroke and was hospitalized in this same hospital, so I spent a good time within the walls of medical establishments growing up.

Whenever I enter a hospital, I subconsciously associate things from my earlier years there. Granted it was a scheduled induction (wife) versus ICU (mom), but these memories resurfaced because of a call I received yesterday notifying me my cousins wife (late 30s) had a stroke and temporary memory loss. It immediately took me back to that era in my life, and during this visit I couldn’t help but parallel my current experience with my past.

For those who don’t have children, there is a lot that goes on in your head. A lot of self-reflection. You also are consumed with selfish thoughts. What would happen worst case scenario, how would you maintain. From there your drifts into a silent prayer for the mother’s health, and the child. That there is no tearing, minimal pain, quick delivery, no cords wrapped, no abnormalities, all the toes, fingers…you get the point. With my mother I thought some of the same selfish thoughts – what about my kids not having a grandmother, or her making me my favorite dish, or me making her laugh. You say a prayer begging God in the same manner that healing takes place.

When my mother was admitted, I remember her saying, “Jay, help me” in an attempt to turn on her side. She was seeking comfort after her stroke in route to a coma…while one breath closer to death. I assist my wife with her comfort as she is experiencing extreme labor pains. They say this is the closest experience a women comes to death…but unlike my mother’s situation this was to bring about life. As a husband you feel anxiety and concern, however with this being our 5^th time I had a calm demeanor and faith everything would be ok. A level of faith I didn’t have at that young age. A level of faith that comes about with time and experience and life. A level of faith I wish I had with my mother.

They come in and ask you a series of questions that seems to get longer each time. Everything from your history of hypertension and cancer in your family, to bi-polar disorder. She went through the list and there was no HIV, STD, HPV, OPP (yea you know me). The questioning is extremely intrusive and annoying, but I understand why they ask.

The next part is the plucking. Stick you here, stick you there. As long as we have been together, I have NEVER seen a nurse find my wife’s vein on the first try. We have told each nurse this over the past decade, but each one is so arrogant/confident they ignore our warning. This one particular nurse bothered me because she acted like her years of experience trumped the Carmen Sandiego vein. She was talking to us like we were some dumb plum plum picker or something – pokey wokey, stickey wickey. What the?? I just shook my head in disbelief as she kept trying (failing) and made comments like “be still” to mask her incompetence and inability to perform her job. She finally got it to stick, then we were introduced to a new nurse. She was nice, but had that Palin, Fargo, Life with Louie, northwestern (or wherever that is from) type accent. At least it made me laugh inside and she seemed to be a ginuine person.

At this point there is an IV running, pitocin, heck something else…then time for the epidural. Now this is the one area that makes me uneasy. I silently pray the entire time because I don’t really trust anyone messing with your spine, but it is a must-have for her pain. I stand between her legs as they dangle off the side of the bed. She buries her head in my chest placing her sweet smelling hair under my nose while arching her back out so the anesthesiologist can prepare the catheter. I am trying to comfort her by kissing her on the top of the head, and gently stroking her IV taped hand with my thumb. This airhead nurse asked me if I would be ok and if I needed a chair. I told her I did not need a chair, and I would be fine. She puts this chair behind me regardless. The guy does the procedure. It is a prick, followed by an intense burning sensation. A pain (situation) that seems like it will last forever, but when it passes there is that stillness after the storm. After that, the wife usually releases her grip from her husband’s broken hand and can relax. So the procedure is done and I go to back up, and this chair is right under my heel. She apologizes, but says she has seen men faint. Like look you dumb heifer, I have 4 kids. If I haven’t fainted before…I swear people need to start listening. I almost busted my t-bone tripping back over that chair. I should have kicked it back into her shin.

While standing there you look at your wife…who at this point doesn’t care if the entire world sees her rear end because she is ready to push the baby out. You fight between being jealous, yet understanding. The aromas of hospitals I wish I could erase from memory. From the pungent tincture of iodine odor to the smell of tape. I find it weird that smell spark nostalgic feelings with a range from joy & excitement…to despair and heartache. I have also become overly sensitive to the sounds of machines. From the thump of the baby’s heartbeat monitor and buzz of the automatic blood pressure cuff, to the whishing sound of the mechanical ventilator, every sound is intense. When you have a loved one in ICU every beep makes your blood pressure rise. You wish for the best, but always expect the worst. So whenever I hear a beep, or it fades or slows down…I immediately start praying.

The medicine starts to work and the mrs tries to get some rest. As you sit there, you assess the room and see what has changed. With most things…some things change, some remain the same. Some things are new that didn’t exist with our other child such as flat screens and wi-fi. At almost every hospital I have ever been to, I have encountered 3 personality types: extremely nice/helpful, condescending, incompetent (made it through med school with a C average).

I look over at my wife, and feel bad because I am strangely turned on. She looks so good to me, and sexy. Nothing sexier than a strong, smart woman. I am looking at her, and think…boy she must really love me. Either that, or my mushroom vest (Boomerang). I immediately make a mental note to email my friend for his vasectomy doctor before we end up back here. I had already been kissing her on her neck earlier

I started watching CNN and there are a plethora of depressing stories. Starts with the swine flu paranoia, then flips to a story about a gator under a car at some dealership in Florida. Straight from the wtf department there was a guy in the Nasty Nati dressed as a super hero trying to make citizens arrest, and a story about a plane flying low over NY. I see some other news blip about Obama’s 100^th day in office…which to me seems like they might as well say “Countdown – 1286 days till we can get this negro out of office.” Did we ever do this with other presidents? Heck maybe we did (Reagan) and I just didn’t care before. In any case, my mind is all over the place and I sit and wonder if anyone on this earth thinks Nancy Grace is attractive, and why is Kim Kardashian trying to do a fitness video when she doesn’t know what in the hell she is talking about? In the words Office Space, she is an A-Clown.

I am looking at all this nonsense on television wondering what type of world my son will have to deal with, versus being at the hospital with my mom looking at the news but not hearing one solitary word…wondering why God is doing this to our family. At this point, I started to become thankful. Thankful for the life my mother had, thankful for the life that was on the way. Thankful for each moment I take for granted. I refuse to keep whining and crying and sulking because things are picture perfect or the way I thought they would be at this age in my life. Yes, life doesn’t seem fair at times, but it comes to a point where you are either going to make a change or not. You are either going to focus on the good and move forward, or keep looking back trying and not go anywhere. I have learned nobody on the earth really cares about you more than yourself, so throwing tantrums and pity parties doesn’t help anything.

I won’t be too graphic with delivery, but it went pretty fast. One push and baby was out. They clip, snip, pass the baby off. One cleans, other doctor works on pulling the embryonic sac out. No tearing this time, so easy work for the doc. Baby gets wiped down (yuck) and they put him under the french fry warmer. They place the little cap on his head, and I hold him and pray over him intensely. Over his life, decisions, the path he takes. That his borders be expanded and he exceeds what I could have ever imagined. I speak power into his life, and despite the current circumstances I pray God grants us favor in cultivating him to fulfill his destiny.

I often joke about strength of a man. My wife says guys are cry babies when they get sick, and I know this is true but my ego forces me to rebut claiming if we had babies, we wouldn’t cry. We have a higher threshold for pain, and would just suck it up. Lol. Truth is we are on two different playing fields. A woman’s strength is unparallel. I have the utmost respect for women and what they go through.

The birth of my son and this last visit to the hospital caused me to reflect on life. It is such a beautiful, miraculous thing that truly fascinates me. How something is concealed, yet protected and nourished for 9 months inside before it comes to fruition to begins life. When I think about the frustrations many people have in life, it seems it leads back to visions they are trying to birth. The problem is we all want the baby without going through labor & delivery. And in some cases, we are trying to deliver too soon when we need to incubate our vision a little longer.

After my wife delivered the baby and they cleaned the room, one of the nurses joked about the excessive use of tape. From the IV, to the epidural. I thought about how there are (seasonal) things in life like tape that helps us in a bad situation (e.g friendships, circumstances). It doesn’t bind us, but it is there to temporarily hold/assist us. Not meant for a permanent fix, but may be meant to guide you back on the right path. Problem is most people are reluctant to any outside evaluation, or to the idea this actually may be the path God wants you to be on.

Looking at my wife in the hospital, I realized that I am thankful for the tape, tears & fears in my life. Even though it is natural to not want to go through things, faith makes fear non-existent. Look back over your life at some of the things you thought you’d never make it through. It hurt, it made you cry, but it made you stronger. I have been through a lot of pain in life, but I’d be foolish to say I haven’t experienced an equal amount of good. I have met wonderful people, seen wonderful things and ushered wonderful people into this earth. I have been blessed where people would die to be in my shoes, and I chose to continue my walk being thankful versus angry and frustrated.

Each one of us has our own trials, and I am not saying these issues don’t hurt. Some of us have seen dreams fail, visions deferred. I understand the frustration, but what I am saying is some things are trivial in comparison. Sulking and looking backwards doesn’t help you to move forward. Learn from your mistakes, use that incubation period wisely, fight through the labor pains because they don’t last forever, and strive to have a thankful spirit so you can enjoy life.

French-vanilla, butter-pecan, chocolate-deluxe. Even caramel sundaes is gettin touched. And scooped in my ice cream truck, Wu tears it up!

Sorry, had a flashback. Tonight after work I had to  run to the store since I forgot to get my kids Valentine’s day cards. I walk into the store and it looked like a flea market as all these people scurried around trying to get last minute gifts. There had to be at least 30 people per aisle with one Large Marge strategically placed in front of the items I wanted to see. I was quite irritated but I managed to get through it. I pulled into the driveway at home and saw the ice cream truck. I ran into the house, threw some sandals on my sons and walked across the street. I have to admit I was somewhat excited as I approached the truck (in a nostalgic sense), but as I got closer I realized things are just different now. There was no mickey mouse nor nothing. I am sitting here looking at the Scooter Crunches thinking – heck for $2.00 I can get a box of 6 at the store. Guess getting older with these # of kids you turn into a penny pincher. Then again sometimes you just have to live in the moment and splurge. Wasn’t the best tasting, but was worth it to create a memory with my sons.

Hey folk! I took a brief hiatus to get my head straight and priorities in order. Forgive me in advance for todays blog.  A few days ago my friend told me that he felt he was running on a treadmill while others were passing him by. It is a difficult part of life when we attempt not to measure where we are with others our age, friends and family. I am guilty of this from time to time, and I have to step back and reassess life. How I am close with many, there are none who have the EXACT same situation as I do. I have discovered that the hardest thing about life (in my opinion) is choices. When you are at the fork in the road, and you don’t have time to think and have to make an immediate decision, what do you do? And furthermore, how do you deal with the consequences when  you realize you went down the wrong path? I will revisit this again one day. So what did I do this weekend you ask? Nothing.

Saturday some kids asked my son to come out and play football with them in the street. As I sat in my office protectively watching through the window, I couldn’t help but to see some kids with bad throwing form. As a coach, you tend to have this inner desire to teach. I fiddled my leg anticipating running out there to correct him, but I had to finish my taxes. Then I thought about how short life is, and how I could do my taxes when the kids were sleep, but I couldn’t get that moment back in time of playing street football with my son, or influencing that other young boy.  I thought about how I could use this moment to bless another life, versus being selfish and trying to just take care of my immediate needs. I threw on my gear and moved the kids to a strip of land where I could be all-time QB. I actually got my 6 and 4 year old playing with us to make it a nice 3-on-3 matchup. Team 1 was my oldest, my 4yr old, and this young girl. Team 2 was the young girls brother, this chunky kid who looked like Thurman Merman off Bad Santa, and my 6yr old. I was able to teach the kids some fun plays and mechanics. I won’t go into detail about the game, but the girl ended up having a nice arm, which helped with trick plays. We designed some plays for my 4yr old to score (which he had to run back across the street to tell his mom each time). However after all the events, my most memorable moment was my 6yr old. The kid never really expressed much interest in the sport, and ignored me when I tried to teach him. Prior to the game he was taking my instruction like a pro, and come game time actually had a few deep runs, and a completed pass. Last play of the game my oldest scored on him, and my 6yr old buried his head in my back and started pushing me. I am sure other fathers out there know what I am talking about. The birth of competitiveness in your son where he doesn’t like to lose, doesn’t want to cry, is frustrated but can’t hit you. Like one word will send them over the edge into a rage of tears and aggression. I took a knee and tried to encourage him and tell him what a good job he did, etc…but strangely enough that moment excited me as I saw a turning point in his growth. I wouldn’t have seen it if I stayed inside to do taxes. I think I made the right choice.

Sunday I planned on getting some work done so I could spend time with the fam and enjoy the Super Bowl. I still had to do those taxes, along with a plethora of other things. My sons have this fisher price rim and the oldest asked me if he could bring it into the kitchen. I immediately knew I would get in trouble with the mrs if we broke anything (since earlier that day the 2yr lil terrorist already broke a jar of salsa all over the kitchen floor trying to get his juice out the fridge). We began a battle to show who has the best jump shot as we shot all over the house and used full advantage of our vaulted ceilings. After I set multiple records, we moved to a 2-on-2 game. It was #1 & #2 vs. #3 and myself. I guess this is only funny if you know the kids, but #2 & #3 fight constantly…then are laughing 5 mins later. I can’t really say what happened this game because of child protection laws, but let’s just say it looked like a jr high fight. These two get mad, and it is over. Bad thing is the older one used to smack him (in an attempt not to hurt him), and I went off about him swinging like a little girl and to never do that again. Well he took my words literally and looked like Roy Jones yesterday. He had to connect at least 5 times before the youngest used his brute strength to thrust him against the couch like a superhero. I think this was residual from them pushing and shoving during the football match yesterday. In any case I made them break it up, hug, makeup, all that good stuff. After all the fights, bruises, falls, other stuff that goes along with playing…my sons had a ball. The 2yr old was even getting in the mix, and might I say he has a nasty shot on him. Kid sits and watches bball flicks and tries to mimic it all day long. He absolutely loves basketball and it is like his meditative place he likes to visit where he can take his ball, dribble, shoot, and zone out to the rest of the world. I am rambling now, but I am just a proud father glowing about a moment in time I created by making a choice to invest in my children, rather than focus on bills and other troubles in life.

I also invested some time with my wife this weekend. I just like  being in her presence, talking to her about life family and our kids, playing with her, tickling her, joking with her, watching her sleep. I think sometimes we (men) get caught up in what we need/have to do and don’t stop to invest in our women. I once wrote about how we hinder our blessings by not reverencing what God blessed us with. And sometimes it does not take a lot. I have read before that just holding hands can have medical/emotional benefits for women. All that to say I chose to spend time with her, versus, doing bills, work, etc. I think I made the right choice.

When I think using men logic, and make statements like “I didn’t really do anything this weekend”… in actuality I did. I invested in my family. There was no rhyme nor reason to today’s blog. Let’s just say it was a reflection day where I assessed who and what is important in my life. I spoke with my goddaughter this weekend for a couple minutes (before she deferred to my wife), and after hearing her angelic voice I decided it is time to reassess my relationships. To allocate more time to those who are important (family/friends), and distance myself from those who aren’t (family/friends). It is time I start doing some pruning. Today I will end this blog today from another quote from the movie PRIDE.

“My life is way too short for me to spend my time around people who don’t care about nothin’.”
- Jim Ellis (Pride)

This past Christmas my wife went to the dollar store to get little extra gifts (stocking stuffers) for our sons. Since they tear up everything, these past few years we have learned how to embed cheap toys into the mix of gifts. During this visit she purchased this $.99 beach ball for my 2yr old little terrorist. This year was the first Christmas he really could enjoy his gifts, so he received a few items (eletronics, action figures, games, etc.). Out of all the gifts he received, this kid loves this ball more than anything in the world. I sat the other day and watched how he kicked it against the wall, threw it at his brothers heads, layed on top of it, hugged it. This ball brought him so much joy and is his favorite toy in the world. It made me think about what lengths we, as parents, go to provide for our kids and make sure they have nice things. Oftentimes we get stuck on material items, but in reality it is the little things kids remember. Yes I remember some toys I had, but what I remember more is my mom making homemade chocolate chip cookies and allowing me to assist her. I remember her helping me with my math homework (and going to school the next day with it all wrong). I remember us not having money for a real tent, but making one out of chairs and old blankets. Things of that nature will forever be etched in my memory. I guess when I look back, the best thing my mom ever gave me was her time.

Right now I am pretty proud to be a black man, and an American. I was talking to my wife today (because I called off), and as we watched the inauguration, it filled my heart with joy to hold my 2yr while this historic event took place. My wife and I talked about racism, and I advised her I truly don’t believe it will ever just go away. Whenever you have people from different backgrounds and something is foreign to someone, there will be preconceived notions and biases formed. What I do believe is that we will get to a point where a lot of this silly generation of old hatred will eventually die off. I do think we are making strides, but we are a long way from it. As we sat and watched, we became so tickled at the benediction given by Rev. Joseph E. Lowery. His words were so smooth, eloquent and well put together, then in the last line he cut up. Like most people his age, he has earned the right to say what whatever he wants. 

“….help us work for that day when black will not be asked to give back, when brown can stick around, when yellow will be mellow, when the red man can get ahead, man, and when white will embrace what is right.”

Pure comedy!

This weekend my son asked if I could spare some time from my work and come in his room and play a game with him. The way he asked was so cute I had to make the time, but I knew he had a motive and had apparently been practicing. Soon as I walk into his room, he already had the game loaded (Fight Night 2) with his little boxer he created waiting. I noticed he already chose my fighter, which was this boxer I created years ago when this game came out just being silly. His was quick, strong and young. Mine was like 44 yrs old and slow as molasses (see my excuses starting). We started playing, and my son was whipping my tail so bad I think that I actually got mad for a second. I had to calm down and just laugh it off, but they ganged up on me. It was like I was in that movie penitentiary or something as it felt like a prison fight. One son was by the door blocking the entrance, one was swinging from the tri-bunk bed, the 2yr old was throwing these thick azz Fisher-Price Pop Ons blocks at everyone’s head, and the oldest was sitting on the bed with me as they all laughed hysterically at daddy anticipating a KO. They might as well started burning paper and throwing it from the top bunk as them ganged up on me looked like a prison riot. Call myself gaining redemption and playing him in Madden…only to lose again. That is sad. My generation ushered in video games, and now I am getting thumped by a 9yr old.

The mrs had a doc appt today, so I took a half day. As I walked through the door, she darted out shortly after. My 4 and 2 yr olds were still hungry so the oldest pled his case for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I guess he decided to forfeit the canned ravoli that was prepared for him earlier. I tried to ignore his call as I stuffed my face with corn tortilla chips and this new salsa I picked up from the store (some triple pepper salsa). As I fed baby (nickname for the youngest) and myself, I wiped my hands clean on my shorts and began to prepare their sandwiches. I am very particular about peanut butter; it has to be Jiff. Choosy moms choose Jiff…well except for my wife. She is allergic to peanuts, so the poor thing has never experienced a PB&J, nor a Reese cup. Wow. In any case I made their sandwich with Jiff and strawberry Smuckers jam. Baby didn’t want his, so I split it with his brother. As I sat there and the roof of my mouth became glued, it took me back down nostalgia lane. It has been a long time since I had a PB&J. Sometimes it is the little things.