Category: Of Being Dad

Fatherly posts.

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Picking Parental Battles

My 15 year old daughter left the house today wearing Teva sandals (similar to the Open Toachi). They are cool looking and rugged shoes. She wore no socks. The only problem? This morning I had to scrape ice from the windshield, puddles in parking lots were frozen solid, and my long sleeve and jacket wasn’t enough. I desired a sweater in addition to my other layers to be comfortable. In short, it is cold!

I could have fought with her and demanded that she wear regular shoes or at least put on socks. However, this has natural consequences. She can learn her own lessons without being distracted by me.

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Knoxville Polar Bear Club

I have now been outside, in a bathing suit, playing in cold water for the second time in January 2009. I returned home from Knoxville’s first Geek Breakfast to find the dogs outside frolicking in the mud. Dharma looked like she was doing an impersonation of a happy pig on a hot sunny day. So I stripped down and changed into only a swimsuit and my Teva Mush flipflops. Now, Molly, a 110 pound German Shepherd, is rather obedient but still doesn’t like being soaked in cold water so I get a little bit of a back exercise from her. On top of the existing pain from my trench war, I’m left unsure that I can do anything with Dharma but when I call her she approaches obediently. I’m impressed and hopeful. I hit her with the water and it turns bad quickly. Dharma howls like a werewolf in pain. She fights and twists. Holding her by the collar just won’t work. I grab her firmly by the scruff of the neck. She howls louder and tries to wrestle free. I fear that if I let go she’ll run from the yard and disappear. The blister on my thumb from the trench wars peels off leaving painful raw skin. Dharma jumps up on the lawn chairs and I worry that she’ll break a nail or hurt a leg. I wrestle her away form the chair and she knocks it over giving her access to the glass top table on the porch. She gets two paws on it and I expect to go crashing through but manage to pull her back and regain control. She sits but howls as the postman drives up to the mailbox. He waves but I know he secretly wanted to film the hilarity. "See anything interesting on your route today Bob?" "You wouldn’t believe me if I told you." Thank goodness that snow never came!

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Flood update

The 8 gallon shop vac had sucked up 4 or 5 gallons of water. Using towels, I had dammed off most of the water and prevented serious damage to furniture and other belongings. The shop vac was doing a great job of keeping the floor dry without me standing over it so I decided I should go outside and tackle the root of the problem head on. Silly me. I should have emptied the 4 or 5 gallons of water first! I don a swimsuit, a pair of socks I don’t care about, a ratty t-shirt, and some boots I’ve been meaning to throw away that have holes big enough to stick a toe through. I remind myself that it is January and pouring rain outside but in 3 minutes it won’t matter if I was naked; I’m going to be cold.

working the trenchesStanding in the rain I seriously consider just going back inside and working the symptom instead of the problem. The problem of course is a trench that hasn’t been completed nor maintained. Water is pooling instead of flowing out and away from the house. I decide to throw myself at it and see if a little dredging will do the trick but I have to remove six inches of leaves just to get to what should have been dirt. It looks more like quicksand and I sink deep. Trudging through this mess is like walking in watery cement just ready to pour, or a runny oatmeal. The shovel moves half dirt and half water. I fling it over my head to the mound that originally was in the trench. Half of what I throw pours back down on top of me and into the trench. The walls collapse and the pool gets deeper. I realize I didn’t ask anyone inside to keep an eye on the downstairs. Yikes! The shop vac has filled up and is no longer maintaining the floods! The levees of towels have become over saturated and are failing to hold back the waters. Worse yet, there are no dry towels left! I cannot go inside to help because my repair has worsen the situation and I must finish the job. My fingers start to blister. I slip and fall in the mud. My headlamp is weak and barely lights the "ground" in front of me. To make it worse, when I exhale all I see is fog making it nearly impossible to decide where to dig. The simple goal is to make the puddles flow and drain. One end of the trench must be higher than the other.

Muddy shoesAfter 3 hours of digging, dredging, chanting, singing, and fighting the urge to give up, I am startled as I hear a splash and rush of liquid. The dam has burst and the waters are flowing out of the trench and away from the house.

The danger and problem is far from over. The shop vac cannot run all night. The ground is still supersaturated. And along I made vast improvements to the trench, it is still puddling in places and really needs a small backhoe to be completed. For nights like this, we should be allowed to buy small dosages of serious pain medicines without a prescription. Typing this entry, hurt.

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The morning thus far

We have guests visiting. Noah had a friend spend the night last night and Tommy had a friend spend the night. So this morning, between coding efforts, I have made two batches of cinnamon rolls, answered guest questions, woke the dead, intervened several times between the six year old (Amy) and the three year old (Evan), and unclogged one stuck toilet. Mornings like this are why I get up before everyone else to code, code on the weekends, and code at night. Excuse me, I have to take a few minutes to have my Lego figure ride a Brio train.

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Oh Dem Picky Eaters

On days like today, I wish the kids would just let me buy mass quantities (anyone remember mass quantities?) from Taco Bell. Oh thing is I’d end up eating it all myself and they’d starve. Of course, if I do homemade tacos most of them will eat.

I really want to bring some variety to the table but am torn between going with the safe bet and getting food into them versus working hard on a new dish to have noses upturned while everyone turns to Ramen. I’ll end up doing one experimental dish every week or two just because I’m motivated to get away from the same ol’ same old. Think I need to run to the store and at least buy tea.

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From the mouths of babes

Evan, 3.5 years old, standing in footie jammies but with only the arms in, every piece of skin except arms and backside are exposed, he looks down at himself: "Look, I gots stamps on me."
Dad, observes a green Santa clause the size of a dime stamped on knees, thighs, ankles, stomach and chest: "Stamps go on paper."
Evan, holding arms akimbo but with index finger pointing rather than hands on hips: "No. Stamps go on me. Like this!"

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Bulging eyes, puffed cheeks, head thrown back…3..2.1

A sight no parent wants to see is your child poised to regurgitate the evening meal. The only thing worse is realizing that this is round two and round one is on the bed, the child, the floor, and the fringe blanket. Vomit has magical powers of stupidity. For one, the smell makes you instantly want to join in the fun. "Oh look! Your spaghetti looks like stringy glue! Let’s see if mine’s the same…blarp" Secondly, as your child’s gag reflex audibly kicks in, you run to comfort her without a trashcan, a towel or any thought of what to do with the vile muck that is working its way up the child’s throat, so placing one hand on the child’s back, you stupidly cup your other hand just under her mouth as if you could miraculously keep round two from somehow not adding to round one. Blarp! Then you lie, "It’s going be okay."

That was last night. Let’s hope this is an isolated event and doesn’t rip through the family.

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Afternoon Chaos

I spent most of the morning bringing my dead machine back to life. As it shifted priorities to downloading drivers and installing updates, I switched priorities back to programming (after taking a break for a mild panic attack). Programming went swimmingly well despite some persnickety layout issues. As the afternoon progressed, Cathy began preparing for her meeting. She’s meeting with, coincidentally, my major client (unrelated to my work), and the local paper. Before she leaves, Granddaddy comes over to help with the transportation. He arrives early to have a heart to heart with Tommy about his college education which turned out to be a fantastic discussion but one that Tommy did not necessarily enjoy. I kept programming but against my best efforts had to throw in some of my own commentary. Cathy rushed out to get Amy from Girl Scouts. Bill (Granddaddy) rushed out to get Sarah and friend from school to take them to flag practice at Hardin Valley High School. After they left, a friend of Tommy’s came by unexpectedly. Then Noah arrived home. Then Tommy emerged from the basement where he was hibernating. Then Cathy returned with Amy who I helped into the house. Then Tommy and friend decided they wanted to play board games in the mess downstairs which prompted a little cleaning that Tommy and I quickly tackled. The dogs go crazy so I run upstairs to find out Granddaddy has returned with the girls because Sarah forgot something. They leave again. Amy and Evan fight. Noah wants to go to a friend’s house. Tommy and I finish preparing the downstairs so they can play Axis and Allies without Evan destroying the game. The dogs want out. Evan wants a video on the television. And finally I return to trying to get a deliverable out by 5pm (in 15 minutes).

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From the mouths of babes

Our yard is practically devoid of grass. Basically we have leaves and mud so today I spread a bale of hay to cover the mud.

Amy, 6 years old arriving home from school: "I was playing in the hay!"
Dad: "Explain ‘playing in the hay.’"
Amy, doing jumping jacks: "I made a hay angel!"
Dad, with great hesitation: "Turn around…"

Update: Evan, 3 years old, came home later, plopped down in the hay, and, of his own accord, started throwing it all over himself.

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The things your nutty family does to drive you nuts

I remember reading about SEP in Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. SEP is Somebody Else’s Problem.

Somebody Else’s Problem (also known as Someone else’s problem or SEP) is an effect that causes people to ignore matters which are generally important to a group but may not seem specifically important to the individual. [Source, Wikipedia, Somebody Else’s Problem]

I have a strong desire to help people so I frequently remind myself, "That’s SEP!" This morning I came upstairs to find a planter on top of the antique wardrobe. It appears that someone is trying to grow a piece of pine branch. At first, it looked like one broken off the artificial Christmas tree but upon closer inspection, it is from a live tree. The soil used looks like mostly muddy clay and the planter is only half full. Instead of a tray below it, there is a sopping wet paper towel. That wet towel on that antique wood makes me twitch but it is out of sight and this is SEP. Cathy either approved it or doesn’t know about it. One way or another, if there is any damage, it is already done and this is something that may be making a child happy. This is SEP as Cathy and the children know what is going on and they will handle it. twitch

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Ugly Words Between Husband and Wife

Part of marriage is disagreement and conflict sometimes manifested in harsh, carelessly spoken, hurtful words. I like to think that Cathy and I keep these to a minimum but we had a spat yesterday. What threats do you idly throw about during an argument? Me? I told Cathy, "I am going to get an office job!" Is that normal?