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From the mouths of babes

Sarah used to leave for her bus at 7:25.

Dad: "Sarah, it’s 7:15."
Sarah: *grunt*
Dad: "Sarah, it’s 7:27."
Sarah: *grunt* sits up. lays back down.
Dad: walks away.
Sarah, finally dressed: "Can I get something off iTunes real quick?"
Dad, shocked: "You do know it is 7:54 don’t you?"
Sarah: "She’s [the bus driver] been coming later."

Dad adjusts schedule in head to accommodate dropping Sarah off at school but apparently she made the bus by some miracle.

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They hang on our every word, every action

Last night Cathy recounted for me something Amy did yesterday. Amy went to the wardrobe and pulled out her kindergarten mat and my stretching book. See I use the mat when stretching. I haven’t stretched or exercised in a year or two. Amy is four. She randomly opened the book, studied it, and declared, "I’m going to do number seven" then proceeded to put her hands on the floor and butt in the air. Amy prompted Mom for a quality check and sure enough, she was doing exactly what stretch number seven on that page instructed. What a great girl!

The lesson in this story is that our tiniest actions have long lasting impressions on our children. How will the loss of temper over something insignificant impact their lives when something as mundane and second nature as a stretching routine has such significance to them. I teach when I do not know that I am teaching. I can lecture my children until they cry and those words will be meaningless against my actions if I do not heed my own advice. Do as I say not as I do does not fly! I can preach organization and avoiding procrastination but as long as my desk is cluttered and projects behind schedule they will get the wrong lesson. Show your children acts of kindness. Live by example for what you are they will become.

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Give your children to a stranger!

Humans have a predisposition for species preservation. We must reproduce! Women quip that they don’t need men; they just need a petri dish. However, men contain the other half of the equation for that petri dish. The testicles house the all powerful, life initiating, spermatozoon! With great power comes great responsibility. These little critters so strongly desire to fertilize an egg that they can cut off a man’s rationale mind and cause him to do impulsive, stupid actions popularly known as "thinking with the little head." At some point there will be a successful fertilization leading the man to say "you missed what?" followed by "you mean this does something more than just feel good?" and finally coming to the conclusion "so for the next 9 months we don’t have to worry about protection?"

Raising children is perhaps one of the most challenging and rewarding purposes in life. Children bring joy and pain and fear and self-doubt…oh the self-doubt!…and fulfillment! Influencing a life and leaving a legacy is amazing. It is immortality as a piece of you lives on in your children. Parenting a child comes with the responsibility to impart morals and a belief system upon the child. [s.b. pe]

I have never understood divorce. When I was 13, I was certain my parents were going to divorce and I was horrified. I always thought marriage was "til death do us part" but I am not a stranger to divorce as my first marriage, without children, failed. I also know the divorce rate is something like 50 percent (80 percent for families of children with special needs) right now which is sad. I still believe that many of those marriages could be saved with counseling.

"Research shows that couples show up in counseling on average five years after they should," the doctor said. "Couples should pay attention to some warning flags and start addressing problems before the relationship is highly damaged." [T]here are four warning flags that de-stabilize a marriage: criticism, contempt, stonewalling and defensiveness. When these characteristics are consistently present in a relationship, they lead to divorce 95 percent of the time… [Source]

When a divorce involves children, awkwardness ensues particularly when remarriage occurs. We all want to be married to our spouses but none of us want a relationship with our spouses’ ex although I suppose there are cases where the new and old spouse might really get along. Everybody’s divorce is unique with its own custody issues and legal arrangements. In some cases the ex stays in town and in others the ex moves far away. In either case, the ex has to make a decision about how involved to be in the children’s lives.

My wife also had a starter marriage. In her case, the ex moved 1000 miles away. Noah, now ten years old, was then one year old. I entered the picture two years later. It took several years for Noah to understand roles in a family because of living a few years in his grandfather’s house, "that daddy guy" calling occasionally and visiting twice a year, and then having me in the picture. For awhile, any male figure would easily substitute for "dad" and the reaching out for a father figure was seen in the various ways Noah clung to soccer coaches and other males in his life. Eventually biodad’s calls became less frequent, sometimes with gaps of months at a time, and visits reduced, by his choice, to once a year (or less). He visited this weekend for the first time in over a year and spent 45 hours with the older three children.

Noah gets excited about the fun they will have but afterward is always reserved as if depressed or in deep thought although it could just be overtired. This morning he definitely had a sadness about him. Tommy gets so nervous and giddy that he almost needs tranquilizers. He has not come to terms with the divorce yet and fears scaring biodad away so there is great pressure to please. Even after Cathy and I married, Tommy thought biodad and Cathy would remarry. It does not help that biodad has lied about the nature of the divorce blaming Cathy. Just before the visit, I asked Tommy, "Why are you so nervous?" He replied, "Imagine if you had a relative that visited only once a year.." I interrupted with "I’d be mad." And Tommy went blank as if the thought had never occurred to him. Sarah is bitter. None the less, the girl that refuses to say "I love you" to any of her relatives, avoids hugs and touches, and frequently refuses biodad’s phone calls, gave a long, endearing, goodbye hug to biodad. After the visit, the children are always out of sorts and crotchety.

This visit made me think more than any of the previous visits. Biodad has become a total stranger to these children yet, without question, we send them off to a Motel 6 for a weekend of less than quality parenting and supervision. Tommy came home Sunday in the same clothing that he put on Friday morning. Noah didn’t bathe once. Games included unsupervised silly string wars on the balcony. Sarah and Tommy were left alone at a Motel 6 while biodad and Noah went shopping. During the visit the children do not feel comfortable talking to their mother on the phone, do not say "I love you" and, in Sarah’s case, only talk when biodad is out of the room. Sarah is coming of age and has developed into a shapely young woman. Prior to this visit, I had never questioned the sleeping arrangements but I made issue of it this time! Turns out, in the past, Sarah has slept in a chair. I would not hand my children over to a total stranger but without question we hand our children over to someone that we only know of his past. We know nothing of what this person has become except that his belief system, morals, and choices do not coincide with ours. He is their biological father, the sperm donor, but he is not a father to the children; he does not choose to take an active role in their lives although he could.

There is no question that this situation is confusing to the children. It even brings turmoil to Amy. And I feel it emphasizes the difference between the children instead of uniting them as the brothers and sisters that they are. Is there a point at which you become so uninvolved in your own children’s lives that for the sake of their mental health and well-being that you should just step out of the picture? Is there a point at which we are acting irresponsibly to not change the nature of the visits to a supervised situation? Truly, what are the rights and responsibilities of impregnating an egg? Legally you have to provide monetary support but does that give you ownership and entitle you to some perverted display of dad greatness so that your ego feels you have fulfilled your fatherly duties by spending 45 hours out of the year with the children? 45 hours is half of one percent. If you were expressing it as fractions of a dollar, you would have to saw a penny in two. I cannot fathom being separated from my children. I am not in his situation. I cannot begin to guess what goes through his mind but it seems to me that either you want to be involved or not and to have such a tenuous holding on does not seem healthy for biodad or the children.

Ultimately, I imagine the children will make their choices and come to terms with biodad. I suspect that Sarah is not far from her reckoning. Noah will follow in due time. Tommy may never get there.

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How to mobilize a family of 7! (with one vehicle)

Briefing

All family members notified that Tommy has to be in Lenoir City from 6pm to 7pm (that’s a 30 minute drive one way from the house) and Noah has to be at a scout meeting from 6pm to 8pm (5 minutes from house). Some people will eat at IHOP.

Logistics

We have only one working car. Plans made with scout leader to allow Noah to be dropped at his house at 5:20.

Troop Commitments

All family members will be going.

Readiness

Troops to be dressed with clean faces and wearing coats. Reminders are shouted through the house. Noah gets scout supplies. Tommy gets attired for horse riding. Sarah helps Amy. Mom and Dad tag team a messy diaper change on Evan. The older children try to forget their coats or replace appropriate winter coats with light wind breakers. (other techniques include the "I have my coat but I am carrying it instead of wearing it" loophole) Inspections are had as Dad paces with the clock ticking over time.

Transportation

Loading occurs in shifts to avoid blockages. Noah and Amy are sent first followed by Sarah with instructions to load and buckle Evan. Tommy, often the straggler, is ushered toward the van. Mom and Dad "dog proof" the house removing temptations, such as the kitchen garbage can, from reach of Molly. Dad heads to the car to find Tommy in dispute with Noah over the all important, favored seat because we all know that the other 6 seats suck and the rear seat on the right side of the van is far more comfortable than all the rest. General rule is first to the car gets the choice seat but this makes it difficult for the other two rear seats to be filled–kinda like taking the aisle seat at the movie theatre before the middle seats are filled–so fights always ensue. Sarah cannot sit in the middle seat of the back row because that would squeeze her between her brothers and she must have minimal interaction with her brothers otherwise she might have to acknowledge their existence. Dad nips this in the bud explaining Noah will be first out and Tommy knows he will shortly have the Holy Grail of Butt Cushions. We leave the house at 5:30 to make the first drop-off at 5:20.

Deployments

5:35, fifteen minutes behind schedule, Noah is deployed to the scout leader’s house with prayers that he will mind himself for the next 2.5 hours. With 20 minutes left to make the 30 minute drive to Lenior City, Dad makes mild exceptions to the traffic laws to buy a little time. Passengers are in good spirits. 6:03 Tommy is deployed to STAR for his riding lesson and I explain that I will have my noisy distractions just a phone call and few miles down the road. Dad is talking and misses turn to the interstate so the drive to IHOP takes a bit longer than anticipated. 6:18 Mom, Dad, Sarah, Amy and Evan deploy for nourishment.

Refueling

Meals are ordered in haste. Evan quickly decides that tonight is not a night to sit calmly in the high chair and instead bounces around in Dad’s lap. Dad crams food into his mouth at a competitive rate. Sarah plays with Evan and holds him to give Dad a chance to chow.

Withdrawal

6:50. Dad and Evan roll out for the 15 minute drive to retrieve Tommy at 7:00 leaving Mom, Sarah and Amy to eat the most peaceful meal they have had in ages. At this point my family is scattered in four disparate locations across two counties. 7:05 we approach a very dark barn and a sense of foreboding swells in my chest. I arrive to what appears to be a class running late and just preparing to enter the arena and my mind reels to replan for the 30-45 minute delay but a confused teacher explains that they have just come in and are putting the horses and tack up. I am relieved neither late nor having to make major adjustments in the schedule. Tommy, Evan and Dad head toward IHOP with text messages flying back and forth between phones. The girls are debating walking a half a mile to Target. Tommy tries to sneak a to-go order of pancakes but his phone call is too late; the bill has already been paid and the schedule too tight. The girls remain in wait at IHOP. 7:25 We slow the van and they load ala Little Miss Sunshine. We arrive to pickup Noah with Evan and I bolting from the van as the pack meeting closes spending 10 minutes to discuss leadership matters for the upcoming meetings. The scouts play with Noah’s toy brother until Dad is done. "Does he speak?" "Does he understand what I say?" "Will he do what I ask?"

Debriefing/Reassignments

As we approach the house, bathing orders are given and lights out times assigned. Confirmations of completed homework and signed notes. Requests for schedule amendments to the next day’s schedule are called.

Reprovisioning

Tommy remains in the van. He and Dad run to McDonald’s to get dinners for Noah and Tommy and apple pies for everyone. 8:35 Tommy and Noah are fed. Clothing is laid out for tomorrow. Mouths and bodies are cleaned and jammied. Books are read. Some computer time is had and the lights twinkle out at the appropriate time for each child. Tomorrow will have a similar script.

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Are clothes lines passe?

Yup. The dryer has died a horrible death. It would seem the heating element has gone out. That means we have two dryers in the basement without a means to dry clothes. The quandary! Do I repair one dryer, two dryers, or no dryers? I could get environmentally sound and setup a clothes line behind the house. I think perhaps I’ll do some shopping today. Considering the dryer is over 10 years old and runs almost 24/7 I think it has served its time.

Update: The heating element will be available for $57.06 tomorrow but Dave’s Repair suggests that I am skipping a couple of troubleshooting steps. It could simply be that our dryer vent is blocked (anyone thinking squirrel?) or that our circuit isn’t providing 240V. Hehehe! Whar’s my meter?! The parts supply store also explained that a new dryer isn’t likely to be that much more energy efficient that the efficiency comes from how well it heats.

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What’s the hardest thing about working from home?

It’s the stigma! This post inspired by the implication that our family could do something another family could not do because "they have a job."

I get an overwhelmingly large number people that either directly or subtly imply that I "don’t have a job" which is really very wrong. I have a job. I don’t have benefits. I have cash flow issues because I do not get paid until the job is complete and I tend to underbid my work. My job is very demanding. For instance, I have 3 projects going right now. One is a 3-5 week project (that means working a minimum of 40 hours per week for the next 3 to 5 weeks). That’s a job! One of the other projects probably has 40 hours in it. That’s a job! The 3rd project is at its tail end but back and forth with the client will consume another week and then we enter the next phase of that project. That’s a job!

I will work days, nights and weekends to see these jobs done well. I do not take vacations but because I work odd hours I do sometimes take time in the day for the family. However, that does not mean that time is always available. My other jobs include sales and marketing, customer relations and tech support, accounts receivable and payable as well as other accounting duties, and information technologies (to support myself). Additionally, I have started entertaining switching to corporate work and interviewing, social networking, and job searching itself can be a 40+ hour job unless you are willing to take the first thing that comes along.

My wife has a job! She is raising 5 children. She has meetings at schools, reports, grievances, paperwork, cleaning, cooking, emails, phone calls and more. Her job has no hours because if she is awake, she’s working! That’s a job!

NEW YORK (Reuters) – A full-time stay-at-home mother would earn $134,121 a year if paid for all her work, an amount similar to a top U.S. ad executive, a marketing director or a judge, according to a study released Wednesday. [Source]

I can’t do my wife’s job. I tried. When she is sick I try to do her job but the house looks terrible, the laundry does not get done, the children do not get cleaned well, and I can’t match a child’s outfit to save my life among many other things. When she is not around, I watch the children and try to work but mostly I watch the children. I really respect AT and other single parents. They work much harder than the rest of us.

Working remotely with so many different people has really shown me that there is a future in getting people away from corporate offices. I think in the next 10-15 years we will see a great trend in encouraging people to create home offices and work from their houses (at least part of the week). [Source] [see also]

Just because someone works from home does not mean they are playing, goofing off, not working, under no obligation, or don’t hold office hours.

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Daddy’s a traitor

And Evan is a manipulator! So he’s tired. He needs a nap. I take him down to the crib and he leans his head forward, turns in slightly, and lays calmly and gently on my chest with his head tucked under my chin. "Protect me Daddy! Don’t abandon me!" I rock him. Give him a pacifier. Then callously place him in the crib, zip up the crib tent, and walk away with my heart broken.

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Dad’s a bad guy

So I look out the window and I see Tommy standing up in his seat, laughing manically, and swatting at another child. At least that is what I thought I saw. So, to nip things in the bud, I react and rush the bus denouncing their childish behavior and explaining that the bus driver can’t drive the bus safely with them acting as such. So the kids think Tommy’s dad is nuts. Tommy is confused. Mom is angry and I just don’t like myself much. So much for trying to do the right thing. The tv dads make this parenting thing seem so much easier.

Yes, I did call the bus driver and she explained that the kids were just chatting energetically and that the bus has been more peaceful of late. She extended my apology to the children. Mmmmmm. Crow.

The wife has thrown dirty diapers at me. I guess that means I am on the path to being forgiven.

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Molly’s Mystery Ball Stash

Red Jolly Ball in tree

Molly can tear a soccer ball to shreds in minutes. Basketballs don’t stand a chance. After long searching, we finally discovered the Jolly Ball (which Petsmart lists as a horse toy). She started off with a small green one that we thought she’d never get her mouth around. It still exists today and although it has hundreds of puncture marks, the green ball is as strong as ever. Next we bought her a larger red Jolly Ball (as seen in the tree picture) and it is still around today albeit with a large split from where Cathy or I (still debated) ran over it with the car. Before Christmas the green and red balls had disappeared so for Christmas Molly received a large purple Jolly Ball. Funny enough, the green and red ball have reappeared only we cannot get them all at the same time. She apparently keeps them stashed somewhere in the neighborhood. I’ll send her out with the red one and she’ll return with the purple ball. I feel the need to follow her on the next outting!

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What’s wrong with teenage girls?

Sarah has a simple chore that I would think she would find pleasurable. She has to feed the cats. The outside cat gets fed once a day (even though I’ve asked her to feed it twice a day in the winter) and the indoor cat uses a Le Bistro self-feeder which only needs to be filled periodically. Not a single day goes by that Sarah does not have to be prompted by Mom or myself to feed the cat. I can always tell when the cat did not get fed because the sad sack stares longingly into our living room window and, if ignored, will bring us a present of a mole, skink, lizard, bat, mouse, squirrel, or bird. This morning she gave us a sparrow.

When I was Sarah’s age, I was not allowed to have pets so instead I took to feeding birds. I would actually ride my bike down to the feed store on Main Street in Medford, NJ and make a special mix that would attract certain types of birds. Then as I ate breakfast by the bay window, the birds would eat with me. And the neighbor’s cat would sneak up on them and kill them as I chowed. That’s when I took a disliking to cats. Yeah, yeah… life’s full of contradictions. Anyhow, I really took pleasure in feeding the creatures and making sure that they never ran out of food. So it befuddles me how she can callously ignore this dependent creature.

I am a believer in the school of hard knocks and learning by physics. Perhaps I should deny food to Sarah for a couple of days. Nah, that wouldn’t work. She has too much candy stashed in her room. I guess this is one of those times we (or Noah) does the job for her and it comes back to her in other ways. "Dad, can I have some food for snacks at the mall?" "No dear, I gave your snack food to the cat."

Little side note, Sad Sack was a WWII commit strip that my grandfather on my father’s side keep in a red, hardcover book. It was primarily line art and similar to Beetle Bailey. Whenever I would visit Nanny and Pop, that was one of the first books I would grab (followed by the photography techniques books with the naked women..boys will be boys afterall).

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Why should I use your broken music?

It’s that damn DRM. Yesterday Cathy’s computer gets this message:

Some of the items in the iTunes library, including "Rough Boy", were not copied to the iPod "Pavlov" because you are not authorized to play them on this computer.

Then it goes on to list a whole bunch of songs…basically anything she has ever purchased through iTunes. (Blingo has been good to her!) Oh, it also removed the tunes from the actual device. I am sure this has something to do with Sarah or Tommy plugging their iPods into Mom’s computer. How do families with multiple iPods but only one computer get their music?

DRM sucks. Even Bill Gates says DRM stinks. (see also)

[Biill Gate’s] short term advice: "People should just buy a cd and rip it. You are legal then." [Source]

So, my next step will be a long, arduous customer service fight with Apple (oh the bad karma and wasted time!). Simultaneously I suppose I will research how to cripple DRM since, frankly, Cathy is being hassled for legitimately buying music and that doesn’t fly with me.

Update: Some resources that look like they will be helpful. Mark’s(we)blog and one digital life (showing a backup procedure for your tunes).

Update: The solution was actually pretty simple. 1) Logged out of Sarah’s iTunes login. 2) Logged into Cathy’s iTunes login. 3) Under the iTunes->Store menu choose "Authorize this computer." Done.