Last night was one of those nights where I just should not have left the house. Of course, here of late as stress has increased, and I continue to work alone, I seem to have more socially inadequate moments. For me the blogfest was a blur as if I had too much to drink by the time I arrived. I got people’s names wrong, botched jokes, interrupted at inopportune times, could not get some of my past to come into clear focus, failed to eat my meal, and overall was a distraction rather than a compliment to the festivities. Oh, we also showed up late rather than early and that was me too.
I blame Evan! The child does not get restaurants although the wait staff seemed pleased that Evan was willing to sweep the floors. He tore through the restaurant as if it were a race track. Poured tea on the table. He chatted with strangers trying to enjoy their meal with the exception of the older gentleman and his daughterco-workerdateescorthooker which is regretful because that could have been a fun conversation, "pardon my son for interrupting your, uh, uh, thang. So, do you measure those heals with a yard stick?" Evan was tired and doing his best to stay awake so I did the fatherly thing and drove him around until he slept but timed it wrong and he woke up just as I returned to the restaurant. Some thought I left angry but I was simply frustrated. I think Evan should have terrorized his grandparents instead of the patrons. For future blogfests, I will stay home and watch Evan, and Cathy and Tommy can go have a good time (and Tommy did have a good time! "Strawberry short cake fixes headaches and bad moods.")
On the positive side, I finally made the connection that a fellow blogger happens to be an old friend from college days! I had to sit back with a stunned look on my face as a wealth of blocked memories rushed into my head like the failure of the Wolf Creek Dam will on Nashville. Better put a call into the psychologist and hypnotist. I have lost touch with most people of my past. My best friend from high school and college days who at one time could read my mind hasn’t even met my youngest child and has only seen Amy once. Strange how age, responsibility, and children pull us into our own little cosmoses. When we went to the funeral, we boarded Molly at Dreamcatchers. I had to fill out a form that required a local emergency contact and I struggled to actually come up with a name and a phone number since all the relatives were going to Parsons.
Great Granny passed away. This meant driving to Parsons TN (map) (yes, that’s the whole thing.) Living in the South you tend to forget why people make jokes about the South. We do not hear our own accents and most of the jokes seem dated upon old stereo types because surely we are not that backwards! At least that is what I thought. Since our life has taken us down a path of being sequestered within our own house, I had forgotten what it was like out there. After loading everyone in the van with the misfiring engine (I thought it was a bad spark plug but had someone talk me out of changing the plugs..turns out it was a bad spark plug) and praying that we could drive across Tennessee and back, we hit the Interstate. It wasn’t long before we saw a flag pole towering over the trees to the right side of the Interstate flying the Confederate flag (debate with wife over its racial symbolism versus Southern pride/Southern heritage/historic symbolism ensues) then a couple of miles later to the left of the Interstate an aluminum, giant cross (I mean like 60 feet tall or better See the cross on I-75 by the adult bookstore and a cross in TX.). This thing could have doubled nicely as a water tower. Near Nashville we had a friendly store owner’s sign reminding people to "Thank a veteran — in English!"
Now Friday morning I awoke to find green writing on my forehead. I really need to quit falling asleep before my wife. As we packed I noticed the box that our "supplies" are in had moved from its hiding spot to the headboard so obviously the wife was prepared in case by some bizarre circumstance we ended up with a hotel room to ourselves.
We hit the first welcome center to grab a map and I was struck by Tennessee again. I had my phone in hand but couldn’t bring myself to take a picture. I should have! For walking out of the crowded welcome center was a man in overalls and nothing else. Granted, I think he had shoes but the baggy overalls with no shirt did not hide the fact that he wore nothing underneath them. This was textbook hillbilly.
We had a relatively pleasant trip to Parsons. I found that the van performed better at higher speeds…like 145 kmh. Once in Parsons we located the hotel and found out that Uncle Danny had lost the keys to his rental car but that’s a different story. Our family takes 4 rooms of the hotel. There appear to be no other guests. A quick count of the beds leaves some hopeful optimism that perchance Cathy and I will have a room to ourselves! The children tend to like to disperse themselves amongst the relatives they rarely see. Cathy asks if I came prepared since she left me clues like the writing on my forehead and the box on the headboard. With mouth agape, I explained I thought the box meant she’d taken care of things. Does Parsons have a drugstore?!
Hunger overtook our crowd. Let’s go to the fish restaurant where Granny and Granddaddy had their wedding reception! "It’s down to the traffic light and take a left. Has a big sign shaped like a fish." That’s right. "the traffic light" Our hungry mob takes off as we dilly dally a bit longer. After getting everyone buckled we follow the directions. Down to the traffic light and left. We immediately lose signal on the cell phones. Fewer dropped calls! Drive. Drive. Drive. Scratch head. Drive. Drive. Ah! Buildings. Drive. Drive. Bar. Drive. Bar. Hey look! It’s Patrick Swayze! Drive and finally! The restaurant with the big fish sign…and no lights on…and no cars in the parking lot…and no cell phone reception. We debate heading back to town to make a phone call for directions but decide to drive another mile and, sure enough, we locate the other restaurant with the big sign in the shape of a fish.
Our crew, which consisted of our Cathy, myself, Tommy, Sarah, Noah, Amy, Evan, Uncle Danny, Uncle Matt, Aunt Carmen, cousin Gabriel, cousin Abby, cousin Elizabeth, Granny and Granddaddy converge on the restaurant. We enter and the building goes silent as everyone stares. The waitress’ mouth hangs open as a single dish crashes to the floor. We blink and the noise of chatter and utensils clinking to plates return. I head to the restroom. Now, you know it’s gonna be good eats when on your way to the restroom you spot a Haynes manual on one of the patrons tables, the plumbing is run outside the walls, and the towel dispenser in the bathroom is cloth.
The menu reads "fried _____" You name it and they’d fry it. I had the seafood platter and later the nice lady at the hotel desk explained to me "that seafood platter is too big for one person! It could feed two." The seafood platter was fried catfish, fried oysters, fried clams, fried shrimp, fried something I couldn’t identify, fried frog legs (caught fresh out back), hush puppies (that’s fried bread for those that don’t know), my choice of french fries or baked potato (I order the baked potato but requested it fried), and two boiled shrimp just to prove they had something other than a deep fryer in the kitchen.
After dinner we head back to the hotel and I figure I’ll head out to the drug store; however, Fred’s Pharmacy and Dollar Store is ominously dark. Closed! Well, at least Food Giant appears open. Ironically, Food Giant appears to sell only food. Not looking good for the visiting team. Eventually I chance upon the feminine hygiene aisle and at the tampon section I see KY Jelly! That’s promising. Looking up and down the aisle I just am not finding any prophylactics. I start to realize that perhaps KY has some other use which probably has to do with shoving cotton in a dry place. As I am about to give up hope, I notice a bottle of KY personal warming lubricant. Now surely a "warming lubricant" has but one use! Still no condoms. Apparently some ladies prefer their tampons warm.
I consider giving up but decide to have to have some fun. I turn to the two teenage boys mopping the floor in the back of the store. "Do you guys sell condoms?" They stare at each other for a moment then say, "if we did, they’d be on aisle 11." (that’s the feminine hygiene aisle) Then one boy’s face lights up and he whispers, as if I should know better, "dude, BP. On the corner." He is right. I should have known better.
At the gas station, I purchase my 3 pack of wishful thinking and, to make some utility of the trip, purchase some STP gas treatment. For good measure, I throw in a scratch-off lottery ticket since one way or another I’d like to get lucky tonight. In the end, the condoms were unopened, the van still misfired, and the lottery ticket was a loser. However, I do return to the station before it closes for the night for beverages.
I returned to the hotel room and later that night Cathy was overcome with the sickness Evan had earlier in the week. So in the morning I head over to Fred’s Pharmacy and Dollar Store to get some Pepto-Bismol (if there is only one link you click today..make it this one!). Since this is a pharmacy I take a half a moment to look for condoms (out of curiosity). I see none! But they do sell Astroglide near the tampons. This town must have a bad case of vaginal dryness and teen pregnancies. I guess no prevention makes a big city out of a small town.
Breakfast time! Cathy rolls over in agony so we leave her in the hotel room callously failing to hang the "do not disturb" sign on the door so the cleaning staff trying to make their 11:30am deadline repeatedly open the door hoping to annoy Cathy out of the room. Meanwhile the rest of us have a salt lick disguised as country fried ham, bacon, sausage, pork patties, mystery meat, eggs and other artery clogging goodness for breakfast. It was delightful! I sorta lie to the family and tell them "Cathy is putting herself together."
We retrieve Cathy then head over to the funeral home and Cathy’s mother tries to assess who looks better..Cathy or Great Granny. Great Granny wins and various family members try to slip Cathy Tums. For the next hour and a half or so we play "herd the cats" with anyone under 3 feet tall while family and friends catch up and tell some great stories.
On Sunday, Amy visited Great Granny. On Wednesday, Amy was in the car when we drove Great Granny’s sitter from the hospital back to the nursing home. Amy cheerfully announces, "That’s Great Granny’s house!" That night Great Granny passes away. Friday Amy and I talk about Great Granny petting Lucy in Heaven. Saturday I held Amy as she looked at Great Granny lying peacefully in her coffin and bravely told her goodbye and that she loved her. My eyes watered for Amy then and as I type this. Tommy handled himself well but I could see him struggling with his emotions. Sarah always keeps things locked in and deserved awards for babysitting ALL the children without complaint. Secretly she is probably thankful to not have to visit the nursing home anymore. Noah was hard to read; he could be stoic and mature or he could have missed the boat. Evan was just on an adventure.
Small towns people are friendly! And there is a properness to everything. A small town Southerner can make you feel like you are family, like you have known the person you are talking to for years, and like you have been living in the town your whole life. You are welcome! We were treated fabulously. After all, most of the people around us were kin or long friends of someone in the immediate family.
The pallbearers were called to a meeting. Having only been to two funerals my whole life and having never been a pallbearer I was looking forward to this meeting as I had been told the instructions would be forthcoming. I was tasked with gathering up the 5 other pallbearers. I knew two. After letting three know about our meeting, I stepped into the funeral home director’s office and the two I could not find were there with the funeral director having carefree, grinning conversation which quickly wrapped up with my entrance and instead turned to the business of being friendly. Best I can figure everybody in Parsons holds two jobs. For instance, the preacher is also a farmer. The funeral director beyond any shadow of a doubt is also the auctioneer. With utmost seriousness and sternness the instructions were something like this:
It went without saying that no one had questions and we absolutely did not follow the plan for five minutes prior to the service the family had already seated and the pallbearers were sent to the chapel where the prayer was performed instead of the viewing room.
After the chapel service we drove slowly to the cemetery with the van threatening to sputter to a halt. That would have been embarrassing! The pallbearers lugged Great Granny to her final resting place (if you’ve never done it, coffins are heavy!) and awkwardly decided where to put their buttoners (lapel flower). Half went to Granny and half went to Great Granny. After the graveside service we played in the cemetery then hit the road. But that’s another story.
Tommy, eating some cheese with dinner: "What country is famous for cheese?"
Dad: "Vaudeville."
Mom: "Tommy, how’s your cheese?"
Tommy: "Good."
Dad: "You should have said gouda."
Tommy: "Hurry up and finish [your meal], so you can leave."
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.
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.
Yesterday Cathy and I were discussing how it may have been uncomfortable for a 16 year old boy to watch a movie with sexual and drug related themes with his parents. We started talking about how Tommy requires a more direct approach with such things than other teenagers. Tommy does not get the benefit of friends gathering around and sneaking a watch of a dirty movie or one that your parents would disapprove. I know that I innocently got together with a bunch of friends in high school only to discover they had arranged to watch Caligula.
This version contained many scenes with extremely taboo, sexually, and violently explicit content, including … (see second bullet under "Multiple Versions" for the full description) [Source]
In the course of a couple of hours, my knowledge grew exponentially! (the curious can find pictures buried here) These are certain rites of passage that we assume everyone experiences but some people just miss out due to helicopter parenting or special needs. I am by no means suggesting that I sit down and watch porn with my son. I am suggesting that some people have gaps in what otherwise is common knowledge because that knowledge (slang, taboo subjects, etc) is taught through peer relations, relationships that simply do not exist in certain circumstances. I digress.
My real point is that from this discussion Cathy mentioned that "girls don’t watch porn." And added jokingly, "because they don’t have to!" She is right though. Girls could have the real thing anytime they want but hold back. Guys want it all the time but cannot get it. Funny how some things never change.
This one comes second hand because I was in the store.
Dad: Pulls up to liquor store and goes in. Eggnog sometimes needs rum.
Tommy: "Why are we at a wine store!"
Mom: —I don’t know her reply—
Tommy: "You better keep that stuff downstairs!"
Well now, I guess the school, the church, and the grandparents have done their job. Apparently Tommy thinks that by being near the bottle, he’ll catch drunkedness or something.
Apparently to control the snail population in Tommy’s 6 gallon tank, we need a snail eating fish, like a Clown Loach, and a 30 gallon tank. Dr Helm explains. I didn’t know snails could grow to 3 inches long!
On July 21, 2002, just after my 13th birthday, I was bitten by a Western Diamondback rattlesnake. I was located on a trail in a hiking area near Yosemite National Park, California. The bite occurred when I was sitting on a small boulder at a distance of 4.5 miles from the trailhead with my cabin group at camp. I had my arms dangling at my side, and a 5 foot long rattlesnake bit me in the middle of my left palm.Source
Happy Birthday Tommy! (jumped the gun yesterday_ I am thrilled with his progress and love seeing his joy at the thought of getting a driver’s license. Loved his excitement over his new phone. Overall he is a happy, fun person.
I have walked some rocky paths but I wouldn’t change a single step of my journey because I love where I am. I am happy with the choices I have made in my life.
Cathy says, "It’s not the destination. It’s the journey." And I am so happy to have her on this journey with me.
Two Wednesday’s ago I dropped Tommy of at STAR and ran off to do an errand. Upon my return I am stunned, and unfortunately cameraless, seeing Tommy riding off lead! For the past 5 years (maybe 6) that Tommy has participated in the STAR program he has ridden on lead. That means one, sometimes two, people walk beside the horse holding a tether and they have equal, if not more, control of the horse as the rider. On that Wednesday, Tommy’s sidewalker was near by Tommy was in complete control of the horse.
Last Wednesday I stayed the whole class. Tommy mounted his horse and rode into the ring before anyone else. I mean before anyone else! He took his horse into the ring and brought it to a complete stop. The next student came out with two volunteers helping him. One of the volunteers asked Tommy to start around the ring and he confidently made his horse walk. He rode the entire class without a volunteer or staff member anywhere near! It was incredible. I had goosebumps!
This past Saturday, Tommy rode at the annual Star horse show at Roane State Community College in Rockwood, TN (Harmond). In the Intermediate Futures he rode against 2 other rides and took first place. See his performance below.
Tommy was thrilled. This was the first time he had ever ridden in a show without an assistant. The horse he rode, Dandy, was skiddish and would have reacted badly to applause. Tommy rode with confidence and poise.
He tied for first place against 4 other riders in the Intermediate Obstacle English/Western. See his performance below.
Tommy also rode Intermediate Western Equitation against 2 other riders and received first place!
The folks at Shangri-la Therapuetic Academy of Riding have seen Tommy grow from an out of control child, who spoke harshly with insults to the volunteers and who was almost removed from the program when his actions and increasing weight threatened harm to the animals, grow into a calm, controlled young adult with a sense of humor and the ability to chat correctly and politely with the staff and volunteers. He has gained their confidence enough to earn the privilege of solo riding. Lynn Petr, founder of STAR, prior to the show, but in ring, gave Tommy a pep talk and asked him if he was up to this. She reminded him that not only was he in charge of his safety and the safety of the horse but for all others that were in the ring. Tommy responded non-chalantly, "No problem." After the show multiple staff members, volunteers, and parents remarked at Tommy’s achievement! Thank you Star! Tommy did great!
Husband to one wonderful wife, father to five fantastic children, juggler, technophile, freelancer, DIYer, adventurer, volunteer, KO4NFA (2m/70cm), WRMJ225 (GMRS)
Disclosure:
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