Worst good morning comment.. ever

First thing the wife said to me when she saw me this morning.

The Wife: What's wrong with your face?

Me: Nothing, why?

It doesn't look right?

Huh?

I mean it looks bad.

Um, I feel fine. Thanks.

Oh no, I, uh, didn't you get any sleep last night or...

Lets just stop there before you say something hurtful. (holy shit!)

That kinda set the tone for the whole damn day.

Looking Through the Mirror

We enrolled my ten year old in soccer this year. It had been three years since he last played so I wasn't sure how he would do. At the u12 level things are a lot different than u8. It became obvious that Jacob had a lot to learn. It also became obvious, painfully at times, that he is nothing like me when it comes to sports.

Sure we share a lot of the same traits. He not fast, but quick. He has good foot skills combined with the ability to teach his body new techniques pretty fast. He isn't the biggest kid but doesn't seem to notice. Still, we are worlds apart when it comes to playing sports. The boy doesn't seem to have a competitive bone in his body.

His team, and especially his coach suck. Jacob, not the worst kid by far, sat the bench the most. He didn't seem to mind so I kept quiet as his team kept losing game after game. After getting beat 16 to nothing in their fist game I asked him if he was ok? He said he was and he was. And so it went with the rest of the season, they got beat, he had fun and he didn't seem to mind. IT DROVE ME NUTS!

So the last game of the year as I watched him play I was mentally making a list of things I saw him doing wrong. I was contemplating how to tell him without sounding like one of "those" parents. As his team was walking back to the bench, just before I opened my mouth, I saw the coach pull his son to the side and very aggressively tell him how bad he was playing. The kid assured his dad, his coach, that he was doing his best, to no avail. The kid finally just looked at the ground and quietly headed to the bench.

By this time I looked up and Jacob looked at me through the chain link fence, smiling.

"It's tied zero to zero," he said. "How am I doing?"

I paused and looked over at the coaches son sitting as far away from his dad as he could get.

"Your doing great," I said. "I'm very proud of you."

I was too because he had managed to teach me something about sports I always had a hard time remembering. It's suppose to be fun. He had a coach to point out his mistakes he just wanted his dad to enjoy watching him. A harder role to play than I ever imagined.

They ended up winning the game. Walking to the car with my arm around my son's shoulder I asked if he was happy to finally win a game? He said he was but, "I was wondering," he said "can I sit in the front seat of your car on the way home?" and just like that soccer season was behind us, just like it should be.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JEN!!!

WAHOO, ANOTHER TRIP AROUND THE SUN COMPLETE!

COUNT IT!

I hope your birthday is as special as you are.

Change

I sit watching events unfold,

events that appear to go unnoticed by most,

yet they have a deep meaningful affect in

my head,

my heart,

my soul.

Words,

action

silence,

movements,

inaction,

gestures,

expressions

energy

enthusiasm

emotions

are all candy for my mind to devour

and calculate the meaning of

even if none was intended

I can no more stop analyzing these events than I can stop breathing air to live.

And just like air,

I have very little evidence that these things are real,

or that I am even aware that I am taking them in.

These seemingly unimportant events,

that strung together,

make up the vast majority of our life

affect me for reasons I can not explain

and to depths I might not admit,

or even know.

I just sit here, noticing, evaluating, comprehending and... changing.

I'm sure,

just sitting here,

to everyone else,

it seems that I am noticing very little

or changing

not much at all.

So I sit here,

looking like the person I was a moment ago

and yet so much has changed,

that went unnoticed

just a moment ago...

No Patrick Allowed!

Abby, my five year old, has been getting in a lot of trouble recently for messing up her bedroom beyond belief.

The other day we found this picture she drew taped to her bedroom door. When we asked her why, she told us that it was because Patrick, of Sponge Bob fame, had been sneaking into her room and messing it up. Now he isn't allowed in her room anymore. She seemed pretty serious about it too.

So for the next few weeks we gave her a break about cleaning her room because of her awesome picture of Patrick, her creativeness and on the slight chance Patrick really was the guilty party. Turns out he wasn't.

Oops

Last week on my monthly business trip I stopped at a place for breakfast just outside of Atlanta. Since I had already been on the road for 3 hours I thought the bathroom would be a good idea. I followed a rather large man that was heading to the bathroom too, which is a bit of a put-off as I've never been a big fan of a crowded, small, public bathroom. To make matters worse, I noticed the driver I brought with me on the trip following close behind with the same goal in mind. When we entered the restroom the man in front of me took the first stall and the far stall was already occupied. I know this because I pulled on the door. So I took the middle stall leaving the driver waiting. When I came out the driver was gone. I washed my hands, checked my hair and proceeded to my table. That's where the driver informed me that one of my worst fears had just come true.

"You do know we were in the women's bathroom don't you?"

Apparently the guy we followed in wasn't a guy at all but rather a large Pat type woman. I guess that's why I didn't check, then double check the sign on the door... as I always always do. Going in the wrong door has been a long time fear of mine. It isn't always a clear choice either, I'm an Hombre, Right? Of course, and the little picture of the man next to hombre always confirms this. I've also been a Dude, Cowboy, Guy, Gent, Boy, Romeo, and Micky... in 42 years I've never gotten this wrong. Until now. So there I sat at my table, flush with heat, waiting for a woman to point me, the bathroom pervert, out to the manager or her husband. I thought about how casually I had wondered around in the bathroom, the conversation I had with the driver after we entered and the sound urine makes as it drops three feet into water. Surely a foreign sound in a Women's restroom. But no pointing, staring or looking ever occurred. One of my biggest fears realized and the whole thing was very uneventful.

Now I'm wondering if I shouldn't try to tackle some of my other "biggest" fears? Though, somehow I don't think waking up in the middle of the night with a stranger standing next to my bed holding a knife would ever be uneventful. Of course I could be wrong, I have been before.

All for one, One for goodbye

Some friends of The wife, who have become friends of mine, are in the beginning stages of a divorce. Not an uncommon tale, high school sweethearts, married for 14 years with three kids. He is a bit immature but always provided for his family, and by his soon to be ex-wife's admission, a great dad. They had an all to common set-up I'm seeing more and more these days. He was willing to let her run the house, and their lives, as long as he was allowed to have his toys and his boy time. Not a setup I'd be comfortable with but they seemed happy with it. Though I wonder if a wife doesn't start to see a husband like this as another one of the children and lose respect for him.

For the last 5 years they have worked together to put her through school. During this time it became obvious that the main purpose for the family was to help her get her degree. His friends joked that when she did get it she would leave him. The closer she got to her degree the more empowered she felt and the more distant he became. The day after her graduation she approached him about repairing their marriage, on her terms. Much to her surprise, he told her he wasn't interested, he didn't love her anymore and he already had other plans. He would be leaving as soon as she got a job. She never saw it coming.

For the past few weeks she has tried to talk him into marriage counseling but he "checked out" months ago. Looking back she can see now that she put him behind her goals and ambition, even though he was helping make them possible. All the signs were there, like him going to the gym most nights, after the kids went to bed, for 5 hours at a time. She never bothered to question this or check to see if he was actually going.

I have to wonder how many times he tried to get her attention by acting out by doing something obviously wrong only to be ignored, enforcing the notion that she didn't care. So months ago he realized he wasn't important in her life, started making other plans and checked out.

Now it's time for the divorce. He can't wait to move out and start the life he's been planning for months. She is just starting to come to terms with the thought of a new life, a very different life. He is happy, she is mad. He is relieved, she is angry. Of course he was where she is now but that was months ago, and she didn't notice or care. The divorce will get ugly. She is talking about restricting his parental rights through the courts. I guess the fact he is a "great dad" doesn't matter now. The children will suffer. In the end he will probably realize that he should have stayed and tried to work it out. He will realize all the things she was doing for him that he never thought about. No one will win and everyone will lose.

It seems to me a little bit of appreciation and attention could have prevented the whole situation. It's a lesson I won't forget anytime soon... I hope.

I have questions...

Is it wrong for a man to consider a woman's breast size as a qualifier for dating? If so, why is tall, dark and handsome not seen as a sexist qualifier when women use it?

If I am not anti-Hispanic but I'm against illegal immigration am I a racist?

Do I need to carry papers to prove my citizenship if I travel to Arizona? I'm worried because I look just like a lot of our Canadian neighbors to the north, talk like them too. I don't want to be profiled and possibly deported.

If it's wrong to profile, why does the government employ law enforcement officers called "profilers"? Some even work for the Secret Service to protect the president.

Shouldn't the people we elect, who are now trying to pass laws to save us from ourselves, pass a law telling us who to elect? That way we'll get it right for sure.

May 12th

Simon Amp Garfunkel - The Sound Of Silence

The Answers Are All Around Us

Every morning I give my six year old son his medicine. This morning, as I looked at his face, an incredible sadness came over me. It's not unusual reaction, as I often feel sad when I think about his future. He's such a sweet kid but I know his Aspergers will prevent him from experiencing a normal life.

But what is a normal life really? And are those who pursue this normal life any happier than those who can't? I take comfort in the fact that maybe he will find more joy in the path that lays ahead of him than that which lays ahead of most. I mean most normal people don't seem all that happy in their normal life to me. Still, it breaks my heart that he doesn't even have the choice of which path to travel down. And it breaks my heart further to know I am powerless to help make his path as clear as the well worn "normal" path that this world calls Main Street, which happens to be my street.

So this morning, as these thoughts were running through my head again, I waited for my son to get his drink ready that helps his medician go down easier. I was brought back to to the present by his little voice.

"Aw man, I got the ugly red cup!" he said

A little aggravated and with little thought I replied, "it doesn't matter what the cup looks like, it's what we put in the cup that matters." And just like that it hit me. It's not going to matter what his life looks like to me or anyone else. In the end his life will be the collection of experiences he is able to put together. It will seem as normal to him as anyones life seems to them. His life will not and can not be defined by the boundaries, accomplishments and goals I have set for mine or even those of his siblings. His life will be... his.

I watched as he grimaced at the taste of the medicine followed by a few sips from the ugly red cup. He sat the cup down and ran off to find his brother. I peek into the ugly red cup, sure enough the stuff he hadn't drank looked a lot like the stuff I drink, bet it taste the same too. God I love that little boy.