My Kid is Broken?

I don't have a fancy article as a trigger for this rant.  I just have the ridiculous situation surrounding my son's education.

My son is not an "easy" child.  He asks insane questions, is obsessed with LEGO and science fiction, and constantly questions authority figures' motives.  None of these are bad things.  He also comes out with spurts of simplistic brilliance.

In a discussion about the oil spills in the Gulf of Mexico and the Exxon Valdez, the following exchange occurs:


My son:  "If oil is so bad, why do we still use it?"
      Me:  "We need it to power cars and lawn mowers and a thousand other things."
My son:  "Why don't we just make those things use something other than oil?"


I don't have a legitimate answer for this.  I could go into the manufacturing costs for electric cars, the mileage limits of purely electric cars, or the belief that car manufacturers themselves are half-assing the effort in an attempt to appease the oil companies.  But none of those strike me as valid excuses.

Rather than accepting the parameters of the problem, he seeks to change the variables in search of a real solution.  In two sentences, my son has questioned the motives behind one of the biggest future problems our country is facing.  He has a way of stripping away superfluous information and seeing the core issue.  He is never satisfied with accepting excuses.  And I LOVE him for it.

The best piece of advice I have ever received came from my father when I was not much older than my son is right now.  He said "Believe whatever you want.  But believe it because YOU believe it.  Not because of what someone else said."  I can't think of a better piece of advice for a young man.  Except maybe "If you get her pregnant, you better love her", which my father also said.  My father's soundbites strike me as something a taller, less green, slightly younger Yoda would say to his son.  Full of wisdom with enough edge to make you remember.

I try to teach my son the same principles.  However, when he gets stuck with an aging teacher, burnt-out on years of 8 year-olds, intent on forcing her students into the neat little mold she deems acceptable, he naturally struggles against it.  And he is consequently treated like he's damaged or broken.

His desire to seek the core truths has been stifled because it's seen as being disruptive.  Asking numerous questions DIRECTLY relating to the subject material is apparently disruptive behavior now.  And forget about trying to talk to a classmate about the current assignment.  There will be absolutely no collaboration in this "learning" environment.

His love of reading books several levels above him has been all but destroyed by daily, forced reading of books well below his level.  It's the same concept as telling an ice cream lover that they are now required to eat ice cream everyday.  No matter what you love, if that behavior becomes a requirement then it loses all appeal.

(By the way, his class goes to the library one day every three weeks.  We have plenty of books at home but what about the kids who don't?  Or the kids who are struggling to reach their grade level?  Making them wait three weeks between class visits to a library is insanity.  It's the same three week rotation with music and art classes.  Music, art, and literature are what make us human.  But they have been all but abandoned as priorities in American public schools.)

His emotional responses to what he sees as injustice are regarded as overly-aggressive, inflammatory behavior. When he is reprimanded in front of the class for something as innocuous as tapping his pencil while doing his work (WHILE DOING HIS WORK) he tries to explain his actions.  Which is then seen as questioning authority and deserving of a second, public reprimand.

He cannot physically comprehend bullshit.  This is his greatest asset and weakness.  That being said, I am not worried about my son.

I'm worried about the people around him.  He is an engaging, passionate, awe-inspiring human with a laser beam focus toward whatever his current obsession may be.  And he's seven years old.  If he can maintain this mindset while adding experience, education, and maturity then he will be an outstanding adult.  But if his creativity and desire to learn are sabotaged by misguided attempts to herd him into more "acceptable" behaviors and interests then society will have destroyed another brilliant mind.

My son is not a colt who needs to be broken before he can reach his full potential.  He is a sapling who needs firm foundation and support as well as plenty of room to grow in any way he chooses fit.

I love my son.  He's not damaged or broken.  He is a real human with real human desires and emotions.  And I hope he can stay that way.

Life

Life shouldn't have to be what happens in between work and sleep.  Work should try to wedge its unwanted ass into your life.  Why is it that to be considered "successful" you have to put work first?  Now that I have an infant in my house I feel like I'm missing 800 things everyday that are WAY more important than anything I'm doing at work.

With respect to jobs, I always hear "Do what you love and you'll never work a day in your life."  That would be great if someone would pay me to play music, or stare at boobs, or read comic books, or play video games with my son, or eat buffalo chicken.  But I don't see anyone offering me jobs in those fields right now. (I'm holding out for a cross-over.  Maybe boobs covered in buffalo sauce? Or playing music with my son?  Or just the boobs?)

Why is it accepted that you're going to hate your job?  Including drive-time I spend roughly 50 hours per week dedicated to my job.  Quick math lets me know that I waste 2600 hours per year doing something I don't enjoy.  Why is this normal?  Does anyone start college wanting to be phone support?  Or an accountant?  Or middle management?  No.  You get stuck there.

I don't mean to sound like a whiny teenager but my family is the only thing I'm remotely happy with right now.


But that's all that matters.  Right?  Well, kind of.  Loving my family doesn't help me feed/clothe/bathe/spoil them.  And it sure as hell doesn't make me hate the job any less.


But loving your family should make all the bad things worth it.  Well, then I must be broken.  I love my family, and I will do anything for them, but it does not make everything worthwhile.  I'm not okay with wasting any intelligence/talent/initiative that I have for a paycheck that almost pays the bills.  Just so I can turn around and give every bit of that money to multi-billion dollar companies.

I have always adhered to the philosophy of "don't sacrifice today for what might happen tomorrow".  Doesn't that also apply to me?  If I throw away my dreams and desires and put on my Corporate Andy hat just so I can put food on the table, am I not doing that same thing?  If children are our future does that mean that our future is over?

I'm struggling with how to feel about how I feel.

Am I a selfish bastard for bitching when I actually have a job and three other human beings dependent on me?  Or am I an idiot for basically giving up on my dreams at 25?

I have no idea.

New Year's Resolutions Suck

Simple topic.  New Year's resolutions suck.  Discuss...

If you're waiting for some magical day to suddenly give you the willpower to accomplish something in your life then 1) You're doing it wrong and 2) You've already failed before you even started.

I say this from personal experience.  My resolution last year was to lose 100 pounds.  It really shouldn't be that hard.  I could lose 100 pounds and still be the lard-ass hogging the armrest in the theater.  I have made this resolution many times dating back to high school.  (Fun Fact: That may be the only time you'll ever hear me mention myself, dating, and high school in the same sentence.)

I started off decently.  I "borrowed" a WiiFit from my in-laws and started doing it every day.  I couldn't rely on having time every night so I decided to get up early and exercise the demons before getting ready for work.  And by early I mean Five.O.Clock.  Before this time I had seen 5 A.M. quite a few times in my life.  But previously a look at my clock saying 5 A.M. generally resulted in "Damn! I need to go to bed."

Being a math nerd, I figured if I could lose eight pounds a month then I would be almost there.  The first two months went great.  I would sweat a little in the morning and it helped me get to sleep at a decent time at night.  I was down twenty pounds, ahead of schedule, and feeling great.  Then came a cataclysmic event the likes of which even Ray Finkle wouldn't envy:  My wife's parents asked us to return the WiiFit.

Gasp.  Shriek.

We promptly went out that night and dropped another $90 for our very own WiiFit.  I brought it straight home and immediately set it up.  Aaaaaaaaand ten months later I can't remember if I ever even turned it on again.

Wait, what?

We never actually went an entire day without a unit in our house.  How could switching WiiFit units cause me to fall off of my schedule?

My theory:  My success was so desperately hanging on at that point that anything could have disrupted the routine.  A stone falling out of a washed-up kickers' Dolphins AFC championship ring could have caused it.

I was fooling myself.  I wasn't eating any better.  In fact, I was actually eating worse because I felt like I deserved it for all the "exercise" I was doing.

By the end of the year I was down a net of ten pounds for the year.  Far short of my goal.

So, once again I will try to drop some weight this year.  I've used all kinds of reasons in the past.  Health, looks, desire to fit in to normal chairs.  But now I have a wife and kids.  ( I don't think I'll ever get used to saying that.)  I can't just think about myself anymore.

I don't want to be the fat dad who can't run with his kid outside.  I don't want to chill on the side of the pool too embarrassed to take his shirt off and get in the water with his family.  I don't want to use my weight as an excuse not to do things anymore.  I'm tired of my own shit.  I not going to take the excuses anymore.  I can't scream "Laces out, Dan" and ignore my own shortcomings.

I'm going to Andy Boot Camp.

I'm going to set up a page on this here blogtacular site and keep track of my progress.  Please feel free to stop by and lend encouragement or insult my feeble attempts, whichever you would like.

Just do me a favor:  Be Real.  Don't sugar-coat the truth. (mmmm...sugar)


[Editor's Note: There are four references to Ace Ventura in this post.]

Parents

There seems to be some confusion over proper parenting behavior.

Parents don't need an accountant to keep track of the money they spend on their kids, just so it can be held over their heads later in life.

Parents don't display their grievances with their childrens' decisions in public.  And they sure as hell don't demean them in front of anyone else.

Parents don't try to use grandchildren as a threat or bargaining chip in petty arguments.

Parents make sure their kids get hugs and kisses and "I love you" so much that it's embarrassing.

Parents don’t put baby in a corner.



I saw an article on Cracked the other day talking about things that "good" parents do to screw up their children.  It was a list of the things that are "best practices" for parenthood but often end up having unintended consequences.  Of course, this all assumes that someone else knows how to parent your kid better than you do.  Granted, sometimes this is quite true. *cough* Dina Lohan *cough*

But many people are so concerned with having the right plan and saying the right things to ensure our little bundles of innocence blossom into functional adults.

The following is taken from an email exchange my wife and I had after reading the Cracked article.  She jokingly asked if we should revamp our entire parenting strategy.

Or we could just be open and honest with our child instead of trying to trick him into being a productive human being.  That's the biggest problem.  Everyone wants a battle plan for raising their child.  That's stupid.

If every adult is a different person then every child is a different person.  If you tried to make a cookie cutter guide to please every person on the planet it would be a horrendous failure.  So why do people try to do it with children?  Time-outs work for some kids.  Guilt works for some kids.  Spankings work for others.  There's no "right" way to raise a child.  And parents need to tailor their parenting to their own fucking child.  

I'm not saying to let them get away with anything they want.  But have rules and stick to them.  And if you find out that your own rules are bullshit, then change them.  Admitting to your child that you made a mistake does NOT make you weaker in their eyes.  It makes you more human.  And there's no better way to raise a child then to have them realize everyone's human and everyone makes mistakes.

I'm not saying parents are 100% responsible for how their kids turn out.  But I'm sure as hell saying they're 98% responsible.  


Don't wait until your kid is seventeen and going to the prom to talk to them about sex.  
Don't wait until your kid is seventeen to talk to them about drinking/smoking/drugs.
Don't train your kid to be a good little sheep and accept everything that authority figures say verbatim. 


I don't have all the answers.  Hell, I don't have most of the answers.  But I've seen quite a bit of parenting, whether it be myself or others in my life.  And I sure as hell know what NOT to do.  


Don't be scared that you don't know how to do everything right.  


You will screw up.  Your kids will screw up.  Learn from those mistakes TOGETHER.  I honestly think that's the only way to avoid being an 18 year-long incubator and becoming a functional parent. 






If you would like to buy a copy of my parenting book I would be glad to print out this post, staple it several times (no less than two, no more than four), and sell it to you for $17.99.  

The Decisions a Man Makes

My wife and I found out several weeks ago that she is pregnant.  Save the condolences; this is a joyous occasion.  But it has really hammered home the concept of being an adult.  And I'm not taking it very well.

Being an adult has many perks.

-For my five-year-old it means that Daddy can play adult video games like Arkham Asylum and God of War III.
-For my mother it means she doesn't worry about me quite as much as she used to.
-For my father it means he can see a man he has helped shape begin to mold himself into his own entity.
-For my wife it means she can feel safe for herself and her family knowing her husband can handle any crisis life may throw at us.
-For my bandmates it means I seem a bit more flaky about practice times and late nights.

But what does it mean for me?

I feel old.  You know that annoying question everyone asks when they find out it's your birthday? Do you feel any older?  Yes I do.  Thanks for bringing it up, Asshole.

That's what being an adult means to me.  Feeling older.

-You're an adult when each new birthday takes you further away from your childhood instead of closer to being grown-up.
-You're an adult when you participate in conversations about 401Ks and life insurance and don't speak in future tense.
-You're an adult when you realize that everyone who told the eight-year-old you that you could be anything you wanted to be when you grew up were all full of shit.
-You're an adult when you finally start to loosen your grasp on the hope that all your dreams can still happen.

That last one is what hit me this year.  I have been obsessed with music for as long as I can remember.  I still remember the first time I heard a truly great song:  Elton John - Rocket Man.

I was raised on country and church music.  There's nothing intrinsically wrong with either genre.  But country has almost always reveled in it's willful ignorance.  And church music is immune from criticism, even if it's terrible.  If you say anything bad about either one then you're either a pretentious asshole or you don't believe in God, neither of which is inherently true, but occasionally both are spot on.  It has recently reached that point when talking about the president or soldiers serving overseas.  Being anti-war or anti-Obama has somehow come to equate being anti-patriotic, or anti-American.  Flight Surgeon Horse Shit.  Does being pro gay marriage make me gay?  Does being pro choice make me a pregnant woman?

But I seriously, seriously digress.

Childhood.  Elton John.  Rocket Man.

I'm sitting at my father's house doing god-knows-what after watching a college football game.  For some unknown reason my dad starts talking about music and suddenly realizes that I'm being deprived of decades worth of classics.  He drags out the turntable and cracks open the cabinet to reveal his collection of vinyl. (For the kids in the audience, these are the giant black discs that only people still concerned with sound quality still listen to.)  He tosses on his Elton John greatest hits album and carefully places the needle near the second set of grooves and proceeds to cause a musical revolution in my ears.  From that moment on all I ever wanted to do with my life was be a musician.  I didn't care about being rich or famous.  I just wanted to be able to make enough money playing music so that I didn't have to get a real job.

Flash forward ~15 years and you'll find a married, father, homeowner, college graduate working a job where he's under-utilized, under-appreciated, and under-paid.  Wait...what the hell happened?

But every bit of that is fine as long as your dream is still alive.  As long as you can make fun of your situation because it will be funny to look back on when you're living your ideal life, then you're fine.  But once your belief that you will achieve your dreams begins to falter, even for a second, then you're screwed.  Every day that passes pigeon-holes you into a little niche in life that becomes your inescapable label.

[Side Note: Today's post brought to you by the letters E, M, & O, with a soundtrack provided by The Cure.]

But watching your childhood dreams get curb-stomped by adulthood also provides you with a new perspective.

I love being a husband and I love being a dad.  I can't think of anything in life that is as difficult/frustrating/rewarding/awe-inspiring.

From my perspective, these are the decisions a man makes.  Family comes first. Dreams come second.  Both are important and both will brutally humble you.

Besides, living vicariously through your children makes the world go 'round.  Amirite pageant moms?

Fluff

My wife has been telling me for quite a while that if I don't find a way to get all of my thoughts out of my head then I'm going to have a massive heart attack.  With that joyous though in mind, I set out to join the ranks of the blogging universe.

And within fifteen minutes I had given up.

There are entirely too many options for a regular guy to pour his heart out for all the world to see.  And for every blogging site there seems to be nine different membership options.  One gives you mobile access, another gives you some rad layouts, but all I want is a place to speak my piece about anything and everything.  I had quickly become completely disillusioned with the entire concept.

But boredom can move mountains just as well as love or money can.  With new-found focus (no word yet on whether it was me seeking to find my journalistic voice or just trying to not fall asleep at work) I set out to find some small corner of digital pasture to lay on my back, stare at the universe, and spout my opinions like they're gospel.



But where to start?  I have so many things that I'm right about and no one else has been told they're wrong.  

In a nutshell, this is essentially how my mind was working while trying to think of a topic for my first blog.  But then I had to look up how to spell pasture, instead of Pasteur, so I quickly abandoned my arrogance.

Instead, I decided to just start writing and see where my fingers took me.  So much for that.  While driving my wife and son to a fall festival last night we were violently rear-ended by a drunk driver.  So violently in fact that we travelled another 40 or 50 yards while my foot was on the brake and promptly added the car in front of us to the fun.  At this point, I will be completely honest.  My wife has been making fun of me since the incident because apparently I screamed like a little girl two or three times.  I can vaguely remember it.  I do remember being completely disoriented.  We were in stop and go traffic, going no more than 30 or 35 MPH, I have slammed on my brakes after the impact, and we're not slowing down at all.  That feeling of complete hopelessness to help your family or yourself is one that I certainly don't wish to feel again. 

The worthless excuse for a human being that hit us doesn't even realize what has happened.  We are all getting out of the car.  I'm obviously a little shaken up and throw the car in park and leave it running.  We see smoke coming from the car that is lodged underneath my rear bumper and all I can think about is getting my family away from this ticking time bomb.  Now I love the safety features of my car but I did not realize that the back doors cannot be opened while the car is still on.  So I'm back by my son's door trying several times to get it open before I realize what's going on.  And the whole time, the waste of flesh that hit us STILL HAS HIS FOOT ON THE GAS!  Finally, with my wife and I screaming at him to turn off his car, he stumbles his drunken ass out of the car only to promptly fall down. 

At first I couldn't tell whether he was drunk or just had a limp.  That question was quickly answered as soon as he got within ten feet of me.  He was so drunk that all he kept saying was "Are you all right?  Is the baby alright?"  Thinking back on it, I don't think he even said anything else until he got back in his car (more on that in a moment).  I obviously ignored the hell out of him until I knew myself that everything was okay with my family.  My son was screaming and my wife was bawling but I couldn't tell if they were hurt or just really scared.  Once I was sure they were okay I turned to the guy and shouted "They're fine!  Just give me a minute!" 

As soon as he heard that he started stumbling back toward his car.  Immediately the guy from the car in front of us starts yelling "He's running!"  So we both go back to confront the guy.  We start shouting at him to turn off the engine and get out of the car.  I pull out my phone and try to take a picture of his license plate but the picture comes out a bit too dark and I don't have time for a second take (as it turns out later, I didn't hit Save so I never really had the picture anyway).  He tries in his calmest voice to say "I'm just backing up."  He starts trying to back up but doesn't realize he's not in reverse.  My car lurches forward a few inches as he tries to flee from the madness he's so recklessly and obliviously caused.  As soon as he dislodged his car from my back bumper I start screaming at him and all of the cars and people around us that are watching the entire situation.  I'm yelling for him to stop and for everyone else to notice that he's running. 

Out of nowhere, coming the opposite way on the road is a police car about to turn around to help.  I have absolutely no idea what I've done in my life to deserve such good fortune.  If not for that policeman, this piece of trash might still be out there.  As the drunk "driver" starts driving away, I start jogging along beside the car still pointing and screaming.  The police car flips around and shoots down the grass covered median in pursuit of the useless motorist.  Within a few more minutes we have two ambulances, a fire truck, and two more police cars around us.  And by the time they started talking to us they get reports that the pollutant of the gene pool has already been caught.

Thinking back of the whole situation, I have absolutely no idea how I kept from knocking this guy on his ass.  I would like to think it's because I didn't want any charges brought against me but I don't think there's any way that I was thinking that clearly.  I think I was honestly shocked that this guy was going to try to run.  But being a person that sees that world as 90% sheep/willfully ignorant/genuinely ignorant, I don't understand why it was so shocking to me.  (I'm sure I'll get around to writing some long-winded social examination, with my zero years of formal education or experience, sometime soon.)

Until then, let's just say that this guy falls in to one of the lowest categories I can think of.  Not only did he make a horrible decision to drink and then drive, but then he compounds that by driving like an idiot and causing a situation that could have turned out much, much worse.  And on top of that, he has so little respect for other human beings that he takes off running, endangering countless other lives in the process.  I'm sure I'm speaking from a jaded point of view here, but I don't think that any punishment, short of the death penalty (once again, I'm sure you'll see my views on this soon enough), would be too much for this guy.  Taking away his license will do nothing.  If he's going to drive drunk, flee a crime scene, evade arrest, and God knows what else, then how will not having a piece of plastic in his pocket even cross his mind in the future. 

I think this has helped to reaffirm the notion that it doesn't matter what happens on a day to day basis.  It doesn't matter that your son won't stop whining or you got in an argument with your wife.  They are your family and you will do anything for them.  And by family, I mean people that you love and care about.  That may be your biological family or not.  It doesn't matter. 

I started off yesterday looking at things to selfishly spend my money on or ways to spice up my new blog.  I ended last night trying to think of more ways to spend time with my family, personal wants, money, and blog be damned. 

Love your family, and make sure they know it.  Everything else is just fluff.