(Father) The Fear of Fire

My second born son is a fire that rages through our house and burns up any energy my wife and I might have.  The most simple request can turn into World War III.  Tonight it was washing his hands after going to the bathroom.

"Did you wash your hands?"

"No"

"Why don't you go do that and then you can eat your apple."

"AAWWWWW!!!!!" as he falls onto the floor like I just stabbed him the gut with a kitchen knife.

"When you wash your hands you can have your apple."

"I'm not going to DO IT!" as he folds his arms and gives me the low brow and fuzzy eyeball. 

"That's fine"  He runs into the bathroom and tries to shove Beast off the toilet as Beast is trying to go poop.

Beast yells.  "Daaadddd!!!"

"Fire!  What are you doing?" I grab him and put him in his room.  "Stay there and I will come get you in 5 minutes."  He comes out.  "OK.  I'll give you a choice. You can apologize to your brother, wash your hands, stay in your room, or go to the time-out chair."  He lays on the ground.  "I'll give you 5 seconds to decide and if you don't I will decide for you.  Five........Four..............Threeeeee...............................TWWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOO.....................
..................................................OOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEE.  OK that's it.  You are going to the Time-out chair."

"AAAAAWWWWW"  Falls down. I pick him up and take him to the chair.  He gets up and I put him back.  This can sometimes go on for a couple of minutes.  Daisy comes in and sees what is happening. 

She states, "If you can't stay you won't get an apple"

"I already threatened him with that" I say.

"Oh." Fire gets up again.

"OK. No apple" She states.

"AAAAAWWWWW"  Falls down.

"I'm taking you to your room." Daisy replies.

"Daisy wait."  I say.

Daisy firmly orders, "You stay there until I come get you."  Fire stays for 10 seconds.  Door opens.

A little voice asks, "Can I wash my hands?"

"Yes you can wash your hands."  Daisy says.  He runs into the next room.  Faucet on.  Faucet off.

"Now can I have my apple?"

"No" I say.

"AAAAWWWW" Falls on the floor.

"We are going to have pizza for dinner."

"I want pizza!!"  I hear Beast from the bathroom.

"Finish pooping"  I yell back.

Fire pops up from the ground and runs to the dinner table where a slice is waiting.  "I want water mom."

"I'll get it for you"  I say.

"I'M TALKING TO MOM!!!"

"Well now you are talking to me!"  I say with raised voice.

"I'M TALKING TO MOM!!!!!!!"

Daisy sighs, "I'll get it for him."

"NO!  We can't give in."  I snap.

"Fine." She pours the water and hands it to me.

"You just poured it for him." I say with contempt.

"But you are going to be the one who gives it to him." she says exasperated.  We stare at each other.  "Do you want me to throw it out?" as she stands with the cup over the sink.

"Fine."  I turn to Fire.  "Can you ask daddy in a nice voice?"

"Please dad?"  I take the water from Daisy and hand it to him.  I turned to Daisy.

"I'm glad supernanny wasn't here to see that because we just royally f'd up that discipline process."

"Fire just stuck pepperoni up his nose." She whispers. 

"Let's pretend we didn't see it." I say.

"Why?"

"I'm really tired.  I don't think I have any more energy."  I hang my head in shame.

"I don't either."  with chin quivering.  Beast walks in.

"Did you wash your hands?"  I ask.

"Ooops.  I forgot"  He runs to the kitchen sink.

"Can you use the bathroom sink instead?"  Daisy asks.

"OK." as he turns the other direction.

"Did you see that?"  I ask Daisy.

"What?" She replies.

"You could see the golden ring sparkle above his head as he turned the corner."

"Yes.  I have seen it before.  Fire just spit out some cheese on the table."  as she frowns in disgust.

"The sunset is really pretty tonight." I reply.  Ignoring the comment.

"Yes.  Yes Goose.  It sure is pretty."

"I love you Daisy." 

"I love you too.  Fire just threw crust at your head."

"I know."

(Father) Bull Sh*t

If there was ever a time when I was trying to get the better of my dad he would speak to me by telling other people in the room what he was observing.  And if there wasn't anybody in the room he would look at me and speak to the invisible man beside us.  He would say, "The young calf is trying to overtake the old Bull."  Translation: "I find your speech and behavior to be very interesting.  In fact, I see it as a challenge.  You think you are big and tough and that I am feeble and weak.  You think this is a good time to exert your independence while I do not.  You will soon learn your timing in this matter was horribly misjudged."  Then he would chuckle.  Translation:  "This is very cute."  

You can only try to overthrow the old Bull so many times before discouragement sets in.  It's like the tethered young elephant who can't get away.  Even when the elephant becomes an adult he can't escape from the same rope that is now, compared to the elephant, very small.  Maybe you think this is sad but fear not my friends.  My dad was right.  Timing is everything.  And my plan is coming together perfectly.

My plan is so wonderfully perfect that I will even go as far as to tell you what it is.  And why would that be so risky?  Because he reads this blog.  You heard me correctly.  He will soon be reading these very same words as you are doing right now. 

You see, my father is almost 63 years old.  In 30 years he will be 93 years old.  Do you see where I am going with this.  That's right.  Even though I will be almost 66 years old I will still be much stronger than him.  That is when I will strike!!!  Pillow over face for 5 minutes and I'm done!  I'm completely kidding.  Or am I?  No, of course I'm kidding.

Why am I telling you this the day before father's day?  Because operation "Bull out to pasture" will be fully operational on father's day 2041.  Let me set the scene.  He is sitting in his armchair watching television.  I come in with a bowl of chips.  He will ask for one.  I will say, with fear and trepidation, "no".  He will stare me down which will make my legs go numb.  With my numb legs I will get up and stumble over to the remote control.  He will lunge and grab it before I can.  I will try to take it and be surprised his arthritic hands are so strong.  He will try to bite me with his false teeth but it will be no match for the gardening gloves I will be wearing in expectation this may occur.  I will change the channel to a romantic comedy I have already set up in the DVD player.  Better yet, a science fiction movie.  He doesn't like science fiction.  Oh, and it will probably not be a DVD player but some sort of 3-D interactive machine.

Again, I imagine I will be shocked at his grit and determination when he proceeds to grab my hair in order to pull it with force.  But I will have again prevailed since I will have disguised my hair loss with a toupee for all of these years.  With him now on the floor I will, yes indeed I will, sit in his armchair.  I will then set the chips far enough out of his reach he will be able to smell them but not touch them.  And if he digs his fingernails into the carpet in order to gain ground?  I will pour an already prepared glass of ice water onto them.  With all his energy spent, and in an effort to avoid watching the movie, he will fall asleep.  It may be around 4 pm so it could be past his bedtime anyway.  I will then put the remote in his right hand (without batteries and the movie on a loop), leave my wig in his left, dip his teeth in lemon juice, and push the soggy chip bowl within reach (in case he is there for a while and gets desperate). 

I imagine I will take the doorknob in my hand and turn it to the right, think for a moment, and turn to look at my father.  I will feel bad.  After all, the only thing he had was his dignity and now it is gone.  But then I will regroup, stick out my chest, and pronounce, "The young calf has won!"  And even though the next day he won't remember what happened.  I will.  

(Husband) BFF

Daisy and I went to visit my closest friend this past weekend.  We met in the 2nd grade and, at least from what I can remember, his first words to me were, "Why are your fingernails so long?"  I love Dot for many reasons.  One of which is he introduced me to Daisy.  It was Valentines day of 1997 and I was one of the eligible bachelors behind the curtain in a mock dating game.  I won and the rest is history.

What qualifies someone as a best friend anyway?  Is it your oldest friend?  The one that was the best man or maid of honor?  The one you talk most to now?  It would be appropriate to say my best friend is my wife.  She is the person I would choose to be with me if I were to be banished to a desert island.  But perhaps you can nominate one for best friend same sex and best friend opposite sex.  Do you have to talk to them a lot?  You just haven't found someone you like better so they are available until the next best thing comes along?  Or can you only have a best friend if you are a middle school girl who shares one half of a broken heart that says, "Be....Fri"?

I think one of the qualifications is that the affection has to be mutual.  You can't say someone is your best friend if they don't feel the same about you.  I also think the term, "One of my best friends" can't be used.  There can only be one best right?  Even if it changes week to week.  I'm also a big believer in ritual.  The pact must be made.  That is why, in the 6th grade, I asked Dot to be my blood brother.  The conversation went something like this. 

"Dot, I saw the most awesome movie last night!"

"ok"

"No listen, it was awesome because there was this scene that had these two guys.  And these two guys thought the other one was really awesome."

"ok"

"So they were so into having each others back that they decided they needed to become brothers."

"How did they do that?"

"They cut their own palms, clasped their hands together, and tied a cloth around their hands to seal the deal."

"That's gross"

"Dot!  It's the coolest thing ever!  Y'know how I've always thought it would be sweet if our parents divorced and one of our parents liked the other one and they got married and we both decided to live with the parents that were married and share the same room?"

"ok"

"Well this is the next best thing! Blood brothers are so much cooler than step or half brothers because they don't decide that stuff.  But we do."

"I think it's gross"

"Dot!  Are you listening to me?!?  Cutting ourselves shows that we really really care.  I wouldn't even cut myself for my dad dude.  Y'know?  Like, I think we should even let the other person cut our palm.  Like, y'know, like we trust each other and stuff."

"(sigh)"

"Are you gonna eat those chips?"

"Dude, lets just walk around the track."

"Recess is almost over.  Are we gonna do this or not?"

"Now?"

"I found this sharp rock in the bushes.  Don't look at me like that!  I'm serious man.  Dude, your just scared.  ok, y'know how I've liked Karrie ever since first grade?"

"Yeah."

"Well, if you do this I'll let you like her.  I won't even be mad.  You guys can kiss and I won't even care." 

"Karrie has a big nose.  What if you have some sort of disease?"

"That's even better!  Because then you share the same disease.  Your even more, like, bonded.  Your so stupid dude.  Ok fine.  Let's just spit in our hands and shake."

Dot continued to deny my requests until I finally came up with the idea of splitting a 2 dollar bill and for each of us carry it in our wallets.  I saw it on an episode in the mini series "North and South" where each friend was fighting for the other army.  Even though I didn't get the scar I wanted, after 25 yrs we still have half the bill in our back pocket.  Weird. 

(Father) Darth Dad

I watched all six Star Wars movies with my boys over the course of a month.   During the course of our movie watching experience, Beast asked me several questions.  The primary one being "why?".  And why was asked about........ohhhh.........maybe 10,000 times. 
Being asked why about several details of a story challenged me to think deeper about the relationships, characters depth, and storyline more than I would otherwise.  I couldn't take anything for granted by making shortcuts in my mind and needed to make the connections more evident to my consciousness.  A simple matter of teaching a subject takes more time but effectively promotes the learning process for oneself.  It also made me aware of how much I didn't know.

So when Beast would ask, "Why are Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker fighting?"

I would answer, "Because Luke needs to kill Vader to save his friends from dying."

"Why does he?"

"Because Darth Vader is bad."

"Why is he?"

"Because the emperor lied to him and said it was a good idea."

"Why did he?"

"Because he knew that.....well.....Darth Vader used to be Anakin Skywalker.  Anakin Skywalker was good but was also very strong so the emperor wanted him on the bad team instead."

"But Luke is called Skywalker."

"Well, they both have the same last name."

"Why do they?"

"Because Darth Vader is Luke's dad."

"Why is he?"

"Because Anakin loved Luke's mom and when two adults love each other very much they........uh.......how old are you?"

"I'm five."

"Ok.  So Anakin and Padme had Luke and Leah just like your mom and I had you and Fire."

"Why did Leah......"

"Let's put that one on the shelf for a minute and watch the show."

"Why is Luke hitting his dad with the Lightsaber?"

"He is mad at him."

"Why did he stop?"

"Because he doesn't want to kill him."

"Why doesn't he?"

"Well......he thinks he can become good again."

"Why does he?"

"Because he loves his dad."  A tear starts to form.

"Why is the emperor hurting Luke?"

"Because he won't become bad."

"Why is Luke asking his dad to help him?"

"Because.........because........" chin quivering  "He wants his daddy to help him.  Look Beast!!  Look at what his daddy is doing!! He is killing the emperor!  He is killing the emperor because he loves Luke and wants to be good again!  Oh God.  No.  No no no no.  Dad.  Dad get up.  Get up dammit.  You guys have so much to talk about.  You can't die right now.  Just hold on for a few more minutes."

"Why is Luke taking his Dad's mask off?"

Crying now.  "Because he wants to see his son through different eyes.  Through loving eyes.  It's his dying wish."  I turn to Beast.  "I love you Beast."

 "I love you too."

"Don't ever put me in a home"."

"But we are already home."

"Don't ever pull the plug on me."

"Plug?"

"All I'm saying is that anything I may say or do, from here on out, is not worth hitting me with a lightsaber over and over and over again."

(Silence)

"Do Ewoks poop?"

"Um.........I guess so."

"Why do they?"

"Well, they eat berries and stuff."

"Why do they?"

"I'm going to call grandpa."

(Father) Painful Lesson

Doesn't this look nice?  So relaxing and peaceful.  This position would be anything but relaxing at my house.  There is absolutely no good reason on God's green earth to be on my back inside my home with two boys.  It doesn't matter where they are in the house, how interested they are in the toys they are playing with, or if they even know I'm in the house to begin with.  They will run, they will jump, and they will land on my scrotum.  It has happened too many times for me to think it's a fluke.

It used to be, "Hey dad!"

"What?"

"Here I come!"

I would act scared, they would laugh, run, and jump to my "prepared for impact" body.  That wore off pretty quick.  So the stealth attacks started to happen to my "not so prepared for impact" body.  That proved to be a lot funnier. 

Even if it isn't my scrotum none of the landing spots are a great alternative.  An untightened stomach takes a while to recover from.  Especially after I have just eaten.  The problem is I would most likely be on my back for a more comfortable position after eating too much. 

You may think, "Children cannot jump that high so how bad can it be?"  I'm here to tell you.  A 40 pound cement bag dropped from 2 inches still hurts.  Then you add bony appendages from that cement bag.  A couple of elbows and a head butt make the impact more of a buckshot than a bullet. 

To see me in pain is to add joy to my children's life.  Either they think I'm joking or it doesn't really matter.  And I'm either too shocked or hurt to respond with any kind of punishment.  I just groan and do my best to regroup.  Meanwhile, they are cackling a half an inch away from my face with spittle spewing into my eyes and mouth.  A simple act of adding insult to injury.  I have to then take my hands away from my scrotum and put them to my face to act as a spit shield.

Let's assume the impact wasn't that bad.  I get a knee to the chest.  But at some point Fire must get up.  And if he is on my body then I am his platform.  And when Fire gets up he must press down on a certain place in order to gain leverage to pull himself into a standing position.  That may also be my scrotum since I have put my hands to my face to act as the spit shield and left myself unprotected.  I have learned that the after landing is simply the eye of the hurricane.  As soon as Fire has regained his feet he has landed on me again.  If he has really hurt me then this might happen 3 more times before I get to my knees.  Beast has almost certainly heard the commotion by now and has already given me his own 5 drop kicks to go along with Fire's beatings.  It's not that unlike a mobster movie where Vinny hasn't paid off his debt to "Big Jim" Colosimo and the boys have come to break my knees for payment.  I'm covering myself up just hoping it will end soon.

But let's say I gain a wild hair and start to playfully fight back.  30 seconds later and one of them is screaming in pain.  I'm the one with bleeding scratch marks on my neck but Daisy runs to the child that hurt his knee while kicking my face.  Then I sulk away feeling guilty for hurting one of my dear precious little boys.  That is, until I make the mistake of lying on my back again.  In fact, I wonder how fast Fire's little owie would heal if I immediately laid on my back.  How fast could his little finger find my eyeball?  I doubt I could fully lie down flat before a chunk of my eyebrow went missing into Beast's mouth.

I have tried laying on mys stomach but it really doesn't seem to matter.  Pain finds me.  Or more specifically, Fire finds me from across the room.  You would think that by laying down with my sons to play leggos would provide sanctuary for my body.  I have found this unwritten rule only applies to the one you are playing with.  2 days ago I was laying on my side with Fire to my right and Beast to my left.  It was like some sort of tactical hunt you might see on Animal Planet.  Fire distracted me with putting together a pirate ship while Beast speared his head into my stomach.

"Chuckle chuckle.....snort.....chuckle.  Hee Hee Hee..........let's do that again!!!"  I cover my stomach before then next spear hits me.  "NOOOOO"  he whines.  Almost like I'm trying to keep him from going down the slide one last time before we have to leave the park.  So what do I do?  After a couple of struggling attempts to try to remove my arm I relent and let him spear me a couple more times.  What's a dad if he is not a punching bag.  I have to admit I cheated by tightening my stomach muscles.  Yeah I know.  It's not saying a whole lot is it?

(Father) Heel Thyself

I don't have a dog but I do have children.  Can the two be interchangeable?  I took my dog/child to the park and we played with a ball.  My dog/child was tired and hungry so we went home.  My dog/child liked his meat warmed up.  My dog/child gave me kisses and went to sleep on his bed.  The point is that some people treat their dogs like they are children and some people treat their children like they are dogs.  Treating dogs like they are children seems acceptable but the children like dogs thing isn't something most people encourage.  Of course the way some people treat their dogs in America is better than people in other parts of the world can afford to treat their children is something to consider.  In that case, treating your child like you would treat your dog could be a good thing.  I digress.

So Daisy, I, and the dogs went to the coast this past weekend.  Did I say dogs?  I meant children.  Well, they might as well have been dogs by the way I was treating them.  Let me explain.  We can't put leashes on our children although some people get away with it by putting a backpack on the kid with a rope attached.  Our kids do not want to be in a stroller and do not want to be carried from shop to shop on the boardwalk so we do it the old fashioned way.  That is if the old fashioned way is snapping my fingers, slapping the side of my hip, and shouting, "Hey guys.  Guys! I want you right over here.  Yes.  Right here next to me.  I don't want you runnin' around and getting other people's way.  Got it?"  Let's go on an imaginary journey shall we?

You can imagine what it would have been like if, after a couple of minutes, the boys would forget what they were supposed to do and I wouldn't be paying attention.  "Fire!  Hey!  Don't be smelling that other boy's butt!  Yes ma'am.  Yes, I understand your boy and Fire are just being friendly but I've asked him to stay with me.  Thank you for your understanding.  Yes, I'm sure our children would be great pals if they lived near each other.  Oh look they are at it again.  Ok guys, let's break it up."

Beast might run up to a little girl and lick her ice cream cone sending the scoop of Chunky Monkey to the ground.  The parents would be horrified and I would have to explain how I'm training him to stay with me and that I would be more than happy to pay for the damages.  I hear an old woman telling her equally old female friend that back in her day her 10 children stayed right by her side and that, "child training isn't what it used to be."  But it's not just limited to the kids

Next thing you know Daisy is off chatting some guy up about his cute Hawaiian shirt and I have shout across the gift shop store, "Daisy!  Where are you supposed to be right now?"  Then I point to my right foot and look at her like, "Well?"  A little too far when I included my wife huh?  Well, it wasn't too far off when Daisy had to tell the boys and I to stop barking at the sea lions and come back to wear she was sitting at a park bench.  With our heads hung low we meandered back to where she was.  After flicking each of our noses she decided it was time to take us home. 

In imaginary land we whined until she finally relented and took us to the sandy beach where we ran around, fetched sticks, and ran away from waves washing up on shore.  It was all fun until Fire pooped and we didn't have a plastic bag to pick up the doo.  We covered it up with sand and hoped no one would see us do it or step in it.  Going home it was nice to see the boys enjoying the wind by hanging their heads out the window and wagging the tongues.  It's too bad we have to kennel them for our upcoming trip to Europe.  Either that or leave them with the grandparents.  Of course, Beast snarls at grandpa and grandma is allergic to Fire.  I guess we will cross that bridge when we get there.

(Father) Open Door Policy

When you see a child doing this what do you do?  Do you:

(A)  Look around for the parents.
(B)  Give the child candy.
(C)  Open the door and set them free on what ever adventure they choose.

I know what you would do.  You would look for the parents.  Why?  Because you are a responsible person.  Most people?  They chose C.

Picture the scene with me.  I get out of the car, get the bags, get the children out of the car, order them to stay near the car, take their hands, and walk across the street/parking lot.  So far so good.  Then the children release my hands and begin running like little crazy monkeys on a mission from Satan.  So here I am yelling to, "Get back here!" and "You will not get treat today.  OR EVER!!"  After stumbling over the bag that was once on my shoulder and now hanging from my wrist I might have yelled a little something like, "Hell will freeze ov...........Fire and Beast.......I'm serious, Hell will freeze over before you get another treat!!!"  Just to let you know, those are called empty threats.  Yes, parents like myself, yell threats they really don't mean in order to make the child think the parent has power.  Ironically, the harder and more ridiculous the threat, the less power the parent feels they have.  That was me. 

You might think, "OK Goose, let me get this straight.  You are a grown man and they are little people.  You are telling me you could not catch them?"  To that I say no.  One, they got a jump on me.  Two, kids are a lot faster than we give them credit  for.  They have piston legs that fire on all cylinders and with reckless abandon.  Three, when you do catch up with them you have to bend down half your height while continuing to run.  Fourth, they are small and able to run places I am not.  Like through crowd of people like a hot knife through butter.  Five, This is not tackle football.  You must capture them with few sustainable injuries.  Grab them by the back of the shirt and suddenly their head throws itself forward and then snaps back and hitting your knee in the process.  Sixth, once caught it becomes a matter of containing them.  You don't have to have been part of a greased pig contest to know what I'm talking about.  Finally, and most important, there are two of them.  And they have different ideas as to where they are going.  They act on impulse but their tactical moves are as if they have had it planned for weeks.

So I am gaining ground and have a sliver of hope.  Not only because I am gaining ground but because the door we are approaching is closed, and now they are trapped.  But wait, what is this?  Oh yes, a kindly gentleman who opens the door so they can go through it.  Then he follows, and then the door closes before I can get in.  I look through the glass and there they are.  Fire down one hallway and Beast down the other.  Does this make sense!?!  Well I suppose if it were an isolated incident.  But we are talking about hundreds of times.

Take the gym's child care.  We are talking about parents who know better than to hold the door open for a child leaving the room.  I'm commenting on Beast's coloring project and Fire is heading for the water aerobics where the 70 year old women are beckoning him toward the pools with smiles and coos.  For goodness sake, the lifeguard probably held the door open for him. 

If it sounds like I'm complaining then forgive me.  It is not out of annoyance as it is out of pure fear that my children could get seriously hurt.  And Daisy would not buy the, "But the kindly old gentleman is at fault.  Let's sue him!"  It would be my fault.  And we would get divorced and I would get depressed and eventually end up eating out of a trash can.  Help a hopelessly disorganized father and choose option A.  Oh wait, I'm already preaching to the choir.  Thanks.