I Wonder…

I wonder what tidbits of information my children are taking with them as they grow older. I don’t wonder so much about the stuff that they’ll learn, but more about the stuff that they “did.”

For instance, my youngest daughter, almost every single time we drive by this lake by our house, yells “Water! Daddy, look! Look at the water!” She does this, almost every single time. I wonder if she’ll remember that as she gets older. I wonder how old she will be when she stops saying it. I wonder if I’ll be too busy to even notice when she does…

I wonder if my oldest daughter remembers watching Kelly Clarkson win the very first American Idol competition with me. I wonder if she remembers her and I singing “A Moment Like This” at the top of our lungs as I held her in my arms and danced with her. I wonder if she understands why I still sing it around her sometimes…

I wonder if my second-oldest will remember when she rode her bike without any help for the first time. I wonder if she’ll remember telling me to “Let go,” even though I already had twenty yards back. I wonder if she understands why I still like to ride bikes with her…

I wonder if my second-youngest will remember drawing pictures non-stop almost every single morning with me for a few months span when she was 2-3 years-old. I wonder if she realizes that she got those sweet drawing skills from watching and copying me repeatedly, day after day…

Sometimes I wonder if I type this stuff occasionally, just so I don’t let the memories fade away…

I wonder if my kids will actually read this when they’re older. If they do, I wonder if maybe then they’ll realize just how much I so dearly love them…

Dear Future Son-In-Law…

Dear Future Son-In-Law,

There will be times when you will need me to be on your side. Give me a reason to be there.

My daughter means the world to me. Sometimes, I think parents are glad to pass the torch to someone else. I am not that kind of parent. I know it’s a little ways down the road before you become my son-in-law, but I want you to know right now that I helped mold her into that person you so dearly love.

I just want you to realize that this woman you have decided to spend the rest of your life with, was once being rocked to sleep in my arms. All I ever wanted for her, was for her to be happy. So make her happy.

Arguments will happen. No matter how angry you may get—don’t ever hit her. I mean it.

Be supportive of her. Allow her to be an individual. Give her loyalty. LOVE her. Show her often that you do. When you think you’ve shown her enough—do something else to show you do. Love is not a game. Don’t toy with her heart.

If you guys decide to have children, I expect you to be a man no matter what, and help raise them until they are grown. Be there for them. Go to soccer practice, ballet class, choir, band concerts, field trips, read to them, PLAY with them. Be a GOOD father.

Hardships will occur. Overcome them. Be the type of person that if you need help, people will actually want to help you. Don’t be too proud to ask for help. Sometimes people will not be able to help you, and you may have to struggle. Man up. Struggle.

Don’t allow your hopes and dreams to disappear just because you’ve started a family. That should be all the more reason to make them come true. Don’t give up hope on a dream because it’s going to take too long to happen. The time is going to pass anyways, right?

Learn to cook. You will save a ton of money. Use that money to better your lives. Take a damn vacation.

Teach my grandchildren to be kind, courteous, respectful, and most importantly good people. Don’t let them grow up to be naive, but rather teach them the difference between right and wrong. Let them know that sometimes you’re going to be right, sometimes you’re going to be wrong. Teach them that everyone makes mistakes, and we are ALL capable of learning from them.

Don’t lie, unless you must. Yes, sometimes you must.

Get promoted. Make more money. Don’t spend years dilly-dallying away not bettering yourself. Learn from other’s mistakes when you can.

Get a hobby. Sometimes you’re going to need to take a break. Take one. Don’t lose sight of the big picture.

My daughter is the one who will be there by your side after your children take off for college, jobs, boyfriends, girlfriends. Treat her like that. Make her feel special. Make her feel important. Tell her every day that you love her.

People are sometimes taken from us far too soon. Don’t take her for granted. She is special. She is important. She is my little girl. Don’t you ever forget that.

Lunch Time…

Walking down the long corridor, I feel like a giant. I glance down at the water fountain that comes up a little beneath my waist line. I look at the row of sinks at the same height. There’s a sign posted above the sink that says “Remember, only take TWO towels.”

It looks almost as if I’m in a miniature art museum. There’s artwork scattered up and down the lengths of the hallways. I see a library to my right. Nobody is in it.

I turn right down the next hallway, then make a left before I finally see it. “There it is,” I think to myself as I spy the little people cafeteria. Directly to the right, I peered through the windows into the gymnasium, hoping to see a sweet game of dodgeball, or maybe some kids doing the “flexed arm hang.” But alas, the gym was empty.

I walk into the cafeteria, and immediately get stopped by a woman wanting to know if I wanted to trade her food for my Subway I brought my daughters and I to eat. I laughed, thinking she was joking. A few minutes passed before they showed up, so I took a little time to study the room.

I sit down at a tiny table and sit on the tiny orange stool attached to said table. Almost instantaneously, I hit my kneecap against a metal pole connecting the table to the chair. There is only a couple of empty seats between a classroom of second-graders and myself.

I nod my head in acknowledgement and say a quick “hello” to the children closest to me, and in return I was met with about five death stares.

“OK,” I thought to myself. “Nice bunch.”

I start looking around the room, and all the different kids. They look so different. Some got dressed like they were going on their first date, others didn’t even attempt to brush/comb their hair. Some of the children were small, and some were a lot bigger. As I waited for my kids to get to the cafeteria with their classmates, I started taking mental notes.

“Two kids down from me…” I whisper under my breath. “He has gutted his banana, and looks as if he is about to de-vein it.”

Maybe I should’ve been more helpful, and informed him that a banana is not a shrimp. I would have, but I was too busy staring at the poor lad in front of me, sitting at the adjacent table. He was pounding his forehead into his cheese pizza for no apparent reason at all! It was quite amusing, actually.

Next to that same child, was another boy who was drinking applesauce through his straw, and then spitting it out through the same straw on top of his pizza. I didn’t watch long enough to see if he ate the pizza after that or not.

I look over to a child a couple of spots past the first child I observed (the one with the banana—who, by the way, has now moved on from cutting the banana, to squishing it in between his little nasty fingers). This kid had a fork in his hand, and was stabbing mercilessly his pizza over and over again.

Then, finally, my fourth-grader shows up. I tell her what I just observed. She laughs. I tell her that the WHOLE cafeteria just lost five minutes of recess time, for talking too loud. She laughs again.

“So, is this a fairly normal day,” I ask. “Yeah, pretty much.”

Then, my sixth-grader walks up, sits down next to her, and almost immediately, I hear a loud fart. They both look at each other, start giggling, and denying it.

Thank GOD I’m not in elementary school again. And for those teachers and lunchroom aides, librarians, and anybody else working in that environment with children other than your own—God bless you, as well!

Coming to Terms…

COME TO TERMS: To confront squarely and come to understand fully and objectively.

I’ve been meaning to do this for some time now, this “coming to terms.” There’s a lot of things going on all at once in my life that is forcing me to do this very thing.

By the way, before I get too far into this blog, I would like to point at that I have not one, but two children in my lap. One is being quiet with her blanket on her lap. The other is crawling all around, making a bunch of noise, shaking my arms back and forth, and talking non-stop. So, forgive me if half of this doesn’t make much sense. Then again, because of these kids, is possibly why it will make that much more sense.

I am looking down at my hands as I type and notice my almost 4 year-old’s hand laying squarely on top of mine. She is very curious as to what I’m doing. Her inquisitive mind is asking questions about what I’m doing, and her fingers are lined up perfectly with mine. I would take a picture, but my phone is on the charger on the other side of the room. At any rate, it’s quite possibly one of the cutest things I have ever seen. It is times like these I can truly appreciate being a father…

OK, back to this whole “coming to terms” thing I was talking about. I know I have written about my impending divorce before, but there is just so much more to say. I have so many more feelings I need to portray. I know I don’t owe any of you an explanation, but typing these things out helps my mental health. So, here goes.

“I” am far from perfect. I am full of mistakes, from head to toe. I have made bad decision after bad decision for much of my life. I feel as if I have let so many people down, but at the same time, I know I have proved many wrong.

I am coming to terms with being a single father again. I am coming to terms with allowing myself to care about other people again. I am coming to terms with me not being the person I thought I was. I am coming to terms with my potential. I know for a fact, there are very big things ahead for me and my family.

I am coming to terms that change is inevitable. I am coming to terms that people aren’t always who they portray themselves to be. Sometimes your best friend, is the one who brings you down to size. I am coming to terms that telling the truth is a lot easier than trying to remember a lie. I am coming to terms with the fact that another man has been helping raise a couple of my kids. In fact, he has been with my ex-wife for seven years. I am coming to terms with the fact that although I am still their dad, he is their step-dad and my kids love him too.

I am coming to terms that my children are getting older. Likewise, so am I. I am coming to terms that life has not gone how I initially planned, by I am hopeful that my life will still go on as I am trying to plan it now. I am coming to terms that important things in one person’s life isn’t always important in another person’s life.

I am coming to terms, that my youngest kid will be 3 in two months, and my oldest will be a teenager in 7 months. I was forced to come to terms with my kids getting older this week, because my oldest got braces. I am coming to terms with me not being the nicest guy in the world. I am sorry, to those who have learned this the hard way. I am coming to terms that I have been hurt by people who love(d) me. I am coming to terms that I allowed that to happen. Although I think I know what’s best for me and my family, I have come to terms that me knowing what’s best, is not always what’s best.

I have come to terms with still wanting a family. I still want to wake up every morning next to someone who loves me, supports me, supports us, and does their best for “us.” I want that person, in turn, to force me to want to love them, support them, and forces me to want to do my best for “us.” I have come to terms that I have been a push-over for way too long.

I have come to terms that I really can control my own life. I have come to terms that some things aren’t worth waiting for, and some really are. I have come to terms that people really can change, but sometimes that change brings out the worst in them.

I have come to terms I have not been the best husband. I have come to terms with the fact that I am not the best friend. I am not the best dad I could be. I’m coming to terms with things by typing them out right now for one reason and one reason only. Coming to terms with things sometimes makes you want to do better. Doing better is a good thing. Trust me, I’ve come to terms with that already.

Spelling Bee Champ…

It was the year 1990. Or maybe it was the year 1991. I was sitting in my sixth grade class, feeling like I was going to puke. In just a few minutes, I would be sitting in a folding chair, next to a handful of other students. We would be on stage, staring out into a sea of fellow students, teachers, faculty members, and parents. We were about to start the Spelling Bee.

As we went backstage, behind the black curtain, my heart was beating fast. I felt alone. My sister had moved on to bigger and better things (seventh grade), and she couldn’t be there to support me. My mom had to work. My dad had to work. I wondered if anybody would be there that actually came to cheer me on. As the curtains slid to the side, I looked out into the vast audience…and felt alone.

Looking back, it’s definitely a blurred recollection. I remember words being said, students fumbling to repeat them, and students asking the origins of said words. Sometimes, they asked to use them in a sentence. I don’t recall exactly, but I think I just stood there, gazing up at the microphone, repeating the word, visualizing the word, and spelling it right.

One by one they went down. Soon, it was just me and one other person. I wish I could remember the word that I won on, but in reality, that doesn’t matter. I won. It felt good. It was an amazing feeling that I wish I would have shared with my mom, my dad, my sister, my grandparents. Instead, after I received my trophy, I looked back out into the crowd and saw a face I recognized. It was Sister Warren. My pastor’s wife came to support me. The look of pride in her eyes wasn’t quite the same as what my family’s would’ve been—but it still felt good.

A couple weeks later the District Spelling Bee was held at my school. Once again, nerves built up, but classmates went down one by one. Soon, I was the last man standing. Just like the time before, however, I felt alone. My mom had to work. My dad had to work. My sister hadn’t been kicked out of seventh grade yet.

A month or so later, I was a participant in the Jackson County Spelling Bee. The winner of this particular contest went on to participate in the Missouri State Spelling Bee, and that winner went on to the National Spelling Bee in Washington D.C. Needless to say, my confidence was high.

This time, my mom went. My dad went. My sister went. My grandma and grandpa went. Like I said, my confidence was high. This was my chance to prove to them that I was as awesome as I pretended to be. This was my chance to prove to my classmates, that I was just as awesome as I pretended to be. In fact, maybe, just maybe, if I won the Jackson County Spelling Bee, I could land me a new girlfriend. After all, who wouldn’t want the shortest kid in sixth grade with buck teeth, freckles, and Harry Potter glasses?

The announcer pronounced the words, the students stood in front of that lone microphone, and stared out into the audience. Thinking to myself “I know that. I know that one. That one. That one.”

Finally, my turn. I walk up to the microphone, spy the row my family was on, swallow down the spit ball I had been nervously swishing back in forth in my mouth. The word came out the announcer’s mouth, hit my eardrum, and…it didn’t ring a bell. Seriously. I had never heard it before. Never. Once again, I felt alone. Mortified. I stammered out a “What was the word again?” It was repeated, and I was still stumped.

I spelled the word wrong. My very first round of only the most important day of my life at that point. I failed. As I was led off stage, I went straight to my grandpa, and threw my head in his lap and sobbed. It was the worst I had ever felt. My grandma and grandpa drove an hour and a half to watch me win. Not to fail.

Somewhere along the way, I have misplaced my trophy. The plaque kept falling down off of the wood it was on, and eventually thrown away. I hadn’t really thought about that old spelling bee business until the past couple of years.

*January, 2012*

My oldest daughter is in fifth grade. She is a participant in her school spelling bee. I make SURE I am there. Her mom is there. My wife was there. Win or lose, I make sure she knows we care. Of course I want her to win. I want her to feel that same happiness I felt. The contest is now different. Students use dry-erase boards to spell out words. One by one, they still go down. My daughter makes it through the first few rounds before finally, “reckless” was spelled “wreckless” on her board. My face cringed, and so did hers as she saw the correct spelling cross across her mind. Nonetheless, I am proud. An old friend of mine’s son ended up winning. I am proud of him, too.

Fast forward to December 2012. My oldest daughters have switched schools, and my oldest is in the new school’s Spelling Bee. The week before, my old friend’s son won his school spelling bee again. My daughter, fully aware of this, and somewhat in competition with herself and him, has her confidence on high. In fact, she made a t-shirt with puffy paint that said “Spelling Champ.” Every one else on stage was wearing regular clothes, and my daughter has to go and make a t-shirt.

Once again, I was there. Her mom and little sister watched as students struggled with the microphone, and stumbled over words. A couple of the words, even I wasn’t sure about. Her confidence remained on high, she kept a smile on her face, didn’t act nervous, and she killed it. Twenty something years after her daddy did it, she pulled off becoming her school’s Spelling Bee Champ! I was so incredibly proud of her, and tears were definitely in my eyes as we made eye contact. Afterwards, we took pictures, her mom and I talked about what a good job we’re doing, and my daughter’s shirt made sense.

This coming Saturday is the Jackson County Spelling Bee. She will be competing against lots of talented kids. I don’t have a clue what some of the words she’s been practicing even means. All I know, is that I will be there, her mom will be there for her, and no matter what—we will be proud of her. I have a feeling she will accomplish many things in life that we will be proud of. The fact that she won her school’s spelling bee was awesome enough. Just like her daddy, she’s always going to be a Spelling Bee Champ…

I’m Trying, I Promise…

“I intend to live forever, or die trying.” -Groucho Marx

There are certain things in this lifetime, that I’ve yet to accomplish. There are certain things in this lifetime, that I may never accomplish. But there aren’t too many things in this lifetime, that I’m not willing to try to accomplish.

I thought I’d make a little list of things I’m either trying, have tried, or would like to try someday. Some of these may not make any sense to you, but that’s because they pertain to me, my situation, my life, and possibly, my eventual happy place.

I am trying to get divorced. That is a lot easier said than done, but once my divorce is done, I feel like life can finally move on. Right now, it feels like I’m a hamster running on it’s wheel, about to pass out from exhaustion. I feel like every foot I put forward, every stroke of the keyboard on another form, every discussion I have with my children’s mother, is a step in the right direction.

I am trying to be a better friend. I feel like when you get married, have children, get older, your friends sometimes drift away. I hate that. I realize my friends have also gotten married, had children, and gotten older, but I think sometimes we lose friends out of convenience.

I am trying to live a healthier lifestyle. This one is especially difficult for me, because I like the convenience of having food ready-to-eat. I eat out a lot. By “a lot,” I mean way too much. I don’t really look like I’m out of shape, but boy do I feel like it! I want to lose about zero pounds, but reshape the way my body looks. I actually think I’m at a pretty healthy weight, but I want my body transformed. Who doesn’t want to look and feel healthier?

I am trying to be more understanding. Every one of us is different. Every one of us had different parents, different friends, different teachers, different influences on us as we grew up. We all have different jobs, went separate ways after high school, make different amounts of money. Some of us spend money wisely, some of us don’t. Some people use people, and some don’t. Some people dress differently, talk differently, and act differently. Some people raise their children differently. Every one of us have different outlooks on life.

I am trying to be a good dad. I am trying to do so, without compromising myself. It is hard being a single parent who is divorced. It is hard to not be taken advantage of by your kids, and by your kid’s mothers. Sometimes, I put myself in a situation I don’t want to be in, because I’m too nice. Sometimes, if I try not to be too nice, I feel like a jerk. I know I’m not one. In fact, I am probably one of the nicest guys you will ever meet. I’m not just saying that. I really feel like I have nothing but good intentions for my life, and for everybody I have associations with. I am very straight-forward, and I don’t like it when people aren’t the same with me.

I am trying to figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life. I feel as if living my life to please others, isn’t working out for me that well. I feel like I am helping, or have helped enough people get ahead, and for once, I’d like to reach my potential as well. One thing I’ve heard my whole life, is how much potential I have. I am eager to find out what they’ve been talking about.

I am trying to retain my sanity. In case you hadn’t noticed, I have four daughters. My oldest will be thirteen this year (an actual TEENager)! This year I am bracing myself for pimples, possible period(s), braces, puberty, hormones, estrogen, boys, phones, more boys, etc. I am about to be divorced for a SECOND time. I only have one of me, and I’m feeling spread a little thin right now.

I’m trying to figure out what to do with my blog. I like it. I like writing it. I like that it contains all of these memories. That’s what these are for me. My blogs are kind of like pictures of my life at different phases of my growing up. I kind of want to expand it, and possibly host in on a different site. I’m not sure, but I’m trying to figure that out.

I’m trying to just figure my life out, in general. This isn’t easy, this much I know. Trying to be the best person I can be isn’t on my mind all of the time, but at certain instances, it’s all I can think about. My kids need me to be strong. They need me to be vulnerable at certain times, but mostly they need me to be their hero. That’s not a big title to live up to, is it? Believe me, I’m trying. I promise.

Albert Einstein…

Albert Einstein is universally recognized as one of the most influential scientists of all time. In addition to winning the Nobel Prize, he is responsible and probably most widely remembered for his Special and General Theories of Relativity. The man was an amazing character, to which literally hundreds of famous quotes are accredited to.

He was an easy choice to replace it. “It” is a movie poster my wife and I had made for our wedding. It needed replaced. This past week, I found a canvas of Albert Einstein that has done just that.

My wife and I, have decided to part ways as husband and wife. It was not an easy decision, by any means. However, without going into further details (because it really is none of your business), we are filing for a divorce.

We have only been separated for a few short months, and just recently announced it to our YouTube followers. Some of our followers jumped ship, and bailed on our family, because we weren’t “making it work.” My wife and I are still amicable. We have four very good reasons to continue to be friendly.

One thing I did when I realized my marriage was broken, was started researching. I didn’t necessarily research the ins and outs of a divorce, but more so the effects and consequences it will have on our children. I have a pretty good idea, considering I’ve been divorced from my first wife for almost nine years. I have seen first-hand some positive, and some negative effects.

It’s the little things I was concerned with. Obviously, a divorce between two parents is a tragic event for kids. It’s the little coping mechanisms she and I can do for ourselves, that I was more concerned with.

One of the first things I did when she moved out was totally clean out my room of kid items, kid toys, etc. I changed the comforter set on my bed. I covered her nail polish holder with a piece of artwork of Bo Jackson I did in ninth grade. I hung up another piece of artwork I did in high school on a different wall. I bought a dry erase board and hung it next to my bed. I bought a new clock. I brought the Wii in from the living room to my bedroom. I organized all my kid’s hair stuff—I have four daughters—trust me, there’s a lot.

One thing I was/am having trouble with is pictures. I read in more than one book, that one of the worst things you can do for younger children while going through a divorce is take away normal every day items (such as the pictures of you and your spouse), that is always hanging on the wall. Supposedly, it really does have an adverse effect on kids, and it should be done gradually. I have slowly started taking down pictures of her and I, and will be moving them to their rooms instead.

So, thank you Albert Einstein, not only for your many contributions to our society, but also for helping me (and my children) move on.