Illness

My daughter is currently battling a terribly stuffy nose, drainage, and coughing.  Her little pug nose is red from all the wiping.  My son has a stye on his left eye which has been there for more than 2 weeks, and now he has a painful and swollen lymph node under his left ear.  It is, no doubt, caused by the stye.

Anyway, this brief blog entry is just a way to vent about the feelings I have when my kids are sick.  There are many problems with the illness of my children.

First of all, it breaks my heart when they don't sleep well.  Tack on being tired to feeling miserable and you've got a lousy situation.  I want so bad to fix their pains and discomforts, but I cannot.  Sure, I take them to the doctor and get some medicine when necessary.  But the medicine doesn't fix everything, and it certainly doesn't fix it right away.  I just want to hold my sickly kids and rub their ills away!

Of course, here I am blabbing on and on about the common cold and a silly, little stye.  I should be thankful that's all that's wrong with them.  The certainly aren't taking trips to the hospital or battling Leukemia.  God bless those families who are in those fights.

But, while I'm sounding like a spoiled little boy, let me cap it off with one other pain in my "arse."  I hate having to miss work when my kids are sick!  I'm a teacher, and when I miss work I just get so behind... grading backs up, my initial plans get out of whack... blah, blah, blah!

I think I'll go hug my little ones.  They're not in the hospital, and they will be fine.  I just felt like whining.

The Growing Season

My son turns 12 years old tomorrow, Feb. 4.  When he was just a baby, even before he was toddling around, I would day dream about when he was older.  What would he be like?  Who would he be?  What kind of person would he be?  What would my relationship with him look like?  What would it be like to hear him call me "Daddy?"  How tall would he be?  How would he be doing in school?  What would it be like to play with him?  What would it be like to talk to him, and what would our conversations be like?  These questions, and a plethora of others, would course through my mind constantly.

For some reason, I always picked age 12 as the age when I would imagine the answers to these questions arriving.  Most often, I would imagine my 12 year old son walking up to me and talking.  I think I picked 12 because it seemed like a lifetime into the future, and it would be before his teen years where all bets are off regarding his personality and our relationship.  A lifetime away.

And here we are.  My son is 12 years old, and I have all of the answers to those questions.  At least for now!  It is unimaginable how 12 years have passed!  How could it be?  I remember the day he was born so vividly:  the weather, the hospital, the room in which he was born, the visitors to see the new baby... everything!  I can't remember what I did yesterday, but my memory of that day 12 years ago is crystal clear.

And the next 12 years?  Will it pass just as quickly?  Oh, my goodness, he will be 24 years old tomorrow!  Just yesterday he was being born, and tomorrow he will be graduating college (or so I hope!).  Of course, there are a kaleidoscope of questions that turn into a traffic jam in my mind regarding who he will be at 24.  I'm no longer in any rush.  I so desperately want to savor this time in his life, because it will dissolve in an instant.

This torrent of feelings are nothing new.  Parents of every culture and creed have almost certainly experienced similar feelings and thoughts.  And yet, it is as if I am the only person who has ever had them.  I have never spoken to anyone about my thoughts about either of my children's growth.  It just seems too trivial;  obvious.  And so common.  It would be like discussing brushing my teeth.  Why do it?  Everyone brushes their teeth (at least all of the people with whom I associate).  So it wouldn't make for very interesting banter.  I imagine that sharing my feelings about how fast my children are growing going something like this...

Me:  I brushed my teeth this morning.

Friend:  Me too.

Me:  I used Colgate.

Friend:  I used Crest.

Fascinating!  I would rather listen to the voices in my own head as to participate in that conversation.  I won't do it.  But, the emotions involved in my son turning 12 are powerful.  I can't say that I have any emotional attachment to the brushing of my teeth.

This is where I find myself.  Nothing of substance to say, emotions of epic proportions racing through my veins, and lost for how to deal with them.  So, I just go about my day.  I'll buy my son something that he will hopefully love for his birthday.  We'll eat a birthday dinner at his favorite Japanese restaraunt.  And then he will turn 24.

Teaching Children About the "S - word"

Sex.  There, I said it.  Now that that's out of the way, I'm faced with the prospect of teaching my son about it.  He will turn 12 years old in just a little over a week from this posting.  If memory serves, my eyes started noticing girls at just about that time (the middle school years).

My wife and I have both spoken with Cameron about sex and "private parts" at various times during his life.  Those talks were appropriately bland, only divulging the what we deamed necessary.  Mostly, those talks focused on safety.  "If Uncle So-and-So touches you in your private parts, you have to tell me or Mommy."  Not that my son has a "scary" uncle who is a closet pedophile.  I was just using that as an example.  But I know that, most likely, he is hearing or is about to hear his school chums tell him all of the dirty little secrets about sex which they learned from either a big brother or some T&A movie which they shouldn't have been watching to begin with.  So, it's time to break out the big guns!

I've found this book, recommended to me from a friend with an older son, called Every Young Man's Battle by Stephen Arterburn and Fred Stoeker.  This book is broken down into six parts.  And let me tell you, nothing is left unspoken!!

For each of the six parts of this book, my son will read one part on his own and by himself.  Then he passes the book to me, and I read the same part.  After we both have read the same part, then we go do something fun together and talk about what we've read.  What we do is irrelevant as my boy thinks it's fun.  Generally speaking, as long as we are doing something together, he thinks it's fun!

For me, the neat part will be hearing what he thinks and feels about what we've read.  Hopefully, Cameron will have questions about me and how I dealt with the issues in this book as an adolescent.

We've just started this process, but you know I'll blog about how each "adventure" goes!

The Birds and the Bees

I remember when I was young how devastated I always was when my mother or father wanted to talk to me about sex.  I have, in fact, never felt terribly comfortable about the subject.  But now, as my children are getting older and approaching puberty at light speed, I must take on the roll of sex education teacher.

My wife and I have spoken to both of our children about sex at various times.  It is different now, however, because it is starting to make sense to them.  Before I could talk about sex in fairly general terms.  And most of the sex talks were focused more on child safety than on the actual act of sex.  So, while I've been thinking more and more about this, I thought I would relay a funny story regarding my daughter when the subject reared its head a few years ago.

At the time, we had just gotten a new puppy.  The puppy, as well as our older Lab, has been spade.  Still, the Lab tried to "mount" the puppy, presumably in a show of dominance.  When my daughter saw this, she asked why Sugar would try to climb onto the back of this little puppy.  My response, thinking it was innocuous, was to explain that dogs have sex in that position.  Below is a transcript of the conversation which insued.

Maddie:  "That's horrible.  I'm glad humans don't have sex."  I guess our previous conversations had meant less than I originally thought.

Me:  "Well, actually, humans have sex, too."

Maddie:  "Oh, gross!!  Thank goodness you and Mommy didn't do that!"

Me:  "Uh... well... we did, Maddie.  That's how we had you."  I smiled at her, thinking this would make things all better since it had obvious positive effects.  No such luck.

Maddie:  "You did that to Mommy!!!"

Me:  "Well, yes, but she didn't mind.  She was ok with it."

Maddie:  "She liked it?!"

Me:  "Well, I don't think I asked, but I think so."  I hope so...

Maddie:  "I've got to go talk to Mommy."

She then marched up the stairs to talk to her mother who was in our bedroom.  I didn't follow, because I had frankly had enough of the conversation.  But a few minutes later Maddie slowly walked out of our bedroom.  As she crossed the stairs, her eyes found me waiting at the bottom.  That is the only time I have ever seen my daughter look at me with complete contempt.  I'm not sure she has forgiven me yet, but I don't bring it up anymore.

Silent Boys

My son is in the 6th grade and just about to turn 12.  He is bright, energetic, and a wonderful communicator.  But of late, he has started to close up about some of his feelings.  I can feel it.  Something wicked this way comes:  the teen years.

I remember my middle school years.  They were, without doubt, the most awkward and horrifying years of my life.  And at the center of it all was one thing:  girls.  And here is my pre-teen, middle school boy whom I'm afraid is experiencing some of the same mixed up feelings.  Oh man, girls can mix up a boys head faster than the fastest roller coaster.

My boy's got this young girl whom he texts on his cell phone night and day.  I've tried to ask him about this girl.  He'll have none of it.  All I've managed to get out of him is that she is, indeed, a girl (a homophobic relief washed over me, I have to admit) and her first name.  He isn't allowed to have his phone in his room with him at bedtime.  So every time I take it from him at night, he quickly erases every text on his phone before relinquishing it.  I respect his privacy, and I certainly know that nothing inappropriate is being communicated (I have both secretly and forcibly checked, not allowing him to erase any message).  But he won't tell me (or his mother) a damn thing.

His choice to take the 5th on this issue has been bothering me for some time.  So, I've decided to write about it.  My motivation is two-fold:  to vent, and to make an attempt at puzzling this out to some resolution.  I enjoy the former and am pessimistic about the latter.

After all, what am I to do?  How can I get that sweet boy to open up about his feelings towards a girl?  And should I even worry about it?  I am confident that my son feels comfortable coming to me or his mother with problems.  But I honestly don't think he knows what in the world to do with these new and strange feelings.  Frankly, I didn't know at that age and I likely still don't.  I married the same girl whom I was dating by the 10th grade.  So it isn't like I've had multiple opportunities to practice dealing with this personally.

I guess, for now, I'll just keep gently reminding him that I am here for him if he ever wants to talk.  But that just doesn't seem like enough.  I need more.  But maybe that's the problem.  I need more, but maybe he doesn't.  Crap, now I'm confused!  Who am I actually helping by getting him to open up?  Hopefully, both me and him.  But I don't know.

So I'm resolved to keep trying.  I'll do a bit of research on the internet and run by the bookstore or library for assistance.  Surely there are plenty of publications dealing with this issue of pre-teen boys giving their parents the silent treatment in regards to girls.  But mostly I'm scared stiff looking ahead at the next several years.  It can't get any better.  All I see in front of me is a road diving quickly into the inky blackness of an emotional abyss.  I just pray that my son will let me ride in the same car as he, and maybe we can share a few thoughts about those mysterious creatures:  girls.  Damn, they are fine.  But, damn, they are agents of confusion and sorrow!

I guess I missed on my original goal of this writing.  I can't see that I've figured anything out.  Still, the written venting is good.  I'll just keep thinking.  It's about the only thing I'm decent at, anyway.

Being a Father: What it means

For most of my life I have struggled with the question of what it means to be a man.  This, obviously, will impact my ability to be an effective father.  But this definition goes well beyond physical parts that distinguish me from the fairer sex.  I'm talking about the intrinsic values that define manhood.

Not having a strong father figure as a child, I had to look outside my own home for meaning.  And for many years I was unsuccessful at finding appropriate role models.  As a high school student, no father figures or appropriate role models appeared.  Simply put, I was only spending my time around similar aged boys who couldn't have told me what it means to be a man if their life depended upon it.

In college, I likewise found no appropriate models.  The young men I encountered either treated women as objects (a skill I, unfortunately, developed quite well) or were similar to me in their hollow ideas of manhoood and simply avoided the concept deeming it unworthy and unimportant.

But it is important.  For men, it is crucial for lasting happiness and a well balanced life.  For fathers, it is absolutely critical, because the sons and daughters whom a father guides into adulthood will carry the lasting effects of their fathers for a lifetime.  When you are a bachelor, I suppose you can be selfish in your definition of manhood.  I would disagree, but I won't argue that point.  However, when you are a father, being selfish in your definition is reckless and borderline child endangerment.

First, let me state what a man/father is not.  A man is not selfish.  He does not put his needs before his family.  A man isn't the stereotype macho dude who doesn't read or enjoy a good "chick flick" every now and again.  A man does not force his way in any situation:  interrupting conversation, pushing his opinion, etc.  Before I ramble on too far about this, I will cut to the chase.

A man is kind.  He takes care of his family be it his parents, sibling, wife, or children.  A man may enjoy working with his hands (as I do), but his hands are gentle when dealing with those around him.  A man is chivalrous.  I believe he should enjoy carrying heavy objects so that women around don't have to.  This isn't to say that women are weak.  I grew up around 4 strong women.  Trust me, they are not weak.  But opening a door for a woman or carrying a heavy physical burden for her relief is kind.  Generally, men are physically stronger than women, so this kind of action seems very natural.  A man respects women.  Not only does he not treat them as physical play toys, but he also respects their opinions and ideas.  A father may be stern when disciplining his children, but he should be more interested in guidance and correction than in punishment.  A man is inquisitive and enjoys learning.  Men certainly shouldn't be too prideful when that learning comes from a source other than his own investigation. 

Of course, these are my opinions.  But I have come to these conclusions after years of trial and error.  Women, too, can be described in many of the above manners.  But that is because we are all human;  children of God.  While strengths and weaknesses may differ, one is not above the other.  And similarities are abundant.

I do believe that the classical male has difficulty communicating, especially in the arena of feelings and emotions.  But this is a glaring weakness when true.  Every man, in my humble opinion, should be diligent in working to overcome this seemingly natural phenomena.

These opinions I hold near and dear.  As a father, I pray that I can model and teach to my children how a man should act.  I want my son to grow up knowing how to treat women and children.  And I pray that he steers clear of the stereotype, overly masculine male figure which ultimately brings and unfulfilled promise.  For my daughter, I hope that she learns what to look for in a good man.  Humble, noble pursuits, generosity, and tenderness wrapped up in a playful rough and tumble male.  It is a frightening prospect being a father.  Knowing that I will fail, knowing that I will not live up to the standards expressed above completely, makes me lean a little heavier in my Father in Heaven.  When I read about Jesus in the Bible, I am reading about what it means to be a good man.  And He is the role model whom I hope to ultimately emulate.

Snow, Snow, Wonderful Snow!

Down here in the great state of Tennessee, especially in the valley of East Tennessee, we don't see much accumulating snow.  Most of the populous, except some overachieving adults, love snow.

My wife and I have lived in our current home for 13 years.  Tonight is the very first time that we have had enough snow on the roads to sled.  School is called off tomorrow (we are both teachers), and we are as happy as a lark!  As I write this blog, I am sitting in my recliner with a lap blanket next to a roaring fire.  Does life get any better?

So, what does this have to do with being a father?  Didn't you read above?  Sledding!  For the first time as a father, I got to push my kids down a giant hill covered with ice and snow.  I got to hear their screams of laughter as the rocketed (ok, that's an exaggeration) down the hill.  I got to hear, "Daddy, do you see me?"  What a wonderful elixir for the constant drum beat of life.

To be honest, my sinuses are killing me.  I have a headache.  I'm tired (Thursdays are always my tired days).  I'm a bit grumpy, too.  But the beautiful snow and the lovely smiles on my children's faces have pushed all of those (well, many of them) ills away.  At least for the moment.

Yes, being a father has its perks!