Taylor

I cried this morning. I did it last night, too. I’ll probably break down again after I write this. I alternate between shame, pride, and satisfaction at my emotional state. I knew this day was coming. I just didn’t allow my brain to process the emotions until now.

In a few moments, after I click “publish”, I’ll walk upstairs, stumble through the darkness, step over a kitten or two, and open my oldest daughter’s bedroom door. As I do each morning, Monday through Friday, when I’m in town, I’ll press my thumb and index fingers over her little toes poking out from her blanket. I’ll say “good morning beautiful” and she’ll grumble back  “guhh mornun”. The difference, this time, will be that she’s sixteen years old.

I’ve written several times about our relationship. I met Taylor aka Tay when she’d just turned twelve. In the almost 4 years I’ve had the privilege to be her father, I’ve loved her like I loved her eight year old sister, whom I made with my DNA, and her seven year old sister, whom I did not.

To know her is to experience her. She’s a blonde ball of sunshine in my life that I just can’t describe and I’m supposed to be a writer.

I can’t write anymore, because, yeah, I’m crying.

Today is about my daughter. So, get off me about the song. Her favorite human being in the world is Taylor Swift. I didn’t even listen to it before I put it in this post. Just know, my sixteen year old daughter will eventually read this and she’ll appreciate that her, well, she calls me Lance most of the time, posted some T-Swift.

Happy Birthday beautiful. There’s a bag of flaming hot cheetos downstairs.

I love you.

Kids in America

We all lie to ourselves and say that we have good relationships with people. The truth is we wouldn’t iphone, ipad, ipod, twitter, facebook, and blog is we were really talking and connecting.

Other than my wife and my three daughters, I don’t have a single friend. I have dozens of aquaintances and a lot of internet communications. Some of them would make amazing real life friends if there wasn’t real life keeping us apart. I don’t think I’m different than most, especially to those of you reading this post. As a result, I work very hard at being my wife’s best friend and my 3 daughters, father.

Talking to a teenager is like having a conversation with someone from France. They don’t like you. They intentionally act like they don’t understand what you’re saying. Most of all, they’re rude and dismissive. I’m not stupid enough to think that my 15 year old likes me. I do think that staying connected with her day to day life will give her the comfort to come to me when she needs to talk. So far, knock on particle board, she’s stayed out of trouble and in touch with me on important issues. She’s changed what she wants to be when she grows up 3 times since the start of 2011. I still have hard cash money on her being a writer, but for now she’s set on bio-chemical engineering. One day, she’ll make my anxiety pills. At least my influence is palpable.

I’m smart enough to know her favorite snack food is flaming hot cheetos. I never come back from the grocery store without them. This leads to her popping into my room or meeting me in the kitchen and giving me a hug and saying something about her day. I believe I deserve a Nobel Prize for parenting. Also, you know it all, super moms and dads who only feed your child organic health food can go pound sand. Flaming friggin hot cheetos is creating a future President of the United States under my roof!

My daughter is a high school cheerleader. She’s involved in a lot of school activities. I’m around many teenagers. I don’t like any of them but her. I bet those kids eat apples and never say more than shut up to their dads.

I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m not a lazy parent. There’s a message in that, and a halfway decent blog post.

If you have kids, don’t take them for granted. In between wanting to choke them out, listen to what they have to say and take their grocery list requests.

Today’s song is old, like me. I heard it on an 80s station on the way into work. I forgot how much I liked Kim Wilde. Here’s Kids in America….ohh I miss New Wave.

Stereo Hearts/My Teenager’s Good & It’s All My Fault

I have been waiting three years for a disaster. My daughter, Tay, is  5’1″, barely over 100 pounds, with long blonde hair, and sparkling blue eyes of wonder. One minute she’s quiet, the next she’s embullient. Without warning she can strike. She’s fifteen years old.

I’m still waiting.

“What’s on your mind, baby.” My wife asked.

“Our daughter isn’t rebellious. She’s too good to be true. Where’s the crazy hairstyle, the out of control attitude, the unacceptable friends, the piercing we can’t believe?” I bemoaned.

“Are you really hoping Tay misbehaves? Be thankful she’s sooo good!” My wife told me.

A little over three years ago I met a 12 year old Taylor aka Tay, her now 6 year old sister Carly aka “the Goose”, and their mom, my wife, Deana aka Bobina. Everyone told me that what the Tay thought of me would determine my relationship with her mom. They were right. Tay and I got a long brilliantly. We were friends. Then, I married Bobina in November 2008 and everything changed. Tay didn’t like me anymore. I became her dad.

I started fearing her teenage years and high school. Twenty six years ago I was 15. That’s a generation ago. When I was 15 my parents took away my Whitesnake Slide It In cassette, calling it “trash”. They were strict and authoritarian. We never talked about music or sports or sex. I lived in fear of them. That sparked rebellion. I drank some, I made a few bad grades, I dated some awful girls, and I acted out. Tay does none of this.

“Don’t you think Tay is kind of boring?” I asked my wife?

“No, I think she’s 15, not like you or me at that age, and she’s amazing.” Bobina responded.

Then I talked to my daughter and found out the real reason rebellion has been squashed in my home.

“You and mom act sorta young . You joke, you’re dorky and you’re all dumb and stuff. It’s hard for me to walk around mad or rebel. Things are cool.” Tay revealed.

You’re reading that right. Because her mom and I are so awesome, Tay has no choice but to be a good kid. That’s how I took it. Ok, maybe that’s presumptous and sarcastic.

My parents did a good job raising me. I became the first person to graduate college in my entire family. By 18 years old, I was living on my own, earning my way, and considered mature. What I didn’t get from my folks that Tay and her two sisters (we have a 7 year old named Lyla aka Bug) get is affection, heart to heart talks, and understanding. My mom and dad didn’t get me or give me  break. I didn’t begin talking to them about my life until 5 years ago, when I was well in my thirties and divorced. My father and I are friends now. I didn’t see that coming.

My wife and I do act young. We have tattoos. We listen to better music than my teenager. Most of all, we talk and love our girls with as little judgement as necessary. This seed planting is bearing fruit in the form of Tay, our level-headed 15 year old.

I’m not declaring mission accomplished. The disaster could happen tomorrow. Tay has a friend who is a boy. I doubt that will end well. It rarely does. Her classes have gotten harder in her sophomore year and thus her grades are slightly lower. She doing great at cheerleading but learning to handle a tough coach and the politics that surround her sport. Last night, her mom and I handled a delicate situation with the c0ach that could have been a major problem. I think Tay is teaching her mom and I how to grow up. There will be driving and the unexpected I’m not ready to face. But, I am satisfied that my differing style of parenting from my folks is working, for now. On a recent ride home from cheerleading practice I broke down and talked to Tay about what I was writing. Her answer blew me away

“Well, you know, I’m kind of happy most of the time. You and mom don’t make me mad that much. You listen to me. You let me talk. Even when I get grounded, it’s because I did something worth getting grounded. You don’t have better music than me. My music is the best because it’s good not shocking with bad words. I mean if you want me color my hair and my finger nails black and yell at you, I’ll do it, but whatever. I want some Doritos.”

Cue the Rage Against the Machine.

****blogger’s note****

This is a guest post I wrote for katie and cortney at www.sluiternation.com in late July with some slight updates.

Riding in the car yesterday listening to today’s song and then reading Dawnie’s blog – http://www.thedawnieproject.com/  also highlighting the song, I decided to post this.

Today’s song is something I call the compromise. I’ve tried to find music Tay and I can agree on so we can listen to stuff in the car that doesn’t make me want to punch the dashboard. I like Maroon 5. They have 2 or 3 songs per album that are decent pop records. Adam Levine sings lead for this hip hop pop tune by Gym Class Heroes. It really bounces off the radio. Tay and I love to listen  and sing along. Here’s Gym Class Heroes and Adam Levine with Stereo Hearts.

The Death of You and Me

I write a lot. So, as a break for you and me; I’ll show you some pictures of my weekend.

My 15 year old daughter, Taylor aka Tay, attended her second homecoming dance. I may or may not have shed a tear or 37. She’s growing up so quickly. Moments like these make me realize how little time I left with her in the house as my daughter.

To get me over it a little, my wife and I went to Spirit Halloween, a costume shop near the Mall of Georgia. We are headed to a Halloween party in 3 weeks. I give you Hercules and Venus, The Goddess of Love. I know what you’re thinking, keep thinking it.

Today’s song is lyrically perfect and brand new. One of my favorite songwriters, Noel Gallagher, formerly of Oasis, has a new album coming out on the 17th. Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds is going to be terrific. I’ve heard 4 tracks. They’re all good. Here’s The Death of You and Me.