When You Were Young

I’m ninety-percent sure I keep a toe dipped in the fountain of youth because there’s a fifty-fifty chance my children provide a one-percent shot at understanding what went wrong when I was younger.

****blogger’s note****

I have 3 daughters, aged 16, 9, and 8. They’re amazing. No really, they are. They’re smart, pretty, funny, interesting,loving, wise, and they give me a hard time in a good way. I learn more from being a father than I do from anything, including writing. This is my personal reponse to Trifecta Writing’s weekend Trifextra prompt http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/ We want you to give us your own probability equation.  Use whichever numbers
suit you, and make it about whatever you like, but give us something to think
about.  In 33 words, of course..

Today’s song from The Killers. It’s pretty easy to understand why it fits my life and the post. Here’s When You Were Young.

Rock and Rock High School

I’m one of those rare suburbanites that you will never hear nor read, bash teachers. My dream job, other than published author, is to teach English composition and reaching skills to grade school children.

My kids stay annoyed at me because I ask them for details of their school day. Usually I’m met with “I don’t know, stuff, whatever” but I still ask. My teenager will let me know about tests or difficult assignments or teachers with whom has issues. My two younger ones, aged eight and seven, give me as few nuggets of information as will get them a juice or a chance to watch television.

My seven-year-old, known in this blog as The Goose, is my favorite child to question. When we’re in the car she’ll drop various bombs like “you know, dad, we should really recycle, it saves the Earth” or “Did you know you eat horribly, dad, and if you want to live longer you should diet and exercise more”. She’s very blonde, very blue-eyed, and so cute, that this stuff rolls off my back like an Olympic breaststroking duck.

It sometimes bugs me that she takes everything her first grade teachers say as gospel. The words of her mother and I often fall on deaf ears but if someone at her school tells her something, it’s gold. I appreciate her school but I’d like for them to help her mother and I out, some. I’m offering some ideas for them to drop on my daughter, and if my eight-year-old and teenager’s teachers are reading, their minds, as well.

1) Cleaning your room, spotless, where mommy and daddy can eat off the floor, will save ALL of the planets. I’ve never invited any of you to my house and the reason, is because my three girls’ rooms often look like the aftermaths of Taylor Swift and Big Time Rush poster tornados and dirty clothes hurricanes. Listen, public school teachers, put room organization on your agendas.

2) When your parents make you dinner or take you out to eat, it IS NOT optional as to whether you devour the food. My youngest kids think mealtime at home is open mike night at the Apollo meets merger and aquisitions negotiations on Wall Street. No, fools, eat your food. And stop asking for snacks two minutes into dinner. For my sixteen-year-old daughter I would like for her high school to offer a Home Ec class where she learns that while eating out, ordering the most expensive thing on the menu and eating half of it IS NOT OKAY. Dad’s wallet is light these days, kid.

3) Going green is great AT HOME TOO. The amount of waste in water, toilet paper, garbage, and other various odds and ends at our house is pretty alarming. Listen, could I take two minutes off my showers and conserve on the terlet paperz too, yes. But you should see these girls. They talk about their Earth Day type studies from their school then come home and make our footprint the size of a New Jersey landfill. Don’t get me started on televisions left turned on while they go outside or run upstairs to talk to their friends on the phone. Oh, and that basement light that I have to turn off everynight at 10pm because they always forget? Yeah, get on that kids’ schools.

4) Why there isn’t an economics class that’s mandatory for all children starting at the age of five is beyond me. But I think those moments in stores when out kids start saying “I want that” or “Can you by this” or “I saw this on tv, can I get it”  can be brainwashed out of them? Come on schools, help me teach these kids the value of a dollar. If you tell it to them, then my job at home becames cake.

5) There needs to be a rock and roll 101/music appreciation class for the good music we, as parents, know and love. I’m fighting the good fight at home trying to shove The Clash and The Ramones and Radiohead down my children’s throats but imagine if the school opened their days with Imagine by John Lennon? Our kids generation would be so much better than us. This needs to happen at the high school level. My teenager’s Taylor Swift obesession has got to end. Making her know who the New York Dolls were is a great start. T.Rex class starts at 9:30am

Feel free to add your own classes or trades the schools could indoctrinate into our children. We’re all in this together, parents. Neurotic, over-tired fist bump from me.

Today’s song had to happen. I haven’t played the Ramones in months. Here’s Rock and Roll High School. Break something and dance.

Hit it Marky!

Mad Season

Here it comes. The metaphorical hurricane of emotion, stress, responsibility, birthdays, planning, money, girl scouts, judo,  football, baseball, cheerfreakinleading, and a new project at work.

I turn 41 in about a week. It means nothing to you, because it doesn’t mean anything to anyone else, including me. I have one child that celebrated her 8th year of life last weekend, I have a another child, the sweet blond baby girl, Carly Shane aka “The Goose” droppin 7 years down two days after me, on the 12th. My oldest daughter’s cheerleading has started, in earnest, as of yesterday. Lanier High JV took one on the chin 38-3 but Tay and her cheer partners were perfect.

Tay did it all with a sprained ankle. I did it all with a  full scale anxiety attack last night that kept me in knots until midnight. Welcome back, crazy. This month is going to be hard, so I will have to be more robot than ever.

I will begin traveling more for work next week. That puts pressure on my wife to handle the girls and their emerging activities. Goose starts girl scouts in two weeks while Bug continues beating people senseless at judo.

I honestly doesn’t know how we will get through the fall season, or as I’ve renamed it, the Mad Season. Tay’s Homecoming is at the end of the month of September. There’s a dress to buy and accutruments associated.  Money will tight and distributed among the children.

For the second year ina  row, my birthday will be put aside, for the most part. Bobina’s going to come home from work Saturday afternoon, dead tired, put on a  brave face and something “comfortable” and try to make the most of it. I love her for that.

Fall has started even though it’s 95 degrees. The Mad Season of never having a dull moment nor a peaceful money time is here. Time to shut up, grow up, and deal. This is the end of the summer and the end of just getting by. Time to get to work.

I’m rockin multiple prompts. You have my girls at www.writeonedge.com and their “talk about a season or the season” and you have the stars at www.studiothirtyplus.com and their prompt “The End”. Go check out their sites. Great people reside their and for some reason they kinda sorta like me.

Today’s song is from Matchbox Twenty. It doesn’t rock like a Rage song would, but the lyrics are perfect and it’s mostly about dealing poorly with stress, like you robot human hybrid hero does or doesn’t do. Here’s Mad Season.

The Middle

My daughter doesn’t know, but I saw her.  The theater was dark and her action was brief.  Diary of a Wimpy Kid 2- Rodrick Rules was onscreen. The main character, Greg, is a middle child. He gets picked on by a cruel older brother and favored less than an attention starved younger brother. Greg spoke about the resistance his parents gave him to his emotions . My daughter shook her head in agreement,  pulled her long legs to her little chin, and stared intently. The movie spoke to and about her, 7 year old Lyla/Bug,  the middle one of three sisters.

*blogger’s note* – This is my answer to @velvetverbosity ‘s 100 word challenge from http://www.velvetverbosity.com the one word prompt is RESISTANCE. This is a true story of last Saturday’s trip to the discount movie theater. I learned  alot about my daughter that day. Being a middle is harder than it seems.

Today’s song was the easiest one I’ve ever posted.  There’s a self reliance/do your own thing message behind Jimmy Eat World’s song . Singer/songwriter Jim Adkins is a middle child so I’m sure there’s some angst.  Here’s Jimmy Eat World’s The Middle.