Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Love
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Happy Valentine's Day
Happy Valentine's Day to everyone! A day to celebrate love! May those of you keep your love strong, and to those who are still looking, may it not be very long!
Friday, September 2, 2011
Why kids need disappointment
In his book “The Private Adam” Rabbi Shumley Boteach recounts the following story. A wealthy investment banker fell on hard times after a string of bad investment decisions. On top of losing almost everything he was unable to keep his three children in their elite private boarding school. Upon learning this the rabbi took it upon himself to seek out donors in the community to help cover the costs so the children could stay in their school. His grounds for the request, as he put it, was to save the children from “the shame and humiliation they would face if they were forced to leave their school and friends because their father could no longer afford the tuition”.
The fallout from our ongoing economic crisis continues to leave frustration, anger, and especially fear in its wake. It seems very few lots have been spared from the carnage including our very own government. Families who had grown accustomed to pulling money off the tree in their backyard now find themselves living in a reality nowhere near Kansas. The financial avalanche has led to chic neighborhoods becoming littered with foreclosures as the byproduct of biting off more than one can chew, six figure salaries traded in for unemployment checks, and everyone reminiscing on the ‘ole days asking if it will ever be so good again. Yet anyone who has lived long enough knows that part of the human experience includes a healthy dose of challenge and specifically disappointment. While each handles them differently we all know it’s an occupational hazard.
But when it comes to our kids and disappointment the idea takes on a whole new meaning. As parents we want to shield our children from negative consequences, especially if it was our choices that created them. But if we protect our children from all of life’s ups and downs is that good parenting or are we setting them up for even tougher lessons down the road? If we provide cover for all the arrows our child will surely face does she ever learn to manage them when we aren’t around?
To the Rabbi’s dismay his pleas fell on deaf ears and the children transferred to another school. It’s unknown what was said or how the children reacted, but had Rabbi Boteach been successful in his attempts what might have been the outcome? While their dignity may have stayed in tact how would their future expectations been affected? Would they simply assume someone will always step in to fix everything should it all come crashing down? And would there be any point of reference when making their own life choices?
No father wants his child to experience disappointment or pain. As parents we are hard-wired to protect our kids but trying to cushion them from all adversity creates an adult who doesn’t posses the mental or emotional fortitude to deal with any trials or tribulations. One has to look no further than the proverbial rich kid for an example. The Paris Hilton’s or Lindsay Lohan’s of the world are the quintessential snotty-nosed brats who were never told ‘no’ and their actions and life choices reflect as such.
"Life isn’t always fair and bad things do happen to good people."
I believe the strength of character gained by these children leaving their school far outweigh the shame and humiliation potentially avoided by staying. And the prospective benefactors knew as much and understood a basic life fact the rabbi failed to grasp – life isn’t always fair and bad things do happen to good people.
I want my kids to learn early on that life doesn’t always play fair and the good guy doesn’t always win. They must learn there are going to be times when they win but there will be just as many where they get the short end of the stick. And the best I can do when they do come is be there to support them and offer that most southern of truisms:
“If this is the worst thing that happens to you, you’re going to be fine!”
The fallout from our ongoing economic crisis continues to leave frustration, anger, and especially fear in its wake. It seems very few lots have been spared from the carnage including our very own government. Families who had grown accustomed to pulling money off the tree in their backyard now find themselves living in a reality nowhere near Kansas. The financial avalanche has led to chic neighborhoods becoming littered with foreclosures as the byproduct of biting off more than one can chew, six figure salaries traded in for unemployment checks, and everyone reminiscing on the ‘ole days asking if it will ever be so good again. Yet anyone who has lived long enough knows that part of the human experience includes a healthy dose of challenge and specifically disappointment. While each handles them differently we all know it’s an occupational hazard.
But when it comes to our kids and disappointment the idea takes on a whole new meaning. As parents we want to shield our children from negative consequences, especially if it was our choices that created them. But if we protect our children from all of life’s ups and downs is that good parenting or are we setting them up for even tougher lessons down the road? If we provide cover for all the arrows our child will surely face does she ever learn to manage them when we aren’t around?
To the Rabbi’s dismay his pleas fell on deaf ears and the children transferred to another school. It’s unknown what was said or how the children reacted, but had Rabbi Boteach been successful in his attempts what might have been the outcome? While their dignity may have stayed in tact how would their future expectations been affected? Would they simply assume someone will always step in to fix everything should it all come crashing down? And would there be any point of reference when making their own life choices?
No father wants his child to experience disappointment or pain. As parents we are hard-wired to protect our kids but trying to cushion them from all adversity creates an adult who doesn’t posses the mental or emotional fortitude to deal with any trials or tribulations. One has to look no further than the proverbial rich kid for an example. The Paris Hilton’s or Lindsay Lohan’s of the world are the quintessential snotty-nosed brats who were never told ‘no’ and their actions and life choices reflect as such.
"Life isn’t always fair and bad things do happen to good people."
I believe the strength of character gained by these children leaving their school far outweigh the shame and humiliation potentially avoided by staying. And the prospective benefactors knew as much and understood a basic life fact the rabbi failed to grasp – life isn’t always fair and bad things do happen to good people.
I want my kids to learn early on that life doesn’t always play fair and the good guy doesn’t always win. They must learn there are going to be times when they win but there will be just as many where they get the short end of the stick. And the best I can do when they do come is be there to support them and offer that most southern of truisms:
“If this is the worst thing that happens to you, you’re going to be fine!”
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Drama Queen
It doesn’t seem like it’s been 19 years since Breana 's mom dropped a 9 lb. 12 oz., 21 1/2 inch bundle of joy on the world, but it has been. My Drama Queen was supposed to be a King. Two ultra sounds said boy and I still remember standing in that delivery room on the night she arrived like it was yesterday.
My daughter busted her mom’s tailbone on the way out and I called my mom (who was home) and said, “It’s a girl.” She said, “You mean it’s a boy.” I peered back over the top of the gaggle of doctors and nurses gathered there, took one more good look, picked the phone back up and said, “Nope. They were right. It’s a girl.”
That was how my daughter entered the world. In April she turns 20 and I’m feeling kind of old. How the hell did that happen? How did she go from adorable little angel to hormonal teenager so quickly?
I wish I had an answer to that question. I really do. I also wish I could figure her out.
I don’t want my daughter to have the same experience I had. I want her to have fun, make friends and feel like she’s a part of something. That’s one reason I really hope she makes the tennis team.
She has a lot of improvement to make to her tennis game. When I got the coach on the phone to inquire about tryouts and summer practices, I was straight with him. “She’s on the down side of mediocre,” I said. “But she wants to play and she’s willing to put in the work to be a good player.” I guess we’ll see what happens. School starts Wednesday and they’re supposed to find out Tuesday afternoon or Wednesday. Fingers crossed.
I’m not sure what to expect from a hard headed teenager loaded with hormones, emotions, sarcasm, a bit of mischief and who has a dad like me. It actually sounds scary as shit. It’s gonna be an interesting ride, that’s for sure.
I feel like I should apologize to my daughter for the life I’ve given her. I know I could have done worse, but I know I could have done much better. She’s got a bi-polar mom who is in and out of her life and she has a sarcastic dad who can be kind of a dick at times. It’s not a huge hole she has to climb out of, but she definitely has an uphill battle.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
10 things fatherhood has taught me thus far
1. There will be drama every single day. Except for maybe the first day of school.
2. My daughter loves me unconditionally. She doesn't care about any of my flaws.
3. The money in my wallet is not mine. It’s my daughters. I’m just the walking ATM.
4. Sleep is a luxury. It is no longer a necessity or a right.
5. Parenting has made me into a blubbering fool at times. It’s OK for a superhero to cry right?
7. I learn from my daughter to be better, stronger and faster. See #2.
8. Sometimes I think my daughter secretly work for the Taliban on the weekends. See #4.
9. Braiding hair is not as easy as it looks. Really.
10. Beer is dear, but liquor is quicker. See #1.
So what have you learned thus far?
2. My daughter loves me unconditionally. She doesn't care about any of my flaws.
3. The money in my wallet is not mine. It’s my daughters. I’m just the walking ATM.
4. Sleep is a luxury. It is no longer a necessity or a right.
5. Parenting has made me into a blubbering fool at times. It’s OK for a superhero to cry right?
7. I learn from my daughter to be better, stronger and faster. See #2.
8. Sometimes I think my daughter secretly work for the Taliban on the weekends. See #4.
9. Braiding hair is not as easy as it looks. Really.
10. Beer is dear, but liquor is quicker. See #1.
So what have you learned thus far?
Friday, April 22, 2011
Trading a Can of Whoop-Ass for Compassion
The other day I read a comment by a woman on a blog that touched a nerve. She essentially said that many men think with their “little heads” (yeah, those heads) and can’t distinguish between honest communication and a roll in the hay.As Dad’s House readers may guess, it pissed me off.
Forget the polite use of “many” (I’m not sure who could make that quantification with any sanity or certainty), but a nerve was touched in me. I felt that once again, men were under attack. Just like when blogging single moms say “men suck”, “men are lazy”, “men are idiots”, “men are monsters”. It bugged me.
I responded to this new affront in typical Dad’s House style – I opened a can of whoop-ass in the form of an 800-word blog post defending men. I scheduled the post for 4am publication, then went to sleep.
Sometime in the middle of the night I awoke, feeling differently.
Maybe it was Mama Dharma’s post about feeling compassion rather than anger toward her ex, and how forgiveness flipped rage into understanding. Whatever – I realized I didn’t want to put more dis-ease into the universe. I genuinely feel sad for any women who were so negatively touched by some man, sometime in their life – whether physically, mentally, or emotionally – that they now sometimes take subtle or direct verbal jabs at men. (I’m not saying this commentor did that, though it’s possible they might have.)
I removed my angry rant of a post, went back to sleep, and woke up to a blank screen this morning. And here I write.
As one of the few men who blogs in a female-dominated corner of the blogosphere (check how many single mom vs. single dad bloggers have chosen to be listed at the Facebook Single Parents Connection Group ) – let me just say, it can be positively exhausting. You have no idea how many little slips of the tongue women make and laugh off that can be perceived as demeaning toward men. Or how many times a blogging man offers advice, only to see it ignored until a woman says the same thing. (If you don’t want a man’s perspective, why on earth do you read this blog? Or maybe you just don’t “trust” a man’s perspective…)
I understand all this goes with the territory. There are single mothers who were treated poorly by the man in their life, either when they were together, or simply because he left. And some of these single moms might still be harboring anger, resentment, disappointment, lost hopes, distrust. Believe me, I know the feeling, at least a bit. My own divorce was amicable, but I still sometimes associate painful feelings with the separation.
Perhaps the exhausting part for me in the single parent blogosphere is that I do often take offense when some single moms go off on men. We men aren’t all lazy, stupid, clueless, sex-addicted idiots (at least not all the time). We’re feeling, thinking, desiring, hoping, dreaming, emoting humans, just like you. (Except that we probably don’t process emotions as quickly and smoothly as women. But I hate to generalize.) If you’re rolling your eyes because your ex showed none of these traits, then perhaps you’re simply feeding your pain-body in a steady-state, same as I was doing. We all can choose to react differently.
Peace. Joy. Gratitude.
Now then, wouldn’t a can of whoop-ass have been so much more fun to read?
Friday, March 25, 2011
Senior Moment
I recently celebrated a birthday that edges me closer to 50 than 40, and my daughter has predictably started teasing me about having senior moments. You know, those times you forget something you clearly should have remembered? Like wondering where your glasses are when they're sitting on top of your head.
I pride myself on having a razor sharp wit. (Whether I'm witty or not is still up for debate.) And so I don't exactly relish any senior moments that happen to me. I try to laugh them off and blame my pre-dinner insulin shot. Anything but accepting that my brain isn't quite what it used to be. (Is there an old home remedy for senior moment-itis? Sigh. Didn't think so...)
So I was thrilled when my teen daughter had a senior moment of her own.
My eighteen-year-old daughter is a collage sophmore. She's chosen extremely tough class load at school, with multiple hours of homework each night.
Add in club soccer, volunteer work, refereeing to make a buck, and she doesn't even have time to set the dinner table.
Okay, before anyone calls Child Protective Services, please know my ex and I talked to our daughter, and suggested she lighten her load. One less class won't make her collage transcripts look bad. And the time saved will be a huge benefit to her mental and physical health.
My daughter agreed, talked to her counselor, dropped a homework-intensive history class, and was good to go.
She texted me one morning from her school: have you seen my history book? I need to turn it in.
I was off work, so it was simple enough to duck into her room and look. No book on her desk, in the dresser, on the floor, on her bed. I texted: not here.
Twenty minutes later, another text from here: I'm sure I brought it to your house from mom's.
Okay, my daughter is Miss Super Student. More than once, she's been the sharpest tool in the shed. So of course, I figured I was having a senior moment and I'd overlooked the history book in her room. I searched again. No luck. I texted her back: sorry, it's not here.
She texted me: okay, I'll check my car.
If my daughter lost her book, it wouldn't be a big deal. She simply have to pay for a replacement. Textbooks aren't cheap, and teens don't make much money, so it would hit her where it counts. But she'd survive. Maybe even learn a lesson from it.
A few hours later, I received a text from her: I just remembered - I turned the textbook back in before school this morning.
Can you say "senior moment"?
I can. And she'll never hear the end of it. I guarantee.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
I’m Not Raising a Princess
A blogging single mom friend recently said that she felt bad for her daughters' self image since she was raising them in a home without a man. I understood her concern – as a single father raising a daughter, I made it a point to stay involved in my daughters life. I wanted to be the male presence as my kid grew up. It's good for girls to grow up confident in their relationships with men.
But the single mom’s reasons for wanting a dad around didn’t resonate with me. She wanted a man to dote on her girls daily, make them feel good about themselves so they’d grow into confident women.
Sorry, but I don’t dote on my daughter. It’s been a conscious decision of mine her whole life. I love having a girl in my family, and I certainly treat her well, but I’m not raising a princess. Maybe it’s because I grew up in a family of boys, I never saw what it was like for a dad to daily dote on any daughters in his home. I saw plenty of affection between my dad and mom, and they were great raising me and my brother. But dote? Ha. We cleaned the toilets and emptied the trash as much as anyone.
I know everyone is different, and people have their own parenting styles and cultural traditions. But as a dad raising a daughter I firmly believe that men who dote on their girls are not giving them confidence – they're taking that confidence away.
When a dad raises his daughter as a princess, a few things can happen. One is that she feels entitled to get anything she wants. That's not healthy. When she grows up and gets married, she’ll treat her husband poorly.
Second, she might only feel good about herself when a man is around giving her his undivided attention, and adoring her. Wouldn’t it be better if she liked herself on her own terms?
My daughter is in college right now. She’s won awards for soccer and softball. She’s a great student. She's looking forward to moving away from home, and exploring the world on her own terms. In short, she’s extremely confident, even without a lifetime of doting.
I didn’t raise a princess. And my nearly-grown daughter feels great about herself. Like a queen.
But the single mom’s reasons for wanting a dad around didn’t resonate with me. She wanted a man to dote on her girls daily, make them feel good about themselves so they’d grow into confident women.
Sorry, but I don’t dote on my daughter. It’s been a conscious decision of mine her whole life. I love having a girl in my family, and I certainly treat her well, but I’m not raising a princess. Maybe it’s because I grew up in a family of boys, I never saw what it was like for a dad to daily dote on any daughters in his home. I saw plenty of affection between my dad and mom, and they were great raising me and my brother. But dote? Ha. We cleaned the toilets and emptied the trash as much as anyone.
I know everyone is different, and people have their own parenting styles and cultural traditions. But as a dad raising a daughter I firmly believe that men who dote on their girls are not giving them confidence – they're taking that confidence away.
When a dad raises his daughter as a princess, a few things can happen. One is that she feels entitled to get anything she wants. That's not healthy. When she grows up and gets married, she’ll treat her husband poorly.
Second, she might only feel good about herself when a man is around giving her his undivided attention, and adoring her. Wouldn’t it be better if she liked herself on her own terms?
My daughter is in college right now. She’s won awards for soccer and softball. She’s a great student. She's looking forward to moving away from home, and exploring the world on her own terms. In short, she’s extremely confident, even without a lifetime of doting.
I didn’t raise a princess. And my nearly-grown daughter feels great about herself. Like a queen.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Raising Girls is Easy
I grew up in a house full of boys, so when my daughter was born, I had no idea what it would be like raising a girl. Let me say for the record - it's been easy. Far easier than raising a son.
Boys are a terror. I know this from the grief my brother and I gave to my dear mom. We broke things like crazy. Windows. Toys. Each other. (No broken bones, but plenty of stitches.) We ran around the house like wild animals, yelling and screaming. We wrestled until there were tears. We aimed slingshots and bee-bee guns at each other, sometimes even firing. (Like a Jon and Kate divorce proceeding. Ha!)
Where was brother protective services when we needed it?
My daughter has been a piece of cake. She does her homework, keeps a tidy room, never talks back. Oh sure, she could help more often around the house. But she's so sweet, and so good at keeping her nose clean, I kind of don't care. She's eighteen, and far from a loose girl, she's more focused on finishing college than getting pregnant. So there are no early-grandpa fears for me! (Watch, she has a drawer full of sex toys I don't know about. Doh!)
It's not just home life, though. Sports teams have been way easier with her. Granted, girls can be catty at times, but they'd rather get along than not. Plus, the coaches early on were usually moms, as opposed to manic Little League dads. As a result, my daughter's teams had way better parental camaraderie (i.e. parties!) I love watching my daughter do her sports.
So, next time someone tells me what a headache their daughter has been, I will knock on wood and say a little thank you that my daughter has been so easy.
Boys are a terror. I know this from the grief my brother and I gave to my dear mom. We broke things like crazy. Windows. Toys. Each other. (No broken bones, but plenty of stitches.) We ran around the house like wild animals, yelling and screaming. We wrestled until there were tears. We aimed slingshots and bee-bee guns at each other, sometimes even firing. (Like a Jon and Kate divorce proceeding. Ha!)
Where was brother protective services when we needed it?
My daughter has been a piece of cake. She does her homework, keeps a tidy room, never talks back. Oh sure, she could help more often around the house. But she's so sweet, and so good at keeping her nose clean, I kind of don't care. She's eighteen, and far from a loose girl, she's more focused on finishing college than getting pregnant. So there are no early-grandpa fears for me! (Watch, she has a drawer full of sex toys I don't know about. Doh!)
It's not just home life, though. Sports teams have been way easier with her. Granted, girls can be catty at times, but they'd rather get along than not. Plus, the coaches early on were usually moms, as opposed to manic Little League dads. As a result, my daughter's teams had way better parental camaraderie (i.e. parties!) I love watching my daughter do her sports.
So, next time someone tells me what a headache their daughter has been, I will knock on wood and say a little thank you that my daughter has been so easy.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Pain
People are afraid of themselves, of their own reality; their feelings most of all. People talk about how great love is, but that's bullshit. Love hurts. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can they deal with love if they're afraid to feel? Pain is meant to wake us up. People try to hide their pain. But they're wrong. Pain is something to carry, like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It's all in how you carry it. That's what matters. Pain is a feeling. Your feelings are a part of you. Your own reality. If you feel ashamed of them, and hide them, you're letting society destroy your reality. You should stand up for your right to feel your pain.
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