Tag Archives: dinner

Choose Your Reaction

I have had three moments recently that reinforced the power of choosing my reactions to situations. Did I make the right choice? Overall I think so, but let me share these three dots…

First situation was a few days ago. It was time for dinner but our youngest daughter was not home. She is 10 years old. We knew where she was, she had ridden her bike to a friend’s house about eight blocks away. Frustration started to boil in my chest as the food was almost ready to serve and there was no sign of my daughter.

I decided to take the car to go get her. In my head I was mad because she should know to come home around 6 p.m. because we usually eat at that time. But then I thought of the fact that she does not have a phone or even a watch. Also, the weather is getting nice, she is a kid playing with a friend… time has no influence on her, just me.

I saw them on the driveway playing some kind of ball game. I rolled down the window. The moment had come to decide how I was going to handle the moment. Yell at her? Lecture her about being responsible?

“Time for dinner!” I said.

“OK,” she replied, smiling. She hugged her friend then got on her bike. She peddled next to me as I told her how fast she was going.

As we sat down to dinner she told me that she had asked her friend’s dad to let her know when it was 6:15 so that she would come home in time for dinner.

Second moment was yesterday at track practice.

I chose to yell. OK, more like raised my voice and brought out my frustrated energy.

Now, I did not yell at a single athlete or put anyone down. But I stood in the middle of the discus ring while the throwers stood around me. Their attitude and focus was shabby as they did some power throws. No left arm. Not smashing the bug (turning the right foot). Being smooth with their release… discuses were wobbly or 90 degrees. I was frustrated that the fundamentals were lacking, especially since this was the seventh week of the season. I let them know.

I am not a coach that yells. I stay pretty level, even when good things happen. I needed their attention. I got it. Practice afterwards was much better regarding focus and execution of the fundamentals.

The last moment was just this morning. My third daughter (age 14) came to my room before school started. She was obviously in a bad mood. As a dad I asked about it. (I know all you parents are already reacting… wrong move.) She replied that the question was annoying and put her earbuds back in.

My first reaction was to match her energy back at her. But I pushed the frustration down. I told her I was asking because I cared. She didn’t respond back. I continued to get ready for the day. My chest was still a little warm, but reminded myself that she was a teen, it was the morning. (I swear I didn’t say a single word to my second son in the morning all through high school.) 

I went to get a ladder because I had to put up some posters my students made, when I returned my daughter asked if she could help. She wanted to climb the ladder. She took some funny pictures and helped me put up the posters. 

Our emotions rise quickly in any situation, positive or negative. And there is nothing wrong with the emotions, but how we react to the situation and to the emotion dictates the outcome. My relationship with my daughters could have been bruised if I had yelled at them. My athletes needed a wake up call.

We do have a choice on how we react. It makes all the difference in some of the most important moments of our lives.

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This house is not a home

I am not going to talk about all the dots life has been sharing with me about this idea. There have been many, some very deep and challenging. Instead I’m going to jump right to the point of this post, and that means we are jumping into deep waters right away.

A house is just one of the facets of building a home. It is a central spot where we build our homes. But it is just one of the elements to a strong home, a strong life.

Our routines are central to the quality of our homes. This doesn’t mean our lives are just a series of repeated actions, far from it. Routines that build a sense of safety and love allow us to do wonderful things. 

A major routine I have is to wake every child with Care Bear or unicorn energy. Even if they have the morning blues, I make sure they know a new day has begun, and I am happy to wake them. (My boys still talk about how much they hated my energy in the morning… but with smiles now.)

Another routine we have, as many of you readers know, is Sunday morning blueberry muffins.  We also try to have dinner together every night, even with practices, musical concerts, and games.

Even the simplest routines influence the sense of home during the day. For example, I fill everyone’s water bottle in the morning and make lunches when they don’t like the option at school. Every day.

I could go on, but these routines would happen anywhere, any house, under any circumstance, and they have. They happened when I was jobless. When we lived with the in-laws for six months. We were home.

Another aspect of home is the people we let in the front door. The people we let into our lives. Now, this is a tough element to delve into. If someone came into your home and started breaking your dishes, throwing them on the floor, and ransacking the cupboards…Would you just sit there and let them? Or if they started screaming at your children or taking a hammer to the walls? Would you just sit and smile while you watched them? I don’t think so.

Yet… yet, we allow people to emotionally do this to us. To walk into our lives and destroy us in the name of family or friendship. Our home becomes filled with fear, angst, doubt and negativity. We would defend our dishes, but not our hearts? Our home is influenced by the people we ask into our lives. 

I understand the complexity of relationships, especially when the family is used to justify accepting someone’s actions. But I will protect my home, protect my heart from being thrown on the floor to break.

The final aspect of a home is the decorations, the pictures, the figurines, and the books on the end tables. The stories and memories we create are hung on the walls of our lives. A beautiful home is created by living fully with the people we cherish. 

Yes, big moments, like family vacations. But also the small moments of breakfast at McDs or taking snack walks. The walls of our lives should be filled with stories. Our lives are our homes… and a home is where we should feel free to live.

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Birds on a Wire

For some reason on my walk this morning, I noticed the birds. The sky was clear blue. No clouds. I noticed different groups of birds fly overhead. They all glided to the north, which was the way I was headed. After three blocks I saw many of them perched on the telephone wires. There were robins, grackles, red crossbill, and a few I didn’t know the name of.

Image by Queven from Pixabay

They would swoop onto the wire. A few would fly away only to return after a second. Some of the birds stayed on the wire the whole time I watched. The morning was filled with their different songs. At one point it seemed like the whole wire was filled with birds. It was a cool moment.

I continued on my walk, thinking about the birds. Thinking about how it didn’t matter what type of bird they were, they all had a place on the wire. Yes, my thoughts turned to our turbulent times, but took a turn to an idea of the wires we have in our society.

Old men at the gas station getting coffee.

Barber shops and hair salons.

Coffee shops.

Fishing at the lake.

I thought about all the games of dominoes and pitch I played in college.

Sunday dinner.

I thought about how sitting on a wire, talking, helped build a community. A bird, any bird, was welcomed on the wire. They were free to stay or leave. Right now, it seems that no one is talking. Right now, it seems there is no wire for us to sit and be, to be welcomed because we showed up. To share stories, to feel like one community.

I so wanted to grow wings to join the birds this morning. To sit with them on that wire and add my song to theirs.

 

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When dad gets sick.

Sometimes, things don’t go as planned. We were looking forward to the first weekend where we only had one activity on the calendar. I was going to get grades caught up. Spend time with the family. Watch the Super Bowl. Enjoy the downtime.

It started as a little tickle in my throat when I woke up Friday morning. We had a teacher in-service that day so the morning routine was relaxed. At lunch time we were going to pick up my blood pressure medicine. I got some cold and flu medicine, too. I thought it would be best to nip the scratchy throat situation before it got worse. By the end of the day I told my wife that I was going to get some rest when we got home.

I wasn’t feeling horrible, but I was tired. I thought part of it was the cold and flu medicine. Things turned for the worse. When bedtime arrived my throat was feeling tight and scratchy. I thought I just needed another dose of medicine, a good night’s sleep, and everything would be good in the morning. I was wrong.

We would go to convenient care in the morning. The doctor would talk about the option of draining my uvula if the antibiotics didn’t work because it was so swollen. I had strep throat. But I didn’t know that Friday night. I had one of the worse nights of my life as my throat and uvula worked together to make me feel as if I was choking on something all night. I would drink some ice water and the sensation would go away for a few minutes. I would close my eyes only to be jolted back by the closing of my throat.

I could not find a position that would alleviate the sensation. Your mind starts to panic in the darkness of the night. So many thoughts ran through my head in that darkness. At one point I did panic. My heart raced. I couldn’t stop thinking something was terribly wrong. But I survived. The night passed.

I would spend all day Saturday and part of Sunday in bed. Away from the kids. Away from the routine of my life. I could hear the laughter and conversation at dinner.  My little girls would stick their head in to say they loved me. My wife would fill my water for me. (I drank so much water!)

My sickness reminded me of a few things.

The first is that family is about routine. Now, not in the boring definition, but by what you do everyday. Each member of the family has a role. A family is the whole of all the parts. A family changes over time. Children grow, routines change and adapt to new situations. But the definition of a family is founded in what each person does. That is why I felt so sad as I listened to my family enjoy dinner Saturday night. They laughed. They talked. I missed that. Dinner time is part of our family definition, part of our routine.

The second aspect of life that was reinforced actually came during my struggle Friday night and maybe because I am only a few years away from being 50 and maybe because we have read the poem, “The Road Not Taken,” in class. (I have written about the poem before in the post, “Only Time Will Tell.”) But time doesn’t wait for your dreams. Time doesn’t wait for your happiness. Time doesn’t wait for anything.

Ironic that I wanted Friday night to end quickly, but it didn’t. But the saddest belief we have is that tomorrow will make our dreams come true, that we will be happier tomorrow. I see this in different ways. My seniors believe that they will be happier next year. I live it every time I pass up an opportunity to fulfil my goals. But time will pass no matter what. Time doesn’t care.

The last thing: I hate it when I get sick.

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Snowy Day

The snow cancelled basketball.  The girls stayed in pajamas.  I shoveled the driveway.  It was one of those relaxing snowy Saturdays when you eat too much, we made sugar cookies, and you get the chance to spend serious family time.  We had a great moment at the dinner table where we all were laughing so hard we were crying.

We read stories; a few of us took naps (yes, I was one of them).  But technology allowed us to do some creative things.

My oldest son wrote a song, “There ain’t room for both of us” as a Christmas gift for his grandparents.

He is learning to play the clarinet.  If you remember a past blog (“Miles Davis: So What”) you will recognize the similarities of the beginning of his song.

This day gave my other son the chance to make his first Lego movie, “ARC Troopers: Ambushed”

I helped with technical parts, but he was the director and producer.  He had the script done, a staging map for the Lego men, and ideas for the sound effects.

These projects are not earth shattering, but allowed my sons to pursue things they are interested in or working on.  This day gave us the opportunity to build memories that we can experience for along time.

I can’t wait for the next snow day…

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