Tag Archives: family

What it Takes

The First Step

So, my first novel is done. And do you know what it took to get it done? I had to write it. Such a simple step, but so difficult to do. Under the Lights was a novel I completed for National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo)… three years ago. So what took so long?

First, fear. It is so easy to say you are doing something instead of actually doing it. I wasted years talking about being a writer, about working on a novel without really putting the time or effort into it. I was afraid to actually write it, to put my heart and soul into it, knowing that readers might not like the story. It was easy to hide behind excuses of time and family. And to simply give into the fear.

I am going to be honest; I am still feeling fear and doubt as each copy of the book is sold. I wonder if the themes are clear, if the characters come alive for the reader. Time will tell. I am excited to see where this book will lead me. So how did I actually get the book ready? Work.

Achieving Something Takes Work

For the last year I have scraped together time to produce my novel. I don’t know how many times I have read the story, checking for errors, adding a line, and deciding to remove parts. To achieve any goal, it takes work. But it is worth it. I am now a writer. I like the sound of it. But I have to give my family the credit in helping me overcome my fear. How can I expect my sons and daughters to work hard for their goals if I don’t set the example?

While working at ESU 10 I discovered the TED Talk below by Larry Smith, “Why you will fail to have a great career” (Yes, I was working at ESU 10 when I actually finished the novel for NaNoWriMo). Like many things in life, a seed takes time to grow. Larry Smith’s honest insight on why going after a great career is important inspired me. My family inspires me. Their talents and life journeys inspire me to go after this goal that I have shied away from for too long.

Achieving anything takes work. Takes a lot of work. You will have to conquer your fear. But it is worth it. Believe me, I’m a writer.

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Mixed Cereal

“Can I have mixed cereal?” My daughter asks.IMG_3775

“Yep, what kind?” I reply.

“Reese’s Puffs…”

“And…” I try to drag out the second cereal for the mix.

“Reese’s Puffs and…”

“How about Apple Jacks?”

“Yeah, Apple jacks.” She jumps up from the couch and heads to the kitchen.

This conversation is from a few days ago with my four year-old.  Lately, my three older girls have started to eat mixed cereal.  Simply put, mixing different kinds of cereals in the morning or at snack time.

My oldest daughter first asked for this about a month ago one morning as I was getting her cereal ready.  When she asked, my first response was going to be, “No.”  But before I said it, I wondered to myself why I was going to say no.

Time? It would take all of 20 seconds to open another box and pour it into the bowl.  But life falls into routines, and a change in that routine makes us think about how it will affect our time.  Every morning I say something like, “We got to go.” Trying to get the kids to hurry so that we stay “on time.”  But time wasn’t a good enough reason.

It is odd. Who ever heard of mixing cereal… (let alone pop). I really caught myself on this idea.  Was I really going to tell her no because it was different?  But I started to wonder how many times did I do that.  How many times do our kids get a knee jerk “NO” from us simply because it is different?   I take certain sense of pride for thinking outside the box, but this moment challenged me.  Showed me how fast we can react to an idea that is outside the (cereal) box and shut it down before we even consider it.  How many ways to can we actually crush creativity?

Since I couldn’t think of a reason for her not to have mix cereal for breakfast, we started a trend in our home.  It is a simple act, but a tasteful one.

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14 Steps

There are about 14 steps from my little girls’ room to the living room.  Every weekday morning, around 6:00 a.m., I head to their room.  Taking turns, I wrap each girl in their blanket and carry them out to the living room.  They are heavy with sleep.  But in small ways they snuggle into my arms; an arm around my neck, moving their head onto my chest, or curling up into the fetal position to fit in my arms.

The girls are five and four years old.  I can shake them awake. They could walk to the living room.  They find their way to our room at two in the morning, that’s for sure.  But it is 14 steps.  It is 14 steps that I will, soon enough, not walk with them in my arms.  They will grow and be too heavy with age to carry. It is 14 steps that I can show them that dad loves them.

Some of our greatest moments are the smallest.  What can you do today in 14 steps?  Find that path and watch how the world looks better in just 14 steps.

steps

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Happy Birthday

Courtesy of Flickr user Bitterjug

The candles were lit.  My daughter looked around at everyone standing by her.  A smile creeping on her face.

“Everyone ready?” I ask.

The kids all shake their heads yes and we all break out in song, “Happy birthday…”

And my daughter bursts out in joyful laughter.

Yesterday was my third daughter’s birthday.  She turned four.  It was a busy day for our family.  Wednesday is CCD, my wife attended a funeral during the day, my oldest son has a different schedule because of finals, and we went out to eat for my daughter’s birthday.  All day my little girl kept asking if it was, “Happy Birthday Time.”  I thought she meant if she could open presents.  She received one of her presents in the morning and opened her other present after dinner, but she kept asking about the Happy Birthday Time while the older kids were at CCD.  I told her we would have cake when the kids got back and that she had opened all her presents.  But she kept asking.  I didn’t get it until I saw her eyes explode with joy as we sang “Happy Birthday” to her.

It wasn’t the presents, or the cake; it was that moment when she was the center of our attention.  Where we expressed our love for her in a simple song.  She laughed the whole time.  She couldn’t blow out her candles because of her laughter.  This was the third moment in the last couple of weeks that has highlighted the importance of our actions (and words) in building up (or tearing down) another person.

Example number two happened last weekend as I was getting groceries.  I want to preface the example with the knowledge that as a parent I have had bad days and I hope this situation for the mother was just one of those days.

I was shopping for groceries alone as we tried to get the little ones some rest.  As I turned into an aisle I noticed a boy about nine years old sitting at one of the booths the store has for eating from the deli.  Didn’t think too much of it and continued up the aisle.

“Can I shop with you now, mom?”  I knew it was the boy.

“Does it look like I’m at the end of the store?” an annoyed and exasperated voice responded.

“Please, can I shop with you?” His voice pleaded. As a dad the part that makes me feel ashamed when I lose my temper is how much my kids still just want my love and attention.

The mom’s voice softens a little, “OK, but no more issues.”

As life has it, I crossed paths with this mother and son in every aisle for the rest of my time in the store. And yes, they even ended up behind me in the checkout aisle.

ToolsThe mother’s voice might have softened at first, but soon I heard her bark at her son… in every aisle.  The situation brought up a dark time in my life.  In junior high my mother had a live-in boyfriend that would put me down whenever he could.  But the worst was when I would have to help him with projects.  He was an outstanding handyman.  He could fix any problem in the house.  He built some incredible cabinets and other things for my mom.  Even though I was “the worst #### kid ever” I always had to help.  I could not do anything right. It was a very dark two years of my life. Even today, I have a hard time doing handyman things around the house.

Back to the store. I tried to smile and just make a positive interaction with the two.  But, it was the same situation in each aisle.  The mom’s voice covering the child in negativity.  And the boy doing everything he could to make her happy.

The third situation has challenged my own patience, as our littlest one has not gotten a consistent schedule through the night or morning.  It is not fun changing diapers at two in the morning, or knowing that the family will be running late because the little one is up earlier than normal. That means I have to feed her before I can get into my morning routine.

But, no matter the time, my little girl lights up with a smile when I place her on the changing table.  Whether it is two in the morning, or when I try to get a couple of sips of coffee before I feed her.  I have created a new habit of kissing her on the forehead whenever I pick her up in the middle of the night. It helps me remember to keep my frustration at bay.

Every child, heck, in all honesty everybody wants to know they are loved, that they are the center of your attention.  Even if it is for just one song.

I hope you have a “Happy Birthday” kind of day.

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Blueberry Muffins: The Next Generation

Ready to bakeFor those who have not read much of my blogs, blueberry muffins are a Sunday morning tradition in our home.  They represent the change that any family goes through, but also shows the strength of tradition that binds a family together.  And now the next generation is in on the making of blueberry muffins.

Lately, I have been the one making the blueberry muffins on Sunday morning (teenagers do sleep in).  For the last couple of weeks I have had two little helpers.  My four and three year-old daughters have been helping me make the muffins.

I set the girls on the kitchen island with the ingredients and bowls between them.

“I’ll break the eggs. You put them in the bowl. OK, dad?”

And each daughter gets to break an egg for the muffins, and they get to break a couple for the scrambled eggs we have added to our Sunday breakfast.  The girls giggle as a little bit of the egg gets on their hands.  They rush to the bathroom to wash.  I have to wait for them.  They don’t want to miss helping at any point.

“Alright, keep the spoon in the bowl,” I say as I hold the glass bowl for my three year-old to mix the batter.

She smiles as she speeds up the spoon, creeping up the edge.  I tilt the bowl as best I can to her frantic motions.

“Very nice. Time for the blueberries.”

“Do we need that net thing?”

I reply that we do. The girls marvel at how the water turns purple.

The three of us get Sunday morning breakfast ready for the family.  At such a busy time in life, I know this routine is a way to be a dad.  We make a small mess and it takes twice as long to get breakfast done, but for 20 minutes nothing matters except us.  Every morning this week my two daughters have asked if we were having blueberry muffins.  I tell them no, but on Sunday we will.  Like we do every Sunday.

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What happens when a connected teacher loses the connection?

A normal hurdle in our connected lives is home Internet service.  For the last three days our Internet has been down.  And life has been different.

First, we have been spending more time together in the living room.  The older kids still had their mobile devices, but mostly to listen to music or to read.  My oldest daughter has been spending time working on her first graphic novel, the boys have been taking turns holding their new sister, and the two other girls have been running sprints to the front door.

Mom and dad have been intertwined into the activities.  I am the official starter for the sprints. The girls line up next to me and I say, “Go, Go, Go!”  Mom will make sure the boys hold their sister’s head right.  And we all check the newest panel in our daughter’s project.

The disconnect has allowed us a chance to reconnect during this busy time.

But being disconnected has its drawbacks.

First semester is the time I teach the Eng. 101 class.  The students use Moodle to turn in everything.  In the best circumstances, I am always just a little behind in grading.  The students write almost everyday.  I am now days behind in just that class.  I have work to do to just get caught up.

My other classes use Schoology, and I have kept up through the app on my phone.

Photo by former student Angelica.

Photo by former student Angelica.

But when the rest of our world stays connected, we have a digital mountain to climb when we reconnect with them.  We have emails to read and respond to, tweets and status updates to respond to, and for teachers, piles of digital papers to grade.

We might have come to the point that we cannot function well without being connected.  And that idea is for another blog.

A technician is headed to our house this morning to fix the problem.  And I will be back to grading papers late into the night. And tweeting during my breaks, of course.

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A Quick Post for Today

It is a Tuesday morning in August.  I am not at the Blue Moon coffee shop.  My oldest son started junior high this morning.  My sixth child should be born in a few weeks.  I have a few minutes between school meetings, and my shoes are wet from this morning’s QB and receiver practice.

Life is a crazy trip.  I wish I could articulate something profound or bring to light something new for this blog, but I can’t.  What I am learning from this new experience is that fear knows no age limit.  And in some ways, at my age, it seems harder to over come.

I think part of it is concern for the stability of my family.  My goals and aspirations for raising my kids and building a life with my wife is a factor in my decisions.  When I make a major change, the family makes a major change.  And that concern of making the right decision is almost crippling.

But that is what fear does to us. It freezes us.  Decisions feel so permanent because they do set our feet for the next step.  But life has shown me that every path has junctions and new paths are always options.

Age does not eliminate fear.  Life will always have choices, no matter how routine it feels.  So…

Made with PicLits.com

Made with PicLits.com

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Trust Your Foundation

My youngest daughter, in fact all my children, continue to show me life lessons.  Every morning my two youngest daughters get a breakfast bag to take with them in the car.

BreakfastAs the girls get their hair done, shoes on, they start eating their breakfast.  This morning we were rolling with our normal routine when my youngest daughter placed her bag on the edge of the side table spilling her breakfast.

I took a few seconds to collect myself so that I wouldn’t just have a knee jerk reaction. I looked at the ceiling, took a breath, and prepared to clean up the mess.  As I turned back to my daughter I was surprised to see her simply picking up her breakfast.  I bent down and helped her pick up the spilled cereal and Pop-tarts.

Honestly, I was prepared to ask her to help or even do it myself.  But there she was handling the situation.  Something we, as parents, have tried to instill in all our children.  As we cleaned up together, I thought to myself how I didn’t trust my own parenting.  I was, again, quick to think that I would have to handle the situation.  But my little girl proved me wrong.

Trust.  What a tricky concept.  Especially in this situation.  To trust myself.  To trust the foundation we have been building for our children.  My oldest son will be a seventh grader next year.  The teen years will be in full force in our home.  I know I will make mistakes.  I know my son will make mistakes.  But this morning my youngest daughter showed me that it is not just trusting others, but having the courage to trust the foundation I build.

I will be honest, that is a scary thought because as a parent we want to have a sense of control. Just like the old adage “If you want it done right, do it yourself.”  But the problem is that we can’t live another person’s life, even if it is our children’s lives (or our students).  We have to trust we have built a strong foundation and let them show we can trust them to stand on that foundation.

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I hear you…

       Last night I had two examples as a dad on the importance of listening and hearing my children. The first was my oldest son at the dinner table. It wasn’t anything world changing, but he had a rough day at school. My wife and I sat listening to him vent about the day’s activities. We didn’t try to solve all the problems but did give advice.  Mostly though, we just let him talk about his frustrations. By the time supper had ended life was pretty good for him. He had been heard and knew that we understood what was going on, even if we didn’t have concrete answers for him.
     The second example wasn’t so easy. My littlest girl got up at about 12:30 a.m. and we did our routine of getting a drink and sitting in the chair for a few minutes. And then things got a little tough.
      At the moment a part of her bedtime routine is to spend a few minutes in bed with us and then she will say, “I’m ready for bed.” But at 12:30 she wanted to get into bed before she went back to her room. I wanted to make sure that my wife got a good nights sleep, so I told her we would just go to bed or sit in the chair for a few extra minutes.  She wasn’t up to that and started throwing a fit about how she wanted to “sleep with mom.”
      Somewhere I had read that the best thing to do with a child who is throwing a fit is to ignore them. But if you have a strong-willed child you know that they will pay any consequence. And even as hard as I tried, she just continued to throw a fit and scream about how she wanted to sleep in our bed. Trying to keep my cool, I reinforce that she was being disrespectful by being loud and waking other people up. That didn’t help.
       After about 30 minutes or so she moved from sitting on the chair to sitting next to me trying to gain my attention. I was getting frustrated but had one of those father moments where you try something totally new because nothing else was working; I turned to her and said, “I hear you but you are throwing a fit and that is not right.”
      As soon as I had replied that I had heard her, she quieted down and sat next to me. I again tried to persuade her that she didn’t need to lay down in our bed this late at night.  But that set her off. I again replied that I heard her, and she settled down.  (A side note here: we have been reinforcing saying please and thank you.) Well, after a few minutes she asked if she could lay down with a please attached.  Yes, I gave in, and within five minutes of laying down she was ready to go to bed and she slept through the rest of the night.
I had never responded with the I hear you comment to her before, and as I came back to bed after getting her snug in her bed I started to think about a piece of literature that reinforce the importance of hearing children.
     So I’m going to go English teacher here.  If you’ve ever read the book The Outsiders then you know that there is a powerful moment in the book when Johnny is talking about his parents. I don’t have a copy of the book with me right now so I will paraphrase, but he is telling Ponyboy that the worst thing that his parents do to him is ignore him.  Johnny can take the beatings, but when his parents act as if he is not there, it hurts him.
      It’s not just our children or students but everybody wants to be heard.  They want to know that they have a voice and that voice gives them solid ground to stand on in this world. When our voice is actually heard, it means we are known.  We know we matter. Life will sometimes reinforce the importance of things through my children.  Yesterday it was how important it is to hear individuals around us whether they are our children, our students,  or anyone who might need us to hear them.

 

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“I do it.”

Clip art courtesy of ryanlerch at openclipart.org

This morning my youngest daughter was getting herself dressed. She was having a little trouble with one of her sleeves. Like many parents, my wife said, “Come here, I’ll help.”

Our daughter look at her said, “I do it.”

She continued to struggle to get the sleeve untangled and her hand through the sleeve.  She turned a couple of times like a dog chasing its tail. After a minute she stopped and said, “Need help.”

My wife then helped her get her arm through the sleeve and we continued with our morning routine. The time in between “I do it” and  “Need help” was probably at the most a minute. But in parental time it felt like an hour, especially since we were in the middle of our morning routine.

My youngest girl is a classic strong-willed child. She will tackle any thing she feels like. If this was any of my other four children at this age they would have let us help them get their arm through the shirt right away. We would have justified helping them for the sake of our routine.

It is easy to do things for our kids. Whether they are our own kids or our students. My oldest son is now 12 years old and we are asking him to take on more responsibility. But I wonder if I have simply taught him that dad will do it.  For example, for years I have cleaned the dishes from the table after dinner.  It is easier for me to handle the mess than have a child carry a plate with some uneaten macaroni and cheese on it and have the possibility that the child dumps the food on the floor. Or take their glass, with just a little bit of milk at the bottom, to the counter.  But now that I want my son to do more, there are moments of frustration because he forgets to put his plate in the dishwasher.  But I have done it for him for twelve years.

This morning my three-year-old daughter reminded me that building any foundation takes a lot of time and energy. It might be easy to do things for our kids for the sake of time or ease. But the foundation will not be there when it is needed most in life. When we are not there.

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