A New Affliction

Pandemic! It threatens everyone. Most don't even know it, nor do they realize that while it is universal and potentially fatal, its progress can be slowed to a crawl with relative ease. This affliction, funicle degeneration or fuddy duddy syndrome, is most commonly called AGE and it desires to have us all. It nearly got me. But for the brave actions of a little boy, I might be in its relentless clutches at this very moment. I'd love to say I escaped, but I was actually rescued. It went like this...

Several months ago, sometime between Christmas and April Fool's Day, my son Wyatt reminded me that the 4th of July was right around the corner and that we needed to be thinking about getting fireworks. I remember the days when fireworks were a celebratory expression of American Independence. Those sparks and whistles, those flames and pops. I couldn't get enough. But now, fireworks are a celebratory expression of watching my paycheck go up in smoke.

Now Wyatt is at the "fireworks are awesome" stage in life and made sure I was reminded of it at every opportuntity. His incindiary promptings continued unabated and he made supplications at regular intervals that I should procure some fireworks as quickly as possible in preparation for the huge backyard Fourth of July celebration. I, of course, made every conceivable excuse for not having done so, such as, "I'm sure they are all sold out." and "We just can't afford it right now." and the ever popular and minimally effective, "I think I broke my legs." None of those worked and I found myself being assaulted on a minute-by-minute basis by a young boy just wanting to have some fun. But, having a full blown case of FD made it easy to deny his requests. The kicker came when he finally gave up with, "OK!" and walked away from me with his knuckles dragging the floor like a little toe headed neaderthal. I just couldn't take it. I grabbed my keys and the checkbook and we headed to the store late in the afternoon of July 4, 2007 to see what we could find, hoping there was still something left on the shelf. Of course, Wyatt came with me. We entered the store and wouldn't you know it, there were stacks of fireworks, all laughing at me, waiting to set my savings ablaze. The grip of FD does not loosen easily. But after about .000009438 seconds, he had made his selection and we were headed for home. The entire 15 minute trip I was treated to a personal reading of every word on the box, a couple of times. At least twice I felt the sting of pure joy slamming into my neck from the back seat as he fizzled with anticipation. By the time we got home he was ready to ignite. I'm just glad he didn't explode in the car. Dinner was pure torture and we were all certain the sun was never going to set. But eventually it did and we retreated to the back yard for 12 minutes and $29.97 of flaming fun.

My FD is cured and, fortunately, my son is still intact.

The Big Launch

Samuel and Mason spent the last couple of weeks creating this little gem in preparation for their next "Sacking of York". Also of note, when launching GI Joe's, bad guys fly farther than good guys.

And The Winner Is...

With summer underway it's an all out battle to ensure that the kids are doing more than wathcing TV and turning into little turnips. So we had an idea. A contest. Everyone can do it and it will be fun. So we decided upon a photo contest. The rules were simple.

1. All entries must be digital and original
2. They must be taken in or around the house
3. Mom and Dad would judge based on Originality, Composition, Color, Contrast and a few other criteria
4. 3rd place gets a kick in the pants, 2nd places gets a pat on the back, 1st place gets $5.

So we gave them a few days and access to any digital camera in the house. Many photos were entered and here are the winners...

Honorable Mention (by Samuel)

We liked the way the picture was split in half by the zipline in the backyard. He had to balance the camera next to the tree and hope he got a good picture.

3rd Place (by Mason)

We liked the composition and color. Nicely done

2nd Place (by Samuel)

Good use of light

1st Place (by Mason)

This one just had fairly good everything...Texture, Composition, Perspective...Our dog.

The Power of Boredom

One of the best parts of my week is Saturday morning. I like it because it usually offers the time tested staples of a leisurely weekend such as a big family breakfast, hot coffee brewing when I stumble out of my room, and a little personal time for everyone. However, Saturday morning usually starts on Friday evening so things can get a bit complicated in an effort to simplify.

It happens like this...on Friday evening everyone slowly makes their way into bed and the parents of the house head up to say evening prayers. Friday evening prayers are different because they ALWAYS end with a fatherly admonition that the child praying should include a prayer for a spirit of quietness the following morning to let the paternal unit sleep in lest his ire be raised to just below the ceiling followed by the child in question loosing a finger or other appendage. So Saturday mornings are usually quiet. But as every parent knows, quiet can mean trouble.

So it was that this morning, all was quiet. The sun was up, the air was cool and breakfast was finished. Given the beauty of this particular Georgia morning, I sent everyone outside for some fresh air and solid play. The first indication of trouble came when Samuel showed up in the kitchen and just kind of stood around looking sheepish. I queried, "Why aren't you outside?" His reply was unexpected, but not surprising. "I don't what to get in trouble when Mason and Wyatt get hurt." "Why would they get hurt?" "They're on the roof!", he said, not wanting to tell on them but not wanting to lie either.

A while later, after a little more too much quiet, I heard a loud conversation taking place in the garage and stole slowly to the door to ascertain what was being said. That's when I discovered that my children were being forced to take their imaginations to new heights to think up something to do since there was no TV, Playstation, or Computer actually operating in the back yard.

My discovery of their level of boredom came in the form of a sentence from Mason as each threw their ideas for fun into the proverbial hat. He said, "Let's practice scewdriver throwing!"

A Christmas to Remember

Christmas is a great holiday. Giving and getting, spending time with family, eating till you wanna pop, and ultimatly breaking something by days end. It's both hectic and fun. This year we decided to do something a bit different. We limited our gifts to the kids and sent a certified letter to Santa to do the same. On Christmas day, after the rush of early morning excitment had subsided a bit, we presented them with "final gift"...a group gift. Nothing special, just two small books. Tour books outlining the sights and highlights of Washington DC. Olivia was the first to catch on with, "Are we going to Washington DC?" at which the boys stopped and stared awaiting an answer. Indeed, we were going to DC. They freaked out and immediatly began pouring over the books to determine what they wanted to see. So for the rest of Christmas day, the kids talked and played, I worked to finish re-plumbing our bathroom and Tina packed us all up in anticipation of leaving town the next day.

The 26th arrived as scheduled and we loaded up bright and early to drive north. It was a 9-10 hour road trip but we arrived and checked into the lodging office at Bolling Air Force Base. The next 3 days were cram-packed with sights and tours and subway rides and miles of walking but each one had a great time getting their first taste of the history of America. We saw everything from The Wright Brothers Flyer to the Declaration of Independance. We saw Abraham Lincolns Top Hat and Ford's Theatre. We saw Kermit the Frog and the Hope Diamond. We visited the Lincoln, FDR, Jefferson, and Washington Monuments, the War Memorials for Viet Nam, Korea, and WWII. On our last day we visited Arlington National Cemetery, wathched the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknowns, saw the grave of Audie Murphy and other significant figures in American history.

I could go on for hours about the details of what we did and where we went. But the purpose of the trip was to allow the kids to see the seat of our government and everything surrounding it. One thing we did was get each of them a small journal and made them take the time to write each night about the days events. On December 27th, our first day of actual touring, Wyatt summed up the events and feelings of the entire trip very concisely. Dec 27 - We went to the the Library of Congress. I saw most of the memorials in Washington DC. We are going to see the museums tomorrow. PS. I had a great day.

There's A Signpost Up Ahead...

Fear. That about describes it. Fear is a good word. Or maybe apprehension is a bit better. Then again terror might just be the best of all. At any rate, the experienced effect underquestion is like soaking yourself in gasoline and then standing there, holding a disposable lighter, and thinking about the sensation to come. Not a pretty picture.

Such is the emotional landscape I find myself surveying. Why, you ask? Because at this moment a young man stands before me bearing the bane of parents everywhere...his drivers permit. Our firstborn, our little man, the eldest of our brood wants to drive my car, and he has the blessing of the state of Georgia to do it. I don't think my heart, lungs, brain, or bowels can take this. How can he possibly be old enough to drive? Just yesterday we were bathing him in the kitchen sink! I am becoming convinced (and I'm mere moments into this thing) that teen driving is the primary cause of mid-life crisis. My hair is greying, my eyes are bagging, and my stomach is on the verge of purging at the thought of it all.

Woe unto me that I was ever born for such a day as this. Woe be unto my pocket book whence I must upgrade my auto insurance. Woe for I am undone at the thought of the first fruits of my loins hurling himself and others hither and yon at speeds approaching 15 MPH!

And so we embark on the next phase of parenting and childing. Next stop, girlfriends!

From the Mouths of Babes

Few things in life will make you feel older than a Birthday. Today is mine. I’m 41. But besides marking the beginning of another year of life, this kind of occasion is a great teaching opportunity. You can teach all kinds of things. For instance, advanced math is a good subject.

As we hung around the house, getting dinner ready and assisting the kids with their homework, I casually conversed with my youngest, Olivia. Tina, seizing upon this rare and exciting math teaching opportunity, said to Olivia, “Today, Daddy is 41. So when you’re 16 he’ll be…?” She immediately completed the sentence, “Dead!”

Testing the Legend

It seems all of our kids are at the age when their teeth fall out in clumps. A few days ago, Mason lost yet another tooth (possibly one of his last). He told us about it but didn't tellus that on that very night, he forgot (or neglected) to place said tooth under his pillow. The next morning, no tooth equaled no cash. The following night, unbeknownst to Mom and Dad, he put the tooth under his pillow but didn't tell anyone whether or not TF paid him a visit. Several days later, curiosity got ahold of Tina at the dinner table and she asked, "Mason, did you ever remember to put your tooth under your pillow?" He replied, "The first night I forgot but the second night I remembered." "And what happened?", Mother queried. "A dollar" came the quick and unemotional reply. "Why didn't you tell anyone?" She continued. At last the cat came out of the bag, "Well, I thought you guys were the tooth fairy so I didn't tell anyone."

I'm sure. We're TF! Whatever!

The Girl Who Tempted Fate

A storm was hanging in the sky, waiting to unload on us, so we contented ourselves with indoor activities. Some played games, some watched TV, at least one cooked dinner. It was patently unremarkable. Given the impending weather, none of us reacted very much when the power went out and then within seconds came back on. Other than the need to reset all the clocks in the house, it wasn't much of a bother…a mere hiccup in the midst of our relaxation.

Go back with me to a few moments earlier and taste what it must have been like to be my own parent. Our youngest, and probably our most mischievous, Olivia, decided that since it wasn't actually raining she would go out side and play until the weather dictated otherwise. As she wandered about the house alone something caught her eye. A large box on the side of the house with a huge handle along side. This particular side of the house is not often visited as it is out of the way. But she visited it. And the handled box tickled her fancy. It was, of course, the main breaker to the entire house and she just had to know what would happen if she pulled that handle! A quick jerk, a loud click, and nothing. So she quickly pushed it back into its original position and continued with her play, ignorant of the demon of electricity she had just played with.

Sometimes I think about the stupid things I did out of ignorance or pure curiosity and it makes me sick to my stomach. When she innocently confessed to what she had done, I think my heart stopped. Even now, we are preparing her shackles to be worn until she's 28.

Cootie Avoidance and the Art of Dress

There are many things in today's world from which to choose as a source of entertainment. For Tina and me one of the things we like to do is watch "What Not to Wear" on the learning channel, wherein the hosts take someone in desperate need of a well developed fashion sense and school them in the arts of proper dress. This schooling includes everything from the do's and don'ts of color matching, to how a pair of pants can flatter even the most unflattering figure. Earlier this week one of the "students" on the show was wearing a pair of pants that were held tightly in place by some overzealous elastic approximately 18 inches above her navel. To further the "look" she wore a standard brassiere that fit in a very non-standard way. The end result was that her top half and her bottom half appeared to be in the process of a continental collision somewhere in the vicinity of her 3rd rib. So, the hosts of the show politely talked her through the proper fit of ladies undergarments. Tina then commented, in an offhanded fashion, "I guess none of mine fit properly."

This weekend was Mothers Day. A day where children celebrate their Mothers and husbands sweat profusely at the prospect of having to explain that they didn't actually forget, they were simply busy preparing for Christmas. So it was that mere days before Mother's Day I was still considering real versus fake Christmas Trees and had yet to do anything tangible for this weekend. That's when fate stepped in in the form of a very poorly dressed woman in an ill fitting bra. This was my chance and I grabbed on with gusto. I proudly announced that we were going to the mall!

Once there I directed the family to the upper level and headed to Victoria's Secret. One of Victoria's secrets is that boys under 25 will melt if they go in the store. So the adults in the group fastened the kids to the rail outside the store and headed in to buy a brand new, properly fitting, extremely comfortable and fabulously attractive bra. Once done we headed out of the store and attempted to hand the bright pink gift bag to the boys. They of course were having none of it. After all, it was pink and probably had terminal cooties.

The next day was Mothers Day. We got ready for church and Tina donned her new bra and her old robe and worked feverishly to get the kids into dressing mode, with some success. At one point she approached Wyatt for who knows what and didn't notice that her bra was showing ever so slightly. Wyatt was very purposeful in his avoidance of eye to bra contact. Just looking at it might bring on who knows what kind of disease. So I jokingly asked why he was so embarrassed to which he replied, with emphasis on each letter, "I do not want to see her B-R-A-W-L."

Nick 'Lee', er Lewis

Yesterday was such a good day. I drove to Loomis to watch Nick take his test for his Advanced Green Belt in his self defense class. I had a chance to meet his instructor, Conrad Woodall. He and I clicked because he is a retired Police Officer. He is the owner of Woodall's Self Defense and Fitness.

Well, I got there about 5 minutes ahead of time and was told almost immediately that spectators were not allowed in the gym during testing. Boy was I disappointed. But I had the chance to take some photos of Nick before he took his test. I could tell he was nervous, because the test is one full hour long and is supposed to be pretty rigorous. So I left and came back about 5 minutes before his test was done. As I walked up to the door, I could hear Nick inside yelling, "ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, ..." I later learned that he was doing punches.

At the conclusion I was invited back in and saw my very red faced, dripping sweat son seated exhastedly on the mat. His instructor was grilling him on some excellent life scenarios and how his training applied to life. Nick was taking it all in, while trying to breathe. Well, he passed his test and I was able to see him recieve his Advanced Green Belt and a trophy for doing so well. What a proud moment for me.

I took Nick to lunch at Applebee's and we talked and talked about his experience and the test. WOW, what an amazing experience. Nick said his arms were shaking he was so tired. Well, he scarfed down the biggest steak, fries, and 3 cokes. What a dude! When you see him you will have to ask him all about it.

Uncle Scott

A Quiet Weekend of Camping

Our little pocket of humanity rarely slips below the 4 or 5 population level. So when it does it is something noteworthy. The constant roar that incessantly fills the background gives way to near silence and for one brief shining moment there is peace and quiet. Then the quiet fatigue sets in and you can’t wait for the sounds of little voices and feet echoing from all over the house. This weekend was such a time.

Samuel was out of town all weekend with his school. They visited several historic sites up and down the eastern seaboard. Mason and Wyatt were off camping with the Royal Rangers. That left only Olivia, Tina, and me. Despite what you might think about Olivia, she can be downright noiseless when her brothers are not around. I rather think she enjoyed it. Soon, Samuel will tell all about his trip, so I won’t steal his thunder here. But the camp out bears mention.

This was Wyatt’s first big camp out with the Royal Rangers so he was very excited. Mason, too, was looking forward to being the big brother, the one who knew everything and could mentor his little brother in the ways of the wild. And from all reports after the fact, things got really wild, but not in a wild, natural, outdoorsy kind of way. Rather, it was because of some of the other campers (from a different group of Royal Rangers). It seems that a couple of the older boys thought it would be cool to flirt with the edge of the rules or just plain ol’ disobey them. So they made every effort to use inappropriate words and do things that are not becoming of young men of God. And unfortunately, they chose to do many of these things in the presence of my boys. Those are the moments you wish your kids were locked in the cellar away from the negative influences of the world. But you can’t do that so you hope and pray that you have done them right up to that point and that they will remember the lessons of their youth.

When I picked them up they were tired and dirty and really looking forward to climbing into their own beds. On they way home they brought me up to speed on the events of the weekend, including the bad kids. Wyatt said from the back seat in his hardest tough guy voice, “Dad, there were some boys there who were cussing at us. (he repeated this phrase several times to ensure I heard him as both boys were yammering simultaneously) and Mason said one of them even moaned him.” Mason corrected him, “He mooned me!” So I said to Wyatt, “You didn’t use those words, did you?” “No.” he replied. “I didn’t even know what those words they meant, except I think I heard one of the before!” He continued, “and I even found a pack of cigarettes with cigarettes still in it.” “What did you do?” “I didn’t pick them up. I told one of my commanders!”

In Hooville they say that the Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day! I couldn’t be more proud of my little men.

Thank Heaven for Faeries

Life for the average parent seems to be a series of unexpected events. At least it is at our house. Some big, some small, all unexpected. So it was that on a recent evening, when I was the sole child watcher / video gamer, with the primary caregiver (Tina) out and about with friends, that one such event occured. Most things take planning but the abruptness of this particular event left me little or no time for such planning.

As the kids were just finishing up their evening baths and climbing into bed for the evening, Mason approached, held out a beautiful specimen of a human molar and said, "Dad, I forgot to tell you. I pulled another tooth! I cleaned it with my toothbrush." That said, he kissed me good night and headed up to bed where he gently placed his trophy under his pillow. It seemed the Tooth Faerie would forget about it until the very last minute when, just before climbing into bed herself, remembered and paid Mason a visit. He is now the proud owner of a perfectly curmbled and only slightly over-used one dollar bill.

Olympic Sleepwalking

Some things just don't go together. Oil and Water. Light and Dark. Politics and Religion. Cagney and Lacy. Mix two things that you shouldn't and you have serious problems. Sleepwalking and Stairs present such a hazard. It is the fear of every parent whose kids sleep upstairs.

One of the great things about being a parent is bedtime. So it was that two nights ago, after getting the kids in bed, Tina and I settled into the family room to relax and watch the Winter Olympic games from Torino, Italy. We thrilled at the speed of Men's Short Track Speed Skating; we wondered at the grace of Ice Dancing; we perched on the edge of the couch at the nail-biting action of Women's Curling. That's when we heard the first hint that someone was not in bed anymore.

In just a matter of seconds, Wyatt appeared at the entrance to the family room. He pinched the "love handle" region of this sleep shirt and proudly proclaimed, "I got it". It took the trained eye of a parent only a micro second to realize that as far as he knew, he was still in bed, despite having navigated two doorways and approximately 15 stairs. Tina sprung into action and began to escort him back to his room to his warnings of, "Don't touch it!" I followed, knowing this was going to be a very humorous few minutes. As we entered his room, he all but launched into his bed from several feet away and began to snuggle in. I thought it was over. I was wrong.

Knowing that Wyatt sleeps better with his little stuffed Grover (the fuzzy blue guy from Sesame Street) I approached him to get his covers and his gear situated. As I brushed past the foot of his bed the sat up and began telling me to "Touch it" while pointing to the spare pillow at his feet. We played a modified game of "Guess What I'm Pointing At" until I held up the pillow and said, "I got it, man" He seemed happy with that and again, headed for slumber land. The next mistake was mine. I quietly asked, "Where's Grover?" He began looking around frantically until I pulled his friend out from under his bed and placed it next to him. Happily he turned to his soundly sleeping sister and said, "It's OK Livi. They found it!" As he laid his head on his pillow, I put my arms around him to ensure he was comfy and asleep before heading downstairs again. Tina was assisting in all this my laughing silently in the corner. As he again closed his eyes, I thought it was over. I was wrong.

Within seconds of assuming a prime sleeping posture Wyatt's hand began to unexplainably wander skyward until he looked like a kid in school wanting his teacher's attention. Then the hand began running circles around his wrist in a "Come here, Mom." kind of motion. As Tina approached to assume cuddling duties Wyatt looked straight at me and said, "You know what I want? Go get yours and put it by the door!" To the trained ear of a parent, this made no sense at all. So I moved away to allow Tina to work her fairy-sleep-dust magic on the "sleeping" little boy. And within a couple of hours, it was over.

Or so I thought.

Preparation Is Key

Once a month, the boys and I make a regular trip into the back woods of Lake County. Our destination, the shooting range in the Knoxville Recreation area near the border of Lake County and Napa County. It's very rural, very beautiful, and is home to a simple shooting range that most people have no idea exists. There are benches set up. You bring your own targets and blast away.

We will typically bring my Mini 14 (.223 cal or 5.56mm for Brad), M4 (another .223 cal), Glock 27 (a compact .40 cal), and Glock 22 (full size .40 cal). With LOTS of ammunition. Typically, we bring cokes, chips, and snacks, and have several hours of "guy time" enjoying the relaxation of guns and the great outdoors.

Each trip to the range begins with a discussion on safety, i.e. no loaded weapons when someone else is shooting. All weapons are left on the truck while someone is shooting.

Until recently, Drew has been a bit intimidated by the M4. It's a very scary looking piece of equipment. But I showed him how very little it kicks by placing the but to my groin and pulling the trigger. Since then he has just loved shooting the gun.

Nick, now there's another story. Nick has an amazing sense with guns. He is both comfortable and respectful. He listen's intently, and is very good.

I don't usually just set up targets and just shoot. I put the boys through some scenarios with practical shoot. Moving from points of cover, while engaging the bad guys.

It's quite a bonding moment.

That'th Five

It is a moment all parents look forward to. Baths were taken, teeth were brushed, waxy little ears were fresh and clean. We sat back to catch our collective breath and quietly watch the USA take the gold and silver in the Olympic Half-pipe in Torino, Italy. All was still, the house was warm, and the atmosphere ripe with impending slumber for all.

Then came a faint thud on the ceiling. It was the unmistakeable sound of small feet hitting carpet. Within seconds Olivia came running down the stairs with more than a hint of excitement in her voice. She knew she was not to be out of bed but this was too important and exciting not to be a valid excuse for breaking bedtime protocol. With what sounded like a laugh covered sentence or a phrase covered giggle she said, "Dad, it'th hanging by jutht one thread." When she hit the bottom of the stairs she took a step or two, planted her feet as if preparing for a titanic struggle, and reached for her mouth. There was no turning back. She stood there for just a few seconds with a look of concentration and joy plastered across her face and then exclaimed with the joy of a child on Christmas Morning, "I got it! That makth five!"

She laughed and danced and yammered on as only Olivia can before heading back up stairs to prepare for the inevitable arrival of the Tooth Fairy. Moments later, she was asleep and the house was again quiet...for a while!