Dad - The New "Satan"?

Eight-year old Chris called me "Satan" the other day. It's hard to interpret that for any audience, but my sense is that he believed at the moment that the Devil and me were pretty much interchangable. My "sin" as far as I can ascertain, is that I wouldn't let him (Chris, not the Devil) wwatch YouTube on the computer past 9pm.

Being a parent is like riding a rollercoaster. One minute you're the shining star of your child's life, the next minute you're Mussolini, only without the captive audience. My wife Terry has a good approach to the changing fortunes of parenting, never getting too high or too low. I wish I could adopt that stance for myself, but when Chris lashed out I took his words to bed with me and felt like a real failure as a father.

What saved me was remembering some of the hateful things that I said, or imagined I said, to my own father. The world of a child is centered on self, and that world revolves around their wants and needs. Not having computer time in 2010 is a lot like being called in off the playground while the sun is still out in 1971. The level of technology changes, but not the perspective of the child.

As I approach fifty, it's striking how much I value contact with my folks. Perhaps as we learn to cope with their imperfections, they teach us how to cope with our own. As parents, we're no angels, but we're certainly not satan either.

Read This Before Your Next Car Trip With Kids!

I just spent (or survived) 10 hours in the car with my two sons. A greater test of parental love and tolerance, there may not be. Traveling from Jackson Hole, Wyoming to our home in Parker, Colorado brought us 537.8 miles closer. Three lessons I learned for long car rides in the future.

1. If you rely on your spouse to charge the portable DVD player and you know beforehand that he/she won't be joining you in the car, make sure you learn how to accomplish this task yourself.

2. Pack enough snacks so that you can cut down on your drive time. Let your kids choose the snacks, since they'll be the ones eating.

3. Stock the car with music that everyone can sing along to. Like it or not, my kids are into the Beatles (hooray!), Bon Jovi (eh) and AC/DC (sorry, I never "got" them)

My guys are 8 and 10 years old, and we played "Mad Libs" most of the way. It was a great way for them to expand their vocabulary and learn creative ways to insert gross bodily function sounds into conversations. And I finally learned the difference between an adverb and an adjective.

Mom's Day

I'll admit it, sometimes I take for granted all that my wife puts up with from three boys. The uneven hairlines, the temper tantrums and the dirty clothes left to molder on the bedroom floor. And then she has to put with our two sons as well. Mothers deserve more than a "day" in my opinion, and I'm not sure a month or season or entire year is enough to salute all they do for us.

Here are a few of the roles I salute mothers (including my own) for fulfilling, above and beyond the call of duty.

Traffic Cop: Policing disputes about baseball cap ownership and whose turn it is to go first.

Cabbie: Ferrying kids to and from baseball, swim lessons, soccer games, guitar/cello/drum/bass/recorder/digeridoo lessons and more.

Doctor: Patching wounded knees and feelings, always knowing when a neck rub and a kiss is needed most.

Mom: The most underappreciated and underpaid job in the world. Although those with experience in this area tell me that the fringe benefits beat any paycheck, any day.

Happy Mother's Day to all, including my favorite Mom, Joan. Remember, only 42 shopping days left until Father's Day!

Kids and Ethics

Each day's headlines bring news of leaders in the church, community and business who have made moral missteps. I do believe that all of us can trip into the ethical abyss from time to time. It's what you do once you're there, and how you recover, that is the measure of the man and father.

A football player from Cleveland was recently arrested at an airport security gate. Shaun Rogers was trying to bring a carry-on bag with a loaded and cocked gun, into a secure area and onto a plane. He says now that he didn't know the gun was in his possession. Sorry, this falls into categories of both supreme stupidity and casual arrogance.

http://sports.espn.go.com/nfl/news/story?id=5058703&campaign=rss&source=ESPNHeadlines

Professional athletes may not be role models, as basketball player Charles Barkley once said, but they are public figures. When an athlete complains about the scrutiny they're under, I wish they'd remember that they could have easily been police officers, accountants or Subway sandwich shop managers. Athletes choose their line of work, as do we all. Some in the media point out with a bit of validity that the "regular" people like us aren't hauled before kleig lights and cameras every time we commit an offense. I can't help think that us "regular" people also can't afford high priced attorneys, nor can we schedule our jail time around spring training or the NFL season.

I wish just once (Tiger, Shaun, Alex, Roger, anyone?) someone in the spotlight would 'fess up to their misdeeds before they're caught. Now that would be news!

Logic Wins Out Over Rules

Like the Allies and German forces, huddled in trenches awaiting the whistle to go "up and over" for some penultimate WWI battle, the boys and I used to gird for the nightly trauma over baths, pj's and bedtime. When they were 4 or 5 years old, this ritual became a power struggle of epic proportions. As the boys have gotten older and I have matured, the scene plays out with far less intensity. We're all thankful for that.

My wife Terry used to counsel me "pick your battles" when I'd come downstairs from the boys' bedroom after those fights. My face would be red, jaw clenched and the last thing I could think about was a relaxing night's sleep for myself. When I was a kid, bed-time was clearly defined, "lights out" meant exactly that, and very few breaches of protocol were allowed! I thought that was how it had to be.

What I've been reminded of recently is that all us parents are imperfect, and we're all free to set our own rules. My folks learned from their folks, who learned from their folks, and so on back to the Shtetl and ghetto of Eastern Europe. That doesn't mean I have to be a carbon copy of my father. He certainly wasn't a carbon copy of his Dad.*

As I let go of my kids and encourage them to be independent and seek their own way in life, I realize that I can't control them, only influence them. So Nick wears a t-shirt to bed. So Chris stays up late reading. We all get a good night's sleep in the end.

*For the uninitiated, "Carbon Copy" refers to the carbon paper you used to slip between sheets in a typewriter. This is how we made copies in the mid-20th Century. If you have to ask what a typewriter was...I can't help you.

Leprechauns

Whoops. My wife is out of town and she usually facilitates the arrival of leprechauns at our house for St. Patty's Day. This time, the imps were not only late, but failed to measure up to our sons' expectations. They left green sparkly liquid in both the bathroom sink and toilet. No Lucky Charms cereal, no green milk, cupcakes or cookies.

When 8 year-old Christopher came down the stairs this morning, he plaintively wailed that this was absolutely "The Worst Saint Patricks Day Ever!" I came "this close" to revealing the leprechaun's true identity, but I held my tongue. In that split second, I realized that his ability to still believe in Santa, Leprechauns and the Easter Bunny is a character strength I truly admire.

What do you believe in that you can't prove?

Safety and Change; Teach Your Children Well

There was a "lock down" drill at my 4th grade son's school today. I hate that our kids are growing up in a climate of fear, where dis-trust comes before trust. Life seemed simpler and less dangerous two generations ago when I was growing up, and yet when I reflect a bit deeper, it seems that times haven't changed as much as many of us think they have.

The late 60's and early 70's were times of dramatic social challenges. I can recall "duck and cover" drills at my elementary school. I didn't realize that these were to protect (as much protection as a school hallway can provide) us from Russian nuclear devices. I was convinced that the North Vietnamese would be invading Penfield, New York any day.

How do you create a safe environment for your children? How do you ensure that they feel free to experiment and test their limits, without pushing beyond the edge into reckless behavior?

Dads, Humanity and OJ

Watching the Olympics brings back memories of my own athletic dreams. In my early teens, like most boys I guess, being a "jock" was the height of cool. I didn't know then that football players wore shoulder pads. I spent one autumn walking around with my shoulders hunched up, trying to imitate my heros on the field. In my Buffalo Bills' #32 jersey, I tried to emulate my then-hero OJ Simpson.

Wow, how a few decades and an internationally televised ride in a Ford Bronco can change your perspective. My parents have an artful collage of family pictures in their hallway. Right there in the middle is yours truly, hair down to my shoulders in that jersey celebrating OJ. That may be the only photo celebrating his deeds (on the field) in the world.

I tend to agree with the retired basketball player Charles Barkley. He riled many parents a few years ago by declaring he wasn't out to be any child's hero. Worshipping anyone beyond your circle of family and friends can be fraught with danger. The idols on a poster are far too fallible and their transgressions get played out in the national media. Babe Ruth had his faults and demons, but his fans didn't have ESPN to update them on the hour.

As Dads, we showcase our humanity on a daily basis. Falling from grace in our children's eyes can happen quickly, but we also don't have to wait for the next news cycle to explain our faults to teach (and learn) from them.

What's Your Comfort Food?

I can feel the lump in my stomach. Hours after an invigorating workout with weights and cardio combined, I've just submarined my fitness efforts with a two-hotdog lunch. The warm buns, mustard (and ketchup) remind me of skipping school for the cheap seats and baseball's opening day, making sure to evade my father who was sitting in the box seats! Cold and cloudy days like today remind me of growing up in Western New York. According to NOAA, Denver (my home today) averages nearly seven of every ten days with sunshine. Rochester, where I grew up, has one sunny day for every one with clouds, 51% days with sunshine to be exact.

I'm not blaming the hotdogs on my upbringing, convenient though that would be. But that lump got me thinking about our "comfort" foods. Are they regional? Do they help us make a link (hotdogs, "link", get it?) to our childhood? Do we choose them, or do they choose us? Mine are the aforementioned frankfurters, along with mac 'n' cheese, chocolate ice cream and my mother's pot roast. Had I chosen them, I like to think I would have chosen more wisely. Broccoli anyone?

I hope my kids will be comforted by many things as they grow older. Perhaps the scent of a cologne, or their mom's homemade burritos. With a nod to the 21st century, it might be the nearly imperceptible hum of their Nintendo toys or laptop. As odd as it sounds, one of the most comforting reminders in my life is the smell of a slightly mildewed garage. That takes me back to my maternal grandparents and their home in Muncie, Indiana. Once in awhile, that same smell visits in our own garage. Some 40 years later and I'm right back playing in the front yard with my little plastic toy soldiers.

The things that comfort us probably choose us, not the other way around. Memories, like hotdogs, are probably best when they are mixed infrequently with our present, and our future.

Just Joking Around

We hosted one of Chris' friends for a sleep-over recently. One of the beauties (and curses) of winter break is that every day becomes a Saturday night. "John" arrived at about 6:30pm, with pizza and cherry pie fueling the pre-Tween festivities. Without my darling wife Terry here (off on a trip to her folks' in New Mexico) I was left to fend for myself. So I did what any well-adjusted parent would do. I locked myself in the bedroom and watched a Humphrey Bogart movie.

My take on sleep-overs is that unless there is blood seeping under a door, or screams in the middle of the night, the kids can take care of themselves. After a peaceful night, I fixed chocolate chip pancakes for the boys and John's dad arrived (on a white stallion if I'm not mistaken) around 10:30am and we sent them on their way.

What I've realized lately is that as complex as toys and video games can be, my sons can be amused and enthralled by the simplest things. A conversation about bodily functions can lead to non-stop giggles for an hour. A game of "Go Fish" makes us all giddy. Knock-knock jokes with non-sensical punch lines reach from the early morning into the night.

One difference between the current generation of parents and parents of the past, is that today we seem to want to plan every excursion, or fill every minutes of our kids' time with swim and guitar lessons. Scheduling in un-structured time to enjoy each other's company might help our children understand that the simplest pleasures lead to the most lasting rewards.

The Bongo Beat of Learning

I've read that kids who are involved in music show an increased ability to concentrate on their studies. My two siblings are great examples of this correlation; I couldn't be prouder of their accomplishments! My sister Julie played the cello for many years and later graduated with honors from Harvard Law School. My brother Tom has a Masters from the University of Washington in Chinese studies, he played the cello as well. More important than their academic achievements however, they along with their spouses actively encourage their kid's' musical ambitions. As an aside, I lasted in piano lessons for six months.

Yes, that's a limited focus group, but as our sons have expressed interest in playing instruments, we've supported their passion wholeheartedly. Nick can pick his way through "Smoke On The Water" on the guitar, and Chris will drum anything that's not moving. Including my belly during a recent Sunday afternoon snooze. Still, with expensive lessons and equipment, their favorite instrument to play is a worn and ancient bongo drum. Not even bongo "drums" because it's just one bongo. Or drum.

I've written about the need to feed your children's passions before, even when those passions are fleeting. It's important for kids to experience the excitment of trying something new. Just as important, it's vital for them to understand that exceptional talent in music, or in anything, comes when they match their passion with practice.

Perhaps there is a bongo drum in your house right now. Or a squeaky violin. Or a recorder that can't manage low notes but hits the high notes with alarming frequency. Smile when your kids want to show off their talents, and listen carefully for the sounds of their passion and purpose in life. They're not trying to make it at Carnegie Hall, they're just trying to secure their place in your heart.

Saluting the Single Parent

My wife's been out of town for three days. The kids and I miss her very much for a wide variety of reasons. Her smile, her hugs, her warm words, her errands, her cleaning, her schedule-keeping. Get the picture? Without Terry here, the kids and I slip into "bare necessities" mode. As long as there is un-expired milk in the fridge and pizza at the door, I'm happy and so are the boys.

The good news is, I know my wife will return. At 6:19pm Friday evening to be exact, not that anyone is counting.

For the single parent, help often doesn't arrive at a scheduled time. Nor is the help "guaranteed" like when there are two parents in the picture. I've had friends throughout the years that raised kids on their own, and I can't imagine greater heros in our daily midst. Some people parent alone, meaning their spouse doesn't provide a whole lot of help. Others parent individually due to tragedy, love lost or because they choose to.

You probably know a single parent. The holidays are a great time to offer a helping hand to these heros. Even if it's just a few hours of childcare so they can have some time to themselves, the brief respite is a marvelous present. And you don't even have to wrap it!

Blizzard Survival Tips for Dads At Home

We are now in "Day Two" of "Snowbound: Crisis in Parker". The scene outside my office window looks like mid-February, only with more snow. We have about 2 feet of the fluffy white stuff on the ground. I can personally vouch for the fact that it's fluffy until you start shoveling, then it becomes downright heavy.

Mike's Blizzard Survival Tips: When the Kids Stay Home from School and Sanity Slips Out for the Day

1. TV time is limited to 7 hours during daylight.
2. Food is defined as whatever the kids can reach. "Marshmallows for lunch? Sure, have at it boys!"
3. Get the kids (and yourself) outside. Anyhow, anyway, anytime. We're paying a plowing service to clear the driveway, but we spent an hour shoveling just to get the juices flowing.
4. Hot cocoa is one of the five food groups.
5. Don't sweat the small stuff. If everyone is rosy-cheeked and exhausted at the end of the day, you've done your Daddy job just right!

Winter reminds me of my own childhood and growing up in Western NY state. The joy of those days of snow up to my hips and above always brings a smile to my face. What a blessing to pass down those experiences to my two sons!

Passing Passion Along to Your Kids

Terry and I made this deal when we were married, long before we had kids. We would raise the boys as Catholics (I'm Jewish and grew up in a family where the identity of religion had far more clout than the practice of religion) if I could raise them in my personal faith. The religion of the Fenway Faithful; raising them as Red Sox fans. The boys were both born here in Denver and in their early years were willing adherents to my allegiances. Now that they're in school and routintely exposed to influences outside the house, they're picking up some bad habits.

When I root for my teams (The Red Sox and the Buffalo Bills) the boys are quick to remind me that as Colorado natives, they could care less about my roots. Both Nick and Chris are dyed-in-the-wool Broncos (football) and Rockies (baseball) fans. In fact, not only do they cheer for those teams, they actively cheer against my teams. It's as if they are conspiring to derail my sports addicted dreams. In spite of this rebellion, I secretly love the fact that they care. To have a rooting interest in sport, and thus a community, is a wonderful passion that my Dad passed along to me.

I've learned that being a fan of your kids and their interests is far more important than if they are a fan of your interests. If my sons' passion were directed toward skateboarding (it is) or ballet (it isn't) then as long as they pursued that interest with the willingness to experiment, fail and succeed, I would support their passion as I would support my own.

Hmmm. My Dad is a Yankee fan. I'm sure he'd say that the chickens are coming home to roost. Good luck in the World Series, Dad. And I mean that sincerely.

Is Your Child a Terrorist?

Okay, maybe it's just me, but I've noticed a disturbing trend. While listening to NPR (yes, I do watch Fox from time to time for a "fair and balanced" look at how President Obama is messing everything up) I heard about the latest terrorist arrest. "The suspect was arrested in his basement bedroom, at his parent's home" intoned the announcer. Didn't Zazi, the fellow arrested here in Denver, also live with his parents? Seems like the last three major terrorist arrests have all been of single men in their 20's and 30's, living at home with their parents.

What conclusions can we draw from this incredibly small sample?

1. All terrorists live at home with their parents.
2. All terrorists have been unusually unsuccessful at any other line of work besides terrorism.
3. Since we're catching them before they blow things (and themselves) up, terrorists may not be successful even in their chosen line of work.
4. To minimize the chances of "Junior" becoming a terrorist, it's important to instill a sense of independence and self-confidence in your kids at an early age.
5. All single men in their 20's and 30's who live at home with their parents should be arrested.

Next week in this space, I will be solving world hunger, reining in rogue nuclear states and revealing the cure for the common cold. The common ingredient in all three crises is basil. Or maybe oregano. I always get those two confused. Stay tuned.

Four Cornerstones of Great Parenting

I spent a recent morning interviewing seniors about their fathers; what an amazing experience. As men in their 80's and 90's talked about the sacrifices their fathers made for them, I couldn't help but think about the sacrifices these men made for me. Otis casually mentions that he was a tail-gunner in a B-24 over Europe. Gene was in the Army Air Corps in Italy and North Africa. Dick flew "The Hump" between China and Burma. Their eyes lit up as they talked about working the fields with their fathers, or fishing trips on late summer nights. When I asked about "The War", they looked at their feet and mumbled about how "it was a lot tougher" for others who never came back.

What I've learned about fathering so far from the interviews I'm conducting for an up-coming book is this:

• Love, given unconditionally, comes in many forms. Maybe Dads didn't hug their kids much 60 or 70 years ago, but they sure as heck loved their kids.
• Dads weren't perfect then, and they're not perfect now. Lessons of fatherhood tend to be rose-tinted by years gone by, and as adults we recognize what our fathers did well and what they did poorly.
• Great parents perform self-less acts every day.
• Parents leave an indelible impression for generations. Our "legacy" as parents extends far beyond our mortal lifetime.

Thanks to the staff and members of the Barnum Senior Center in Denver, and the Colorado Springs Senior Center. Your memories and lessons learned will help shape a new generation of parents.

I heard a great quote on the radio the other day from a farmer in Kansas. He said "If you're working on a problem that can be solved in your lifetime, you're not thinking big enough." My guess is that the work of becoming better parents and teaching those skills to future generations, is work that will continue long after we're gone.

Three Dad Challenges

I turn 49 this week. It doesn't seem like a monumental birthday as I move closer to the big 5-0. Recalling when I turned 21, I always thought that once you left the schooling portion of your life that you were pretty much a fully formed being. I also thought that everyone over the age of 21 was mature! How many of our peers disprove that theory every day? Thank goodness our personal growth doesn't stop when they hand you a diploma and you walk off stage right.

Being a Dad means constantly learning what you know, and what you don't know. My kids remind me daily that technology, music, social mores and television shows have zipped by me in the blink of an eye. While my "fuddy duddy" identity is more clear than ever, I do feel as though I can keep up mentally as long as my personal and professional life remains challenging.

Speaking of challenges, what's challenging you these days in your relationships with your kids, your partner, and yourself? Here are some of the things that are cropping up at my house.

1. Kids wanting new and more technology. At the ripe old age of 9, Nick's decided he needs an I-phone. Whatever happened to your best friend, two orange juice cans and a really long piece of string?

2. Terry's on the road for work, which means the household duties that I used to take for granted now rest squarely on my shoulders. Is it okay to leave the dishes in the sink overnight? Two nights? How high must the Oreo crumbs rise below the kitchen counter before you haul out the brush and dustpan?

3. It feels wierd sometimes to reach out to fellow Dads to ask questions or confirm common experiences. Guys don't talk like women do. Ladies break down intimacy barriers far more easily than men do. Is that hard-wired in us?

That last concern vexs me and I'm committed to do something about it. Let's us guys commit to make this Blog and other resources you'll be seeing from DadSpeaker in the coming months, pathways to communication. I'm not saying we'll be sitting around this time next year comparing varicose veins, but we should be able to lean on each other when fatherhood throws us curveballs. Fair enough?