Lately my blog has been visited by some students at TCU. They are either taking a class on blogging, or blogging is part of an English class. Some of them have launched their own blogs, one of which you can visit here.
The author of this blog asked me some questions in the comment section of my last post. She is writing a paper that is, at least in part, about blogging. I have answered her questions in the comment section of one of her posts, but told her I would put her questions out to The Family Man readers.
Here are her questions:
Who blogs?
Who is their audience?
What makes a good blog?
If you want to help a student, please visit her blog and give her your thoughts.
We were all students once, after all,
It's great to be The Family Man
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
TV or not TV
Our house sits on a corner lot. The terrain slopes gradually downhill away from our home, east to west. Because of this, the style of our home and the retaining wall the original owners put in, our home sits slightly higher than the home on our back yard lot line, the home to our left, and the home kitty-corner to us on the back yard corner. Thanks to a few strategically planted trees, our back yard is relatively private.
The neighbors directly behind us have two young children, both girls. The oldest is just about four; the youngest is probably eighteen months. We know then in passing, waving hello when we happen to pass each other driving in or out of the neighborhood or if we see each other outside on the weekends.
You would think our kids would play together. Sadly, they don’t. It’s not because of cultural issues, neighborly unfriendliness, religious concerns or anything else.
No, it’s simply because their kids never seem to come outdoors.
We live in an area with a wonderful summer climate. In one of the driest states in the USA, we have summers with abundant sunshine and little rain. Our elevation and lack of humidity make for mostly warm, sunny days that are not oppressively hot and rarely humid. In other words, with sunscreen, we have a summer full of days that beg to be enjoyed outdoors.
We take full advantage of it. We’re in our back yard, front yard, one of the local parks, riding our bikes, or hiking in the mountains that are five minutes away by car.
The family behind us, on the other hand, never seems to be outside.
Yet their TV always seems to be on.
I know this because from Chris’s bedroom window we can look right into their living room window. Especially in the evening, the blue glow from their giant screen TV is not just visible, it is dominant.
Think drive-in movie dominant.
My point in spending the first 79 words of this post describing the landscape of our home and our neighbors has a point. I’m not a peeping tom. I don’t get off watching my neighbors with a telescope. But simply due to terrain, an upstairs window of our home lines up, between two trees, directly with what seems to be a family room window in their home, and it’s impossible not to notice the glow of a huge TV after dark.
While Chris gets ready for bed I’ve glimpsed NASCAR races, Monday Night Football and various movies. Sitcoms. Game shows
Often I see cartoons.
And that leads me to think that the TV is on far more often that just in the evening.
We regulate the TV Chris and Tommy watch. They watch Sesame Street, Arthur, or one of their favorite DVDs in the morning, no more than an hour. Sometimes in the afternoon, with the day care provider, they’ll watch a bit more. But once MBW and I are home, the TV is not on weeknights, and rarely on the weekend.
I’m sure I sound like a snob – as if we perceive TV to be some low-class opiate and we’re above all that. Like we are some highbrow intellectuals who only listen to classical music, play Baby Einstein CDs for the kids and only eat organic vegetables and home-grown grain, wearing clothes made from undyed fabric sown in certified sweatshop-free countries.
Trust me, we’re none of that.
But we do think it is important not to use the TV as a babysitter or a substitute for parental involvement. Sure, there are plenty of nights when it is tempting to park the kids in front of the TV, put Shrek in the DVD player and chill. But I’d rather make the time to play, read, or just mess around with Chris and Tommy than watch TV.
Part of this comes from the overall value MBW and I place on TV in the first place. Neither one of us are significant consumers of TV. I like to watch sports, but I’m lucky to catch part of a football game on any given weekend. I like to watch news, but it seems I get most of my news from the Internet these days. I do watch Nightline two or three times a week. Actually, I see more TV at the gym doing cardio than anywhere else. MBW has a couple of shows she likes to watch, but other than one program she isn’t fanatic about remembering to watch it. TV just doesn’t play a significant role in our lives.
This from a guy who made a living in the TV News business for ten years.
By now you’re asking, “Does this post have a point? And if so, would you please get to it?”
Okay.
My point is this. Being an infrequent consumer of TV makes social interaction difficult.
Today, at the office, one of my colleagues was making a point about the product naming exercise we’re currently going through. He said, “Remember that episode of The Simpsons, where Homer helps his long-lost brother come up with a name for a new car?” Everyone in the meeting had seen the episode.
Everyone except me.
I’ve never seen an episode of The Simpsons in its entirety.
I’ve never seen an episode of Seinfeld, Friends, Cheers, or any other recent sitcom start to finish. Lost? That describes me when it comes to discussing TV shows with friends and co-workers. Desperate Housewives? Despite the eye candy, I guess I’m not that desperate. West Wing? I’m not part of that administration.
Alias. I’ve never even seen a complete episode of Alias. And I’m a heterosexual male!
I can’t even name any more TV shows to try to create wordplay from.
Not only that, but if you want to discuss a recent movie, don’t ask me. The last movie I saw in a theater was the most recent Star Wars film, and only because our entire office had the afternoon off to go to a private screening last May. Prior to that, the last movie I saw in a theatre was Polar Express, because we wanted to take Chris and Tommy.
It gets worse.
In my PDA I keep a list of movies that I see advertised, know that I won’t see in the theatre but plan to rent. The idea is that when I go to Blockbuster I’ll have handy a list of films, and won’t have to stumble around the store trying to remember what might have been good.
The problem is I never seem to get there.
Right now the list is at 44 films. Some of the films at the bottom of the list are so old I can’t remember what they are about or why I wanted to watch them. Transporter? Knockaround Guys? Bad Company? Blue Streak? What are those about?
In fact, I can’t remember the last film I crossed off the list.
It’s almost as bad with books – the difference being I love to read, and the choices are too great. Right now, stacked up n my nightstand, are The Historian, Touching the Void, and a biography of Alexander the Great. I’ve recently finished The Dominion of War by Fred Anderson and Andrew Cayton, The Long Emergency by James Howard Kunstler, Collapse! - Why Societies Fail, and Germs, Guns and Steel – the Fates of Human Societies.
If you read this post you already know I’m a nerd.
Now you know that if you want to discuss recent or past episodes of virtually any TV show, you should probably find someone else to talk to.
TV or not TV? If that is the question, I believe I’ve given my answer.
It’s great to be The Family Man.
The neighbors directly behind us have two young children, both girls. The oldest is just about four; the youngest is probably eighteen months. We know then in passing, waving hello when we happen to pass each other driving in or out of the neighborhood or if we see each other outside on the weekends.
You would think our kids would play together. Sadly, they don’t. It’s not because of cultural issues, neighborly unfriendliness, religious concerns or anything else.
No, it’s simply because their kids never seem to come outdoors.
We live in an area with a wonderful summer climate. In one of the driest states in the USA, we have summers with abundant sunshine and little rain. Our elevation and lack of humidity make for mostly warm, sunny days that are not oppressively hot and rarely humid. In other words, with sunscreen, we have a summer full of days that beg to be enjoyed outdoors.
We take full advantage of it. We’re in our back yard, front yard, one of the local parks, riding our bikes, or hiking in the mountains that are five minutes away by car.
The family behind us, on the other hand, never seems to be outside.
Yet their TV always seems to be on.
I know this because from Chris’s bedroom window we can look right into their living room window. Especially in the evening, the blue glow from their giant screen TV is not just visible, it is dominant.
Think drive-in movie dominant.
My point in spending the first 79 words of this post describing the landscape of our home and our neighbors has a point. I’m not a peeping tom. I don’t get off watching my neighbors with a telescope. But simply due to terrain, an upstairs window of our home lines up, between two trees, directly with what seems to be a family room window in their home, and it’s impossible not to notice the glow of a huge TV after dark.
While Chris gets ready for bed I’ve glimpsed NASCAR races, Monday Night Football and various movies. Sitcoms. Game shows
Often I see cartoons.
And that leads me to think that the TV is on far more often that just in the evening.
We regulate the TV Chris and Tommy watch. They watch Sesame Street, Arthur, or one of their favorite DVDs in the morning, no more than an hour. Sometimes in the afternoon, with the day care provider, they’ll watch a bit more. But once MBW and I are home, the TV is not on weeknights, and rarely on the weekend.
I’m sure I sound like a snob – as if we perceive TV to be some low-class opiate and we’re above all that. Like we are some highbrow intellectuals who only listen to classical music, play Baby Einstein CDs for the kids and only eat organic vegetables and home-grown grain, wearing clothes made from undyed fabric sown in certified sweatshop-free countries.
Trust me, we’re none of that.
But we do think it is important not to use the TV as a babysitter or a substitute for parental involvement. Sure, there are plenty of nights when it is tempting to park the kids in front of the TV, put Shrek in the DVD player and chill. But I’d rather make the time to play, read, or just mess around with Chris and Tommy than watch TV.
Part of this comes from the overall value MBW and I place on TV in the first place. Neither one of us are significant consumers of TV. I like to watch sports, but I’m lucky to catch part of a football game on any given weekend. I like to watch news, but it seems I get most of my news from the Internet these days. I do watch Nightline two or three times a week. Actually, I see more TV at the gym doing cardio than anywhere else. MBW has a couple of shows she likes to watch, but other than one program she isn’t fanatic about remembering to watch it. TV just doesn’t play a significant role in our lives.
This from a guy who made a living in the TV News business for ten years.
By now you’re asking, “Does this post have a point? And if so, would you please get to it?”
Okay.
My point is this. Being an infrequent consumer of TV makes social interaction difficult.
Today, at the office, one of my colleagues was making a point about the product naming exercise we’re currently going through. He said, “Remember that episode of The Simpsons, where Homer helps his long-lost brother come up with a name for a new car?” Everyone in the meeting had seen the episode.
Everyone except me.
I’ve never seen an episode of The Simpsons in its entirety.
I’ve never seen an episode of Seinfeld, Friends, Cheers, or any other recent sitcom start to finish. Lost? That describes me when it comes to discussing TV shows with friends and co-workers. Desperate Housewives? Despite the eye candy, I guess I’m not that desperate. West Wing? I’m not part of that administration.
Alias. I’ve never even seen a complete episode of Alias. And I’m a heterosexual male!
I can’t even name any more TV shows to try to create wordplay from.
Not only that, but if you want to discuss a recent movie, don’t ask me. The last movie I saw in a theater was the most recent Star Wars film, and only because our entire office had the afternoon off to go to a private screening last May. Prior to that, the last movie I saw in a theatre was Polar Express, because we wanted to take Chris and Tommy.
It gets worse.
In my PDA I keep a list of movies that I see advertised, know that I won’t see in the theatre but plan to rent. The idea is that when I go to Blockbuster I’ll have handy a list of films, and won’t have to stumble around the store trying to remember what might have been good.
The problem is I never seem to get there.
Right now the list is at 44 films. Some of the films at the bottom of the list are so old I can’t remember what they are about or why I wanted to watch them. Transporter? Knockaround Guys? Bad Company? Blue Streak? What are those about?
In fact, I can’t remember the last film I crossed off the list.
It’s almost as bad with books – the difference being I love to read, and the choices are too great. Right now, stacked up n my nightstand, are The Historian, Touching the Void, and a biography of Alexander the Great. I’ve recently finished The Dominion of War by Fred Anderson and Andrew Cayton, The Long Emergency by James Howard Kunstler, Collapse! - Why Societies Fail, and Germs, Guns and Steel – the Fates of Human Societies.
If you read this post you already know I’m a nerd.
Now you know that if you want to discuss recent or past episodes of virtually any TV show, you should probably find someone else to talk to.
TV or not TV? If that is the question, I believe I’ve given my answer.
It’s great to be The Family Man.
Search me
I don't normally post at this time of day, but I happened to check my stats early this morning. Once or twice a week I get a referral from a search engine. Usually it is someome searching for 'The Family Man' or 'The Family Man Blog.'
This one was different.
Someone typed this into MSN Search:
he likes to wear woman panties
This blog was the third record served for that search.
For the record, I do not wear women's panties.
But I think what triggered the hit was this post.
It's great to be The Family Man (in boxer briefs).
This one was different.
Someone typed this into MSN Search:
he likes to wear woman panties
This blog was the third record served for that search.
For the record, I do not wear women's panties.
But I think what triggered the hit was this post.
It's great to be The Family Man (in boxer briefs).
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Tagged again
Yes, I've been tagged again, courtesty of Jessica.
Still not sure why anyone wants my answers to questions. But I'm a good sport and willing to play along. Following are the questions and my answers.
6 Things I Want To Do:
1. Be a great dad
2. Be a great husband
3. Own my own business
4, 5 and 6 – see this post.
6 Things I Can Do:
1. Make my kids smile and laugh
2. Make MBW laugh
3. Take a good photograph
4. 35 pushups, 3 chinups (and improving)
5. Snow Ski Black Diamond runs
6. Scheme and Dream
6 Things I Can’t Do:
1. Dunk a basketball
2. Bench press my weight (just 10 pounds shy)
3. Retire today without financial worry
4. Hold my liquor
5. Suffer fools lightly
6. Stand hypocrisy
6 Things That Make Me Attractive To The Opposite Sex: (I don’t assume that I am. Perhaps, many years ago, I was. If there was/is anything, it might be the following)
1. Sense of humor
2. Commitment
3. Intelligence
4. Shoulders
5. Eyes
6. Bankroll (ok, see #1)
6 Things I Say All The Time:
1. Tommy!!!!
2. Chris!!!
3. Be careful
4. Please eat your (insert meal)
5. C’mon, fellas….
6. I love you
6 Celebrity Crushes :
None – I honestly don’t follow or care about the whole celebrity thing.
6 Strangers That I've Tagged:
As usual, I won’t tag others, but offer up the opportunity to reply in comments.
Tommy did a really interesting thing this weekend. In my next post I’ll tell you about it.
It’s great to be The Family Man.
Still not sure why anyone wants my answers to questions. But I'm a good sport and willing to play along. Following are the questions and my answers.
6 Things I Want To Do:
1. Be a great dad
2. Be a great husband
3. Own my own business
4, 5 and 6 – see this post.
6 Things I Can Do:
1. Make my kids smile and laugh
2. Make MBW laugh
3. Take a good photograph
4. 35 pushups, 3 chinups (and improving)
5. Snow Ski Black Diamond runs
6. Scheme and Dream
6 Things I Can’t Do:
1. Dunk a basketball
2. Bench press my weight (just 10 pounds shy)
3. Retire today without financial worry
4. Hold my liquor
5. Suffer fools lightly
6. Stand hypocrisy
6 Things That Make Me Attractive To The Opposite Sex: (I don’t assume that I am. Perhaps, many years ago, I was. If there was/is anything, it might be the following)
1. Sense of humor
2. Commitment
3. Intelligence
4. Shoulders
5. Eyes
6. Bankroll (ok, see #1)
6 Things I Say All The Time:
1. Tommy!!!!
2. Chris!!!
3. Be careful
4. Please eat your (insert meal)
5. C’mon, fellas….
6. I love you
6 Celebrity Crushes :
None – I honestly don’t follow or care about the whole celebrity thing.
6 Strangers That I've Tagged:
As usual, I won’t tag others, but offer up the opportunity to reply in comments.
Tommy did a really interesting thing this weekend. In my next post I’ll tell you about it.
It’s great to be The Family Man.
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
S'more of that
A couple of weeks ago we packed up the Camping Machine and headed off for a long weekend of family bonding around the campfire.
It was with some fanfare that we purchased the Camping Machine earlier this year. After over a year of research, doubt and angst I pulled the trigger on the purchase of a new 27-foot travel trailer. Visions of several summer excursions danced in my head as I imagined the adventure our family would have, modern day pioneers exploring the West in our 20th century Conestoga.
In fact, the reality of the summer was that between soccer, swimming, birthday parties, barbeques, visits from and to out-of-town family and other assorted social obligations, the camping machine left the RV pad all of three times – one of which was to the repair shop.
So as I pulled the rig out of the driveway two weeks ago I had two thoughts – one, I hope we have as much fun as everyone thinks we will, and two, where the hell did the summer go?
Our destination was a large lake, ringed by mountains, named for a large carnivorous mammal. It’s a beautiful lake, large and clear, and surprisingly under-developed in terms of commercial enterprise. It’s a wonderful retreat from our increasingly congested urban valley, about 3 hours in our rearview mirror as we arrived.
Let me preface everything that is to follow by stating clearly, for the record, I consider what we did as Camping. I respect the opinion of those who beg to differ, but the facts are these. We cooked (most of) our meals over an open flame. We slept in sleeping bags. We had a campfire, ate at a wooden picnic table, and had s’mores. Our campsite had real trees
The fact that we slept in a trailer with a furnace, hot water, refrigerator, microwave, and electricity has no bearing on the definition of camping.
Look, we did without TV and internet access, for Pete’s sake! How much more ‘roughing it’ do you expect?
I’ve done my share of the tent thing. I spent three nights in a tent in Yellowstone National Park, in July, freezing my butt off. I spent a night at 11,500 feet at the base of our state’s tallest mountain before reaching the summit the following afternoon. I’ve gone three days on pop-tarts, trail mix, protein bars and Gatorade powder.
But these days I’m an old man, with young kids. I want to have fun, positive family experiences in the outdoors. My days of proving, or perhaps disproving, my manhood as it relates to Grizzly Adams are long past.
What I do want is to spend quality time with my family outdoors. I want to spend time with my boys doing things, not watching other people do things. We live in such a beautiful state with exceptional recreational opportunities that it would be a shame not to take advantage of them. And that their ages right now, the Camping Machine is a great way to do it.
So we set up ‘camp’ at the local KOA (stop laughing!). The boys thought it was a great adventure watching dad try to park the trailer, unhook it from the Burbus Maximus, make it level and get it connected to the water and power. Sort of like unhitching the Wagon, setting up the cookfire, tying off the horses and preparing the campsite 150 years ago along the Oregon Trial.
Well, maybe not JUST like that. But something like it.
With camp set and the watch posted, we went down to the lake. Unlike many mountain lakes, this one has a beach of sorts. The water was clear, shallow and surprisingly warm. Chris and Tommy had a great time splashing around in the water, playing with their trucks in the sand, and chasing the seagulls. Yes, there are seagulls here at this lake. We watched the jet skis and the water skiers glide across the smooth, glassy waters. A paraglider sailed serenely overhead. It was a wonderful afternoon.
Soon it was time to head back to the campsite. After a quick visit to the convenience store (stop laughing!!!) we fired up the cookfire and made dinner. Beans and hardtack. Okay, maybe not exactly, but with a bit of imagination the hamburgers, hot dogs and brats could sort of be like that.
Then it was time for the s’mores.
Chris and Tommy have never had s’mores before. As you might expect, they adored the s’mores. They wanted more and more s’mores. I don’t abhor the thought of more s’mores, but I don’t want you to be bored with more s’more stories (stop snoring).
So I’ll just say the s’mores were more of a hit that I’d thought before. Nobody was bored with the s’mores. They wanted more. At least four more. Four score more.
Sadly, soon the sun set on the s’moregasborg of s’mores and it was time for bed. I’d selected a couple of moderately scary books to read as bedtime stories for this trip. As we all lay cuddled up in the sleeping bags in the warmth and comfort of the camping machine (stop laughing) I read the stories, tucked the boys in, and turned out the lights.
Just at that moment, a character long thought dead and vanquished made a surprise appearance.
Vampickle crept into the trailer and slaked his terrible thirst on the tickles and laugher of Chris and Tommy! Oh, the horror! I don’t know which was worse – the squealing, helpless laugher of my two sons, or the thought of one of the worst characters in blog history having the audacity to show his hideous face in my camping machine.
Yet Vampickle was quickly vanquished, and the boys fell asleep, exhausted with all the work of roughing it in the deep woods by the shore of the mountain lake named for the large carnivorous mammal.
MBW and I stepped back outside into the chill of the mountain evening and pulled up chairs next to the glowing campfire. Sitting side by side, holding hands, saying little. Gazing up at the stars. So many more stars are visible here than back in our yard, our ¼ acre patch of suburban bliss in the bowels of the congested urban valley.
Don’t get me wrong – our home and our neighborhood are very nice. We are fortunate to have what we have and live where we live. Still, the air is cleaner here at the campsite. The stars are brighter and we can see more of them. It’s a reminder that there is more to life than the daily routine we live every day in The City and its Suburbs.
We need to get up here more often.
And we will.
By and by the fire burned low, and MBW and I went back into the trailer. Checked on the boys – sound asleep. Adjusted the thermostat up a bit to take off that slight chill. Snuggled into our sleeping bag.
After a while, actually slept.
The long weekend was over much too quickly. After more swimming, a bit of hiking, some sightseeing and some more s’mores (would you like a bit more detail on that? No? Why not?) it was time to break camp. Which we did, much to the amusement of the boys watching Dad wrestle with the task of hooking the Camping Machine up to the Burbus Maximus.
The ride home was not nearly as fun as the ride up. Still, at least there was no bad news waiting for me when I got home.
With MBW and the boys in the house, I worked on unhooking the Camping Machine from the Burbus Maximus and stowing our gear. We had a great trip. I wish we had found the time to do a few more trips like that this summer.
I was thinking that summer ended much too quickly. Even more that that, with Chris starting kindergarten, it occurred to me that we only have 12 summers left before he’ll be off to college. As I mentioned before, him starting kindergarten does not make me sad. It’s the idea that these times, like the weekend we just experienced, are limited. They’ll go by so very, very quickly. I have to make sure to get the most out of the time we have, to make every summer count. I don’t want to look back and wish we had done more.
Yes. I want s’more of that, please.
It’s great to be The Family Man.
It was with some fanfare that we purchased the Camping Machine earlier this year. After over a year of research, doubt and angst I pulled the trigger on the purchase of a new 27-foot travel trailer. Visions of several summer excursions danced in my head as I imagined the adventure our family would have, modern day pioneers exploring the West in our 20th century Conestoga.
In fact, the reality of the summer was that between soccer, swimming, birthday parties, barbeques, visits from and to out-of-town family and other assorted social obligations, the camping machine left the RV pad all of three times – one of which was to the repair shop.
So as I pulled the rig out of the driveway two weeks ago I had two thoughts – one, I hope we have as much fun as everyone thinks we will, and two, where the hell did the summer go?
Our destination was a large lake, ringed by mountains, named for a large carnivorous mammal. It’s a beautiful lake, large and clear, and surprisingly under-developed in terms of commercial enterprise. It’s a wonderful retreat from our increasingly congested urban valley, about 3 hours in our rearview mirror as we arrived.
Let me preface everything that is to follow by stating clearly, for the record, I consider what we did as Camping. I respect the opinion of those who beg to differ, but the facts are these. We cooked (most of) our meals over an open flame. We slept in sleeping bags. We had a campfire, ate at a wooden picnic table, and had s’mores. Our campsite had real trees
The fact that we slept in a trailer with a furnace, hot water, refrigerator, microwave, and electricity has no bearing on the definition of camping.
Look, we did without TV and internet access, for Pete’s sake! How much more ‘roughing it’ do you expect?
I’ve done my share of the tent thing. I spent three nights in a tent in Yellowstone National Park, in July, freezing my butt off. I spent a night at 11,500 feet at the base of our state’s tallest mountain before reaching the summit the following afternoon. I’ve gone three days on pop-tarts, trail mix, protein bars and Gatorade powder.
But these days I’m an old man, with young kids. I want to have fun, positive family experiences in the outdoors. My days of proving, or perhaps disproving, my manhood as it relates to Grizzly Adams are long past.
What I do want is to spend quality time with my family outdoors. I want to spend time with my boys doing things, not watching other people do things. We live in such a beautiful state with exceptional recreational opportunities that it would be a shame not to take advantage of them. And that their ages right now, the Camping Machine is a great way to do it.
So we set up ‘camp’ at the local KOA (stop laughing!). The boys thought it was a great adventure watching dad try to park the trailer, unhook it from the Burbus Maximus, make it level and get it connected to the water and power. Sort of like unhitching the Wagon, setting up the cookfire, tying off the horses and preparing the campsite 150 years ago along the Oregon Trial.
Well, maybe not JUST like that. But something like it.
With camp set and the watch posted, we went down to the lake. Unlike many mountain lakes, this one has a beach of sorts. The water was clear, shallow and surprisingly warm. Chris and Tommy had a great time splashing around in the water, playing with their trucks in the sand, and chasing the seagulls. Yes, there are seagulls here at this lake. We watched the jet skis and the water skiers glide across the smooth, glassy waters. A paraglider sailed serenely overhead. It was a wonderful afternoon.
Soon it was time to head back to the campsite. After a quick visit to the convenience store (stop laughing!!!) we fired up the cookfire and made dinner. Beans and hardtack. Okay, maybe not exactly, but with a bit of imagination the hamburgers, hot dogs and brats could sort of be like that.
Then it was time for the s’mores.
Chris and Tommy have never had s’mores before. As you might expect, they adored the s’mores. They wanted more and more s’mores. I don’t abhor the thought of more s’mores, but I don’t want you to be bored with more s’more stories (stop snoring).
So I’ll just say the s’mores were more of a hit that I’d thought before. Nobody was bored with the s’mores. They wanted more. At least four more. Four score more.
Sadly, soon the sun set on the s’moregasborg of s’mores and it was time for bed. I’d selected a couple of moderately scary books to read as bedtime stories for this trip. As we all lay cuddled up in the sleeping bags in the warmth and comfort of the camping machine (stop laughing) I read the stories, tucked the boys in, and turned out the lights.
Just at that moment, a character long thought dead and vanquished made a surprise appearance.
Vampickle crept into the trailer and slaked his terrible thirst on the tickles and laugher of Chris and Tommy! Oh, the horror! I don’t know which was worse – the squealing, helpless laugher of my two sons, or the thought of one of the worst characters in blog history having the audacity to show his hideous face in my camping machine.
Yet Vampickle was quickly vanquished, and the boys fell asleep, exhausted with all the work of roughing it in the deep woods by the shore of the mountain lake named for the large carnivorous mammal.
MBW and I stepped back outside into the chill of the mountain evening and pulled up chairs next to the glowing campfire. Sitting side by side, holding hands, saying little. Gazing up at the stars. So many more stars are visible here than back in our yard, our ¼ acre patch of suburban bliss in the bowels of the congested urban valley.
Don’t get me wrong – our home and our neighborhood are very nice. We are fortunate to have what we have and live where we live. Still, the air is cleaner here at the campsite. The stars are brighter and we can see more of them. It’s a reminder that there is more to life than the daily routine we live every day in The City and its Suburbs.
We need to get up here more often.
And we will.
By and by the fire burned low, and MBW and I went back into the trailer. Checked on the boys – sound asleep. Adjusted the thermostat up a bit to take off that slight chill. Snuggled into our sleeping bag.
After a while, actually slept.
The long weekend was over much too quickly. After more swimming, a bit of hiking, some sightseeing and some more s’mores (would you like a bit more detail on that? No? Why not?) it was time to break camp. Which we did, much to the amusement of the boys watching Dad wrestle with the task of hooking the Camping Machine up to the Burbus Maximus.
The ride home was not nearly as fun as the ride up. Still, at least there was no bad news waiting for me when I got home.
With MBW and the boys in the house, I worked on unhooking the Camping Machine from the Burbus Maximus and stowing our gear. We had a great trip. I wish we had found the time to do a few more trips like that this summer.
I was thinking that summer ended much too quickly. Even more that that, with Chris starting kindergarten, it occurred to me that we only have 12 summers left before he’ll be off to college. As I mentioned before, him starting kindergarten does not make me sad. It’s the idea that these times, like the weekend we just experienced, are limited. They’ll go by so very, very quickly. I have to make sure to get the most out of the time we have, to make every summer count. I don’t want to look back and wish we had done more.
Yes. I want s’more of that, please.
It’s great to be The Family Man.
Sunday, September 18, 2005
Special K
A couple of weeks ago Chris started kindergarten. This is a pretty big deal. Our first son, off to kindergarten. Growing up. Away from home, in formal education, five days a week.
So why am I not wistful, sad, feeling depressed?
From what I have read, been told and seen firsthand, I should be feeling all of these things.
MBW is feeling a bit of this, although not much. Part of the reason, I think, is that she is his kindergarten teacher. So her emotions are a bit different from many moms who have sent their children off to kindergarten.
I’m actually very happy for Chris. He is a very friendly, outgoing boy. The social experience will be great for him. He will thrive in kindergarten. When I get home from work he is very excited to tell me about his day. He’s making friends, having fun, and, as an added bonus, learning some things.
I do feel some sadness about Chris going to kindergarten, though it has nothing to do with Chris.
I feel badly for Tommy.
Since MBW and I both work outside the home, we needed daycare when Chris was born. Rather than go to a drop off daycare facility, we hired a woman to come to our house to take care of him. This continued when Tommy was born. So both Chris and Tommy have grown up playing together in our home. Chris had two years by himself, but Tommy has never known a day without Chris in the house.
Now Chris is gone five days a week for about three hours. And Tommy is sad.
So we have Tommy going to a preschool for a couple of hours two days a week, and MBW has some play dates set up for him each week. Still, it is frustrating to Tommy – once again, Chris gets to do something he cannot do.
I mentioned in an earlier post that Tommy called MBW ‘stupid’ when he was having an issue over something. Some readers pointed out that this is more than ‘spirited’ behavior, and is in fact disrespectful. I agree, and perhaps the tone of that post was a bit more frivolous than I intended it to be. What I have come to realize, in the past couple of weeks, is that Tommy is using the word ‘stupid’ to express his frustration at things that he feels are beyond his ability to control. He’s now saying, for example, that it is ‘stupid’ to be little. He says this because ‘big boys’ go to kindergarten, ‘big boys’ get to ride in ‘big boy’ car seats, and ‘big boys’ get to ride bikes without training wheels. Most of all, ‘big boys’ get to go to ‘real school’ and Tommy only gets to go to ‘preschool.’
All of this is, of course, ‘stupid.’
So I have spent quite a bit of time with Tommy lately, trying to tell him that these things are not stupid, that he is a big boy, just a big younger, and he will get to do all of these things very soon. Of course, very soon in ‘Tommy Time’ is five minutes from now. And I understand that what I am saying to him is not really helping very much. I’m just trying to let him know I’m listening to him, that I am empathetic to his feelings, and that I will make sure he gets to have a chance to do things as well.
Is it working? Who knows? But I’m trying.
Meanwhile, Chris is thriving.
So I went to Back to School night last week, where all the parents go to see their child’s classroom, meet the teacher, and learn about what to expect in the coming year. This is especially important for first time kindergarten parents. Chris’s classroom is full of colorful charts with letters, words, numbers and pictures. It is a very happy, friendly place. There are books everywhere, art easels, and an aquarium with fish. His teacher is very nice – fifteen years experience, graduate degree, committed to making the world a better place for children. It’s going to be a great year for him
Not to mention the fact that she is exceptionally fine looking. So I’m looking forward to parent-teacher conferences this year!
At the end of Back to School night the teacher handed out a packet of information to each of the parents. In the packet were a few sheets of work the children had already done in the first few days of school. The first page was a self portrait, and Chris did a reasonably good job. The second was a page where he had written his name - needs some work, but I could read it. The third page was a list of ‘favorites’ – favorite color (he colored a green circle), favorite food (he drew something resembling a slice of pizza) and his favorite thing to do.
In that area he drew something I could not quite interpret.
Below the drawing, the teacher had written in what he told her he had drawn.
It said, “Playing with my dad.”
It’s great to be The Family Man.
So why am I not wistful, sad, feeling depressed?
From what I have read, been told and seen firsthand, I should be feeling all of these things.
MBW is feeling a bit of this, although not much. Part of the reason, I think, is that she is his kindergarten teacher. So her emotions are a bit different from many moms who have sent their children off to kindergarten.
I’m actually very happy for Chris. He is a very friendly, outgoing boy. The social experience will be great for him. He will thrive in kindergarten. When I get home from work he is very excited to tell me about his day. He’s making friends, having fun, and, as an added bonus, learning some things.
I do feel some sadness about Chris going to kindergarten, though it has nothing to do with Chris.
I feel badly for Tommy.
Since MBW and I both work outside the home, we needed daycare when Chris was born. Rather than go to a drop off daycare facility, we hired a woman to come to our house to take care of him. This continued when Tommy was born. So both Chris and Tommy have grown up playing together in our home. Chris had two years by himself, but Tommy has never known a day without Chris in the house.
Now Chris is gone five days a week for about three hours. And Tommy is sad.
So we have Tommy going to a preschool for a couple of hours two days a week, and MBW has some play dates set up for him each week. Still, it is frustrating to Tommy – once again, Chris gets to do something he cannot do.
I mentioned in an earlier post that Tommy called MBW ‘stupid’ when he was having an issue over something. Some readers pointed out that this is more than ‘spirited’ behavior, and is in fact disrespectful. I agree, and perhaps the tone of that post was a bit more frivolous than I intended it to be. What I have come to realize, in the past couple of weeks, is that Tommy is using the word ‘stupid’ to express his frustration at things that he feels are beyond his ability to control. He’s now saying, for example, that it is ‘stupid’ to be little. He says this because ‘big boys’ go to kindergarten, ‘big boys’ get to ride in ‘big boy’ car seats, and ‘big boys’ get to ride bikes without training wheels. Most of all, ‘big boys’ get to go to ‘real school’ and Tommy only gets to go to ‘preschool.’
All of this is, of course, ‘stupid.’
So I have spent quite a bit of time with Tommy lately, trying to tell him that these things are not stupid, that he is a big boy, just a big younger, and he will get to do all of these things very soon. Of course, very soon in ‘Tommy Time’ is five minutes from now. And I understand that what I am saying to him is not really helping very much. I’m just trying to let him know I’m listening to him, that I am empathetic to his feelings, and that I will make sure he gets to have a chance to do things as well.
Is it working? Who knows? But I’m trying.
Meanwhile, Chris is thriving.
So I went to Back to School night last week, where all the parents go to see their child’s classroom, meet the teacher, and learn about what to expect in the coming year. This is especially important for first time kindergarten parents. Chris’s classroom is full of colorful charts with letters, words, numbers and pictures. It is a very happy, friendly place. There are books everywhere, art easels, and an aquarium with fish. His teacher is very nice – fifteen years experience, graduate degree, committed to making the world a better place for children. It’s going to be a great year for him
Not to mention the fact that she is exceptionally fine looking. So I’m looking forward to parent-teacher conferences this year!
At the end of Back to School night the teacher handed out a packet of information to each of the parents. In the packet were a few sheets of work the children had already done in the first few days of school. The first page was a self portrait, and Chris did a reasonably good job. The second was a page where he had written his name - needs some work, but I could read it. The third page was a list of ‘favorites’ – favorite color (he colored a green circle), favorite food (he drew something resembling a slice of pizza) and his favorite thing to do.
In that area he drew something I could not quite interpret.
Below the drawing, the teacher had written in what he told her he had drawn.
It said, “Playing with my dad.”
It’s great to be The Family Man.
Monday, September 12, 2005
Busy Signals
The lack of posting is not really due to the football season. I've been exceptionally busy with work the past few days and I'm going to be out of touch for the next few days as well. I hope to have a new post before the weekend.
Thanks for your understanding.
It's (usually) great to be The Family Man.
Thanks for your understanding.
It's (usually) great to be The Family Man.
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