How An Hour A Day, Changed My Life.

I started helping at Mr. Mans school this year. I helped last year too but it was very hit and miss and the teacher always sent me to the office to staple things and sharpen pencils. I never helped in the class.

This year I started helping with a reading program for second graders. I started off by going in for an hour, one day a week. Very soon it became two or three days a week. Then I was going in everyday, five days a week. Now I'm up to five days a week with two extra hour on Wednesdays as well.

I can't begin to tell you how those little creatures have changed me. I will never be able to give them as much as they give me.

The irony of this, is that they break my heart. OK not all of them. It's just a few that break my heart.

Everyday I get told by these kids, about brothers and sisters that beat them. Parents that are in jail. Families that consist of gang bangers, drug dealers, general dead beats, and all the joys of living near a military base. Single parents, abusive parents, or no parents at all.

One of the boys came in last week with gang graffiti all over his arms. Drawn in large Sharpie marker so it wouldn't come off. When I asked about it, he smiled and told me that his older brother did it to him. The boy fell asleep on the sofa and his brother tagged him. Today that same boy told me about "getting" to go to court yesterday because both of his parents are facing drug and gang charges. He smiled and told me he missed reading class but was glad to be back today. He asked how my weekend was. Every week this boy tells me about his mom letting him watch movies like "The Saw", "Chuckie", "Halloween", and the nightmares that follow. He's 7. But every day he has the biggest smile on his face. Even when he tells me about him mother teaching him how to tag things and not get caught, he's so proud of her. You can see and hear the love he has for his family.

Yesterday a little girl came up and took my hand. She wanted me to walk with her to her next class. She says, "Mr. William, would you like to hear something sad?" Not really I told her. I don't care for sad stories. They're sad.
"It's not all sad." she tells me. Her father had to go away until next spring, but when he comes home she said they will do what ever she wants to do. That sounds like a good deal I told her. I asked if her dad was in the military or if he was shipped away.
She said,"Oh no Mr. William, Daddy went to jail. He can't stop the drugs." She smiled and gave me a big hug. Said "See you tomorrow!" and skipped away to her class.

Almost everyday I leave school fighting back tears. Today as I rode my bike home I almost crashed  because I was could see straight. Tears pouring out of me.

They are all such happy little buggers. No matter what horrors they are going through at home. Everyday they greet me with a warm smiles, hugs and high fives. So pleased to see me. When I'm not there they all ask about me and want to know why I had missed school.

Today they had a substitute. When I told them that I couldn't stay because they schedule had changed, they gave a collective sigh of sadness and begged me to stay. "Why can't you stay instead of the sub?" They asked. In front of the sub. I felt bad for her. I told them, "Ms. L will be great fun  today, just be good and listen close. I'll be back tomorrow." Half of them rushed me for hugs and high fives.

Some of them, I just want to take home with me and tell them that they will never have to live with those things again. I want to wrap my arms around them and save them from their own families. But I can't. As much as want to save them...I can't. I get one hour a day. Two and a half on Wednesdays.

I worry about them. I think about them. Even though I'm not religious, I pray for them, just in case I'm wrong.

I know I can't save them, but every day I can give them an hour. It can be one of the most difficult hours of every day. But it's usually one of the most rewarding as well. And I wouldn't give it up.

I really hope they can get back even a little of what they give me.

Hooray For JCrew!

I am just amazed at how closed minded so much of the world is today. Maybe it's always been that way. It makes me sad. Yesterday a couple of first or second grade girls were making fun of Mr. Man and I because we were holding hands as we walked to school. It just made me angry. I wanted slap their parents, if I knew who they were.

I have never understood the need for labels. Gay, straight, bi...WTF does it matter? 

In my life time I have painted my finger and toe nails bright red on more than one occasion. Just for fun. And I liked it. I wear an anklet, ear rings, a necklace, rings on my fingers and on a toe...often, all at the same time.  I have worn make up and not to dress up in drag, but just to wear it. 

And, hold your hat...I have even kissed a man on the lips. 

At no time in my life have I ever been confused about who or what I am. I have never needed psycho therapy. Or thought that I was a harmful influence on my son. The thought of people getting their pantie in a bunch over this JCrew add...

 makes me sad for the future of humanity. It's this kind of bigotry and narrow minded thinking that will ruin people and drive them into counseling. Not a little pink polish on a boy.

How do you even get through to people like that? Are they even capable of rational, kind and open minded thinking?

These are the toes of Mr. Man when he was around three and a half. He rocked this look. I have no doubt that he will never be confused about who or what he is.

For as long as I can, I will hold his hand when we walk. I will paint his nails if asks. I will encourage him to be who he wants to be and live his life the way he wants to live it. I will love him no matter what and I will teach him to love others with an open mind.

When I get home, I just might paint my toe nails bright red.(pink just isn't my color) Just because I can.

Lessons In Parenting And Karate...

In order for the kids to advance in their belt ranks, they need to bring home a letter for parents and teachers to sign. Saying that the students are behaving at home and acting the way they are wanted too.

This week Mr. Man brought home a letter for his Orange Belt Test.

He's a great kid outside of the house. When home...he dawdles. He back talks now and then. He moves at his own pace no matter what. Nothing major but there is room for improvement. We want him to realize that.

Last night at his lessons I mentioned these things to his Sensei and suggested that he wait until next month for his test.

I thought that would be it.

As I watched, I realized that Sensei was taking this much more seriously that I had imagined. I thought they would just make him wait. Not only are they making him wait, but they took his Yellow belt away from him.

Mr. Man took it way better than I did. I wanted to cry. I felt so bad I couldn't look him in the eye. I had no idea they would do that. I thought once they earned their belts they had them forever. Or until they earned the next one.

Wrong!

Now he has to earn his yellow belt back before he can test for orange. I have been feeling bad enough as it was. Now I feel like a complete tosser.

Why is it the lessons we try to teach our kids, are harder on the parents? I feel like I'm the one being punished.

Regrets...

I am so upset with myself today that it has actually given me a migraine. Today I did something that I promised myself I would never do. Today, I put my job ahead of my son.

With our most recent move, this is the first time we have lived near other kids. Mr. Man loves having friends so close. Today he is going to his first Birthday Party. It's across the street from us and every kid in the neighborhood will be there along with their parents. Except us. Precious can't go either. Instead, the in-laws will be taking him.

He has been very excited about it. We've talked about it a couple of times. I so want to be there, and I can't. I know, there will be others, but this is the only first. The excitement of it all, will be gone next time.

No matter what kind of promises I made to him or myself, I realize that some of them, like being there for his first birthday party, will get broken. In the long run, Mr. Man will most likely never remember that I wasn't there. He probably wont remember that he was there. But I will.

I'm more than likely over reacting to all of this, but it has made me wonder about the other events in his life that I will undoubtedly miss over the years. Is this just the first of many? Where will I draw the line? Do I miss Birthday parties but go to ballgames or piano recitals?

A funny thing about having a child, is that it has made me really question many of my actions and re-evaluate my belief system. I have been through some very emotional and trying ordeals in life and never flinched, and now a five year olds Birthday party has made me feel like a failure.

Tonight when I get home, I will ask Mr. Man if he had a good time and what he did. Like most kids this age, I have a pretty good idea of what he's going to say.

We played and ate cake.

Good Morning Wood...

In the rare occasion that I happen to get up in the morning before Mr. Man does, I like to sneak into his room and lay down next to him. He is such a happy kid in the morning.(most mornings anyway)

As he wakes we talk about dreams and breakfast.

This morning it went like this:

With his eyes still closed I hear:

"Morning Daddy. Are all of the presents still under the tree?"

Yes they are.

Phew. That's good. Is there a bad dream stuck in my Dream Catcher? I thought I had a bad dream but I'm not sure, so if the Dream Catcher has it I want to see.

No dreams still in it. When the sun comes up the dreams disappear. That way they can't come back.

Should my penis be standing up? It does that every morning. Is that ok? What happens if it's not standing up? Is that ok too? What's for breakfast? Is mom up yet?

Yes. Yes. Nothing yet. Yes. Pancakes. Yes.

Thanks Dad.

Emergancy, Emergancy...

She was in very bad shape when he brought her to me. She had been cut bad and was coming apart at the seems. He had been hiding her from us. Trying to protect her. As if we would be mad for some reason, or take her away.

We rushed her to the ER. Desperately we tried to hold her together. Stitching as fast as we could. She took more than eighteen yards of thread. Hundreds of stitches and a couple of grafts.

The scarring, I'm sad to say will be permanent. Her life span has most likely been considerably reduced, but with proper care and regular check ups, She should have a happy life.

*****

Does it hurt her Dad? She says it hurts.

No, it doesn't hurt. We used anesthetic so she wont feel a thing.

What's amneshectic?

Anesthetic. It makes her not feel things for a while. She'll be fine.

I don't know. She doesn't look so good.

I think she'll be alright.

Alright. If you say so. I'll tell her that everything will be OK.

She'll be fine.

Can I stay with her while you sew? She needs me.

I think that would be alright.

(He gave a soft sigh, and whispered) It will be ok. Daddy will make you better. (he laid a hand softly on a corner I wasn't working on and just sat there for a while)

*****

I am happy to report that She will be alright. She, is Mr. Man's blanky. I worked on her for more than an hour, trying to stitch her all back into one piece. She has been loved, almost to death.

This Is Going To Hurt Me, As Much As It Hurts You...

Even before I was a parent, I told myself(and everyone else) that I would be different. I would be better. I could see where other parents had failed, and I would not make those mistakes. My child would be different.

Now I have a child. I tried to tell myself that I was fair. That I made him mind and behave. That I was teaching him respect, manners, and patients. That I was teaching him to think of not just himself but of others. That our actions have an impact on others.

I told myself that I was a little harder on my son than most parents, but it was for his benefit. My child would be different. Better.

I'm failing. I've spoiled him. I clearly have not been hard enough. I let too much slide. He thinks of no one but himself and what he wants. I can explain the same thing a dozen times in two dozen different ways and none of it is sinking in.

For the last couple of months I let things go a little easier. I tried to tell myself that he was acting out because I spent most of the summer away. I can't say that anymore. I try to let things slide because he's only four years old. I don't buy that either.

In the last few days, he and I have had the exact same conversation so many times that I've lost track. I have tried different approaches. Different tactics. I'm getting the same results. An ill mannered child that is doing everything that I thought I was teaching him not to do.

Today we had a discussion about discipline. Apparently this is a foreign concept for him. It sounds strange to say, that punishing my son hurts me more than it hurts him. I heard my parents say it to me and I never really understood. Today, it's becoming a bit clearer.

It really does hurt, to see him cry and act like I have broken his heart. I want to tell him I'm sorry, and that he can do what he wants and have his way, just don't cry or be sad. But I can't. I'm the parent. I expect and demand more from my son. I expect and demand more from myself.

There are lessons that he must learn. There are lessons that I must learn. No matter how hard.

A Four Year Old Confession...

Dad, do you remember the PEZ in mine bedroom?

Yes.

Did you tell me I not to eat mine PEZ?

Yes.

Oh......Um.....Would you be mad if I forgot and mine PEZ accidental got eated?

Why do you ask?

Um.....I was watchin Incredibles and mine tummy told me it wanted PEZ.....and I forgot and ate em. Are you mad?

Did you save any for me?

Um.....Well mine tummy didn't tell me to save you any.

Now you're in trouble.

Mine tummy don't think so. So that's ok.

My Neighbors...

...are ruining this country.

Really, We Don't Know This?

The following article was on MSN this morning. I have to say, that ever time I read an article about fathers, or men in general, it makes men sound like knuckle dragging morons. Are most men really so un-evolved that they need to be told these things? Do men really think that parenting is for the women? Do men still believe that we can't be nurturing, emotional, and care giving? Hell, do men even know what common decency is anymore?

From articles like this one below, it makes me wonder.

Well men, let me say that it's time we join the 21st century. Women are great and all, but it's time for us, and by us, I mean you, to step up. We can and should be equally involved in relationships and parenting. Stop dragging your knuckles. There is nothing better or more important than being a good parent and partner. It's good for us individually and good for us as a society. Life is about more than Bud, Nascar and porn. Don't make me pull this blog over.

*****

1. Respect Your Children's Mother
If you are married, keep your marriage strong and vital. If you're not married, it is still important to respect and support the mother of your children. When children see their parents respecting each other, they are also more likely to feel that they are also accepted and respected.

2. Spend Time with Your Children
How a father spends his time tells his children what's important to him. If you always seem too busy for your children, they will feel neglected, no matter what you say. Treasuring children often means sacrificing other things, but it is essential to spend time with your children.

3. Earn the Right to Be Heard
All too often, the only time a father speaks to his children is when they have done something wrong. Begin talking with your kids when they are young, so that difficult subjects will be easier to handle as they get older. Take time and listen to their ideas and problems.

4. Discipline with Love
All children need guidance and discipline, not as punishment, but to set reasonable limits. Remind your children of the consequences of their actions and provide meaningful rewards for desirable behavior. Fathers who discipline in a calm and fair manner show love for their children.
5. Be a Role Model
Fathers are role models to their kids, whether they realize it or not. A girl who spends time with a loving father grows up knowing she deserves to be respected by boys. Fathers can teach sons what is important in life by demonstrating honesty, humility and responsibility.

6. Be a Teacher
Too many fathers think teaching is something others do. But a father who teaches his children about right and wrong, and encourages them to do their best, will see his children make good choices. Involved fathers use everyday examples to help their children learn the basic lessons of life.

7. Eat Together as a Family
Sharing a meal together can be an important part of healthy family life. In addition to providing some structure in a busy day, it gives kids the chance to talk about what they are doing and want to do. It is also a good time for fathers to listen and give advice.

8. Read to Your Children
Children learn best by doing and reading, as well as seeing and hearing. Begin reading to your children when they are very young. When they are older, encourage them to read on their own. Instilling your children with a love for reading is one of the best ways to ensure they will have a lifetime of personal and career growth.

9. Show Affection
Children need the security that comes from knowing they are wanted, accepted and loved by their family. Parents need to feel both comfortable and willing to hug their children. Showing affection every day is the best way to let your children know that you love them.

10. Realize That a Father's Job Is Never Done
Even after children are grown and ready to leave home, they will still look to their fathers for wisdom and advice. Fathers continue to play an essential part in the lives of their children as they grow and, perhaps, marry and build their own families.

Mild And Stress Free...

It's Tuesday, which is our family day. We close the gallery and spend some quality time together. Both Precious and Mr. Man are still sick. Even though, we thought it might be nice to go out for lunch and maybe let Mr. Man play at the arcade for awhile. I found a great new game that I'm totally hooked on. (that's a different post)

After about an hour of mindless money wasting it was time to go. Mr. Man decided that this would be a good time to pitch a fit. The place was packed too. Spring break and all. He starts screaming, "I'm not happy!", and trying to get away from us. Of course it caused a scene.

Trying to explain to a three year old why he should be grateful that he got to go play in the first place, is like talking your car into not burning fuel. It just doesn't work. All he knew is that we had ruined his fun.

On the way home he decides that he hadn't had enough yet. More crying, kicking the seat and then he went for broke. "I HATE YOU GUYS."

That one was over the top. When we got home I escorted him to his room for a talk and a lengthy time out. Again, I might as well have been talking to his bed. I tried to explain again that getting to have fun is something to be grateful for. Thanking us would be a better move than getting nasty, and beyond that we will not tolerate the I hate you comments.

It's heart breaking. We knew he was sad. We try to cut him some slack for not feeling well, but we will not have an unruly brat for a child.

It amazes me how much this little person has changed me. I see everything differently. I react differently. I think differently. He can bring such joy one minute and have us at wits end the next.

It never stops. From the time he wakes up until he goes to sleep, we have to be on top of things. When he's sick, we're up all night checking on him and worrying. It's exhausting. Sometimes, being a parent makes me want to do something mild and stress free, like working for the bomb squad.

Life With A Three Year Old...

We started a Halloween countdown calender for Mr. Man. Everyday we put a new magnet on the board to countdown the days until our costume party.

Today Mr. Man comes running into my studio...



Mr. Man: Daddy, Daddy, Daddy! We need a magnet on our board.

Me: Ok, let's do it.

Mr. Man: NO NO. I can do it

Me: Alright, you can do it. It's Monday today.

Mr. Man: Right, Monday. Ok, great, gotcha, Monday.....Monday...............Monnnndaaaaaay......

Mr. Man: Hey Dad?

Me: Yes Mr.?

Mr. Man: What's Monday?

Acting Childish...

I heard someone ask their child to stop acting childish. It seemed odd to me at the time. After thinking about it I realized that I have said the same thing to Mr. Man. He does something silly or acts up a bit and I tell him that he is too old for kind of behavior.

Is he really too old to act like a kid?

We all grow up. Eventually we all out grow the things we did as a child. It's nature, we can't help it. But why do we, as parents and as a culture, want our kids to grow up so fast? When was the last time any of you thought to yourselves that you wished you had grown up faster? Don't we all grow up way too fast anyway?

Let kids act like kids. In fact, we should all spend more time acting like kids. Without a care in the world. No pressure from a job. No bills to pay. No worries of war, crime or a government bent on ruining things for everyone as long it benefits them.

We should all be kids for as long as we can. We're grown up for way too long as it is.

Monsters....

It was about 3:30 am when I awoke to a very soft "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, save me Daddy".

"What's up Mr. Man?"

"Monsters Daddy, save me." He was standing just outside of our bedroom door. Afraid to go back to his room, afraid to come into ours.

We spent the next hour hiding under his covers until he went back to sleep. Me holding him close to keep the monsters away. I knew exactly how he felt.

I still have trouble sleeping most of the time. I often have horrible nightmares that stay with me for days. They started when I was young. They can be terrifying. So real at times it's hard to convince myself that it was only a dream.

When I was 6 years old I started have a reoccurring nightmare about a giant that would stomp on houses and snatch up the people trying to get away. When he got to our house he would duck down and peek through the window at me. I would run outside and hide behind the big oak tree. Just as I would look to see if he was still there I would wake.

I had that dream for years. It would play in my mind as if on a loop. Over and over and over. I can still see it as clearly today as could then. It has been some time since I had the dream but in a way, it still frightens me because I have never forgotten about it.

I felt helpless holding Mr. Man. Telling him (and myself) that monsters were not real was of little comfort. Because in your mind, they are real.

The world can be such a truly ugly place. I want to shield him from the violence and hate that surround us. Those things have no place in the mind of a child. Or even in the mind of an adult. There is no place in our world for such things. Where do such things even come from?

Parental Failings...

I am a total failure as a parent this week.
We had a small party for Mr. Mans 3rd birthday. As guests are showing up, I dropped and broke my camera.

I didn't get a single photo of his Thomas the Tank Engine cake, or him blowing out candles or the excitement of his gifts...

Being only three, he will never remember any of this. I will most likely never forget. I pride myself in being overly obsessive with me camera. I can't believe I broke it, and worse, I didn't have a back up.

I am actually thinking of making a reenactment so I can shoot photos. Too OCD?

Watching What I Say...part 1

I am in my studio painting. Mr. Man is at his easel painting beside me.

"Crud", I said, as I messed something up.

"What's matter Daddy?" he says.

I tell him, "Daddy made a mistake"

"Aw, that's a bummer, I paint, I fix it for you!"


I have not laughed so hard in a long while. Where do kids pick up stuff like that? I'm sure he most likely heard it from me at one point, I just don't remember saying it.

*****

Precious and I joined a co-ed volley ball team. So far we are 1 and 7. That's one win, seven losses. This week after our game. We are walking out of the gym.

Mr. Man says, "Daddy, know what?"

"What's that Buddy?' I ask.

"You guys suck!"


I was speechless. Trying very hard not to laugh. Precious did not see the humor. I am pretty sure I have never said anything like that in front of him. We quickly told him why that was not something you told people. He listened intently and said "OK Daddy, chase me."

The funniest part is that he said it like it was a compliment. He was so proud.

*****

Yesterday we are all driving to the pool for a swim. As I am cutting through the lot I mention that none of the cars are in parking spaces. From the back seat comes this gem from Mr. Man...

"You guys park like morons."

This time I giggled, but quickly caught myself. Again with the talk about why this is not something nice to say. Again we get, "OK".

This I am sure he heard from me while driving around. I really need to work harder about watching what I say.

Mr. Man will be 3 in April. Everything he hears is remembered and repeated.

It is quite frightening at times.

Someone I Am Now...

How many of you have children?
Did you ever think about your age or mortality before you had kids? Did you get much more sentimental and emotional about amazingly silly things? Like Disney movies?

We waited longer than most to have a child. I was near 38 when Mr. Man was born.
For 37 years, it never really dawned on me that I was 37.

I was with Precious for her C-section. It was the most amazing thing I have ever seen. The doctor said it was the first time a father had given a play by play to the mother. I was fascinated. The first four hours of his life he spent in my hands. I wouldn't let go. The first instant our eyes met, the me I had been, disappeared, and I became the someone I am now.

*****

I will catch myself calculating my age when Mr. Man is 10, 20, 30...
"I will be 68 when he's 30". I'll say. "That's too old to have kids. What were we thinking?"

Precious will laugh at me. "He will be 30..."
"You're not 68 yet."

*****

I see the world very differently now.
Pre-child I could take the most gruesome things. I had seen blood, guts and dead bodies without so much as flinching.

Now, I can't help but think about what would happen to my son If anything bad happened to me. Or what I would do if something happened to him.

Even seeing an animal dead on the side of the road can bring me to tears. Was that animal some ones parent? Was it some ones child?

I can't watch TV. I never really noticed how many shows are about missing or exploited children. Or how many shows kill children and animals.

Last week reading Heather Anne's story about J.K. Rowling and what she is doing for children around the world. I was sobbing. Three years ago I would have thought, "Good for her", and went about my day. I haven't stopped thinking about those poor kids living in cages. I can't get that vision out of my head. I keep seeing my son in one of them. Wondering why. Wondering what happened to me. Why I would leave him there.

How can people mistreat children? How do you look at a small, fragile, innocent human being and hurt them? Physically or verbally. How do you do that?

*****

I read about a 29 year old(Sex offender)man who was posing as a 12 year old. He had fooled two convicted child molesters into believing him. They went from school to school trying to recruit kids into some fake club they started. The two older men were mad when they found out this guy wasn't a child. They were afraid people might think they were gay. It was ok that they were having sex with an under age boy, but God forbid they have sex with an adult male.

I thought about the parents at the schools where this happened. I was outraged for them. I thought about what I would do. I hoped that this man would be let go. And that the parents would get a hold of him. I thought about what I could and would do to some one who hurt my son.

On television shows when things like this happen. When the victims get hold of some one like this. A person who has committed the most horrible acts of cruelty. They always beg for mercy. As if they deserve some kind of special treatment for being cruel to others.

I would want them to beg the entire time I was making them suffer. I would want to hear them scream until the last bit of life slipped from their lips.

Three years ago I would never have thought such things.