These are hard:
But at least we are not having to decide on a rehab facility. Or an obstetrician. Or a psychiatrist. Maybe my decisions are not really that hard after.
I am actually pretty good with math. I just "get it". The daughter "gets it" too. most of the time. Not tonight though. Which makes it that much more frustrating when she keeps interrupting me in the middle of the explanation of a problem. I know she can get this.
I guess this highlights the unspoken "ratio problem" that parents never seem to really talk about: are we as parents really up to the job? We know that the kids are smarter than us, better looking, more athletic, the hope of the future. We are relics of the past, decaying away into worn out nearly useless antiques of a bygone era. The ratio does not look to be balanced in our favor.
We can change this though. Learn to provide instruction without showing anger. Direct the frustration away from the relationship with the child. Learn to say "I don't know". At least then we can hold our heads high when our kids realize that we really didn't know what we were doing and proclaim "at least we were honest!"
I need to go work on my ratios.
She lost. Again. Everyone knows she can play. Even the coach from the other team asked us if it was all "head" problems. There isn't much we can do except keep encouraging and trying to find new ways to support her. Man is it tough! On one hand you want to yell. On the other you want to cry. I can see the frustration build in her face until she collapses under the weight of it and gives up on a match. But she goes back out there and plays again. Never quitting, just starting over.
Whoever discovered water was the most erosive force on earth, must have had a daughter who refused to give up no matter how many marks were in the loss column. The sweat and tears on the side lines are nothing compared to those left on the court.
Daughter had a choice. #3 singles and occasional doubles on varsity, or #1 singles on JV. She worked terribly hard and … well, pick your metaphor to say "a lot harder than most kids seemed to work". I would have pushed her to go varsity and face the fact that she would lose a few, if not most matches. Call it character building.
Her decision surprised me. She picked JV. And now she is the team captain. Which means she is working twice as hard as she would have if she were on varsity. Now she has a group of peers to help achieve a goal of a winning season.
This compromise is one I am happy to make.
My daughter's coach and I disagree. "Don't make tennis your life or you'll be old and unhappy." I understand the coaches point, but I wonder if Michael Jordan's coach ever said that to his team?
I look at my cube walls every day at work and want to see the sky. I sit on my can and get soft and squishy. I am more than a decade older than the coach and the rut of my life is almost deep enough to be a grave. Which puts me in an interesting position. The kid wants to make money playing tennis. I have encouraged her to pursue this goal. Now we have a person who does make money with a racket and they are "old and unhappy". What do I do?
I tell the kid that you don't find happiness in your surroundings or job. You find happiness in yourself.
I found a lost episode of The Three Stooges last night. Never before seen. There were about 30 folks watching it with me. Larry and Curly were there, but Moe wasn't. So I guess is was The Two Stooges. At least I think it was Larry and Curly, given that the actors were all of 4 years old it was hard to tell. The theme was there, head slaps, eye gouge, hair pulls. At least until "mom" got embarrassed enough to try to stop it.
Maybe the kids watch too much of that mixed martial art with dad.
My wife has nieces which means I have them too. I have enough trouble connecting with my own daughter making it pretty interesting for me when we have a family get together. As the girls have gotten older I have found points of shared interest with the older girls. The youngest though is still … young.
Turns out she like to throw things. Not a malicious thrower, she just thinks it is fun. This is great if you are playing ball, not so great at the dinner table. Or at my desk. With the computer. The one I use to make money. The real expensive one.
Just so happens that last time she was here she came to visit me in the office. Where I was pretending to work. I noticed she kept staring at the birds just before she would think about throwing something. Something like a hard drive array. In a moment of desperate inspiration I asked
"Do you want to help me feed the birds?"
Which involves throwing and birds.
Uncle Jaysen wins.
At what point do I stop the meaningless words? I know they are kids, but a jackhammer would be less annoying. That noise would serve a purpose. This … this is just nonsense.
The tongue is a small part of the body …
James 3 makes an interesting point about the danger of not controlling your tongue. Sure the babbling is harmless now but habits start small and end with large disasters. I know from experience.
Growing up my parents treated me to a nightly snack. A little ice cream or popcorn. Now my night is not complete without it. This habit, which was innocent and a demonstration of my parents love, developed into me eating half gallons of ice cream every night. No wonder I am obese.
The corruption of innocence is what sin brings to man. As a parent, a father, don't I have a responsibility to stop "innocent habits" that have a high potential to lead to corruption?
Today she decided that it was more important to win than to have fun. Her goal is in her mind and she is attacking it. No more stopping to pick a daisy. No more "pretty things" in her pockets. And she asked me to push her a little harder.
When did my little girl grow up? Where was I? Did I miss it all?
It springs on you suddenly. Your child is no longer an object you direct but a being that isn't ready to go it alone and your role is more as an advisor or councilor than dictator. Your input is no longer gospel, but more the unsolicited advise of a distant relative.
And if you blinked you missed it. The butterfly has left and is soaring away on the breeze.
