Category: Being a Father

My dad never

My dad never taught me how to fish but he showed me that grown men do cry. My dad couldn’t instruct me on how to drive but he drove me to the driving school. My father didn’t teach me English but I learned from him that words on paper can be powerful. My father didn’t have a lot of time for me after work but I saw in him the ability to will himself into performing one more shift. My old man was too tired for basketball but he made enough so I’d have shoes and a ball. 
There are so many things Silvio didn’t, couldn’t, was unable to do when it came to me and I resented some of those at the time. Now near 40 and with kids of my own I’ve come to see the flip side of those things.

Digital Parent

While sitting here at the Real Estate office this morning I found myself going about the usual routine. I had my coffee by my side, the Monrovia Weekly had been read, I had already traded pleasantries with the agents in the office and the computer was on so I could get to work. As usual I started with email and I found that most was inconsequential…then one caught my eye. It’s uniqueness was glaring. My son had emailed me and now I was staring at this note on the screen where he asked for some homework help. I’m transfixed by the account-avatar he chose (his current favorite animal) and how much punch his one sentence digital note is making on my analog heart. 
He’s starting to live in a brave new world. I better be a good guide!

What will I miss

The retirement strategist shared with all the small business owners this morning some helpful data about days-sans-work and planning for them. 
He lost me for a moment I’ll admit. 
When he mentioned the statistical gap that says that it is likely that I will die several years before my partner does my mind began to wonder of what I’ll miss. One day her hands will turn really wrinkly and I may not get to massage them. Will it turn out that like my father I’ll miss hearing the coos of my first grandchild? It’ll be a shame not to unleash my inner curmudgeon at the Thanksgiving table and then take a nap right after. Then one day it could be that I’ll be just a picture on the wall and some people may tell tall fond tales of the handsome young guy I used to be. 
I snapped back to real time just as the presentation ended. I’m thinking about this stuff a lot late. Could it be it’s because my 30s are coming to an end this year?

Master Linguist

I’ve developed a bit of a bad habit as of late.
 Whenever I’ve caught one of the Torres children using an idiom I find myself inquiring on whether they really know its meaning. 
I don’t want them to play things by ear. Saying random things not knowing their meaning is for the birds. So I rather hear it from the horse’s mouth if they really know the meaning. It’s my goal that before I kick the bucket to teach them the fun and wonder of language. So as a parent I am taking the bull by the horns by quizzing and teaching. One may even said I’m taking care of two birds with one stone.

Battle of the Bulge

I’ve gotten soft about the belly. I work out, I try to eat right, I most certainly attempt to lay off the wine but this hasn’t made much a difference to my waist line. I realize this most when I make the effort to fit into my old fitted shirts and the buttons struggle to maintain their position in the outlined slots. Therefore, like my father before me, I will transfer some of my older clothes post haste to my son’s closet. 
My only hope is that my fashions will still be in fashion when he’s ready to look dapper in them.

Saying No and other Tragedies

It is a great displeasure saying “no” to my children. Especially when the matter concerns money. 
Whenever I do it (ie this am over Book Fair funds) and their face crumbles before my eyes I sense a betrayal of my youngest self who promised to NOT let my children go without wanting. I know I’m in the right. I know I have lessons to teach. I know the relativity of their pain. I know what they need or don’t need. I know I love them. None of that assuages the displeasure of issuing a warranted “no”. 
It has to get to get done though I hope giving a hearty hug on our way to school will ease our pain.

Mane Issue

If my son chose to he could sport a Classic Crew or a short pompadour. I may let him try the Caesar Cut and I’m partial on the Side Part. He could also look great with it Slicked Back and its certainly long enough for the Shaggy short. There’s a chance he could get away with the Fringe Crew and I know he’d look dapper if it was Swept Up. The Faux Hawk is a remote option along with the Asymmetrical w/Short Sides. Not sure about a Blow-Out though he can certainly pull it off and/or any cut the delectable Skeet Ulrich has chosen to brandish.
The point is that unlike me…my son has styling options because his mane is still SO generous where as mine is not. He chooses not to style though.

Hair is wasted on the young.

Lord of the Flies

Lost in a sea of books I tried my very best to guide my boy about the aisles of this massive story. We have such different ideas of what is a worthwhile read and for a moment I thought we reached an impasse. But then I had him read the back cover of the Lord of the Flies and when he was done he beamed with excitement. 
Good choice my boy…good choice.

Sleepless in Monrovia

I find myself barely holding on after a very long night of struggle. Cold and frustrated I realize that I am solely responsible for the choices I made yesterday. I hope this confession serves as warning to others and as I think of my wife now sleeping on the couch I hope to have learned my lesson. But I’ve done this before and since past is prologue I fear this may happen again.
The YouTube is full of scary videos about Chupacabras, Big Feet, ghosts in photos, Jersey Devils, Slender Men, Dutch peole and more. Watching these creepy-pastas with the kids is a sure way to have a rebellion based on fears at bed time. We acquiesced and let them sleep in hours. Trying to share space with two kids and two dogs is no fun and I spent most the night moderating groggy disagreements over imaginary borders, shifting confused mutts about and seeing my wedge of the bed shrink and shrink and shrink.

I’d carp more but only have myself to blame.

To Every Season

Talking to some folk today someone mentioned looking forward to the holiday Season being almost over. 
It made me remember that just a few weeks ago when so many of us said that about the election. Or before that when we sighed about the day after days of  wild-fires. Then there is always the Award season we want to get past. Or the school-year in those last few weeks…and the Summer break when it’s so darn hot out and the kids have had it. The weeks before we have to turn in taxes ain’t no picnic. I think I’ll start enjoying and challenging myself during the times that are and stop always pining for their end. 
Except bikini Season…that’s serious business yo!