Category: Dad Stories

Parental Itinerary

Because we are the curators of their life for now, my wife and I choose to schedule the kid’s adventures in accordance to our likes. 
They do have a voice in matters but on occasion an executive decision is made and since we have the car keys we plot the course. So their weekends are often busy with trips to the beach, museums, festivals, bike rides and more with mom and dad. 
A day is soon coming when they’ll earn a little autonomy and they might choose to hang with friends, drive to the mall, or head into Tosche station to pick up some power converters. I suppose my better-half and I will find ourselves all on our own again checking in on them via texts.

Field of Dreams?

I took my son to a Doyer game. We went and joined his school crowd. At one point bought some hot dogs and lots of unhealthy snacks and then it made sense why I ain’t getting my figure back.
We both stayed past our bedtime and just before I went to sleep I felt some guilt of having consume 10s of hundreds of calories so late in the evening. Finally at one point I headed off to dreamland.
It was much later in the evening, I think, I returned back to Dodger Stadium. The crowd was much bigger than I remember and now I stood on the actual field with busy people zipping around me, the flood lights starting to kick on and a clock counting down to something. Then a pretty young Latina woman came at me with a microphone in her hand. My instinct to turn on a smile and face the camera towed behind her sparked. I couldn’t understand her words but somehow I understood that a big honor was being bestowed upon me and then she handed me a pristine white ball with red stitching all around me.
Time passed and now I was on the pitcher’s mound. The crowd was roaring me on and I psyched myself and body to toss that first pitch as hard as possible.
All a sudden one person in the crowd of thousands started to snicker. Then another and then a few dozen. The dozen laughs caused a reaction and now hundreds of people we laughing and pointing. They were pointing at me.
The night had turned cold and I looked down at my outfit and I now stood in my just underwear in front of thousands of people. My skinny legs were showing the big screens at the stadium and it dawned on me there were to somewhere in Television sets around the country. All over the world people laughing at me. I could hear them.

My body jolted and I woke up in a sweat. My heart was still beating hard and it took me a second to get my bearings. Once the panicked subsided I took a second to go check in on my still sleeping boy. 
He seemed called and happy in dreamland. Or was he?

Death is Taxing

When I was much younger but not yet 20 I wondered about my death often. 
It came about when I would hear my parents fight viciously behind closed doors. A desire for it happened when I discovered that my first love had cheated and had no need for me. As other high school kids began to receive their college admission letters and I was left without a pull towards the end also came. Though all these moments’ discomfort was temporary..in those minutes the saddest of thoughts seemed too overwhelming. 
Over the last 20 years I have come to respect life and yearn for it. I wish the man I am now could have reached out to the teen I was then and tell him that things do get better. Time machines do not exist alas but I hope to be a pillar of aid to my children when those angst ridden and hormonal days soon come.

Dad Aid

So there I was this morning trying hard to ignore the unusual cacophony coming from other rooms in my house and trying to stay on schedule. Just as I was drafting one of a series of important emails to a client and was thinking of the words I’d say to the next one I heard the cautious footsteps of my youngest approaching my desk. 
She then preceded to tell me that her brother had cut himself in the leg. I braced for what was next. Sure enough when I found him in a ballerina pose there we blood at midway up his tibia in two distinct places and I winced. 
My job as a dad though is to clean, treat, scold and hug. I did all those and as I placed the last Band Aid on the kid and asked them to be more careful I had a flashback of me as a boy with a gash on my leg after some street-football on Eastman Ave in East LA.

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.

Alien Watcher

I used to believe in making wishes but for some time now I haven’t. When my youngest pulled out a dandelion off the ground yesterday and sent its most fragile wispy leaves into the air I had no real ask for them. It is a challenge being a creature of Science and Reason. Lonely in an abstract way. It’s perhaps the motivation driving me to watch the people who constantly fascinate me. 
Perhaps I’m Alien after all.

Cholo

Most each and every morning and even sometimes at midday my mama would perform an audit. Her threshold was clear…thou shall not wear clothing or style one’s hair in such a manner as to connote a resemblance to a “Cholo” for me or a “Chola” for my sisters. This meant that pants were to actually fit at the waist and underwears were meant to be kept under and never seem. Hair was to be cut by her and it mirrored my papa’s distinguished (old fashioned) look. No wild designs on clothes, no flashy brands. 
It is a testament then that in spite of all this I still had an unauthorized girlfriend in High School though mama Torres sure had plenty to say about that!

Hugging it Out

At drop off today the kids as usual moseyed off to class without even giving a good bye or look back. That’s typical. As I started to plug in my phone’s headset so I could listen to the latest biography a scene reached my eye. A husky big man was embracing a boy with all his might. They swayed as they hugged and even from my far off spot I could tell this exchange meant a whole lot to the two. Eventually they had to peel away from one another and the boy (who could not have been older than 10) heading into campus. 
The big guy in his gray pants and crimson sweater waited and watched his boy get lost in the throng of kids. Funny that he didn’t look like the “hugging” type when I had a change to give him my full estimate. 
My assessment matters not…he got his love for the day and I ached a little for not getting mine.

Buyers Remorse

It would take my father a good long while to bring it up. I could see the strain and just before he did it his shoulders would tense, the vein at his forehead engorged and he pumped his fists to gather up muster. Sometimes he was sweet and gentle. Sometimes demanding and callous. Most of the time he was wily in his pleads and he was certainly not always successful. 
That’s what it took sometimes for my mom to open up the purse strings if the purchase was over $100. I suppose that’s why I always think twice and compare to Casa Torres’ CFO before splurging on the latest tech.