Dental Drills and the Illusion of Control

We took the kids to the dentist yesterday.  I don't like trips to the dentist.  I didn't like them as a kid, I don't like them as an adult, and I really don't like them as a parent.  There is just something about metal tools and someone's fingers crawling around in my mouth that freaks me out. 

The dentist office is the kind that has "Kid" in the title.  It is supposed to be kid -friendly, but the beige walls, dim lights, and contemporary furniture might lead you to believe otherwise.  It had a very hushed atmostphere. All the toys were neatly arranged in baskets around bookshelves topped with Feng Shui zen style decor.  It kind of reminded me of the typical old -school elementary library where you are not allowed to talk above a low whisper.

Taking the kids to the dentist is a lot like open heart surgery for your parenting. They open up your kid's mouth and tell you everything that's wrong with it. Which translates into what's wrong with you as a parent.  Cavities, infection, abscess, plaque, and your kids need to brush better.  Translation: your parenting sucks. Good parents don't have kids with cavities, right? 

Well, I guess I'm not a good parent then.  The dental report was not exactly encouraging.  It's hard to not feel guilty and responsible.  I want my kids to be healthy and strong.  But parenting is hard, and sometimes things slip through the cracks. This of course starts me on a train of thought that touches on every little deficit in how my wife and I are raising our kids.  The whole line of thinking ends up in an ugly and depressing place.  Frustrated, I ended up asking myself one question:

When did I lose control?

*     *     *

I was still a little flustered as I tucked the kids into bed.  You'd better believe those teeth got brushed, though.  And then some.  

Eli brought me our devotional book and wondered if we had enough time for a bible story.  It was already past bed time, but the emotional guilt was pretty much going to guarantee that we would read our devotional tonight.  Not the best motivation, I know.

I let the pages flip past my thumb until I arrived at the right one.  I began reading aloud that day's verse.  But, I had to stop halfway through.  The verse from Ephesians 2: 10 really got me-

For we are God's masterpiece.  He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.

Wow.  I am not in the regular habit of thinking of myself as God's masterpiece.  I definitely don't usually think about God planning long ago the good things I would do.  So then it really hits me.  The answer to my question:

I never really had control to begin with.  


And thank God for that.


Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/ghirson/12557871/

Wonderful Distractions

I think about distraction.  I think about it a lot.  And I'm well aware of the irony in that.

I hate being as distractible as I am. Sometimes I can't remember what happened.  I mean what just happened.  Two hours of my life will go by, and I'm not sure where I was. Sometimes I can't remember what happened two minutes ago.

It's "rest time" as I sit here typing this.  I have several browser tabs open, my BlackBerry next to me, and I'm copying some photos to my computer.  I'm reading my Facebook feed, looking at text messages, editing a photo, and trying to write this post.   It's pretty silly, really.  I desperately want to get as much done as I can.  And I'm already distracted enough.  But, the most distracting things in my life right now can't be charged by a wall outlet.  At least I don't think they can.  They are not even things.  These wonderful distractions are my four amazing children.

Case in point- It takes 30 minutes to watch a 10 minute YouTube video during "rest time."  I click play and Eli walks in and wants a piece of paper.  Pause, paper, boom.  Thirty seconds later, Selah walks in and wants a sheet of paper too.  Pause, paper, slighly less boom.  Two minutes later, Selah is back in becuase Eli took her paper.  Pause, yell, what was I doing?  

45 seconds pass.  Zeke appears and wants to know if he can have a snack.  Pause, spout off random diatribe about heathly eating, and we're back.  And Selah's back too- to report that Eli took her other sheet of paper.  Pause, more yelling, back to video. 

A minute and a half pass of uninterrupted video.  I use the time to scroll back and re-watch the first 2 minutes of the video again becuase I forgot what I was watching.  I thought I was watching a music video, but there seems to be some white -haired scientist stuffing an iPad into a blender.  

Eli darts in and patiently waits for me to pause.  "Dad, guess what?"

"You gave Selah her paper back and now you are voluntarily washing the dishes?" 

"No, I need to go to the bathroom!"

"Wow, I forgot we even had one of those.  Thanks for updating me on the status of your bladder."

At this point, I just give up and go and respond to the screaming in the living room.  I have trained myself to work in 2 minute bursts.  That is about the maximum amout of time I'll get before I have to shift gears.  Watching a video has proven to be too much.

*     *     *

But they are my amazing children.  I want to give them the attention they deserve.  I need to.  

Zeke is forever wanting to show me something.  He's always making a new creation, doing an experiment, or wanting to look up something on Wikipedia.  He'll even knock on the door to talk when I'm in my other office (read: bathroom) filing paperwork.  Eli spends 96% of the day crying or complaining to me.  Selah is a little needy right now.  She just can't reach everything she wants.  And Titus. . . Well I have big plans for Titus.  We are not going to mess him up.  There is always something going on in my house.  It's usually pretty amazing too if I can focus on it for long enough.

What else would I being doing while I'm pushing a kid on a swing and holding a baby as I play three -way catch and lecture everyone on the benefits of staying away from fresh dog poo?

Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/hawee/3599320521/

This article on the NY Times almost sent me over the top: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/07/technology/07brain.html?_r=1&partner=rs...

Posted via email from /A Divided Muse/

That Summer

I remember that summer...

Photo Credit

I went for a bike ride this morning.  Don't laugh.  I'm never going to a "bike guy."  You know the spandex -wearing, pad your crotch, shoes strapped to the pedals, billy-bad-butt that has a storage rack for his water bottle and a special section of his closet for bike clothes guy.  I'm not going to be the guy that holds up traffic so I can ride my big -boy bike in the road with all of the cars.  It's just not going to happen.

I actually liked the ride, though.  It was calm and refreshing in a way I don't usually experience.  Feeling the sun warming me, and the wind blowing against me was a great experience. But, the thing that really got me, were the smells.


It smells like summer.  I can't really put my finger on it.  It's freshly cut grass.  It's lawn sprinklers.  It's open garages and day old barbecue grills.  It's the smell of the humid morning air.  It just smells like... summer.

I coasted down a hill, closed my eyes, and let the air fill me.  It took me back to when I was twelve.  It took me back to when summer was not just special, it was essential.  It took me back to that summer.  It was my summer.   It was a simpler time right before we moved to Texas, and all was right in my world.

That summer was a time of independence.  It was a time of simplicity and innocence.  I had my brother and my friends and we lived it up.  I was too old to need a babysitter, but too young to care if girls knew how sweaty I got.  Sleepovers were the currency of friendship, and video games were life.  The cooler your bike was, the cooler you were.  The biggest things on my agenda were how many firecrackers to get for the 4th of July, and the next Nintendo game to rent.  It was a time where it mattered how many baseball cards a guy had, and saying cuss words made you feel a little taller.  Going to the movies without your mom was about the best thing ever. And when you got hurt, it was still okay to cry.


It was definitely that summer.  Eighteen years later, I'm still thinking about it.  I'm still hanging on to a piece of it.  It's still there.  Because, for a part of me, that will always be summer.  It will always be that summer.

On Turning Thirty

I won't quote the journey/ destination life quote until later...

My thirtieth birthday was over a month ago, and I'm still settling into it.  It is one of the "decade birthdays" so it's supposed to be a big deal.  The actual day was not a huge blow -out with all of my friends and family rocking all night.  I'm glad, because that's not my style.  It was a pretty normal day.  I got up, got the kids ready, went to school, and came home.  But, the aftermath of the actual day has been a little wobbly.

I feel like I am, officially, expected to be a grown -up. Mind you, this is coming from a guy who has been married for ten and a half years and has four children.  You would think I would be comfortable with a title like grown -up.  But, I'm not.  

Grown -ups are supposed to have their act together.  They are supposed to know what they want out of life.  Grown -ups are supposed to know how to change the oil in their cars, and teach their sons how to throw a ball.  Grown -ups wear khakis and loafers.  They say things like "What do you think about this weather?" and "Did you see that story on the news last night?"  They are supposed to be able to make decisions, balance budgets, and follow through on plans.  They are supposed to be, well, grown -up.

The problem is, I'm none of that.  I couldn't even pick out what kind of birthday cake I wanted.  Most of the time I feel like the same scared little boy I was twenty years ago, stepping up to the plate in little league baseball- unsure of myself and even the very rules of the game.

I'm not scared of actually becoming older.  Thirty doesn't feel much different than twenty -five.  I'm scared of becoming irrelevant.  I'm scared of being out of the loop, of being obsolete.   Grey hair doesn't scare me as much as not realizing that the only reason my son picked out a certain loaf of bread at the store, was because it had a picture of Wizards of Wavorly Place on it.

All this makes me wonder if I will ever, truly, be a grown -up.  And, maybe, that's okay.  Because if life is a journey and not a destination, then I'm going to be growing up for quite a while.


Special thanks to my amazing wife for growing up with me, and for making that special birthday cake.

Words, Turds, and Things That Were Said

"As far as anyone knows, we're a nice normal family." -Homer Simpson

Communication is so important to family life. It is one of the fundamental pieces of a healthy and loving home. With that being said, here are a few choice snippets that have been overhead at my house recently. If you know my family personally, then have fun trying to figure out who said what to whom.

"Dad, it's like it's farting."

"Dangit, Eli. That's gross! We wear underwear in this family."

"When me and Zeke grow up, we want to be in a band."

"Oops. I spilled, but that's okay."

"My booty is stuck."

"These are skinney jeans. See how they start up big at the top and then get smaller down here?"

"I just don't think it's very responsible to throw everything away."

"No, do not touch your butt."

"It's funny that the beer commercial made him laugh."

"What, you ate all of them?"

"Can you clip this cape on me?"

"I'm putting these in front of me, like they do in the movies."

"I love you!"

"Hey hey, listen to your heart now. Hey hey, don't you feel the rush."

"There's poop coming out."

"I love butt cracks."

I'm trying to fart!

"Snow White is white. And she's yellow too."

"I want to give him a kiss."

"I love you."

"Bahye, bahye. Did you hear hime say bye bye?"

"Pull your underwear down. What are you doing? That's disgusting!"

"I've been ripping plastic for years."

"Did you hear that music? I was just doing some break dancing."

"Can you tuck us in?"

"I love you guys."