Well another year is coming to an end and like every other person in the world, I am reflecting on the happenings of the past year and compiling a mental list of great memories, regrettable moments, and incredible enlightenment to file in the brain under "experience".
Great Memories (in no particular order):
Going to see one of my favorite bands. My wife treated me to see The Eagles at Meadowlands Stadium and our son came with us. I loved the concert, and especially enjoyed sharing it with my wife and son. I was fifteen when I first saw The Eagles at the the old Giants stadium, almost thirty years ago to the date.
I became an Uncle again and then again as my brother had a little girl and my sister had a little boy. My son now has four little cousins that follow him, climb on him and look up to him like a superhero.
Some of the volunteering I did might not have contributed on a global level, but even little things are a big help. Shoveling out my family's snowed in cars, helping my in-laws pack for moving, helping my sister prepare for her new baby, working on school functions, and spending night after night on the football field, sweating profusely in the field house, and running around fixing broken gear.
Regrettable moments (These are greatest to least):
Not kissing my wife more, she needs it and I need it, simple.
My frustration over schoolwork is not my finest moment. I absolutely know my son is a hard worker and wants to be the best he can be, I just need to be patient and not crowd the plate.
I used to not take my work angst home with me and recently I have been distracted at home over my job and career as a whole. I have taken some steps this year to not go in as early and leave on time so I can spend more time with the family, but that is the physical part, now I have to work on the mental part.
Enlightenment (These are least to greatest):
Knowing that family and friends can still have an influence.
Finding out that I can still be creative, like starting a blog and writing about life.
Realizing there is still time to learn new ideas and start new careers.
Understanding that my son is a born dreamer, a peaceful sole and possesses incredible fortitude, qualities hard wired into his DNA.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Monday, December 27, 2010
Single Occupancy
As my wife and son are away this week I find myself with a feeling of joblessness. I am working this week but my fatherhood duties are on hold. It is an uneasy feeling to hear about my family's day from afar, I feel disconnected from them. My responsibilities are singular, but I miss the family tasks and interaction. I am glad they are having a great time and away from the snowy northeast; they will be home soon, closing out this year and ready to tackle the next, together.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Inspect, Review, Size
"These do not fit, and those don't either." I am standing in the doorway of my son's room. My son is jumping up and down and shaking his leg with his pants caught around one ankle, his routine for undressing. He has outgrown his khaki pants and just about everything else in his closet. My wife and I look at the pile of once worn shirts and pants discarded on the rug. My son's change in age apparently coincided with a change in size. After getting a few new shirts and pants over the last week, Saturday afternoon was set aside for taking inventory of all clothing and deciding what is staying and what is leaving.
My wife went to work in the closet, pulling out shorts, pants and shirts to be inspected, reviewed, and sized. The inspection process was first on the list, after all even if it did fit, it might be too stained up or grimy to move on to the next process. Right off the bat, three shirts were deemed unqualified and tossed into the leaving pile. After that was the review process. These items might not be wearable but might have historical value and therefor kept for sentimental reasons. "Oh, remember this sweatshirt, he wore it everyday for a year!" my wife would say, or my son would comment "I remember that shirt, I was looking for that..." I would recall long ago trips and memorable events and would vote thumbs up to keep. My wife, not the hoarding type, would vote thumbs down. My son, not much for strolling down memory lane, would respond with a two word answer, mumbling, "Toss it." Most of the memorable pieces we archived in pictures throughout the years, so on that note it did not make sense to store it.
The third process is sizing, which meant trying on everything, my son's least favorite. since he has grown so fast, we can not gauge what fits and what does not. The next twenty minutes my son is whipping on and off clothes faster than backstage at Fashion Week. After the procedure of inspect, review, and size was completed, there stood a mound of clothes three feet high. The two garbage bags compiled a full range of boys clothes, from the food stained, to the never worn and all categories in between. My wife looks at me and states, "It surely does not pay to buy in advance."
My wife went to work in the closet, pulling out shorts, pants and shirts to be inspected, reviewed, and sized. The inspection process was first on the list, after all even if it did fit, it might be too stained up or grimy to move on to the next process. Right off the bat, three shirts were deemed unqualified and tossed into the leaving pile. After that was the review process. These items might not be wearable but might have historical value and therefor kept for sentimental reasons. "Oh, remember this sweatshirt, he wore it everyday for a year!" my wife would say, or my son would comment "I remember that shirt, I was looking for that..." I would recall long ago trips and memorable events and would vote thumbs up to keep. My wife, not the hoarding type, would vote thumbs down. My son, not much for strolling down memory lane, would respond with a two word answer, mumbling, "Toss it." Most of the memorable pieces we archived in pictures throughout the years, so on that note it did not make sense to store it.
The third process is sizing, which meant trying on everything, my son's least favorite. since he has grown so fast, we can not gauge what fits and what does not. The next twenty minutes my son is whipping on and off clothes faster than backstage at Fashion Week. After the procedure of inspect, review, and size was completed, there stood a mound of clothes three feet high. The two garbage bags compiled a full range of boys clothes, from the food stained, to the never worn and all categories in between. My wife looks at me and states, "It surely does not pay to buy in advance."
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
One Good + One Not So Good = Two Goods
I have been trying to come up with exercise ideas for winter fitness routines to do with my son. It's too cold to run the track and too rainy for bike rides. Saturday afternoon I told him we were going to do a half hour of fitness. He was not happy to pause his computer game but understood the need for movement. I told him to stretch out while I search the internet for some routines. (Side note: It has come to my realization that doing general searches on the internet returns way too much information. I got links to gyms, magazines, sporting goods stores, nutrition, teams, accidents, equipment, protein powders, journals, songs, movies, weird medical procedures and some other stuff I need to block from his computer.) Then I remembered the TV.
A few months ago, while browsing the on-demand listings I stumbled upon a section covering exercise and training. I ran to the living room and searched again and came upon Exercise TV. I scrolled the listings and found a few 10 minute routines and just like that my son was working up a sweat. We searched for more routines and after completing two of them, he was enjoying the experience. I said to him "You know, during school days there is no morning TV time but you can certainly turn it on for exercise." Now he can combine something he really enjoys (TV) with something he struggles with (Exercise). Together they calculate into success.
A few months ago, while browsing the on-demand listings I stumbled upon a section covering exercise and training. I ran to the living room and searched again and came upon Exercise TV. I scrolled the listings and found a few 10 minute routines and just like that my son was working up a sweat. We searched for more routines and after completing two of them, he was enjoying the experience. I said to him "You know, during school days there is no morning TV time but you can certainly turn it on for exercise." Now he can combine something he really enjoys (TV) with something he struggles with (Exercise). Together they calculate into success.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Untimely heals nothing
I remember while in the third grade hearing about a fifth grade girl dying. I never heard of leukemia before but my teacher told us it was a disease of the blood and that is what the girl died from. The school did a big memorial and we all made cards to send to the family. I did not know the girl but her little sister was in my little sister's grade. When the sister came back to school after being absent for an extended period of time, nobody knew what to say to her, or how to act around her, but after a while it seemed to fade away until we kind of forgot she even had an older sister, but I guarantee she did not. That was my first encounter with untimely death.
For me, as I think with most people, death is usually associated with an elderly person, a person who lived a long and full life and their "time has come". We are still very saddened by the death, a loving grandmother who you remember giving you sweets when you visited, or an uncle who made funny voices and did card tricks. Those are the memories kids have when it comes to death.
When a mother or a father dies, that is disorienting for a child. They do not understand the reasons or comprehend the logistics of the loss. I knew a kid in middle school who's dad had a heart attack and died. He was a funny and likable kid but after his dad died, he was quiet and kept to himself for the rest of the school year. The next year he seemed much better and appeared to be back to his funny self. We never spoke about his father's passing, maybe he wanted me to bring it up or maybe I was waiting for him to start, looking back, I think I was too afraid I would not be able to accept the emotions behind it all, so I never asked him and to this day never really know how he got through it. That was my second encounter with untimely death.
I remember getting the call in the morning, My boss and also one of my best friends was on the phone informing me that his friend and former business partner was killed in a shady deal gone bad. I was in my twenties at the time and he was the first person that I knew who died that was my age. It was a surreal feeling but one filled with irrational excuses like, "That would never happen to me." or "I would not be in that situation." When going over to the parent's house to pay my respects, the house was full of sorrow, relatives inconsolable and distraught, understanding their sorrow but somehow not connecting with their pain. I think being single and no real relationship with the guy offered me no real grief. That was my first adult encounter with untimely death.
I was dating a girl for a while in my late twenties, she was fun and sexy and we did adventurous things together, but it never got real serious. We continued to be friends after our relationship had ended but when she told me one evening over dinner that she was getting married I did not give her much of a congratulations. I liked her a lot and since I did not have a girlfriend when she told me her good news, I took it upon my self celebrate with some self pity. We did not speak after that for a two weeks, then I finally went over to her house to apologize for my luke warm reaction, she forgave me, and we were friends once again. I remember just getting home from work when I got the call that she and her fiance were driving home the previous night on the highway and slammed into an abandoned car sitting in the right lane. They tried to revive her at the scene but all the efforts by the EMTs were to no avail. This one hit me hard. This was my first emotional connection to someone my age who died. Her best friend was married to one of my best friends so I felt like I was able to share some grief with others. She was catholic so it would be my first wake experience, and seeing the open casket was too much for me. I did manage to make my way up to the front and pay my respects to her family. After enduring the walk through, a bunch of us took a table in the back and told funny stories and we shared our thoughts. It helps to remember the good times, but time passes, you meet new people, new relationships form and old relationships get stored away, only to bubble to the top when thinking about extreme circumstances. I wonder what ever happen to her fiance?
Now that I am in my mid forties, married and a father of one great soon to be eleven year old, death becomes part hobby part celebrity gawking. You read the papers or browse online and immediately pause at sightings of familiar names. "Honey remember so-in-so from that band you liked, well the drummer died." "I just read on classmates.com that a kid I knew from science class died, he always wore shoes during gym!" I call this the middle age untimely death. Its the age where upon hearing about a death, doctors visits go up and pizza and hamburgers make way for salads and fruit. Wives notice a few extra notches on the belt and stress the important of your health and if that does not sway you, thinking of your kids always points you in the right direction. A few weeks ago, a guy in my office was having a uneasy morning. The guy had a way about him, he can pester you and get under your skin but you can never be mad at him. He was single and lived with his father for years, a guy very comfortable in his situation, no responsibilities, not a care in the world, but the flip side of that is that he had no one looking out for signs of concern. He did not seem himself all day, quiet and was having trouble relaxing. After complaining about stomach pains, he left work early to rest at home. He never made it. The office got a call from a policeman at Penn Station, stating they have an unconscious person on the concourse and this was the last number on his phone. We are not sure if he died there, in transit, or at the hospital. He was identified at the hospital by human resources.
All my friends have kids. The ranges are wide, but mostly between 14 and 3, with a few outliers, one in college and a couple of toddlers. My core group of friends are all 45-47 years old and we have been friends since we were young kids ourselves. One of my friends had his child at a very early age so he has been though all the greatness as well as the angst of fatherhood. Even though she was not around much due to their divorce, his little girl grew up in his stories about her, and since he is a very funny and animated storyteller we all learned a lot about child rearing, school life, friends, fashion, boyfriends, birthday parties, family trips, ridiculous situations, the "dramas", learning to drive, college, career choices, parent fighting, holidays, and the unconditional and absolute love a father has for his child. That is why the phone call I got this morning is the most shocking of all untimely deaths. The police recount it as a single car accident late at night. A tight turn caused the car to swerve and veer off the road and crash through a chain link fence. She was 24.
All throughout the day, death played its memories back to me like old movies, from one person to another, like youtube videos replaying the clips of life, entering on a flash and exiting just as untimely....
For me, as I think with most people, death is usually associated with an elderly person, a person who lived a long and full life and their "time has come". We are still very saddened by the death, a loving grandmother who you remember giving you sweets when you visited, or an uncle who made funny voices and did card tricks. Those are the memories kids have when it comes to death.
When a mother or a father dies, that is disorienting for a child. They do not understand the reasons or comprehend the logistics of the loss. I knew a kid in middle school who's dad had a heart attack and died. He was a funny and likable kid but after his dad died, he was quiet and kept to himself for the rest of the school year. The next year he seemed much better and appeared to be back to his funny self. We never spoke about his father's passing, maybe he wanted me to bring it up or maybe I was waiting for him to start, looking back, I think I was too afraid I would not be able to accept the emotions behind it all, so I never asked him and to this day never really know how he got through it. That was my second encounter with untimely death.
I remember getting the call in the morning, My boss and also one of my best friends was on the phone informing me that his friend and former business partner was killed in a shady deal gone bad. I was in my twenties at the time and he was the first person that I knew who died that was my age. It was a surreal feeling but one filled with irrational excuses like, "That would never happen to me." or "I would not be in that situation." When going over to the parent's house to pay my respects, the house was full of sorrow, relatives inconsolable and distraught, understanding their sorrow but somehow not connecting with their pain. I think being single and no real relationship with the guy offered me no real grief. That was my first adult encounter with untimely death.
I was dating a girl for a while in my late twenties, she was fun and sexy and we did adventurous things together, but it never got real serious. We continued to be friends after our relationship had ended but when she told me one evening over dinner that she was getting married I did not give her much of a congratulations. I liked her a lot and since I did not have a girlfriend when she told me her good news, I took it upon my self celebrate with some self pity. We did not speak after that for a two weeks, then I finally went over to her house to apologize for my luke warm reaction, she forgave me, and we were friends once again. I remember just getting home from work when I got the call that she and her fiance were driving home the previous night on the highway and slammed into an abandoned car sitting in the right lane. They tried to revive her at the scene but all the efforts by the EMTs were to no avail. This one hit me hard. This was my first emotional connection to someone my age who died. Her best friend was married to one of my best friends so I felt like I was able to share some grief with others. She was catholic so it would be my first wake experience, and seeing the open casket was too much for me. I did manage to make my way up to the front and pay my respects to her family. After enduring the walk through, a bunch of us took a table in the back and told funny stories and we shared our thoughts. It helps to remember the good times, but time passes, you meet new people, new relationships form and old relationships get stored away, only to bubble to the top when thinking about extreme circumstances. I wonder what ever happen to her fiance?
Now that I am in my mid forties, married and a father of one great soon to be eleven year old, death becomes part hobby part celebrity gawking. You read the papers or browse online and immediately pause at sightings of familiar names. "Honey remember so-in-so from that band you liked, well the drummer died." "I just read on classmates.com that a kid I knew from science class died, he always wore shoes during gym!" I call this the middle age untimely death. Its the age where upon hearing about a death, doctors visits go up and pizza and hamburgers make way for salads and fruit. Wives notice a few extra notches on the belt and stress the important of your health and if that does not sway you, thinking of your kids always points you in the right direction. A few weeks ago, a guy in my office was having a uneasy morning. The guy had a way about him, he can pester you and get under your skin but you can never be mad at him. He was single and lived with his father for years, a guy very comfortable in his situation, no responsibilities, not a care in the world, but the flip side of that is that he had no one looking out for signs of concern. He did not seem himself all day, quiet and was having trouble relaxing. After complaining about stomach pains, he left work early to rest at home. He never made it. The office got a call from a policeman at Penn Station, stating they have an unconscious person on the concourse and this was the last number on his phone. We are not sure if he died there, in transit, or at the hospital. He was identified at the hospital by human resources.
All my friends have kids. The ranges are wide, but mostly between 14 and 3, with a few outliers, one in college and a couple of toddlers. My core group of friends are all 45-47 years old and we have been friends since we were young kids ourselves. One of my friends had his child at a very early age so he has been though all the greatness as well as the angst of fatherhood. Even though she was not around much due to their divorce, his little girl grew up in his stories about her, and since he is a very funny and animated storyteller we all learned a lot about child rearing, school life, friends, fashion, boyfriends, birthday parties, family trips, ridiculous situations, the "dramas", learning to drive, college, career choices, parent fighting, holidays, and the unconditional and absolute love a father has for his child. That is why the phone call I got this morning is the most shocking of all untimely deaths. The police recount it as a single car accident late at night. A tight turn caused the car to swerve and veer off the road and crash through a chain link fence. She was 24.
All throughout the day, death played its memories back to me like old movies, from one person to another, like youtube videos replaying the clips of life, entering on a flash and exiting just as untimely....
Thursday, December 9, 2010
More Holiday Deals
Winter deals from EMS- Its cold outside so be prepared!
Starting today through 12/14:
20% OFF ALL Snowshoes at EMS.com
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20% OFF Sorel Winter Boots at EMS.com
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Up to 30% OFF Winter Boots at EMS.com
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Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Get Your Holiday Deals Here!
Throughout the holiday season I have been fortunate to have access to some exclusive shopping deals, so I am passing them on to my readers! Happy shopping and Happy Holidays!
For Dads:
Online Only! 24 months No Interest on Electronics over $599 + FREE Shipping on TVs 37"+ 12/5-12/11
$150 off LG 42" Class 1080p 60Hz LCD HDTV $599.99 on sale 12/10-12/11
WowNowDeal_$50% off GearWrench 8pc Flat Full Polish Ratcheting Wrench Set $34.99 on sale 12/10-12/11
Daily Deal: % off History Channel's Air Wars
WowNowDeal_$30 off Craftsman 12-gal 5.0-peak HP Wet/Dry Vac $49.99 on sale 12/10-12/11
$15 off Toshiba Mini 101 Netbook 10.1" Screen 160gb Hard Drive $284.99 on sale 12/10-12/11
Buy Sony BRAVIA HX800 55" Class 3D LCD HDTV, get Sony Playstation 3 160GB System FREE 12/10-12/11
Save 20% OFF Full Price Cycling Gear and Apparel at EMS.com
For Kids
Daily Deal: 23% off Discovery Channel's Motorized Solar System
Save up to 40% off on select Riding Toys - offer valid from 12.6-12.12!
Save an extra10% off on one kids book - Offer valid from 12.6-12.9 only!
ALL Radio Flyer on sale + Online EXTRA $20 off $200 on Toys & Games with S20OFF200TOYS12 12/1-12/24
For Ladies
Shop UGG Boots at EMS.com
New! 50% off Knots Of Love Jewelry (exclusively at Sears!) + FREE Shipping on $99 12/7-12/11
25% off Bulova & Citizen Watches + FREE Shipping on orders $99 or more 12/7-12/11
Sunday, December 5, 2010
G-Men
"When are we leaving?" my son is excited this morning. He has been waiting for this day all season. Today I am taking him to the New Meadowlands stadium to watch his NY Giants battle against the Washington Redskins. He has been playing the matchup on Madden 11 for days now and feels confident the real team will duplicate the virtual repeated victories. I check the computer for the game time conditions, sunny in the mid 40's, so multiple layers are in order. My son plans on wearing his Giants long sleeve shirt, Giants jersey, Giants hoodie, and sweatpants (he would wear his Giants pajama bottoms but even he thinks that would be too much).
I do not own any Giants gear since I happen to be a long time Jets fan, but today is all about the Giants (and the Jets play Monday night anyway)
Go Giants!
I do not own any Giants gear since I happen to be a long time Jets fan, but today is all about the Giants (and the Jets play Monday night anyway)
Go Giants!
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Shining a Festive light
The first night of Hanukah is tonight. Before I was married that would not mean much to me. I never celebrated Hanukah as a child, even though we were Jewish. We were not religious and I guess my parents thought a christmas tree with all the decorations would be more festive for us kids. As a kid I did not know anything about Hanukah or the meaning behind it. My wife grew up celebrating Hanukah so when our son was born, it was easy to start fresh with Hanukah, but I still not know the meaning behind Hanukah. I knew a little, like it last eight days and you light candles, but why? So I went to the web to find out what Hanukah is all about. After searching and reading, I was more confused than before. There seems to be many interpretations to the story but I did find basic answers that helped me get a clearer picture of the holiday called The Festival of Lights:
(Courtesy of Hanukah.com)
Origin of the word Hanukah
First of all, why is it spelled so many different ways?
This has to do with the sound that comes at the beginning of the word. There is no direct english translation for the unique gutteral sound. Therefore, it is generally spelled with either an "H" or a "CH".
Hanukah, or Chanukah, or Hanukkah, translates into the words "dedicate" and "beginning".
This holiday got its name from the Maccabees when they regained the Temple. Because the Greeks had desecrated it, the Maccabees rededicated to mark the Temple's new beginning.
Maccabees and miracles
In Jerusalem, the oppression of Jews worsened. Greeks even demanded a statue of Zeus to be built in the Jewish Temple.
It was at this time that a man named Mattisyahu moved his family to Modiin. But, peace for him and his family was only temporary. Greeks eventually showed up in Modiin too. Because Mattisyahu was a respected elder, he was chosen to offer a sacrifice to one of the pagan gods. He refused. However, one of his fellow Jews decided to do the sacrifice anyway.
Mattisyahu, in a fit of anger, killed the Jew and then the Greek soldiers. This was the beginning of the Jewish Revolt.
A year later, his son Judah Maccabee took leadership of the rebellion when his father passed away. Judah was an excellent leader and eventually led a force, known as the Maccabees, to victory in recapturing the Temple. Upon entering the Temple, they found only enough oil to light the Menorah for one day.
Then, a wonderous miracle occured! The oil for one day lit the Temple for eight straight days. This is where we get the eight days of Hanukah.
I still have a lot to learn but I now have a better understanding behind the meaning of Hanukah, a holiday full of history and tradition, one I continue to learn about and look forward to celebrating it with my family each year.
Happy Hanukah everyone...
(Courtesy of Hanukah.com)
Origin of the word Hanukah
First of all, why is it spelled so many different ways?
This has to do with the sound that comes at the beginning of the word. There is no direct english translation for the unique gutteral sound. Therefore, it is generally spelled with either an "H" or a "CH".
Hanukah, or Chanukah, or Hanukkah, translates into the words "dedicate" and "beginning".
This holiday got its name from the Maccabees when they regained the Temple. Because the Greeks had desecrated it, the Maccabees rededicated to mark the Temple's new beginning.
Maccabees and miracles
In Jerusalem, the oppression of Jews worsened. Greeks even demanded a statue of Zeus to be built in the Jewish Temple.
It was at this time that a man named Mattisyahu moved his family to Modiin. But, peace for him and his family was only temporary. Greeks eventually showed up in Modiin too. Because Mattisyahu was a respected elder, he was chosen to offer a sacrifice to one of the pagan gods. He refused. However, one of his fellow Jews decided to do the sacrifice anyway.
Mattisyahu, in a fit of anger, killed the Jew and then the Greek soldiers. This was the beginning of the Jewish Revolt.
A year later, his son Judah Maccabee took leadership of the rebellion when his father passed away. Judah was an excellent leader and eventually led a force, known as the Maccabees, to victory in recapturing the Temple. Upon entering the Temple, they found only enough oil to light the Menorah for one day.
Then, a wonderous miracle occured! The oil for one day lit the Temple for eight straight days. This is where we get the eight days of Hanukah.
I still have a lot to learn but I now have a better understanding behind the meaning of Hanukah, a holiday full of history and tradition, one I continue to learn about and look forward to celebrating it with my family each year.
Happy Hanukah everyone...
Monday, November 29, 2010
Thanks for sharing
"Who's next to give thanks?" Someone asks as the silver flatware clang against white china plates and wine glasses chime in sequence with the water glasses. Its Thanksgiving dinner and while we all celebrate the festival of eating, we go around the table to give each person a chance to give thanks for various reasons. We usually spend Thanksgiving in Florida with my wife's family, as they live farther away than my family, and it's also a good time to break away from school and work. For my son, he looks forward once again spending quality vacation time with his cousin.
From the first morning of vacation the activity schedule is laid out. Tennis lessons at 9:30am, swimming or Wii playing until lunch, and golf in the afternoon. Free time until dinner, then general goofing around until bed. Next morning it starts all over again, and the boys enjoy every bit of it because they get to spend the time together. My wife's parents live in a community with a tennis center, a clubhouse and a golf course, and it becomes the boy's camp grounds. They know every inch of the community, all the clubhouse staff and instructors, and all the restaurant staff wait on them hand and foot. Now that the boys are a older, schoolwork does infringe on their vacation time, but they work on it together which makes it fun. In the past, evenings after dinner were filled with dance shows and songs, nowadays powerpoint reports and presentations are becoming more of the norm, a sign the boys are growing up, though they still look forward to "feets". "Feets" is the bedtime routine in which their grandmother kisses their feet goodnight. To this day I do not know who enjoys "feets" more, their grandmother or the kids, maybe its equally soothing.
As we go around the table, people are thankful for their health, for loved ones present, or unable to attend, and other grateful blessings. Its now my son's turn to announce his thankful moments. After thanking sports, playing sports and all other things sporty, he thanks his family and lastly his cousin, for being his brother.
Happy Thanksgiving
Thursday, November 25, 2010
One Mile
"Come, on, just a little further and we are done!" I huff and puff as my son and I round the small path surrounding the golf course. We are in the home stretch of a quick morning run. My son, lumbering along, laboring with sweat pouring in his eyes is not a happy camper. He does not want to hear me preach about how it will be easier the more he runs, or how his body can take it. It is only day two of this running thing and we are focusing on the task at hand, making it to the end of this street. "You can do it, you can do it, we are almost there!" I shout to let him know I am by his side, and step by step we will finish. I cross the imaginary finish line and a split second later my son joins me. I hold up my hands for a double high-five which he slowly reciprocates, and we walk back to the house. "We just did a mile, how does it feel?" I quietly say. "Go-od, go-od" my son replies as his breathing begins to level out.
Tomorrow, day three. No far reaching goals, a day at a time, a mile at a time.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Thanksgiving Bowl
"Make sure you are home well before dinner is ready please." My mom hollers from the kitchen as I run out the door, down the two flights of stairs and push through the front door of my apartment building. My friends are gathered in front, tossing the football back and forth to each other. It is overcast and a little rainy this Thanksgiving morning, perfect weather for the game. As we walk to the park, a few more kids from our housing project join us, prepared for battle with the rival complex positioned directly across the street. I am wearing two t-shirts, grey sweatpants, and a blue hoodie sweatshirt with my white canvas sneakers, the standard athletic attire for kids in 1979. We cross the street, up the sidewalk path, and stop at the top of the hill, looking down towards the enemy field. The other team is already there, receivers running patterns as their quarterback rockets the ball into their hands. We look at each other, then march down the other side of the hill, one by one squeezing thought the hole on the fence and enter the field, set for the Annual Pomonok vs. Electchester Thanksgiving game.
The history of this game goes back to the 1950's when the two complexes were first completed. There are no complex presidents, no board members, and no representatives attending the game. There are no referees, no chalk lines, and no time keepers present. No one is wearing pads, helmets or uniforms, just a bunch of kids and a ball, playing no rules tackle football.
The game starts like every other game, with arguments on both sides; was it a catch or not; out of bounds or in bounds, each team vying for leverage. The morning turns to afternoon as the game goes on for hours, some kids leaving for holiday travel and new arrivals taking their place, but I keep playing, moving from running back to receiver to defensive positions.
My team (Pomonok) is up by three points when Electchester is driving down the field. I am playing on defense, calling out coverage, "I got the kid in the red jersey, you get the kid in the blue sweatpants." The quarterback yells "Hike" and all receivers take off towards the end zone. "Three Mississippi, four Mississippi, the counter yells, then squeals "Baall!" I am running alongside red jersey when I spot the ball gliding out of the sky and in my direction. I try to time my jump as red jersey veers to make the catch. I stay right with him and just as I see the laces spiraling closer I leap up as we both stretch out our arms to meet the ball at the exact same time. Our bodies crash into each other and we hit the ground, the ball rolling away.
Red jersey jumps up screaming "Pass interference, pass interference!" Everyone on the field runs over to argue for their team. I lay on the ground dazed from the hit, my leg is stinging from the collision. The argument goes on for about fifteen minutes when someone asks about the time. "Its 3:30pm." A little kid in a brown down vest and a yellow hat replies. All of a sudden kids are scattering all over the field, looking for their coats, gloves and hats and scurry their way home for Thanksgiving dinner. I am still on the floor and realize I need to get home as well. I make my way to my feet and start to walk, but my hip is not cooperating. It feels hot and very sore. A few of my friends help me limp home and I gingerly make my way back up the two flight of stairs and enter my apartment. I swing the door open and it hits the table, forgetting it will be extended for the big dinner and thus leaving the front door to only open a quarter of the way. The silverware clangs ans one water glass spills over, resulting in a snap from my mom. "You are late, now go clean yourself up!" I limp into my room, carefully take off my muddy clothes and wait my turn for the bathroom to be free (one bathroom in a family of six results in prolonged bathroom wait time). As I shower, I study my now multicolored swollen leg and I can only think of one thought, I cannot wait until next year and the next Thanksgiving game.
What is your favorite Thanksgiving game memory? Send me you story for a chance to win a prize from Clorox, sponsors of the Clorox Toilet Bowl. Follow them on Facebook at facebook.com/odetothecommode
“I wrote this review while participating in a blog tour campaign by Dad Central Consulting on behalf of Clorox and received a gift code, toilet wand and football to thank me for taking the time to participate.”
The history of this game goes back to the 1950's when the two complexes were first completed. There are no complex presidents, no board members, and no representatives attending the game. There are no referees, no chalk lines, and no time keepers present. No one is wearing pads, helmets or uniforms, just a bunch of kids and a ball, playing no rules tackle football.
The game starts like every other game, with arguments on both sides; was it a catch or not; out of bounds or in bounds, each team vying for leverage. The morning turns to afternoon as the game goes on for hours, some kids leaving for holiday travel and new arrivals taking their place, but I keep playing, moving from running back to receiver to defensive positions.
My team (Pomonok) is up by three points when Electchester is driving down the field. I am playing on defense, calling out coverage, "I got the kid in the red jersey, you get the kid in the blue sweatpants." The quarterback yells "Hike" and all receivers take off towards the end zone. "Three Mississippi, four Mississippi, the counter yells, then squeals "Baall!" I am running alongside red jersey when I spot the ball gliding out of the sky and in my direction. I try to time my jump as red jersey veers to make the catch. I stay right with him and just as I see the laces spiraling closer I leap up as we both stretch out our arms to meet the ball at the exact same time. Our bodies crash into each other and we hit the ground, the ball rolling away.
Red jersey jumps up screaming "Pass interference, pass interference!" Everyone on the field runs over to argue for their team. I lay on the ground dazed from the hit, my leg is stinging from the collision. The argument goes on for about fifteen minutes when someone asks about the time. "Its 3:30pm." A little kid in a brown down vest and a yellow hat replies. All of a sudden kids are scattering all over the field, looking for their coats, gloves and hats and scurry their way home for Thanksgiving dinner. I am still on the floor and realize I need to get home as well. I make my way to my feet and start to walk, but my hip is not cooperating. It feels hot and very sore. A few of my friends help me limp home and I gingerly make my way back up the two flight of stairs and enter my apartment. I swing the door open and it hits the table, forgetting it will be extended for the big dinner and thus leaving the front door to only open a quarter of the way. The silverware clangs ans one water glass spills over, resulting in a snap from my mom. "You are late, now go clean yourself up!" I limp into my room, carefully take off my muddy clothes and wait my turn for the bathroom to be free (one bathroom in a family of six results in prolonged bathroom wait time). As I shower, I study my now multicolored swollen leg and I can only think of one thought, I cannot wait until next year and the next Thanksgiving game.
What is your favorite Thanksgiving game memory? Send me you story for a chance to win a prize from Clorox, sponsors of the Clorox Toilet Bowl. Follow them on Facebook at facebook.com/odetothecommode
“I wrote this review while participating in a blog tour campaign by Dad Central Consulting on behalf of Clorox and received a gift code, toilet wand and football to thank me for taking the time to participate.”
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Lap-A-Thon
My son's school has a long tradition of being involved in charitable endeavors. Every week collections for clothing, old sneakers, food and various other items are being held for different causes. Although most of the students are fortunate to have many privileges and opportunities they are frequently reminded that many other kids their age do not. Over the summer, a select group of high schoolers visited the JBFC School in Tanzania and brought the people food, medical and educational supplies. It was on this trip that my son's school adopted their sister school, The Mary and Joseph School. The students documented the experience by taking pictures and created a PowerPoint presentation which they showed to the school upon their return.
Earlier this month the fifth grade class raised money for their sister school by completing laps around the school track. The more laps each student did the more money they raised. Each of the five fifth grade classes raised money by soliciting parents, relatives and friends to donate either by lap or in a lump sum. Each class elected a chairperson to organize the flyers, collect the checks, and lead the class in the first lap. Our son breathlessly informed us he was elected as class representative to the Lap-A-Thon. He took his job very seriously and was very proud to collect and hand-in all the checks at the end of the collection period.
My son comes from a long line of social activists. My wife has proudly passed her family legacy down to him by engaging him early on in humanitarian and peace efforts. However, this was the first time he participated in a charitable activity on his own, so it seemed extra special and important. Donation collections went smoothly leading up to the day of the event. Each Class wore their "Spirit Day" t-shirts as they lapped around the track in a group (my son's class is in green). As the fifth grade ran or walked the track, some of their other classmates played games in the middle of the field.
The fifth grade class raised over $2,100 dollars for supplies and repairs to the school's facilities. My son personally raised $90. The head coordinator, a fifth grade teacher, praised our son's efforts by saying "He has been both a responsible and enthusiastic representative for his class!" Showing compassion towards people in need is one thing, but taking action is what counts. The fifth grade class, lead by my son, gets an A-plus.
For more information go to the following website:
The Janada L. Batchelor Foundation for Children
Earlier this month the fifth grade class raised money for their sister school by completing laps around the school track. The more laps each student did the more money they raised. Each of the five fifth grade classes raised money by soliciting parents, relatives and friends to donate either by lap or in a lump sum. Each class elected a chairperson to organize the flyers, collect the checks, and lead the class in the first lap. Our son breathlessly informed us he was elected as class representative to the Lap-A-Thon. He took his job very seriously and was very proud to collect and hand-in all the checks at the end of the collection period.
My son comes from a long line of social activists. My wife has proudly passed her family legacy down to him by engaging him early on in humanitarian and peace efforts. However, this was the first time he participated in a charitable activity on his own, so it seemed extra special and important. Donation collections went smoothly leading up to the day of the event. Each Class wore their "Spirit Day" t-shirts as they lapped around the track in a group (my son's class is in green). As the fifth grade ran or walked the track, some of their other classmates played games in the middle of the field.
The fifth grade class raised over $2,100 dollars for supplies and repairs to the school's facilities. My son personally raised $90. The head coordinator, a fifth grade teacher, praised our son's efforts by saying "He has been both a responsible and enthusiastic representative for his class!" Showing compassion towards people in need is one thing, but taking action is what counts. The fifth grade class, lead by my son, gets an A-plus.
For more information go to the following website:
The Janada L. Batchelor Foundation for Children
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Smart Music
The baritone horn, or simply baritone, is a member of the brass instrument family.[1] The baritone horn is a cylindrical bore instrument like the trumpet and trombone.[2] A baritone horn uses a large mouthpiece much like those of a trombone or euphonium. It is pitched in B♭, one octave below the B♭ trumpet. In the UK the baritone is frequently found in brass bands. The baritone horn is also a common instrument in high school and college bands, as older baritones are often in schools' inventories. However, these are gradually being replaced by intermediate-level euphoniums.
My son has been playing the Baritone in school since last year. Even though he enjoys playing it was like pulling teeth to get him to practice. When he first brought home the instrument, my wife and I adapted a light approach to practicing. My feeling was, with the workload already on the kid, I did not want to pressure him into blowing the mini-tuba until he was blue in the face, that and the fact I did not know how to instruct and critique his practice, was it good, bad, did he hit the note of not?
This year his school invested in an amazing software package called Smart Music. Students download the software and look up their classes and music. The teacher then loads in their assignments, practice schedule and can even comment on their progress. The kids click on their weekly assignments, find the sheet music and play along to the timing bar. Students can actually see where their mistakes are, can immediately run through the piece again and instantly mark their improvement.
This program has not only made my son practice more, he enjoys the challenge of raising his score, like a video game. This program puts a whole new twist on the traditional practice routine. As a parent, I can sit there with him, learn the assignments, and experience the learning process, as well as drum out the beats as he plays along. Doing homework, making music and having fun, in perfect rhythm.
Smart Music- tell your school...
PS:I did not receive any compensation from Smart Music, I just think the product is great!
My son has been playing the Baritone in school since last year. Even though he enjoys playing it was like pulling teeth to get him to practice. When he first brought home the instrument, my wife and I adapted a light approach to practicing. My feeling was, with the workload already on the kid, I did not want to pressure him into blowing the mini-tuba until he was blue in the face, that and the fact I did not know how to instruct and critique his practice, was it good, bad, did he hit the note of not?
This year his school invested in an amazing software package called Smart Music. Students download the software and look up their classes and music. The teacher then loads in their assignments, practice schedule and can even comment on their progress. The kids click on their weekly assignments, find the sheet music and play along to the timing bar. Students can actually see where their mistakes are, can immediately run through the piece again and instantly mark their improvement.
This program has not only made my son practice more, he enjoys the challenge of raising his score, like a video game. This program puts a whole new twist on the traditional practice routine. As a parent, I can sit there with him, learn the assignments, and experience the learning process, as well as drum out the beats as he plays along. Doing homework, making music and having fun, in perfect rhythm.
Smart Music- tell your school...
PS:I did not receive any compensation from Smart Music, I just think the product is great!
Monday, November 15, 2010
Won to One
The team forms a semi-circle around the water drenched and choked up head coach. "All you kids should be proud of yourselves..." Coach exclaims over the cheering and clapping of the players standing around him. "...The first win is the best win and you showed your toughness and willingness to fight hard all year and it finally came together so congratulations to all of you!"
Last game on the schedule proved to be the shining moment for the team as they got its first win and on that note, made it a successful season. The team struggled through new players, new coaches, league politics and key injuries but every practice they stood on that field, never dishearten by their record, and learned to play as a team. "In all my years associated with the organization..." another coach tells me, "This is the best group of kids I have ever been around, always willing to give it their all, support each other and have fun."
As the team leaves the field they are greeted by their parents, applauding and slapping the players on the shoulder pads, excited themselves for the win as they are also part of the team, getting their kids to practice on time every day and spending hours driving and sitting in the stands cheering the kids towards this victory.
Congratulations Blue Devils, 1 and 7 never felt so sweet.
Last game on the schedule proved to be the shining moment for the team as they got its first win and on that note, made it a successful season. The team struggled through new players, new coaches, league politics and key injuries but every practice they stood on that field, never dishearten by their record, and learned to play as a team. "In all my years associated with the organization..." another coach tells me, "This is the best group of kids I have ever been around, always willing to give it their all, support each other and have fun."
As the team leaves the field they are greeted by their parents, applauding and slapping the players on the shoulder pads, excited themselves for the win as they are also part of the team, getting their kids to practice on time every day and spending hours driving and sitting in the stands cheering the kids towards this victory.
Congratulations Blue Devils, 1 and 7 never felt so sweet.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
The Father Factor: The Thankful Campaign: Thankful for the Journey
This post come from the National Fatherhood Initiative:
(NFI), founded in 1994, works in every sector and at every level of society to engage fathers in the lives of their children. NFI’s national public service advertising campaign promoting father involvement has generated television, radio, print, Internet, and outdoor advertising valued at over $500 million. Through its resource center, FatherSOURCE™, NFI offers a wide range of innovative resources to assist fathers and organizations interested in reaching and supporting fathers. Check out www.fatherhood.org for more information!
Today, NFI is launching The Thankful Campaign to celebrate fathers and families. We're asking daddy bloggers, prominent fathers, and everyday dads to share what they're thankful for and how they're raising grateful kids.
Monday, November 8, 2010
The Touchdown Game
"Are you hurt or are you injured?" This question is heard a lot on the sidelines of football games. It's hard sometimes for kids to tell the difference in a game with as much physical play as football. A kid bangs a finger, you wrap it in tape and they are good to go. A player comes off the field limping after a tackle, more tape and back on the field. All players want to get their reps, and kids especially have a hard time describing the pain in order to make a decision whether to play of not. My son is no different, he would not want to give up any playing time because of a stinger, a bang or bruise. So when he started limping and wincing about his ankle Saturday evening that was a cause for concern. Saturday, after a two hour practice, my son and I came home, had lunch, and hit the school field for more football.
Our routine usually starts the same every time, first we just throw the football back and forth to each other, to warm up. Phase two involves running pass routes, like crossing patterns and side line toe catches. We take turns, one is quarterback and one is receiver then we switch off (though I end up as quarterback for most of the time).
Phase three is what my son is waiting for, The Touchdown Game. The game starts like this, one person lines up as the ball carrier on the five yard line and the other is the defender, positioned at the one yard line. The carrier needs to pass the defender and score the touchdown and the defender needs to stop him or cause a fumble. If the ball comes loose, then the real fun happens as both players bounce and crawl over each other in order to secure the fumble. Now you would think that I have an advantage of being bigger and stronger but as the father I understand that I do not want to hurt my son. My son, on the other hand, is just enjoying the physical contact and is not concerned with hurting me, which usually results with me limping home at the end of play.
After about fifteen minutes of The Touchdown Game, my son adds a new wrinkle to the competition. Added to the rules was the "Safety" component. This add-on allows the defender to be more aggressive as he can not only prevent the touchdown, but by pushing back the runner, can record a safety. Now the game became sort of a reverse tug-o-war as the runner is pressing forward to score and the defender is pushing back to register the safety, all this while keeping the ball from popping loose. The new Touchdown Game is a big success as we bang together, knock each other down and roll around for the ball all while constant laughing is heard. During one play, the ball seems to pop loose right away and we both yell "FUMBLE!" I dive for the ball and my son falls on top of me and twists off. It was that point that my son said his ankle turned a little. We sat on the turf for about fifteen minutes resting before we stood up and agreed that we better stop that game and go back to pass routes for a while.
We take a few turns running routes when a bunch of my son's friends show up at the field. He runs over and they start up a game, playing four on four. I take a seat on the sidelines and watch, resting from all the contact. They play for an hour when one by one, the kids need to head home. My son and I round the corner and enter our driveway when he starts to show a limp. After subjecting him to walking the supermarket aisles later, his limp is more pronounced. My son says to me, "My ankle is really hurting now, like a tight string is running up the back." The next morning is game day, the last home game of the season. He walks out of his bedroom and thumps down on the couch. "My ankle still feels the same, I do not think I can play." I feel bad that we played so hard the day before and that he will miss the game. "I'm sorry your ankle is hurting and I should have not let us play the Touchdown Game." "Don't worry, I had a great time!" he replies. I tell my son that the important lesson here is that he recognized his pain enough to shut himself down and not endure further damage. My son might be injured, but his spirit is not hurt.
**Update- no ligament damage but doctor recommends rest as to not cause a tear or worse. He is in a soft boot.
Our routine usually starts the same every time, first we just throw the football back and forth to each other, to warm up. Phase two involves running pass routes, like crossing patterns and side line toe catches. We take turns, one is quarterback and one is receiver then we switch off (though I end up as quarterback for most of the time).
Phase three is what my son is waiting for, The Touchdown Game. The game starts like this, one person lines up as the ball carrier on the five yard line and the other is the defender, positioned at the one yard line. The carrier needs to pass the defender and score the touchdown and the defender needs to stop him or cause a fumble. If the ball comes loose, then the real fun happens as both players bounce and crawl over each other in order to secure the fumble. Now you would think that I have an advantage of being bigger and stronger but as the father I understand that I do not want to hurt my son. My son, on the other hand, is just enjoying the physical contact and is not concerned with hurting me, which usually results with me limping home at the end of play.
After about fifteen minutes of The Touchdown Game, my son adds a new wrinkle to the competition. Added to the rules was the "Safety" component. This add-on allows the defender to be more aggressive as he can not only prevent the touchdown, but by pushing back the runner, can record a safety. Now the game became sort of a reverse tug-o-war as the runner is pressing forward to score and the defender is pushing back to register the safety, all this while keeping the ball from popping loose. The new Touchdown Game is a big success as we bang together, knock each other down and roll around for the ball all while constant laughing is heard. During one play, the ball seems to pop loose right away and we both yell "FUMBLE!" I dive for the ball and my son falls on top of me and twists off. It was that point that my son said his ankle turned a little. We sat on the turf for about fifteen minutes resting before we stood up and agreed that we better stop that game and go back to pass routes for a while.
We take a few turns running routes when a bunch of my son's friends show up at the field. He runs over and they start up a game, playing four on four. I take a seat on the sidelines and watch, resting from all the contact. They play for an hour when one by one, the kids need to head home. My son and I round the corner and enter our driveway when he starts to show a limp. After subjecting him to walking the supermarket aisles later, his limp is more pronounced. My son says to me, "My ankle is really hurting now, like a tight string is running up the back." The next morning is game day, the last home game of the season. He walks out of his bedroom and thumps down on the couch. "My ankle still feels the same, I do not think I can play." I feel bad that we played so hard the day before and that he will miss the game. "I'm sorry your ankle is hurting and I should have not let us play the Touchdown Game." "Don't worry, I had a great time!" he replies. I tell my son that the important lesson here is that he recognized his pain enough to shut himself down and not endure further damage. My son might be injured, but his spirit is not hurt.
**Update- no ligament damage but doctor recommends rest as to not cause a tear or worse. He is in a soft boot.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Tales from the Flash Card
Front Side: Where are the United States and Canada located?
Flip Side: In North America
Front Side: What do the climate zones in Canada and the U.S. range from?
Flip Side: Climate zones in the U.S. and Canada range from desert climate to polar climate.
Front Side: Do the U.S. and Canada have mountain ranges?
Flip Side: The United States and Canada have many mountain ranges.
Front Side: Do the Great Lakes provide transportation and industry?
Flip Side: Bodies of water such as the Great Lakes provide transportation and support industry.
Front Side: Are you ready for your test tomorrow?
Flip Side: I hope so...
Front Side: Be confident, after all you are the side with the answers...
Flip Side: That's because you ask the right questions...
-This re-enactment was taken from flash cards covering my son's Social Studies test tomorrow. Flash cards played themselves...
Flip Side: In North America
Front Side: What do the climate zones in Canada and the U.S. range from?
Flip Side: Climate zones in the U.S. and Canada range from desert climate to polar climate.
Front Side: Do the U.S. and Canada have mountain ranges?
Flip Side: The United States and Canada have many mountain ranges.
Front Side: Do the Great Lakes provide transportation and industry?
Flip Side: Bodies of water such as the Great Lakes provide transportation and support industry.
Front Side: Are you ready for your test tomorrow?
Flip Side: I hope so...
Front Side: Be confident, after all you are the side with the answers...
Flip Side: That's because you ask the right questions...
-This re-enactment was taken from flash cards covering my son's Social Studies test tomorrow. Flash cards played themselves...
Monday, November 1, 2010
The Great Candy Barter
Halloween comes around at the perfect time of year. It lets kids blow off the pressures involved with the beginning of the school year and just enjoy themselves. For my family it has become a tradition to drive into the Manhattan and see all our old friends from the neighborhood and spend Halloween with them. It also allows our son to see his old pals and catch up. The kids and the parents meet at the Halloween carnival, the kids run around and play games while the parents gather together and update each other since the last time. The kids start with a core group of three; my son, and another boy and a girl, all close friends since they were infants. Those kids meet up with other friends and before you know it the group is five to six kids. Since the kids are in the Fifth grade, its easier for them to run around without much supervision and more relaxing on the parents. "Oh so-in-so got so big" and "The kids are growing up so fast." are some of the comments you hear as the kids make an appearance between fun stations. After the carnival, we head up 18th Street and visit a few scary brownstones then to our friend's apartment for drinks, food and trick or treating. The group seems to be larger than in the past and appears unbalanced, consisting of three boys and six girls, but without a doubt, all great friends.
After a couple of haunted houses and racing from floor to floor gathering mounds of neatly wrapped nuggets, we enter our friend's apartment for some soup, sandwiches and drinks. The kids on the other hand have a tradition of their own, it's now time for the Great Candy Barter. In a single file line, the kids head into the bedroom to stake their position on the floor and prepare to trade. In the past, some of the kids prepare for weeks, strategizing on the two-for-one options and taste testing candy in order to make good choices. The parents remain in the outer rooms, chatting and drinking, enjoying a chance to be adults. Once the trading session is over, the kids usually play games, put on a dance show or some other silly skit. This year seems a little different as the kids are preteens and the chatter is more about school, fads and other trends. At one point all the parents noticed that the door was closed, prompting me to ask "Should that door be closed?" Most of the parents gave me an innocent "What do you mean, they are only ten?", but the door was immediately opened and no fun was lost. "There will be plenty of time for worrying about closed doors later" one mother said jokingly, but the kids did not skip a beat, giggling, playing games, trading candy, and enjoying another Halloween.
As the night came to a close, the parents said their goodbyes and the kids lined up by the bathroom. The parents are wondering what is going on when it hits us, they are each weighing their bags on the scale to figure out who has the most candy. Kids will be kids...
After a couple of haunted houses and racing from floor to floor gathering mounds of neatly wrapped nuggets, we enter our friend's apartment for some soup, sandwiches and drinks. The kids on the other hand have a tradition of their own, it's now time for the Great Candy Barter. In a single file line, the kids head into the bedroom to stake their position on the floor and prepare to trade. In the past, some of the kids prepare for weeks, strategizing on the two-for-one options and taste testing candy in order to make good choices. The parents remain in the outer rooms, chatting and drinking, enjoying a chance to be adults. Once the trading session is over, the kids usually play games, put on a dance show or some other silly skit. This year seems a little different as the kids are preteens and the chatter is more about school, fads and other trends. At one point all the parents noticed that the door was closed, prompting me to ask "Should that door be closed?" Most of the parents gave me an innocent "What do you mean, they are only ten?", but the door was immediately opened and no fun was lost. "There will be plenty of time for worrying about closed doors later" one mother said jokingly, but the kids did not skip a beat, giggling, playing games, trading candy, and enjoying another Halloween.
As the night came to a close, the parents said their goodbyes and the kids lined up by the bathroom. The parents are wondering what is going on when it hits us, they are each weighing their bags on the scale to figure out who has the most candy. Kids will be kids...
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Friday, October 29, 2010
Happy________! (fill in the blank)
We were just finishing dinner when our son asks, "What are your favorite Holidays?" I pause a bit and rattle off brain dead answers like, "Fourth of July and New Years?" My wife, without skipping a beat, gave much more thoughtful answers, "Thanksgiving, Passover and Valentines Day." My son smiles and says "Well, it would be Son's Day if there was one!" My wife and I both respond with the same sediment, "Every day around here is Son's Day!" After a few chuckles, my son says "Halloween, because I get all the candy!!"
Holiday Season is in full swing...
Holiday Season is in full swing...
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Teacher+Parent+1
Today is Parent-Teacher Conference Day. Well it actually is parent-teacher conference weeks as the teachers space out the meetings over the course of a couple of weeks and the school scheduling three to four half days to compensate. In the past the conferences would all take place in the afternoons, basically forcing the working parents to take off time from work to meet the teachers and find out about how wonderful their child is. This year they instituted a few mornings into the mix, giving both parents a chance to participate and for the school to pat itself on the back with the leap right into the 20th century (yes I mean 20th!). Today at 7:50am was our conference, the very first one on the docket.
There is another change in the parent-teacher conference dynamic starting in the fifth grade, the child gets to sit in on the meeting. No more kids sitting outside the classroom, stressing about what is being said on the other side of the door and how much trouble they are in. No, this is a new day where all three parties discuss the work, the problem areas and the goals set forth.
We enter the classroom, greet the teacher and take our seats. My wife and I on one side and the Teacher and our son on the other, face to face like a worldly summit. My wife takes out a pad and a pen and I for some reason do the same, while my son has a conference worksheet with checks and notes written on it which he did earlier in the week to prepare for this important summit. The Teacher has a copy of the worksheet and some depositions from some of the other teachers. We are ready to commence with the summit.
The teacher breaks down the structure of the classroom, the coursework, and how all the kids are adjusting to fifth grade. The conference worksheet is a two page document where the kids note some of their self realized weaknesses, strengths and their goals to attain. The teacher and my son have an open discussion in front of us about the worksheet and come up with a detailed goals outline while my wife and I take down our own outline to work on at home. The summit goes very well and it sets all parties on a clear path for a successful school year.
As the conference comes to a close, my son is smiling and relaxed. Though there is much work ahead, my son is excited and confident that he has the support of his teachers and his parents.
There is another change in the parent-teacher conference dynamic starting in the fifth grade, the child gets to sit in on the meeting. No more kids sitting outside the classroom, stressing about what is being said on the other side of the door and how much trouble they are in. No, this is a new day where all three parties discuss the work, the problem areas and the goals set forth.
We enter the classroom, greet the teacher and take our seats. My wife and I on one side and the Teacher and our son on the other, face to face like a worldly summit. My wife takes out a pad and a pen and I for some reason do the same, while my son has a conference worksheet with checks and notes written on it which he did earlier in the week to prepare for this important summit. The Teacher has a copy of the worksheet and some depositions from some of the other teachers. We are ready to commence with the summit.
The teacher breaks down the structure of the classroom, the coursework, and how all the kids are adjusting to fifth grade. The conference worksheet is a two page document where the kids note some of their self realized weaknesses, strengths and their goals to attain. The teacher and my son have an open discussion in front of us about the worksheet and come up with a detailed goals outline while my wife and I take down our own outline to work on at home. The summit goes very well and it sets all parties on a clear path for a successful school year.
As the conference comes to a close, my son is smiling and relaxed. Though there is much work ahead, my son is excited and confident that he has the support of his teachers and his parents.
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