House of Undr

That didn't last long

2012-01-12T23:47:00.000-07:00

Alex and I were making plans to go visit his potential next school and scope out the city for possible property for the family, and what the schools would be like for Rachel and Kevin. Then he started getting phone calls from other schools, feelers for follow-ups on his expressed interest in attending; long story short, he’s got viable, incredible options that would keep him on U.S. soil.

In the long run, that might be better, because Char’s checkups this week were not as stellar as we’d hoped, and she’s facing some significant surgery and rehab this year. Because of the accident two and a half years ago, she has avascular necrosis of the femoral head, and it’s reached the point of necessary replacement. She’s been in increasing pain and is losing mobility, so it has to be done. And we would prefer it be done here where we’re familiar with the doctors and hospital.

That doesn’t mean Alex is limited to U.S. schools. If going with Erin and Miko is what will get him the best education, he’ll go. Rachel and Kevin are understandably disappointed, but they understand. If Alex does go, we’ll be visiting and spending the summer traveling; if he ultimately chooses a state-side school, we can still take them to explore the places they’re interested in.

The hard part is going to be Erin, Miko, and the grandkids leaving. And then getting Char through everything she’s facing. She doesn’t seem fazed at all by it; it’s something that has to be done and she’d like to get it over with and get the rehab underway.

I wish I had half her strength.

Ch-ch-ch-changes?

2012-01-06T22:53:00.000-07:00

Over the holidays, we found ourselves staring into news we didn't want (but that was good for Erin and Miko), a possibility Alex did want (but we did not), and surprises from Rachel and Kevin about the aforementioned news and possibility. It came towards us with a not unexpected announcement from Brad: he's selling the bar and retiring.

What we don't want: Miko's job has presented him with the chance to take his family overseas; most of what he does goes over my head, but the meat of it is that he'll be leading a research team, as well as teaching. He can't not take the position; the opportunity is solid and will advance his career, whereas staying here will stall it in the next few years. This opportunity opened up, for Alex, the very real possibility of attending school overseas as well. It affords him an education undistracted by anything other than his field of study, and while he would be there in residence, Erin and Miko would be a phone call away.

Knowing what the opportunity means for his future, we didn't say no right off the bat; it's big enough that significant consideration must be weighed, his needs versus our fears, what he wants versus what would be the right thing. Every logical argument we could make leaning in either direction eventually ended with the realization that we can't stand in his way on this.

Rachel and Kevin's initial reaction: are we moving? I presumed that they would be relieved that the answer was no. We would stay here and let them finish school; we've discussed eventually living part-time in Ireland, but every intention has us waiting until the kids are all grown. But they surprised us; it's not fair, they each said in their own way, that Alex gets to see more of the world and they don't. I believed that was knee-jerk jealousy, but neither intended it to be. Rachel claims there is nothing here that she wouldn't have there; the world is a much smaller place with email and Facebook, and she pointed out that the friends she's closest to, the girls with whom she can share everything, moved away two and three years ago, and online is how they keep in touch.

Kevin would be leaving a lot behind; his dance school, friends he is extremely tight with, and there's Elizabeth. But still, when playing with the idea in his head, he's all for moving. There are places to learn to dance there. He can keep in touch with Elizabeth.

Their enthusiasm was unexpected, but still, we were not considering picking up and moving to another country simply because Alex wants to go to school there, or because Erin and Miko and the grandkids are going.

We were still at the "we're thinking about it" point with Alex and had not told him yes or no, when Peter and Nika announced that upon her graduation in May they are headed back to South Africa. Brad, who has resolutely refused to consider traveling any further than California to visit his family, decided it was time for him to get a passport, so that he would be able to visit. Alex jokingly told him if he wanted, he could live with him in a dorm room and bounce between there and Johannesburg; instead of blowing him off, Brad mused that if the "whole fucking family" was going, he would, too.

And then it was laid out in front of us. Erin and Miko are going, regardless. Alex is going for at least 3-4 years. Nika and Peter are leaving. Rachel and Kevin--at least for now--want to live somewhere different, and they want the chance to see more of the world. When we balanced everything, we realized there is truly nothing keeping us here, other than friendships and familiarity. Neither of us is tied to a job; I have business investments that can, for the most part, be handled from wherever I happen to be, and I could accommodate in-person needs with a plane ticket and rental car.

We tried to decide what was holding us back; the fact that it was the kids that championed the idea, or that deep down we felt a move was not a good idea, and we kept coming back to the notion that we were reluctant simply because it felt slightly backwards to have the kids pushing for this.

We're still not decided. It doesn't make sense to hold Alex back, but we're now grappling with the fundamentals of whether or not picking up and leaving everything behind would be in the kids' best interests. That's what it comes down to; what's best for them.

Alex has struggled the last couple of months with what he wants to ultimately do: transfer to an out of state school, or stay here and get his degree from a local university. He wants the best education he can get, but he also doesn't want to leave Stephanie behind. This chance to study abroad, however, cleared things up for him. He knows that right now his education comes first, he also knows that with effort he can stay connected to her, and if it's meant to be, they'll figure it out later. I wondered how he felt about the idea--even if it is a remote concept right now--that his entire family could follow him, if there would be (and perhaps rightfully so) resentment. Yet he expressed some relief; whether we follow or not, he'll be there in residence, he wouldn't live with us. But we would be right there, and as he put it, I'm only going to be seventeen, and I'm not sure I'm ready for that much of just me.

Everyone wants to go; I'm not sure why we're dragging out feet on a final decision. It'll come to me sooner rather than later, I suppose.

Merry Christmas, Everyone

2011-12-24T15:35:00.000-07:00

Weeks ago, I promised Toni I would take her Christmas shopping so that she could buy gifts for her parents without her parents being around. This is the first year she’s been really aware that they just might like to be surprised, and she’s smart enough to know that if she lacks enough money, Grandpa will make up the shortfall. That latter part is probably why she was very specific in asking me to take her and not Char. Char is a mom; moms make you consider the actual dollar amount in your wallet before letting you pick something out.

This was before I broke my foot; we took the kids skiing a couple of weeks ago and due to a poor choice in foot attire while trying out a snow bike, I managed to break a couple of bones in my foot. Minor breaks, but it still hurts a bit. I could have backed out, but I’m not an invalid and this wasn’t going to kill me, so Alex and I sucked it up and took her to the mall.

We hadn’t been inside for more than five minutes when I had a sudden and acute flashback to taking a three year old Alex Christmas shopping at the same mall. We’d barely gotten inside when he spied a very large red kettle and noted people putting money into it, and wanted to know why. He accepted that people sometimes need a little extra help buying food and clothing, and was fine with that, but just past the kettle was a collection point for Toys for Tots, manned by Marines in dress uniform. He was curious; why did those soldiers have all those toys?

The explanation that some people didn’t have enough money to buy presents for their kids made him sink to his knees, and he cried from deep down, so broken over what had occurred to him that it took several minutes before I was able to understand what had upset him. He got it: there were kids out there who didn’t have toys to play with, and if those soldiers were collecting toys, that meant that there were kids who were going to have a very bad Christmas, and worse—there was no Santa Claus.

He was three years old and even then too smart for his own good. Toni doesn’t share his rapid-fire ability to put mental puzzle pieces together, but I knew that kettle was going to be there, and just beyond that it, there was going to be a collection table for toys and Toni was going to want an explanation.

The red kettle was not a mystery to her; she’s seen then in front of grocery stores and is familiar with bell ringers. All she wanted was a dollar to put in it, and then grabbed Alex by the hand to pull him along. I hoped she would be oblivious to the men in uniform I could see just a hundred feet or so ahead, but it was like she zoned in on them, and wanted to know the same thing Alex had. What are they doing?

Before I could answer, Alex did. People bring toys to them, and they make sure those toys get to little kids who don’t get a lot for Christmas.

Oh, so those are some of Santa’s helpers?

If I had thought of that 13 years ago, one little boy might not have had the joy of believing in Santa ripped away from him. She was content with the belief that Santa makes good use of helpers, and just wanted to get down to shopping. Alex asked her if she wanted to go buy a couple of toys—his treat—and give them to the Marines, and she lit up. Of course she did.

Toni doesn’t have many more years of believing in Santa; she’s almost 9 years old and I suspect she has her doubts, but I didn’t have it in me to be there when she voiced a certainty to those doubts. I was grateful to my son for being quick enough to give her a better explanation than I'd had for him when he was three. He was able to turn it into something good; from then on, we’ve taken an annual shopping trip together—the last couple of years including Kevin—and have bought toys for donation. It was his idea and he saves a little money all year long for it. But I would still like to turn back the clock and give him the explanation he gave to Toni, and keep his belief intact for a few more years.

In another hour or so this house will begin to fill with family; Erin and Miko are bringing their kids, Craig is bringing Frankie, Brad is bringing some 18 year old scotch (this year, Craig is fine with it around), Nika and Peter, Dack and Theresa, TK and Becky and their kids—everyone in our daily lives that matters will be here; it will be loud and obnoxious, and a definite kind of wonderful.

And later on, Erin and Miko will take the kids home so that Santa can find them, because for now Toni still believes, and she can’t wait.

So basically, I have chauffeurs

2011-12-07T13:33:00.001-07:00

I thought every psychological thing from the accident two and a half years ago was behind me. But yesterday we were at a stoplight and the sound of squealing tires made me flinch so hard I nearly went from the passenger seat right into Ian's lap, and I started shaking so hard and breathing so hard that he pulled into the first parking lot he could to give me some time to calm down and catch my breath.

We went into a nearby fast food place because I was damn well going to cave into the want of a chocolate shake while I fought to calm down and as we sat there I told him I thought this was all over with and that I'd mostly forgotten about it, but the look on his face said something else.

"You only drive if you have to. Since Alex got his license you drive even less. Your motorcycle has only 400 miles on it and I've put a hundred on it just to keep the battery charged."

I hadn't noticed, but he's right. I don't know why he's never pushed me to get behind the wheel more often or take the bike out, but he's right. I always ask him to drive, and I've used Alex's excitement over being able to drive as an excuse when Ian isn't available. I wanted to know why he didn't push me a little harder.

"Because you do what you have to do when you need to do it, and you're not distracted by fear when you are driving. I think it's all right that you choose to not drive or ride, and when you're ready, you'll tell me to get my ass in the passenger seat because I'm driving you bat chit crazy with the way I steer with one hand."

But clearly, I'm not nearly as all right with it as I thought I was.

I thought he would press the point and make me drive, but he didn't. I did ask him if he thought I was nuts, and as we got back into the car he said he did.

For a moment, I was offended.

"It's 5 fucking degrees outside, and you wanted a shake. You have to admit, that's a little nuts."

I'll give him that one.

Title Goes Here

2011-12-03T15:23:00.001-07:00

A little over a month ago Erin expressed an interest in knowing where her father is, what had happened to him, and why he left when she was so young. My sister has never been exactly forthcoming about the breakup of her marriage, and the details were never mine to inquire about. She may have confided in our parents, who only told me “It’s just sad,” and I never pressed. At the time the only things I needed to know were that my sister was suddenly on her own with two young kids, and that she needed our help and compassion more than she needed questions.

I think we all (my brother, my ex, and I) expected her ex to stay in contact with their kids, no matter what the reason he had for leaving. He didn’t, though, and Val made it clear to the kids that they should just simply not ask her anything.

I had my suspicions about his whereabouts, but kept them to myself, until late in October when Erin asked me to find him. She’s not ready to face him, but does want him to know she’s interested in him, and that someday, probably someday soon, she’d like to see him and perhaps (a very strong maybe) begin a relationship if that’s what he wants as well.

I approached my sister and got the answer I expected; she doesn’t know where he is and doesn’t care. I spoke to Erin’s brother, who also didn’t know, but was certain he could get at least some basic information out of Val, and after some pressure—he wants as much as Erin does to have at least the option to connect with their father, and if warranted, kick the crap out of him—she relented and gave Jeff the last address and phone number she had for her ex’s brother.

This last month has been filled with attempts to contact the brother, tracking him from one address to the next, and two weeks ago I finally found him halfway across the county from where I initially thought he would be. He confirmed the suspicions I had over two decades ago, that Val’s ex practically vanished because he was in prison. He was full of details that I never would have guessed and was highly suspect regarding the truthfulness of them, but he pointed me in the right direction and assured me that Erin and Jeff’s father would be glad to hear from me.

When Val married him—having already had Jeff, and not too long after high school—I knew him as Billy, but after leaving prison he began going by his middle name and isn’t keen on sharing it with the world, do for the sake of my own sanity, I’ll just call him Bill here. Bill’s brother was right; he was glad to hear from me and was keenly interested in news about his kids, thrilled that they’re doing so well in spite of their parents, and was overjoyed at how many kids they’ve had.

It was a stark contrast to how my sister reacted at the news of her grandkids, which was mostly Yeah? Nice for them. Where she is almost calculating in creating distance between herself and the idea that her kids have families of their own, Bill wanted every detail I could give him. He also understood when told that Erin isn’t ready to meet him, but that she wanted—for now—to just know that he’s alive and to have a general idea where he is. He’s under no delusions about what his leaving did to his kids, but he’s open to them knowing why, especially if they know where he is now and how far removed he is from the things that put him feet first into a vat of legal trouble.

He’s more than willing to share details with me, as long as I don’t also dwell on Val’s part of it. And in hearing that, so many pieces of the Val Puzzle fell into place. Her actions and inactions, her squirrely and fairly despicable behaviors over the last 30 years, and her attitude are much more understandable now. I can look back and see how most of her life has been painted with guilt, and without going into too much detail, she has every reason to be wracked with guilt. Bill spent five years in prison to mostly protect her; he took a fall that she should have because he felt that his kids needed their mother, and if he didn’t protect her they would have both wound up in jail, and he had no idea what would have happened to Jeff and to Erin.

I can know the details; the kids, he insists, cannot. I disagree with this on so many levels, but mostly because if they did know, they would understand their mother better. Some wounds might begin to heal. It wouldn’t begin to explain to Erin why Val threw her out when she was 16 and only thought she was pregnant—it never occurred to Val to take her to a doctor and find out for sure—but it would explain to Erin the atmosphere of the environment she grew up in, and why my parents took such a leading reign in her life until they moved here.

Bill didn’t just leave and forget he had kids; Bill left and had no way to stay in contact with them, and Val didn’t help matters any. I believe Jeff and Erin would be better off if they had the full truth; Bill might think he’s still protecting Val by keeping it from them, but I think it would give them a deeper understanding of their mother and the demons that will nip at her heels for the rest of her life. Erin might be more willing to at least consider bridging some distance with her mother.

When Erin was unceremoniously shown the front door, her brother was already out of the house, away at college. He’d weathered his own version of Val as a mother but wasn’t there to see the explosion and thusly does not have those wounds. He’s eager to meet their father, and accepts that there are some things that he won’t be told. He feels he can start from scratch and get to know them man Bill is now, not the man he used to be.

For now, Erin is content to know that he’s all right and he thinks about her frequently; she’s happy that he does want at least some contact, and that he’s fine with her taking however long she needs to decide how she wants to meet him. She’s grateful that he doesn’t mind having a go-between, and that she’ll trust Jeff to be the first of them to actually get on a plane to meet him face to face. She’s relieved that I think he looks fine, acts fine, and that I believe he’s truthful about his past and his life now, and when she’s ready, I’ll go with her.

I have no doubt that eventually the full truth of why Bill left and where he’s been will come out, and when it does I’ll also go with her to see her mother, because I know she’ll want to. And if I’m as truthful about myself, it won’t be painless for me. She might consider me to be her dad, but there’s something very powerful about the draw of one’s biological parents. I’m always very aware that we’ll probably go through this more than once, because after Erin decides to meet or not meet him, and whether or not it leads to some kind of relationship with either or both of her parents, we have to face the fact that in a few years it will be Kevin feeling that pull. Frankly, I’m not ready for any of this.

Here Comes The Storm

2011-11-28T14:48:00.001-07:00

Getting the kids to get their homework done has never been an issue before; Alex studies for fun, Rachel does her work as soon as she gets home just to get it out of the way, and Kevin never really had much to do before now. When he did have homework, he mimicked Alex and sat down at the table with his older brother and just did it.

Then his hormones began to kick in, his attitude skewed a bit, and homework has become a battleground. When asked if he has any, he grunts no, and is then scrambling to get it done at the last minute. On Wednesday afternoon, knowing that he’d be better off getting it out of the way before a weekend that was already scheduled with family outings, Char asked him how much—not if he had any—homework he needed to get done.

I have to read about 10 pages in this book we’re reading for English class.

All right; he’s not the reader Alex is, but he does read for half an hour or so every night, so she didn’t push. She did, however, ask him every night if he’d read what he was supposed to.

A few pages, his pat answer.

Get it done tonight was her reply.

He’s rushing head-first into puberty, we get that. We survived it with Alex, complete with attitude and door-slamming; we survived it with Rachel and her penchant for new-teen-drama-queen antics. Kevin has always been fairly laid back, easy going, so we naïvely assumed he might be just a little easier to deal with.

I don’t think either of us expected he would take the worst of his siblings’ traits and create a whole new pre-teen model. He has all of Alex’s attitude and then some, the snarky sarcasm that just misses the mark, he stomps through the house, and he can out-drama the queen without much effort. He’s still the same sweet kid, but when he’s on a roll…if it was someone else’s kid, I would be amused. Since it’s ours, I’m ticking away the months until the worst of it is over, and hoping that he eases out of it at about the same ages Alex and Rachel did (don’t get me wrong, they’re still rolling in teen crap, but they’ve got a handle on it and know when they’ve stepped over the line.)

Thanksgiving weekend was All Kevin Attitude, All The Time. He snarked at all the wrong times, backtalked, rolled his eyes a few times too many, stomped a few times too loudly, and by yesterday afternoon we’d had enough.

And then after dinner Alex brought up homework, knowing Kevin hadn’t done it; he was being a shit, too, but at least it was with a purpose, to make sure his little brother got the work done before it was too late.

Char was furious. She pointed Kevin towards the sofa, turned off the TV, and made him read the chapter he should have had done on Wednesday night. When he closed the book and then said he needed his notebook to finish—I might have forgotten that I need to write a report—she gritted her teeth and managed to avoid yelling at him. But when he pulled out the notebook, along with math homework he “forgot” about, history worksheets that “will only take a minute,” and a take-home quiz for his science class, her restraint lapsed and she let him have it (verbally.)

He simply sat there and let her get it out, and then made his biggest mistake. He rolled his eyes, sighed hard, and told her to stop being so dramatic. It was “meaningless” homework and didn’t matter.

She was mad enough that she turned around and left the room; he shrugged it off until his cell phone chirped with a text message, and I grabbed the phone from his hand.

You just lost this for a week.

Instant indignation. That wasn’t fair, he was getting the work done and it would be done before bedtime, so what’s the big deal?

You never, not ever, speak to your mother that way.

She started it. He seriously went to that. She started it.

One more word and you’re also grounded for the week.

His mouth opened—he had more than one more word to say—but he doesn’t dare risk it this week. If he misses dance classes this week and next week, he doesn’t get to participate in the holiday recital, and he’s worked his ass off for that.

Very quietly, he grabbed his books and headed for my office, where he could work without a parent breathing down his neck. And somewhere in that pre-teen clouded brain is a working brain cell, because I heard him pause in the hallway at our bedroom door.

I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to be mean.

Yes, we’ve gotten through it twice already and peripherally with a third (though Erin was over the attitude part by the time she moved in; she was still all teen), and his bright spots are far more frequent than his dark wannabe-teen moments, but I am not looking forward to the next couple of years, and I am bracing myself against everything that’s coming at us.

First world problem, I know.

I'm so not ready for this

2011-11-17T18:09:00.001-07:00

I think we've hit the parts of parenting that neither of us was prepared for; we had the kids with the intent to raise them into self reliant adults, and hoped that along the way we could instill values in them that would become part of who they are, and for the most part I think we've accomplished that. Make no mistake, we have three teenagers in the house (yes, I know, Kevin is not yet 13 but he might as well be; he has the eye rolling part down pat) and there are days we go to bed as exhausted as we did when they were toddlers. For the most part, they amuse us, even at their teen-worst (I suppose that's because their worst isn't all that bad, not compared to a lot of kids we know) but there are days...

They're reaching towards problems that are pushing into adult territory, and we don't always know what to do about it. Alex, especially. He's 16 going on 30, he's in a relationship that's grown closer than I would like (read into that what you will, and you'll probably be right) and he's as serious and committed to it as he can possibly be at this age; he's also trying to figure out a way to break his own heart without breaking his girlfriend's.

He doesn't want to break up with her, but it occurred to him recently that he may effectively be doing that at the end of next summer. The realization hit him as he was pouring over information on a few potential colleges he's considering for when he's done at the community college. He's wrestling with what to do, stay here and go to school locally, which might not be in his best long term interest, or go away to school and risk distance being something that comes between them.

His realization has lead to many evenings spent sitting by the pool, in the cold, while he contemplates what he's going to do. It's almost as hard on us because we can't really tell him what to do; we can point out some obvious things, like email and texting and cell phones, and the fact that going away to school doesn't mean staying away for good. There are holidays and weekends, and unless he winds up overseas somehow he can always come home when he feels the need. We can also bite our tongues and avoid telling him that some distance might do them both some good; they're too young to be living life as if they're going to be together forever, and it might give them both some perspective.

I also can't tell him that most of me wants him to stay home and go to school here. I'm not ready to send my son out into the world and I don't imagine that I will be in 9 months. He won't be quite 17 when the next school year begins. When he was born my idea of being his mother had him here with us until he was 22 and graduating from college.

He relies more on his father when it comes to talking this out, which is good because I'm not sure I can avoid telling him how badly I want him to stay home. Ian is capable of helping him weight the pros and cons and making sure that the primary consideration is Alex's entire future, not his mother's feelings, and not his girlfriend's.

But still, he knows that if he chooses to leave, even if he can find a way to do it and not hurt Stephanie, he'll be breaking his own heart by going. And the collateral from that just isn't something I was ever prepared to have to deal with.

My dad let me leave at 18; he sent me clear across the country, and I had no idea how hard that was for him, not until I started thinking about Alex leaving. My dad let me go because it really was the best for me. I know that if Alex chooses a school out of state that it will be because it's the best for him, but I don't have to like it. And I suppose he doesn't have to, either.

All our kids

2011-11-02T19:25:00.002-07:00

The last two weeks have been hectic; we were simply waiting for Erin to have her baby, but then Miko came down with a gastric-intestinal bug, which spread through their house like biological wildfire. Both parents, all three kids, sick as can be, so we moved them into our house, sent the boys to stay with my dad because they showed no signs of it, and moved Rachel onto an air mattress in our room because she had a mild case. They were all so sick that it was scary, especially Erin. She wanted to have that baby so badly and in her head that was going to make everything better, but luckily she didn't go into labor while throwing up everything she'd eaten for the last week.

Ian and I were lucky; we still haven't gotten it. But he never complained once about all the work taking care of so many sick people at once entailed. He cleaned up barf without gagging, and he cleaned up a whole lot of kiddie poop and never flinched. He helped Miko bathe a few times, kept Travis and Thad as entertained as you can two little boys who feel so poorly, and he held Toni while she cried (because this kind of sick is embarrassing when you're a big fourth grader and trying to show your baby brothers how tough you are.) What touched me the most was seeing him curled up on the sofa with Erin (while Miko was splayed out on the kitchen floor, because it was cooler) on one side and Rachel on the other, holding both his girls close while they shared a hushed conversation about wanting that baby to come right now, and I listened as Erin admitted she hadn't thought about her own father in over a year but was suddenly wondering what had happened to him. Ian offered to find out, and Erin wants to know.

She doesn't think of her father as her dad, though. When she thinks of her dad, she thinks of Ian. And Rachel wanted to know when she was going to stop calling him Uncle Ian and start calling him Dad; Erin has never wanted Alex to feel displaced as the oldest, and certainly doesn't want Rachel to feel pushed aside as the only daughter.

I wanted to cry when Rachel told her she would never think that, because she's always thought of Erin as her big sister. And then she texted Alex and asked what he thought, and his response was "WTF? She's our sister so why hasn't she called him Dad all along?"

Ian told her she can call him whatever she's most comfortable with, but make no mistake, she's our daughter. Our kids think of her as their sibling; and yes, we had Alex and Rachel first, so she's not intruding on the order of things, if that's her biggest worry.

Erin is a sweet, sweet girl who still hasn't come to terms with why her own mother shoved her out the door (for that matter, neither have we) and she has no idea why her father left, but that's something I've always been able to empathize with. I still don't really know why my mother left, or where she is now. I understand that pain, though I think Erin's might be deeper since she did have 16 years with her mother. But I don't think she's ever felt as unconditionally loved as she does with Ian. He never had to be asked; the moment he found out his sister had thrown Erin out, he headed for Texas to get her. There was never a question about what he would do with her; she was coming to live with us, for as long as she needed and wanted to. His heart was there before the rest of him was, and I fell in love with her the minute she stepped through the front door.

She has been a joy to have, a very bright light in our lives and we've been lucky that she settled in easily and never really looked back.

Last night, just before dinner (which was the first solid food she had wanted to face for over a week) she looked up, eyes wide, and announced that "it's time." Poor Miko still feels horrible, but he'd stopped throwing up and was keeping Gatorade down, and I'm not sure how he felt about having to get dressed and leave the house, but when she said it was time we all took her seriously.

She was very calm all the way there, calm as Miko checked her in, and calm as she went into her room. Poor Ian was a nervous wreck, calling Miko's parents and my dad, so that he could take the boys back to the house and stay with Rachel. We waited at the hospital, because Ian insists that he be there when his grandkids are coming into the world, even if it is down the hall. And at 11:20, our newest granddaughter took her first breath, on 1-11-11.

Erin and Miko named her Charlene Alessandra Kosta, and I can't tell you how overwhelmed and thrilled it makes me to have her named after me. I was so touched about how focused she is on Ian being her dad that I never clued into the idea that we're a package deal. She says I've been her Mom for years, too, and if it had been another boy, he would have been Charlie.

I can't stop crying.

Ian is thrilled, too, and threatening to call her Chuck. I'm pretty sure he can get away with calling her anything he wants, but if Toni is any example, she'll be "little princess" most of the time.

We're still around

2011-10-10T13:45:00.000-07:00

All right, Max, because you asked.

The highlights:

After taking the kids to Ireland, we spent a lot of time babysitting the grand kids in order to give Erin a break while she wallows in her pregnancy. This one has been exhausting her, mostly because of the vast amounts of energy her two little boys have. She spends a lot of time here, too, so the babysitting is more like just helping, but two toddlers on crack is a lot of work.
I left Char alone to deal with our kids as well as helping Erin and took Craig to Ireland; he had time off and we’d intended to take that trip 25-30 years ago, and Char thought it would be a good excuse for me to explore some retirement possibilities. I’ll tell you what; Ireland with a recovering alcoholic is kind of a bummer sometimes. He did well around the rest of our family who drank in front of him, though. And I don’t think he’ll ever go back; this was a see it for the last time kind of trip for him.
Overall he’s doing really well. Great job, awesome girlfriend, and moving out of TK’s soon. Half of that is wanting to move in with Frankie, half is not wanting to live with TK’s kids. They’re great kids, but with them comes their mother. Yeah. That’s back on.
Alex is now taller than I am, but I don’t think he’s realized it yet. He needs to stop growing before he hits the freak zone.
He’s also declared a major; while we were sure it would be engineering or architecture, he’s decided on (for now) psychology. When asked why, because we were sure he’d go in another direction based upon his interest in building and fixing things, he answered that he’s more interested in fixing people. He looked at Char right after he said it, too.
Rachel. Holy fuck, the stream of teenaged boys that go through this house. She’s not “dating” anyone and has declared boys for the most part to be “so totally not worth it” but that’s not stopping her from flirting like crazy and driving me nuts. And I admit to some curiosity over why she’s not actually going out with any of these guys; Char tells me that none of them have passed the big brother test, and his opinion matters to her. I hope he knows this.
Kevin. I seriously think I will be chasing him and Elizabeth around with the garden hose more than I have Alex and Stephanie. For a kid who sets off nearly everyone’s gaydar…he’s either trying to figure it all out for himself, or he’s headed for some major stupidity, or both. And no, I am not feeling relief that he’s focused on a girl; I don’t want him groping anyone just yet.
Remember Damien? He’s testing for his brown belt this week. This kid has made a huge turn around in the last couple of years; he graduated from high school at the end of summer and is heading into the Marine Corps. He can still be a bit of a dick, but now when something completely stupid comes out of his mouth he often catches himself and apologizes. Considering I expected him to be in jail by now, or dead because he picked on the wrong person, I am impressed by how he’s done.

Yeah. That's it. Traveling and kids and traveling with kids. And a lot of waiting for grandkid #4, who isn't due for 2 weeks but could come any time given Erin's past of delivering early. There may also be some coraling of the pseudo-son-in-law and dragging his ass to a doctor, because if he does't get snipped soon, she's going to do it for him while he sleeps.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

2011-08-22T12:39:00.001-07:00

Alex started back to school last week, and today Rachel and Kevin’s school year began. I had worried about how Rachel would do heading off to her first day of high school, mostly because this is the first time she’s gone to school without one of her brothers, but she was surrounded by friends at the bus stop and never looked back.

I wasn’t worried about Kevin heading off without his sister; he spent enough time over the summer blabbering about how much fun this year was going to be—ninety percent of that owed to the fact that Elizabeth would be joining him there—and he’s enough of a social butterfly that if the thought that he was also heading to school without a sibling for the first had occurred to him, it was a fleeting thought.

But, the summer; between friends hanging around the house and Alex’s jobs, Rachel venturing out into babysitting, camp, Kevin immersing a little further into dance, the kids kept us busy. There was still a lot of family time crammed into the chaos, and last month we took them to Ireland to meet some of Ian’s cousins and to sight-see, and then took a detour on the way home because they really wanted to see Cardiff. Secretly, they harbored hope that they would find a Doctor Who-like police box; they didn’t, but they were thrilled to find a touch of Torchwood.

Early in the summer a new family moved into a house across the street, and they have kids close to the ages of ours, and Kevin made a fast friend out of their 13 year old son, Carlos. With Elizabeth, it was like the three amigos and they spent a lot of time hanging out by the pool. He seems like a good kid, very funny and as quick witted as Kevin, but more than that he seems to have a good head on his shoulders and knows when to be polite and when he can mess with the adults around him.

He has two older brothers and an older sister, but we didn’t see as much of them. Alex hung out with the oldest boy a bit and took him on a tour of the college, but the other two kids kept to themselves a lot. If Carlos is any indication, we’ll get to know them later, after they’ve gotten tired of being so annoyed about having to move.

Ian and I did take some time for us with a quick trip to Vegas, but for the most part it’s been a summer full of kids and carting them to jobs and movies and places to hang with their friends. We’ve been babysitting the grandkids quite a bit, too, trying to give Erin some breathing room, because she is still not happy about being pregnant. She’s happy about having another baby, but she’s not enjoying getting through being pregnant and would be thrilled of one of us could snap our fingers and make this baby be here now instead of the end of October.

The cap to the summer: Ian getting kissed by one of the regulars in my dad’s bar. Male regular. And hearing Alex blurt out “Dude that’s my dad!”

Funnier, I don’t think Ian minded.

2011-07-17T11:51:00.000-07:00

Testing 1,2,3

2011-07-15T15:02:00.000-07:00

Heyya Chuckles

2011-07-03T01:34:00.001-07:00

Happy birthday, angel :)

Just call him Dad

2011-06-27T13:10:00.003-07:00

I had a nice long post here but someone was uncomfortable with it and asked me to take it down. But, in a nutshell, we went to Vegas on a whim, Ian did a few nice things for a young couple, and we had a good time.

Sometimes in the dark is a good place to be

2011-06-09T19:13:00.000-07:00

The start of what looks like it will be a very busy summer came with news that had, frankly, stumped both Char and me. What to do with it. Keep it to ourselves or let it loose and see where it went. We weren't sure what the right thing to do was, and the one person we asked for advice, Brad, could only shrug. He had no idea either.

He came over last week to tell us that Kevin's biological mother gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl, and she wanted us to know. What we did with that, tell Kevin or not, was up to us. She married last year, has created a good life for herself far from the neighborhood no one wanted Kevin to grow up in, and now that he has siblings, she thought he might want to know.

His birth mother is an issue we've struggled with. We know that the day will come when he wants to meet her; we agreed that once he was eighteen we would facilitate the meeting if he wanted us to. We've allowed Brad to share news about Kevin and photos of him, but she doesn't know where he is exactly, and Brad has honored out wish to keep it that way. What we don't know is what we'll do if he expresses a strong interest in meeting her before then. Or what to do if we allow it and they develop a relationship.

Whether it sounds petty or not, we really don't want him to ever consider her to be his mother. She gave birth to him, and in a streak of maturity beyond her age she gave him up to us to assure he would have a good life, but Char is his mother. It's more than a title; it's part of her identity and God help anyone who gets between her and her kids. If he ever called someone else "Mom" it would break her heart.

I know other families manage it, and we've tried to position ourselves to be fair about it when and if the time comes, but now that we're staring down the barrel of the gun, so to speak, now that there's a brother and sister he's related to by blood and he's only six years from us having no say in it, we're realizing that we're not as mature about it as we thought we would be. It's one thing for him to meet her; it's another thing to contemplate where meeting her could lead.

When Brad told us he has other siblings, Char was taken aback and I got this horrible, sick feeling weighing me down. He reiterated we were under no obligation to tell him, but after some consideration, we both realized we didn't have a choice. If we didn't tell him, and he found out some other way, especially if he found out we knew and didn't say anything, the fallout might be suffocating.

So we waited until Alex and Rachel were involved in something else and called him into the kitchen, and told him. We tried to make is as non-major as we could; Grandpa talked to your birth mother, and she got married a while ago and just had twins. A boy and a girl. We thought you would want to know.

He wanted to know their names, something we hadn't asked Brad, but assured him we could.

Do I have to get them like a birthday present or something? Or at Christmas?

That had never occurred to us. But no.

Well, that's good. Alex and Rachel cost me enough.

And for now, that's all he cares about. What might be expected of him. But we both know that the older he gets, the more curious he will become, and frankly, as prepared as we thought we were, now we know we're not, not at all.

She used a lot of Kleenex, too

2011-05-26T22:12:00.000-07:00

Rachel has a head cold; it's one of those colds where you understand that all you have is a cold, but you feel like death warmed over and your skull weighs a good 50 pounds. All you want to do is lie in bed and wallow in your own misery and whine about how much snot is running out of your stuffed up nose and how watery your eyes are.

Since there's no projectile vomiting involved, we're heartless and cruel parents and while we allow our cold-laden children to lounge in bed all day, we expect them to eat. Hell, we even bring the food to them. Whatever they want, within reason. Rachel wanted nothing more than macaroni and cheese at lunch, so Char made a giant pot of it and they had lunch together sitting on Rachel's bed.

Where Char is, the boys are sure to follow. They all wound up in Rachel's room, in spite of being warned they were going to catch her cold (Alex: I'm pretty sure she sneezed on me yesterday anyway) and when Rachel had eaten all she was going to, Char gathered up the bowls and told Alex and Kevin that their sister needed to get some sleep.

Rachel protested; she wasn't sleepy. She had a couple of chapters left in a book she was reading and wanted to finish it. Fine, she's 14, she knows if she needs a nap or not. Char left the boys in there and we did the dishes, and when I headed down the hall, I could hear Alex's voice rumbling low and peeked in.

They were all on the bed together, Rachel curled up on her side, Kevin at the foot of the bed, and Alex wedged in the middle, and he was reading to them. He looked up when he realized I was there and said, She wanted to finish her book, but her eyes are watering too much.

A couple of hours later they were all piled onto Char's and my bed to watch a DVD. Later, when Rachel was headed for bed and complaining that she was cold, Kevin got up to get an extra blanket for her, and Alex offered to make her some tea.

Once in a while, when the morbid crosses my mind and I contemplate how things would go for them if something happened to both Char and I, I worry that they'll flounder. But then days like this come around, and I know that if the worst does crash into them, they'll take care of each other. The thought made me feel pretty good. But then I started sneezing. And now my head hurts.

I completley blame the little cootie-mongers.

I have short hair for a reason

2011-05-22T13:47:00.000-07:00

TK's oldest son, like Rachel, is headed into high school this fall. And unlike the parochial school my kids left this year, the public junior high has a "graduation" for them, which is essentially a two hour long snooze fest that even seemed to bore the kids. It's a non-event event; no caps and gowns, held in the afternoon so that half the parents can't attend because of work, all the kids in regular school clothes, fidgeting because they just want the day over with. None of the graduates seemed happy, and there was a lot of grumbling that a class party would have been much more fun.

Never say those words in front of Char. The kids wanted a party, the kids were getting a party. She told Rachel and Bryan to each invite "a few" of their friends, and we'd celebrate the end of junior high. It made the kids happy, which in turn made her happy, right up to the moment where she realized that a graduation party for Bryan meant also inviting Bryan's mother. They haven't been on speaking terms for several years because Char hasn't really forgiven her for the way she treated TK. TK has, but that's beside the point. Like it or not, we were having TK, his girlfriend, and his ex-wife-ex-Char's-best-friend in the house at the same time.

Even Kevin could see the potential there, and muttered This is going to be fun in a very oh-hell-no way.

The kids did have fun. Rachel and her friends liked Bryan and his friends, and the weather cooperated so much of their time was spent milling around the back yard and eating more food than should be humanly possible. They had a stereo going, and once the awkwardness of meeting new friends was over (and aided by Alex and Stephanie) some of them even tried dancing. Kevin and Elizabeth hung around with William and Richard (TK and Becky's twins) and while it was loud, it was tolerable. The goal was for the kids to have fun, and they did.

The adults even did a passable job of keeping the strain hidden. TK was in an awkward position; ideally he shouldn't have brought the girlfriend, but didn't see a way around it. We didn't know her well enough before this party to like or dislike her, but the kids seemed somewhat dismissive of her, and Becky obviously wishes she would die in a metaphorical fire. Still, maturity abounded, and we were able to sit and talk like grownups. I overheard the GF complain once to TK about how rude the kids all were and Becky shoot back that they were just being kids and she didn't need to try to be their friend; Char overheard it as well and covered up nicely, but she really wanted to laugh, because Becky was right. The kids were all being fine, but they didn't want to include the adults, and why would they? Ignoring us wasn't rude; they were outside having a good time, and we were inside trying to be civil.

Trying to be civil included trying to have a reasonable conversation, and when you have kids, the topic tends to drift towards them.

Important to note: TK and Becky's first child died within an hour of birth. Their fifth died within half a day. Both were born with multiple congenital medical problems, and there was nothing that could have been done to prevent it or save them. I didn't think they would ever recover from losing their first baby, and losing their last wrecked them both. They were both drowning in grief after that.

So we were talking about the kids and what they've been up to, and in a very clean moment of wonder that wasn't wrapped up in anger and sorrow, Becky mused about what their oldest would be like now. She would have recently turned fifteen, and Becky said out loud what we've all wondered all along. What would she have looked like? Would she and Alex and Rachel have been fast friends? Tomboy, girly-girl?

Char decided she would have been a princess, Daddy's girl all the way, even moreso than Rachel. And that their youngest daughter would have been the tomboy, always chasing after her brothers.

That made Becky smile and made TK laugh, and Becky said, very simply, that she misses them.

The GF look puzzled and said How? You didn't even know them. It's not like they were alive long enough for you to love them.

Before either TK or Becky could gather a coherent thought, Char leaned forward and very evenly informed the GF that not only were those baby girls loved, they were cherished and treasured, and that a day doesn't go by when Becky doesn't love them and miss them, and the fact that she went on to have her boys is a prime example of how much love she has to give to her children. We all miss those girls. We didn't have to meet them personally to feel the holes in our lives because they're not here. They were loved before they were born, and will be loved as long as any of us are still alive.

The GF was surprised, turned to TK and asked him if he was going to let her be spoken to that way. After all, he doesn't even like his ex.

He fished his keys out of his pocket and handed them to her, telling her to leave. Drive his car back to his apartment and get her own car, and just leave. He would ride back with the ex whom he might not like most days, but still loves every day.

She had the keys in her hand, but looked at them like she didn't know what to do with them until Char told her she had about ten seconds to get the hell out of our house before she was dragged out by her hair.

That got her moving. I think Char intended for us to all stay put and listen to the door slam shut, but I got up and followed her anyway, mostly because I didn't want the kids to hear the door slam shut. I expected to go back into the other room and find TK comforting Becky, but instead it was Char standing in the kitchen with her arms around the former best friend she can barely tolerate.

I was not happy when Becky left TK the way she did; it was cruel and thoughtless, but I also understood it and tried to not hold it against her. I still haven't forgiven her for the way she greeted Char last year after coming back, because it tapped into some very real pain for Char, but I can stand to be around her. I understand why TK still loves her and why their marriage exploded, and if he can forgive her for the way she left then it shouldn't matter so much to me. What matters to me is how she made Char feel about what the accident did to her.

But they did connect over the love of their kids. Char was there in every minute that Becky needed her after both girls were born and when they died, and she knows as much as TK does what Becky is feeling and how hearing that she couldn't have loved them must have hurt. And still angry or not, Char still loves the Becky she knew when they were both still pretty much just teenagers trying to pretend to be all grown up in their new jobs and the Becky who managed to be a pretty good mother to her kids even when she was desperately missing the ones who weren't there.

You don't disrespect someone Char loves in her own house and expect to get away with it.

My brother showed up not long after the GF was booted out, and we went outside to pester the kids while Char and Becky stayed inside to talk. And they talked for a long time, 95% of which I will never be told. I don't think this is a fix to their relationship, but it certainly gave it a place to start.

Craig was not surprised by any of it and mused that TK needs to meet a better class of women. I don't think he wants to meet a better class of women. I think he's just fine with dating women he knows Char will shred to pieces if she thinks she has to.

She's never threatened to drag Becky anywhere by her hair, so that says something.

Do I hope they can be friends again? Sure. Am I counting on it? No. But if Char and Becky can at least be friendly, it will go a long way in helping TK and Becky get back on track, and I think it's a track they both want to be on.

Well. Damn. LOL

2011-05-05T18:00:00.002-07:00

Three weeks of school left, we were informed this morning by a grumpy 12 year old who was having one of those still-half-asleep mornings. Alex annoyed the snot out of his little brother by pointing out that he has finals next week, and then is done. I was mostly annoyed with the idea that Char's and my quiet time is coming to a close for a couple of months, and this place will be crawling with teen-and-tween-agers. The grocery bill will triple, because Char does not seem to believe in sending kids home for dinner; if they're here, they get fed, the only requirement is that they call some to make sure it's all right.

We may catch a break from the throngs of horny kids splashing in our pool; the kids have expressed an interest in going somewhere this summer. We hadn't given it much thought before Alex first brought it up, but in casual conversation at dinner we've determined that they do want a family vacation this year and they want to see "roots." Char has no desire to show them where she grew up, and they've seen Texas; what they want most is to see where I was born, where my parents grew up and met and got married.

I guess we're going to Ireland at some point this summer.

To be honest, I was hoping they wanted to go to Disney World. They're at the age where they could have fun and not require Mom and Dad to be right there all the time. We could borrow another kid and even the numbers out so that I don't have to get on rides with Kevin. Disney World would totally be doable, but no. They seem to think the should see the world before they're "too old."

I think it really means they want to see the world while Dad still has to pay for it.

I knew we shouldn't have raised them to be forward thinkers.

I am, she said

2011-05-02T16:36:00.003-07:00

No matter what happened yesterday, no matter the celebrations in the streets and online (I think my favorite being Ding Dong the Dick is Dead), real life must go on and for us that meant getting the kids up in time to have breakfast and then catch the bus, getting Alex to school, and walking the dog. Sure, we can open the back door and let him outside to do his business, and we generally do that first, but Tank has his own expectations and a couple of daily walks is one of them. And Char likes to shove me out of the house every now and then so that she can soak up some silence.

Tank and I wandered around the neighborhood and when we started to pass Erin's street I figured what the hell, I'd stop by and see what she was up to, see if she wanted us to take the kids for the afternoon so that she could soak up some of her own silence. When I got there, Miko was standing on the sidewalk leaned up against the car, and he was staring at the house like he was terrified to go in. I greeted him with something lame about skipping out on work early (and in my head was thinking for a nooner but that was a might too creepy to actually say out loud, all things considered) when he said She texted me a while ago and told me I was coming home for lunch. She never does that. I think she sounded pissed off in that text.

Having been on the receiving end of a few angry texts, I completely understand. I also figured it might be a good time to take the boys home with me. That would make Char happy, and would give Erin a couple of hours before Toni got home, enough time to deal with Miko's body if she needed to.

We walked into the house and she was there, ready for him. He got three steps inside and she chucked a cupcake at him. I don't mean she just threw one, she whipped that cupcake across the room and nailed him with it right between the eyes. And before he could pick it off, she threw another one. I have to give her credit, her aim was so good that she didn't get any on his suit. But once that second cupcake had bounced off the first and Tank was enjoying some unexpected snacks, she realized I was there and hissed You couldn't come alone? You brought my dad to protect you? What the hell?

There was more, but I stopped hearing anything she said after that point for a bit. While in my heart, she's as much my kid as Alex, Rachel, and Kevin are, she's never referred to me as her dad before. And I never had a problem with that, because early on she'd expressed worry that if she called me anything but Uncle Ian Alex would feel slighted. He's my oldest and she always thought he deserved to have that. But still, Erin is my kid, even though I didn't get her until she was sixteen.

I'd be lying if I didn't admit that hearing that felt awfully damned good.

By the time I stopped not listening, Thad was crying and Miko headed up the stairs to get him, and I still had no idea what the Cupcake Wars were about, and I think by then Erin realized that whatever shorthand they were speaking was going right over my head. Tank had cleaned the carpet up pretty well, she notched down the anger a little and then sighed, I begged him to get a vasectomy. He is such a goddamned little boy.

What she was saying hadn't quite worked its way in and I fumbled out with, You just called me your dad.

You know that look women get when you've said something really stupid, when you've stated the obvious? I got that look. Well, you are. And then she kept going. Would it have killed him? Really? YOU got one and survived.

I got one because I was afraid getting Char pregnant again would kill her. Erin wanted Miko to get one because she was afraid that if she got pregnant again, she would kill him. Instead, she whipped a couple of cupcakes at his head. I had a hard time sympathizing with her, because she and Miko make some beautiful babies, and she is an incredible mother.

I'm selfish enough to want more grandkids.

By the time she calmed down enough to not want to pound Miko with the rest of the contents of their pantry I had the boy in a stroller and had called Char to let her know I was coming home with them. I sure as hell wasn't doing Erin any good being there and being happy when she hasn't quite gotten to that point. But I have no doubt that she will, because you can't look into her kids' faces and not understand that they are everything to her and she has a lot more love to give. And her kids have nearby grandparents ready to watch them at a moments' notice.

As for Miko? He's thrilled, but I will personally escort the boy to the urologist if she wants me to, because I'm pretty sure that's what a dad should do.

Pass the Motrin

2011-05-01T12:15:00.002-07:00

Poor Alex and Ian. This place was crawling with teenaged girls last night, several more than we had counted on, and the noise level was outrageous. They wound up sitting out on the back patio in the cold and wind for a long time, trying to escape the noise. I really felt bad for Alex, because he gave up a date with Stephanie to stay home and keep Rachel amused, and in the end he really didn’t need to. They could have gone out and Rachel never would have missed them.

Every time they go sit out there, I keep thinking they look like Denny Crane and Alan Shore at the end of every episode of Boston Legal, sitting outside with a drink and a cigar, though with them the drinks are bottled water and Diet Coke and the closest thing to smoke is when it’s really cold, their breath fogs up. Most of the time when they sit out there like that I kind of want to eavesdrop, because I have no idea what it is they talk about and I’m just nosy enough to want to know. They look so serious, like they have these giant problems that have to be solved right now, and I don’t intrude because Alex is closer to 16 than 15 now and 90% of what he thinks about are things I don’t want to really know that he’s thinking about.

Ian won’t tell me exactly what they talk about most of the time, but he does confirm that much of it is stuff I don’t want to hear. So I avoid intruding. After they’d been out there a while Stephanie headed out to sit with them and I assumed that meant Ian would be coming back inside, but he stayed out there for a good 45 minutes, and every time I looked they all seemed so serious.

This time I wanted to intrude and came straight out and asked what was so deep that they were talking about. I wasn’t sure I wanted an answer, but at the same time I did.

Bathroom remodeling. They were sitting out in the cold discussing remodeling my dad’s guest bathroom and exactly what kind of finishes he wants, and whether the shower stall would look better with subway tile, 12 x 12 tile, or mosaic. And there was talk of vapor barriers and subflooring and half a dozen other things that I had no idea what he was saying when he was telling me about it.

In about five minutes he managed to bore me into wishing they’d actually been talking about sex.

In any case, they have a summer project lined up. My dad is getting another new bathroom, Stephanie is apparently interested in learning about the whole process, and Alex is one step closer to wanting to build a house from the foundation up.

I think if he ever does, it will be a soundproof cabin in the back yard where he can shove Rachel and her friends. It really did get to be too much, and when they all headed home a little after 10:30, even I had a headache.

She gets to go back to school tomorrow, though we have to make sure she has an excused out from P.E. class for at least the week. She has a follow up appointment later in the week and we’ll ask then, but I’m guessing she won’t be allowed to do much of anything physical for a while. She won’t mind it if it means getting out of chores, but she’s going to be really mad when she realizes it means no running, TKD, or even picking Thad and Travis up.

I miss being that young

2011-04-30T13:38:00.000-07:00

Rachel is either just young or a freak of nature, or perhaps a combination of the two. She was up at a reasonable time this morning, bouncing around, claiming that she was only a little achy and didn't even need Motrin for it. She was also upset with the news that no matter how good she feels, she's not going jogging with Rob, she's not going to TKD, she's not taking the dog for a walk, and she's not doing much of anything. This includes going out with New Guy Rob, Alex, and Stephanie tonight.

She didn't try to argue the point when she normally would have, but still, she was not happy about it. Sitting around with Mom and Dad would be boring and even Kevin has plans with Elizabeth and Grandpa.

Alex and Stephanie are fairly laid back and don't go out every weekend; half the time they hang around here and watch DVDs, so Alex didn't feel especially out of line telling Rachel that they'd just stay here with her, order a pizza, and watch movies or play games, whatever she wanted. He called Steph to double check, and she was fine with the idea.

That lifted Rachel's mood considerably, and she called New Guy Rob to tell him about the change of plans. New Guy Rob, however, was less enamored with the idea and told her he assumed she wouldn't be able to go out at all, so he made other plans.

With another girl.

Granted, he and Rachel are not "a couple." She accepts that. But she's mad as hell that he didn't have the courtesy to call her and cancel their plans instead of just assuming. She was also ticked off that in the same 3 minute phone call he wanted to know if I still wanted to go running with him this morning even though it was obvious she couldn't go.

I'm trying to remember if I was as much of an ass when I was 14.

As annoyed with him as she is, when Kevin asked her if she was going to break up with him, she shrugged it off and said he's thoughtless but he's still a nice guy and there's nothing to break up, so she'll give him another chance.

I suppose this means I have to, as well.

I assumed his absence would mean Alex and Stephanie would be the only ones hanging around with her tonight, but no. In the half an hour I was outside walking the dog she called five of her friends, and they're all coming over, too.

Six fourteen year old girls. One fifteen year old girl. I'm already dreading the noise level.

Alex and I may have to go off and shoot pool or something.

I wanted Mom, too

2011-04-28T05:16:00.003-07:00

The girl is not a complainer. She's a drama queen sometimes, but that goes with the territory of being female and fourteen; it's her divine right, and she'll outgrow it. She's also prone to hyperbole, but she comes by that honestly, having learned it well from my father, who was the master.

This evening Char went out with her sister and a few friends, leaving me with the kids and assuming, I suppose, that she would come home and all three would be happy, healthy, and in one piece.

She shouldn't assume.

I did all the things I knew would be expected; I made dinner for the kids, helped them with the dishes and then homework, fed the cats and the dog and watched out the back door as Kevin played with Tank, and vaguely heard Rachel wander past, complaining that she wasn't feeling very well. Alex asked her what was wrong and she blew it off as "just a little crampy."

Alex jabbed back with, "Again? Didn't we just suffer through you doing this like two weeks ago?"

I mostly tuned them out, worrying more that Kevin and Tank were going to wind up in the pool. I didn't even recall that she had said she wasn't feeling well until much later.

After Kevin came back inside and was in the shower, Rachel curled up next to me on the couch and said she was really feeling crappy. She tried to stretch out and lie there with her head in my lap, something she rarely does anymore, but within a couple of minutes she had her knees drawn up and was crying.

Being the genius that I am, I assumed she was just coming down with a stomach virus and that there was a 50-50 chance I'd get barfed on, but I can deal with that. Alex heard her sniffling and came out of his room to see what was wrong, and by the time he was in the living room she was sobbing.

Rachel cries when she's upset; she doesn't cry when she's sick or just feeling a little out of sorts. The sobbing made me sit up a little straighter and start to run through a mental list of what I could do to make her feel better, but when she grabbed at her stomach and was calling me "Daddy" in between breaths, I wanted to panic.

I only get called Daddy when she wants something, or something is very, very wrong. This felt very, very wrong. I picked her up, something else that hasn't happened in a long time, and headed for the door, with Alex a step behind me assuring me he would watch Kevin, call his mother, and call Erin because he was pretty sure we would be out pretty late.

Traffic fell into place; I was well over the speed limit but wasn't hindered by other cars and luckily there were no cops around. We hit the ER fifteen minutes after I left the house and she was being seen 5 minutes after that. And she was in a hell of a lot of pain, the sobbing turning from "Daddy" to "I want Mom."

I understand that there has to be some immunity to other peoples' pain and parental anxiety on the part of ER personnel. I have no issue with that. Rachel was in no position for the ER doctor to speak with her directly, what I would have normally preferred, but because he was trying to talk to me and she was still crying, I was distracted. I'm sure I looked Iike I was distracted. There wasa flurry of paperwork and my cell phone ringing because Char was trying to find out what the hell was going on, and Rachel was still crying and wanting her mother.

At some point I was signing my name to another form and the kid taking it glanced at Rachel and asked, "Does that bother you, that she wants her mother?"

What?

Why the hell would it bother me? A kid crying for her mother doesn't mean that she wants her father less; it means she wants her mother. You know, the person a kid normally associates with soft touches and warm kisses to the forehead that mean everything will be fine. That pissed me off a little, that in the middle of my kid's pain another, who should be old enough to know better, asked something as stupid as that.

For the record: absolutely not. I was there when Rachel needed me, but she also needed her mother. It's not a competition.

Half an hour later Char was there, falling all over Rachel with apologies for not being home when she needed her, and almost as soon as Char's hand was on her forehead Rachel calmed considerably. We were both there, we were both promising her that she was going to be all right. By that point she wasn't in pain thanks to a plethora of drugs, but she just needed Mom. And Mom was there as fast as she could get there.

The only issue at hand was waiting until it had been long enough from the time she'd had dinner until she could go into surgery.

And I forgot that part; appendicitis.

At one this morning they wheeled her back; she hardly looked like the same kid who was writhing in pain earlier, and she didn't seem all that afraid of what was going to happen.

Now it's nearly 5 in the morning. Char is staying with Rachel and kicked me out so that one of us would be here when Alex and Kevin get up. Rachel is going to be fine and will probably come home late in the afternoon.

But for a little while, from the moment she called me "daddy" again in between sobs, I admit, I was terrified.

She'll be fine, yes, but damn I don't think I ever want to be called that ever again, not unless she's trying to charm me into doing something she wants me to.

9 inches my ass

2011-04-25T12:28:00.001-07:00

At four o'clock this morning I woke up and found Ian sitting up in bed, arms folded as he leaned against the headboard, and he was practically gnawing on his bottom lip. I couldn't tell if he was worried or angry and I almost rolled over and ignored him in case he'd found something to be ticked off about in the middle of the night. If I'd done something, we could deal with it in the morning. But then he sighed, so I snuggled in close and asked him what the problem was.

"I think I have to amputate my toe."

All right, from my perspective he was staring at his crotch and not his feet, but I could be wrong. So I asked why.

"It's nine inches long."

Um, yeah sweetheart, if you're really looking where it looks like you're looking, that's wishful thinking.

"I'm never going to find shoes that fit."

I suggested sandals; he balked because "then it would be out there flapping around. And someone would step on it."

I don't know why, but I got up out of bed and went into the bathroom for nail clippers and came back out, offering to take care of the offending toe for him. Just a snip here and there, and it would be fine, I promised. So he agreed; clipping it off would be all right.

I got to the foot of the bed, and lo and behold, hiding behind his mammoth feet was a tiny black cat. Tail sticking straight up. I told Ian to close his eyes so that it wouldn't hurt, tweaked his toes with my fingers a little, picked Weezer up, and then crawled back into bed. When I told him everything was fine now, he opened his eyes and looked at his feet, and marveled at there not being any blood.

I handed Weezer to him and told him she was worried about him. And people, don't ever believe his "I don't like cats" crap, because he kissed her on the top of her little head before settling back onto the bed and putting her on the pillow next to his head.

He sighed happily and mumbled "I love you," but honestly, I don't know if he was saying it to me or the cat.

2011-04-24T14:08:00.000-07:00

If that's foreplay, Alex said as he walked into our room last night as I helped Char stretch, I'm pretty sure you're doing it wrong.

To which Char sputtered, You better not know what the hell you're talking about.

Alex shrugged it off. He had things to discuss with us, none of which had anything to do with what he might or might not know about foreplay (which for Char's sake is a good thing, because she cannot handle the concept. She would have bolted from the room.) His first question was innocent: are we planning a family vacation over the summer? Because he needs to know; registration for summer classes begins soon, but if we're planning on going somewhere, he'll skip the summer.

I would like him to skip the summer semester regardless; he doesn't have very many summers left where he can just be a kid. He sees not taking classes as being unproductive, but if we don't want him to, he'll ask Grandpa for an extra work shift or two.

We asked him to skip the summer semester. We don't have plans, but we might want to take the kids somewhere on a whim. Besides, if last summer was any indication, his friends are going to be hanging all over this place and he'll want to hang with them. Also, I bought a new high pressure nozzle for the garden hose, and I'm looking forward to hosing him and Stephanie down.

But, there was more. He looked as if he thought he was treading into none-of-my-business territory, but planned on going ahead anyway.

We know you used to say we had to be sixteen to date and then you lowered it to fourteen for me. Rachel and I were talking, and it won't bother us if you lower it for Kevin.

While that's big of them, I don't think they see the bigger picture (and I don't expect them to.)

Kevin and Elizabeth are twelve years old. Just twelve. They have no business dating in the traditional sense. Cutting them loose in a theater for a movie, to wander around the mall, whatever they think a date consists of, is a bad idea. Not because they're untrustworthy, but because they are both too young to defend against things that other people are far to willing to inflict on them. Kevin can theoretically defend himself, yes; he's strong, fast, knows how to fight, and knows what hurts. But even for a twelve year old, he's small. He's no match for someone my size bent on harm. To have to protect himself and Elizabeth? It's not a practical expectation.

Those two are also on the very beginnings of puberty and all the depths of stupid that brings. No, I don't trust them with their impulses. I don't expect them to have the capability to connect points of logic that take them from this would be fun to this could ruin our lives.

Char reminded Alex, gently, that Kevin's biological mother had him at age thirteen; she got pregnant when she was twelve.

Your little brother is twelve.

No, we won't be making any concessions for him because the girl he loves--and I have no doubt about that--happens to be his best friend.

I see where Alex is coming from. He's thrilled that Kevin is openly affectionate and has proclaimed his devotion to a girl. Somewhere deep inside him is a genuine fear that the little brother he cares so much about is gay, and he's hoping that this is proof that Kevin is straight, even if he is a bit affectatious.

Kevin's overt declarations that Elizabeth is his girlfriend mean, in the long run, very little. While intellectually Alex knows this, he wants an easier path for Kevin to have ahead of him.

So do I.

Wanting that for him, however--the easier life, not hoping that he's straight--is very different than opening him up to things he's not ready for.

We're more than willing to take him and Elizabeth to movies, to bowl, to play miniature golf or whatever else it is they want to do--the same way we did for Alex when he was hanging around with Evan, before girls became It. The same way we did with Rachel and her friends. But we can't encourage anything more because it wouldn't be the best thing for either of them.

I think Alex gets that.

Still, we were touched that he's mature enough to realize that there is no one-size-fits-all parenting and doesn't mind that his little brother might get to do what he did not. We love that he looks out for his brother and sister.

It occurred to him as he sat there and watched Char stretch that while Rachel is technically allowed to date, every single time she's gone out, he's been there. Cheese was not allowed to go out without a chaperon, and New Guy Rob has really only been hanging around the house. He hasn't asked Rachel out on an actual date.

And when he does?

Alex is 90% sure he'll be there. Not because we won't allow her out alone now, but because deep down, Rachel isn't emotionally ready to be alone with a boy and she'll ask Alex to tag along.

And without any fuss, he'll do it.

I think Char was enveloped in the motherly warmth that comes with seeing your son take another step forward, but then Alex stood up and said Just so you know, I always empty my trash can. That shit flushes, you know?

I laughed until I realized she was embarrassed enough that no one was getting lucky last night.

Semantics

2011-04-23T13:36:00.000-07:00

Lately, Kevin has been referring to Elizabeth as his girlfriend. We're not surprised, since they've been best friends for as long as we can remember, and before he switched schools he got in trouble several times when he was caught kissing her on the playground (yes, he got in trouble. She did not. Obviously she was at the mercy of his overwhelming charms and inherent evil boyness. And apparently the homophobic teacher he had failed to make note of these transgressions. But, I digress.) That he considers her to be his girlfriend is not an earth shattering revelation.

Last night he asked, in almost an offhand sort of way, if he could take her to a movie today. Within a second, Alex and Rachel were all over that.

Alex: Dude, you're twelve.
Kevin: So?
Rachel: That's a date. You don't get to date until you're fourteen.
Kevin: But I've gone to movies with her lots!
Alex: Sucks, man, but if she's your girlfriend, Dad will make you wait two more years.

Kevin looked deflated. He has gone to movies with Elizabeth dozens of times, and no one thought twice about it, not until he slapped a label on their relationship. He was also not going to challenge me on it; he knows the rules, and he's not about to back down and say she's not his girlfriend.

Char piped up then. "It's not a date if your mom and dad go, too. What movie are we seeing?"

Kevin lit up; inwardly I groaned. The groaning doubled when he informed us that Elizabeth wants to see some movie about African Cats.

(I don't want to go, but I will. I don't pretend that I have a choice.)

Then Alex brightened. Stephanie wants to see that, too. Would it be all right to tag along?

Sure, the more the merrier, I guess.

Then Rachel decided this was a good way to test New Guy Rob. She texted him and asked if he wanted to go with us.

So in half an hour I start picking kids up and we're all heading for documentary hell, all so Kevin can not have a date.

You know I'll wind up paying for all the tickets, popcorn, candy, and soda. And then dinner after, because all those kids are hollow and will still be hungry.

I'm going to lose the battle of the dating age sooner rather than later, aren't I? Because I see Kevin and Elizabeth together at least until high school, and I'm not spending $300 every time they want to see a movie together.

My birthday, so far:

2011-04-21T13:37:00.000-07:00

The kids are getting dressed for school; Char comes into the kitchen where I am begging the coffee maker to hurry up already.

Char: I think we need to make Kevin a doctor's appointment.
Me: For?
Char: I think he has allergies.
Me: I haven't heard him sneezing or coughing. He doesn't sound congested or anything.
Char: No, but he's gone through an entire box of Kleenex in the last week.
Me: (blink blink blink)
Char: What?
Me: He doesn't need to see a doctor.
Char: But--
Me: He's fine.
Char: A entire box, Ian.
Me: Only thing wrong with him is that he's twelve.

At this point, the offender wanders into the kitchen. Char looks at him, sighs hard, and rushes out.

Kevin: What? What'd I do?
Me: Empty your trash can more often, kid.

Funny thing is, he knew exactly what I was talking about, and wasn't the least bit flustered by it. He just laughed at his mother, and promised he'd be less conspicuous.

The little kid years are officially over.

50!

2011-04-21T00:05:00.000-07:00

Someone is fifty years old today. We celebrated with the kids yesterday, mostly because it was Thad's first birthday and Ian wanted the focus on him, but he couldn't stop very single person who walked through the door from looking at him and saying "FIFTY!" as if it was amazing that anyone could possibly live that long. Even my dad, who is only 9 years older than Ian, had to poke the bear every now and then with a sarcastic "FIFTY!"

Tonight, Ian and I are going to celebrate his half century together, alone, which is the only thing I could get him to admit that he wants. He was pretty insistent that he didn't want any toys (unlike last year, when he turned into an 8 year old) or even anything practical. He just wants to go out and do something, which means dinner at the only restaurant that exists in his little world, and then going to my dad's bar to shoot pool (and drink for free since it is his birthday. Oh yeah, he'll take a gift from my dad.)

I really wanted to have a major blowout since it's a major birthday, but I suppose I'll let him have his way.

He might as well, because his physical is due soon, and you know what medical adventure the doctor is going to want this year :)

Happy birthday, sweetheart. I love you, and I can't wait to see the look on your face the day you find out what the "prep" involves!

And I have to survive this THREE times?

2011-04-15T17:13:00.001-07:00

Rachel and Kevin were off for Spring Break this week, and instead of the tropical paradise vacation they hoped for, they got Dad waking them up earlier than they would have liked everyday to help him with things like straightening up the garage, washing and waxing cars, pulling weeds, and powerwashing the outside of the house (Kevin wanted to do the inside; it took him a minute or two to grasp why that was a bad idea.) Ian was nice enough to them to not pile the work on too high; he was getting them up at 9 a.m., and as long as they agreed to help without whining, their workday ended at lunchtime, and we took them out for lunch after picking Alex up.

Now, Alex has gotten used to Dad letting him drive everywhere. Ian lets him drive to school in the morning and they take the long way home after his last class lets out. I have not ridden with Alex, because he is 15 and I've reached my horrible car accident limit. Yes, I am terrified at the idea of riding with my son. But yesterday we picked Alex up, Ian got out from behind the wheel and tossed the keys to him, and looked at me like "Don't you dare tell him you're afraid to be with him." Well, I have told him that, but he thinks I'm kidding.

I'm not.

I kept my mouth shut, though, and for Alex's sake I sucked it up, even though Ian left me in the front seat. Alex wasn't bothered one bit by having us all in the car, it was like this was an everyday thing. And as he made his way through traffic, I started to relax, because he seems to know what he's doing, smooth acceleration and smooth braking. But then Ian told him to take the freeway, and I nearly lost it. I actually blurted out "Oh my God, no!" but instead of being offended, Alex laughed and took it as a challenge.

He got onto the freeway at speed, which I know is how you're supposed to do it but my God, we were going 65 mph with a 15 year old at the wheel! And then he changed lanes repeatedly, keeping up with traffic and overtaking the slowpokes, and I had to hold onto my seatbelt with both hands and just pray I didn't wet myself. I really did not want to upset him, but three or four times I begged him to slow down before he got pulled over or accidentally clipped someone else, but he's such a shit that he just laughed and kept going.

Pretty soon, I realized Kevin and Rachel were both laughing, too.

Fifteen minutes later he took the exit close to the pizza place and slowed down, and I know I was white as a ghost, which is saying something given my complexion. They were all still very amused, but I had to take a moment to tell Alex to NEVER speed like that, especially with his brother and sister in the car. And he chuckled again! Then turned around and went inside with them.

Ian wisely waited for me, but as I snatched my purse up he sighed and told me, "He never went over sixty five. In fact, since traffic was light, he spent a lot of it at under sixty. Trust me, he can go the speed limit and he does it very well."

Oh, I know he was doing at least eighty.

And my heart rate hasn't come down yet.

AND I think I wet myself a little.

But he is a good driver. And I might let him take me to the store tomorrow.

Dear Person Who Wants So Badly To Know Where I Live,

2011-04-12T14:31:00.001-07:00

I get why you want to know; you want to know because I won't tell you. It's perplexing; normally you engage someone in conversation online, ask where they live and what they do, and they answer. A simple, common exchange, information filed away for a later date that changes nothing. You spoke to them freely before you asked, so knowing is not the dynamic element in that relationship. If someone lives close to you, you might, after a time, meet in person, have coffee or lunch, and consider developing an IRL friendship. Those with whom you develop an online relationship that live miles away, you keep it online. Perhaps phone calls. But the expectations of meeting face to face are low, because they are unrealistic.

For someone to refuse to share that information smacks of something being not quite right. Why wouldn't someone be willing to say where they live? What they do? Share photos of themselves and their kids and spouse?

I am more of the framework of mind that wonders why people share those things so easily. Many people I know share so freely that even without an exact address, I know so much about them that I could find that address in less than five minutes. Because I've seen pictures of their house/car/spouse/kids, I could theoretically take that information and use it to wreak havoc of levels most people don't want to think about. Because I know their kids' names, birthdays, nicknames, hair color, eye color--everything--were I that sort of person, the heartache I could render would be formidable.

I am not that person. I also choose to not invite that sort of person into my life, online or otherwise.

I don't refuse to share that information because I'm an asshole; I don't refuse to share it because I have something to hide. I refuse to share it because I know how easily it is to be tracked down and hurt, and because I have a wife and kids to whom my first priorities lie, I have to not care if it upsets other people.

Twenty three years ago, before the Internet became this huge thing, before the routine sharing of photos online, before texting and instant messaging and online communities where people could seek out others with similar interests and where hard and fast friendships developed, I walked into my house near Washington D.C.; my then-wife Kathy was seated in a chair in the center of the living room, sobbing wildly, and before I could get three steps into the room to find out what was wrong and console her, I was shot four times.

I still hear every one of those gunshots. The physical scars have faded, and I was fortunate in that the weapon used against me was small caliber, but I sometimes still hear those shots. I know Kathy never got over it, and she spent the rest of our marriage terrified.

It happened because I was a little bit careless on the job one time, allowed just a small tidbit of information about myself to slip loose, and someone with whom I had, to put it nicely, a difficult time with used that information to track me down.

Then it was far less easy to find someone; today it is so easy that what probably took that guy weeks of effort would take a few minutes now.

So no, I won't tell you where I live. For that same reason, I don't plaster pictures of my kids all over the place. For that reason, I went a few degrees of ballistic when Char did. All I want is to protect my family from the choices I made when I was only 22 years old.

That doesn't mean I value less the relationships I've developed online; the fact that anyone can tolerate my paranoia and remain friends with me surprises me, and those are the people I find myself able to engage with. It means a lot to me.

That I don't tell you where I live doesn't mean I don't trust you. It only means that above all, I want to protect my family.

The person online I trust the most--no, she doesn't know exactly where I live. She doesn't have my address. She knows how to get in contact, and she knows the hoops that must be jumped through in order to do something as simple as sending a birthday card, but no, she doesn't have my address.

If someone I have known for over 35 years doesn't have it and is not offended, I would hope that more people get that it's not personal.

If that's not enough, for years my own parents didn't know where I lived; it wasn't until they moved to live with us that they knew.

It's really not personal.

I'm not hiding anything other than the things that would make it easiest to find me.

I am just protective, and to be honest, a little afraid. Because these days, someone hell bent on hurting me would probably not bother trying to hurt me. If you have kids, take a long hard look at them. Wouldn't you do anything and everything to protect them? Even if it made other people point and laugh, and judge your odd paranoiac habits?

I would hope that you would.

How you know you've done something right

2011-04-05T20:04:00.000-07:00

Overheard, the oldest boy talking to the youngest, who is being slammed by the beginnings of puberty:

Just treat girls the way you want guys to treat your sister. If you do anything else, you're a dick.

He gets it. Hell yes, I'm proud of him.

We're changing his name to Johnny

2011-03-23T20:18:00.000-07:00

My brother is happy. I hadn't realized it until lately, but he was never happy before. Even as a kid, I don't think he was entirely happy. Don't get me wrong; there are things that have always brought joy into his life, like his kids, but real happiness has been just out of his reach.

He had all the markers of adult happiness: he had a good job, a house, terrific kids, and friends. From the outside, he probably did look happy. When he was sober, I probably assumed he was happy, too. But I didn't realize how unhappy he'd been until I saw the switch flip in February, and watched him soak up a massive tidal wave of happiness.

Her name is Francis, "but please, call me Frankie."

She's a friend of TK's ex, Becky (yes, that Becky, Char's former best friend) and they met when Frankie showed up at TK's in early February to pick up the kids. He says it was instant attraction and I don't doubt it on his end, but there must have been something because she kept finding reasons to show up at their place.

When Char and I met her, we liked her almost instantly, but we both harbored some doubts.

She knows what he's been up against, though. He's been honest with her about his addictions and why he's here instead of living near his kids. He's been upfront about his past relationships and she hasn't run screaming. He's also been clear about the fact that he could disappear in the middle of the night without any notice if he feels like he's about to slip and asks me to slap his ass back into rehab.

She's fine with it. She doesn't drink around him. She doesn't hold his past against him. And if he runs off to rehab again, she just wants one of us to let her know. She's also determined to help him get healthier than he's been; while he's done very well in his fight against alcohol and drug cravings, he hasn't done as well where food and fitness are concerned. He was getting too thin, but in the last couple of months she's cooked for him, convinced him that he'll have a much easier time keeping up with him if he actually eats. She's getting him to take long walks--I tried getting him into the gym but all he ever really did there was flirt with some of the women there. She's getting him to care more about himself.

He did care enough about himself to ask for help in the first place, but Frankie has tapped into something deeper, and he's just incredibly happy right now.

We had dinner with them last night, and when she and Char wandered off to the ladies room, I felt myself channeling my dad and in my best imitation of him, leaned across the table and told him, Jaysus, boy, don't you fock this up.

He doesn't want to, but I don't think he realizes that Char and I really don't want him to.

Frankie's a keeper. For no other reason than she makes him happy.

But I need them to have bedtimes!

2011-03-13T13:57:00.003-07:00

Several weeks before his birthday, we asked Kevin what he wanted most. And his answer--a later bedtime. That seems like a reasonable request, but he's been problematic where bedtime is concerned since he was a toddler. He has to be reminded and pushed toward the bathroom, re-reminded that he needs to shower, re-re-reminded that lights out at 9:30 does not mean turning the light off but then turning a radio on and singing with it for the next hour.

We decided to give it a try, though. Weekends he's allowed to stay up later anyway, so we offered him the chance to judge for himself how late he thought he could stay up and still be able to drag himself out of bed in the morning.

Friday night he stayed up until 12:30 and was not happy when he and to get up at 8 to get to his dance class on time. Last night he went to bed at 11, and was still not happy when I got him up at 8 this morning for the hell of it.

We planned on telling him this afternoon that he needed to be in bed no later than 10 on school nights, and even then we might change that if he has issues getting up and ready for school.

But then I overheard him talking to Alex, who offered brotherly advice:

Don't be stupid about it. Just because they didn't give you a bedtime doesn't mean you don't have one. Rachel can stay up all night if she wants but she always goes to bed by ten thirty. I go around eleven thirty. Give ten o'clock a try for a week, and if you can still get up, try ten thirty. Just don't be stupid.

We could tell him the same thing over and over and he wouldn't listen; Alex says it once, and I know he'll listen.

So tonight we're just going to wait and see what he does. It would be very nice to not have the nightly go-to-bed struggle.

On the other hand, it's just another step towards all the kids being grown up, and I'm nowhere near ready for that. Next year he'll be a teenager, and I think he's going to be a fun teenager, but I can't help but dwell on the idea that Alex is heading towards being gone sooner instead of later, and Rachel won't be too far behind him.

You really don't get enough time to raise your kids, do you?

12...

2011-03-11T16:18:00.000-07:00

Kevin is definitely our sensitive kid; when the earthquake hit Japan yesterday, we turned the TV off and worked at keeping him away from the news. We didn't want to close him off from what was happening, but we didn't want him to see it as it unfolded, and as it turns out, that was probably a good thing.

If we'd let him watch and he had seen footage of the tsunami as it rolled into Japan, and the live coverage of people and cars speeding down roads trying to save their own lives as that water rushed in, he would have been one wrecked kid today.

He can handle knowing about it; he can't handle seeing it, not as it happens

Still, this morning Alex was up earlier than Kevin and woke me up; he'd been watching the news, following events as they unfolded, curious about how Hawaii and the western U.S. was going to hold up to what was headed for them. In watching it all he realized that Kevin was going to go to school and likely they would watch some coverage in class, and thought we might want to prepare him for what he would see.

Horribly, I admit, my first thought was that this was a shitty start to his 12th birthday.

Alex woke him up early and while he was still trying to shake the sleep away, we tried to explain to him what had been happening all night, the enormity of the damage in Japan, the possibilities of what it also might mean for Hawaii and the west coast, and then let him decide if he wanted to see it at home before going to school.

He wanted to see it.

While we sat there watching video from yesterday and last night, Alex offered him explanations of how tsunamis function, why boats are safer at sea than docked, and some of the things that can happen when the water reaches land.

It was informative to me, as well.

Kevin watched with interest, but not agony, which was what we worried about. He asked questions, gave a few of his own observations, but he absorbed it better than I expected. When he left to catch the bus, we were satisfied that if he had to watch video of the quake and tsunami at school he wouldn't be too shaken by it.

That didn't keep us from worrying while he was in school.

He got home a little while ago, and they did discuss it at school but they weren't shown anything too graphic. And he said that what he chewed on the most all day long wasn't the people, though he does feel bad for them, but the animals. He wondered how many people had to run and leave their pets behind. He was bothered by the idea of so many stray cats and dogs being swept up. Even the lost livestock bothered him.

Still, he was all right, and what he took from it was that he wants us to be prepared for something awful. Where, he wanted to know, are the cat carriers? How fast can we get to them? If we had to grab and go, would we be able to get all the cats and the dog?

I didn't know. I wasn't going to tell him we could, because in a true emergency, we're grabbing the kids. If we can get the pets, we'll get them.

What he wants now is to have carriers in every closet, and near the front door. I don't know that we'll do that, because there are a hell of a lot of closets in this house, but we can make sure there are enough in the front closet, easy to get to. And we can place some in the closets we know the cats like to hide in.

This is how he turned 12, spending the day contemplating what to do in an emergency, and his thoughts were less with himself than they were with others.

He wants to go out to dinner for his birthday, but before we go he just wants to go outside and take Tank for a walk, then play a few video games with Alex and Rachel. Last year he was learning to snowboard; this year he just wants to hang.

Next year he turns 13, and I'm not sure either of us likes the idea of 3 teenagers in the house. Damn.

The wheels on the car go round and round

2011-03-04T18:32:00.000-07:00

March 2nd was Alex's Magic Day--the day he was old enough to take the test to get his learner's permit. I've tortured him for weeks with it, never saying whether we were going to allow him to take the test or not. He asked, but the answer was always, "We'll see." There was no needed explanation for "we'll see" because he knows well what it means. We'll see about grades, behavior, cooperation, attitude, and how good the bribes are.

We had no intention of not allowing him to take the test, but I also know better than to promise anything. If he'd shown up with another tattoo, there would be no permit. Slacked off on his share of the kids' chores, no permit. There were a lot of things that could get in between him and that trip to the DMV, and I wasn't saying yes or no until the evening of March 1st. There was only one incident lately that had "no" on the tip of my tongue, one that only would have delayed it a day or two, when he exploded at Kevin for being in his room. Kids yell at each other, sure, but that doesn't mean we allow it as a matter of course. But, when Char pointed out that Alex had asked him nicely to stay out of his room because he had math homework papers all over the place and he really didn't want anything scattered, but Kevin went in anyway and moved a critical paper, I could hardly hold that against him.

Wednesday morning before his first class I took him to take the test; we waited an hour before he could take it, it only took him 10 minutes to take the actual test, and it was another 30 minutes of bullshit waiting until he had her permit in hand.

And then I was a total dick and would not let him drive to school.

After I picked him up in the afternoon I took him to the old dojang and let him drive around the parking lot at about 15 mph, and he practiced braking, backing up, and parking, and it was enough to make him happy. I'll take him back tomorrow, but I'm not letting him onto a street until he's started driver's ed, which begins Monday.

Char refuses to be the parent responsible for teaching him to drive. She doesn't want to be in the car until I'm sure he's a good driver; it's less a fear of what might go wrong and that he's going to wreck than it is a fear that she's going to shriek and scare him at the wrong moment. This is fine; my mother wouldn't ride with me for a long time, either. I was taught to drive by my dad, who wasn't driving at all at the time.

I am resigned to not driving for the next six months, at least when it's just the two of us in the car. I don't think he'll be practicing with the other kids in the car yet.

I have no real worries about how good a driver he'll be. I worry about the fact that when he gets his license he'll have a 16 year old's brain in his head, and with that comes questionable judgment. I worry that he'll be 16, with his own car, a girlfriend, and will no longer be chauffeured around on dates. That combined with the 16 year old brain, it gives me pause.

For now, though, I'm going to try to enjoy the process of watching him grow a little. I haven't forgotten what a big deal getting my license was and how it felt the first time I took the car out on my own. I never would have guessed that my parents were probably nervous wrecks about it, and I hope he doesn't realize it, either.

But tonight, it's Cheese

2011-02-26T14:08:00.000-07:00

I owed Rachel a birthday; I was flat on my back with the flu on hers, and felt worse about that than I felt awful for being sick. I think it mattered less to her: she was hitting the magical 14, which meant I had to allow her to date, because, after all, I had allowed Alex to start dating. She went out with the kid named Cheese once (with Char’s dad as chaperone, which I still think is funny as hell) but since then it’s been one thing after another (part of it her own fault) and she hasn’t been out with him since.

When she approached me the other day, I assumed it was going to be to ask me to drive her and Gouda-boy to a movie or McDonald’s or something on Friday. I was fully prepared to say yes, as long as it was someplace acceptable. I hate the idea of her dating, but I’m bending to the inevitable, and it helps that this kid’s parents are at least as protective as we are. For the most part, he’s not going out without supervision, either. They’re satisfied that I insist on driving them where they want to go, and they’re fine with Alex and Stephanie tagging along. So like it or not, when she asked I was going to say yes.

But, she wasn’t asking for a ride; my daughter asked me out on a date. She wanted to collect on her birthday, when I promised to make it up to her. This meant I had to ditch the wife, but fortunately she had other plans anyway.

Now, my daughter’s idea of a good time is shopping. She loves the damned mall, and I knew that’s where we were headed. I hate the damned mall, but I hate shopping in general, and she knows it. She tried reaching for some sort of compromise (though I wasn’t going to balk; this was her date, if she wanted to walk the damned mall, I was going to do it and not whine once) and suggested a movie (at the mall theater) and dinner (at the mall food court.)

My daughter is a cheap date, it seems. She wanted to see Gnomeo and Juliet (something she’d never get Alex or Cheese to go to, I think) but one of us (sorry) misread the movie listing and we got there 20 minutes after it started. So what to do?

Walk the damned mall, then have dinner, and then catch a later show.

I did not mind the whole shopping experience as much as I thought I would. Rachel, for whatever reason, is a window shopper; wandering around looking at crap gives her a bigger thrill than actually buying anything, which did surprise me. At first I thought she was resisting the call of the $150 shoes because she thought it would come out of her own wallet, but even after I told her I'd spend $X on whatever the hell she wanted, she still just shopped without getting anything.

Her logic, which I appreciate, is that just because it’s not her money, that doesn’t mean she wants to waste it. Those shoes were “cute” but not "long term cute", whatever that means. Those shoes wouldn’t match anything and she needs to cull through her closet and get rid of a few old outfits before adding to it. She pointed out things Kevin would like, things Alex would like, and I realized that half the time when she does go shopping with Char or with friends, what she comes home with is typically for one of her brothers. She doesn’t wait for special occasions; she just likes to give gifts.

After an hour and a half, I actually wanted her to want something; hell, I was itching to crack open my wallet and get her whatever the hell she wanted, but we headed for the food court with her just about laughing at me because I “just don’t get it.”

No, but then I’m not a 14 year old girl and if I need something from the mall, I do anything I can to get Char to go get it for me. I almost understand it, though, when she and Char head for the mall together and come home with nothing. Rachel, without her brothers around, in a setting that’s not so focused on her, yet is focused on her, opens up. She talks. I heard more about her friends, what she’s doing in school, what interests her and what bothers her, even more about Cheese than I care to know, than I typically get in two weeks of conversation at home. Char knows how to connect to each of the kids in ways that work best; with Rachel, it’s wandering around the mall, supposedly looking at “not long term cute” shoes.

When we stopped at the food court she was approached by a cluster of girls her age (they walk in clusters, right? It seems rude to say they walk in herds) who wanted to know if she had decided if she was going out for track or softball, and when she said she still wasn’t sure, they tried hard to talk her into track. I sat back and just listened; I didn’t know she was considering school sports at all, and I certainly had no idea she had blown the P.E. teacher away with her time on the quarter mile run and had been told to seriously consider it.

After her friends left I asked her about it. Was she leaning towards one over the other, or did she not want to commit because she didn’t want to join a team at all? She does want to join a team but she doesn’t want to play softball—she’d rather play baseball, but not on the school team because she likes those boys and doesn’t want to show them up (yes, I laughed)—but she’s not sure she’d really be any good on the track team. She can jog, but she doesn’t like the short, hard runs. So, what’s the point?

No one has ever told her about cross country track, I guess. They’ve been focusing on sprints and the quarter mile in P.E. and it didn’t occur to her that on a track team, there are positions for long distance runners. But, she hasn’t trained for that. The first tryouts (for next year’s 9th grade team) are in a couple of weeks, is it even possible to get ready for that?

Rachel is in good shape; while she’s not training in TKD every day anymore, she still trains and she still works out. I don’t think she’ll have a problem even if the tryouts were tomorrow. I said that if she was remotely interested, she needed to go for it. If she wants help training over the next couple of weeks, I can help with that. Running is one thing I do well enough to be of use to her.

What I didn’t realize, though, was that in saying that, I obligated myself to go back into the bowels of the mall to get running shoes. Long term cute running shoes. But at least they weren’t $150.

And the movie—cute. Not something I’d go to on my own, but perfect for an evening out with my daughter.

Yo Daddy so mean...

2011-02-20T14:48:00.000-07:00

Instead of skiing, Char and I have spent the weekend baby wrangling. Erin and Miko have been taking the older kids out to ski and snowboard, and we've been playing in the snow right outside the condo with Travis and Thad; Thad has no clue what he's expected to do out there and Travis only wants to be outside in 10 minute spurts, so it's been a lot of in and out and in and out. Because we're not as mean as Mom, we also haven't been making Travis take both the naps he usually put down for every day, and Erin wonders why he's falling asleep at night so easily for us when he usually fights her tooth and nail.

We're also keeping all the kids with us at night so Erin and Miko can have some kidless time; they're tired. Erin is about to lose her mind keeping up with a toddler and a 10 month old, and Toni has noticed how much attention her brothers get and it pisses her off, so she acts accordingly. There's just not enough Mom to go around; Erin needs a break. All our kids are old enough to keep Toni and Travis entertained in the evenings, and with Mom in another condo, there's no one to pry the baby away from Char. So it's been win-win all weekend. we get the grandkids, Erin and Miko get some down time.

Tomorrow they're heading for home and taking our brood with them, then depositing them at home with their grandfather. That wasn't part of our original plans, but Brad called last night needing a place to crash for a few days while he waits for a new furnace to be installed, and he offered to watch the kids while we took a few days to ski. We're not idiots, we took him up on it. I think Rachel may go over to Erin's to get away from her brothers for a day or two, and that's fine.

Miko reports that Rachel has stuck with Erin nearly the whole time they're skiing, and a lot of what they talked about was what a hardass I can be. Erin can empathize; I was far stricter with her than I have been with Alex and Rachel, mostly because when Erin came to live with us I was clueless about parenting a teenager, much less a teenage girl who had already tripped over a couple of speed bumps. All Rachel knows is that I'm a mean son of a bitch and I never let her do anything fun, which isn't fair at all because Alex gets to do everything.

Erin pointed out to her that she actually has it easier; when Erin was sixteen, I made her wait an entire year before I'd let her go out with Miko. He hung around the house like a love sick puppy, but I was stubborn; they weren't allowed on an actual date until she was nearly seventeen and he had been hanging around the house for nearly a year. Even then, I was an SOB about her curfew, and Miko was just scared enough of me he always had her home early. It put a crimp in their dating style.

I'm hoping that Erin can make Rachel see that I'm not being a punitive asshole; there are reasons why I am strict. I know it seems to her that Alex gets to do everything he wants, but she doesn't stop to think that I'm only relaxing with him as he gets a little older and more mature--and I'm still the one who drives him and Stephanie to where they want to go. I still require him to let me know where he'll be if they walk away from where I drop them off, who they'll be with, and he knows what will happen if he doesn't answer his phone if I call. She doesn't see that most of their "dates" consist of them watching a movie here at home, or taking Tank to the park. She doesn't stop to think that Alex makes deliberate efforts at growing up: he has a job, he pushes himself to do well in school, he's learning to not roll his eyes and talk back.

She doesn't see anything of that because she's 14 and life is simply unfair when you're 14; but it would be helpful if she stopped to remember what Alex went through at her age.

Nothing I say will convince her that I'm anything but mean and that my attempts to thwart her dating life are personal, but at least with Erin she has a sympathetic ear, and an idea of not only how much stricter I could be, but how much I let up when the time is right.

She hasn't asked yet, but Char and I have made sure that there's nothing pressing scheduled next weekend, so if Cheese asks her out, I'll be available to drive them.

Unless Char and I decide to not go home. Staying here might be tempting.

A 2 year old and a 14 year old walk into an attitude bar...

2011-02-18T12:09:00.000-07:00

Today, Travis is two years old. He's less a baby and more a little boy, and the terrible twos are already coming at Mom and Dad in full force. I can sit back and laugh because we already survived it three times, which was more like 5 times given just how hard Rachel embraced the terrible twos and for how long. Instead of a party, Mom wanted something that would just wear the kids out so that they would go to sleep at a reasonable time tonight and give her a few minutes to breathe, so we're piling all the kids into cars and heading for the condo. Hopes are high that an afternoon playing in the snow and then taking them out for pizza will be enough to exhaust them. But if not, she and Mikko can still wander off for a while tonight and leave the kids with us.

Since the kids have a long weekend, we'll probably stay through Monday, which is annoying the hell out of Rachel. Grounded last weekend, she had another mini-meltdown when Char and I wouldn't just cancel our Valentine's Day plans so that she could go out with Cheese again. It wouldn't have mattered what our plans were; it was a school night, so she wasn't going anywhere. I think she saw a light at the end of the tunnel with Friday approaching, until she realized it was Travis's birthday and we'd had plans in place for quite a while, and there was no getting around it in spite of trying to sucker us into leaving her home with Uncle Craig. Yeah, that's not happening, ever. And evening, sure. A weekend? Not a snowball's chance in hell.

I understand she feels picked on, and I understand that whiny teenaged voice in the back of her head screaming that if she doesn't go out with him again he'll get bored and find another girlfriend. What she doesn't understand is that she really is not going to die if that happens.

My goal in life may become finding creative ways to keep her from dating. She might be ready for it; I am not. As it is I spent all last summer working over time to keep Alex from doing something stupid with his girlfriend; if I have to keep turning the hose on my daughter all this summer, I may have another heart attack.

It might have been easier when they were Travis and Thad's ages, when all we had to really worry about was frustrated toddler temper.

And Kevin is head straight for it; he turns 12 next month, which means puberty and the attitude can't be far behind.

Happy Valentine's Day, Angel

2011-02-14T11:05:00.000-07:00

Teens...

2011-02-11T19:09:00.001-07:00

Several days ago we let Rachel know that she would be expected to stay home tonight; she could make plans for tomorrow, even if they involve Cheese and I would drive her (or them) to whatever destination she had in mind. We gave her the advanced notice because Ian was sure that he would be feeling up to snuff today, finally, and we need someone to stay home with Kevin, so that Ian and I can finally get out of the house. She didn't seem to have a problem with this--until today, when Cheese asked her to go to a movie with him.

Now, we specifically targeted Rachel to be home with Kevin (for his sake, we're not referring to it as "babysitting" because that apparently is offensive) because Alex has had plans in place for a long time. Valentine's Day is on a school night this year, and having the sense to plan things out, he and Stephanie decided that they would celebrate it a few days early this year; he picked a nice restaurant, made a reservation, and afterward they'll walk the two blocks to the theater for a movie. He asked us several weeks ago if we would drive them there and if, after we picked them up, if we minded one more stop some place to get dessert, and if we wanted to join them, we were more than welcome (we won't, but that's beside the point.)

Now that Cheese has asked her out, life is woefully unfair. How was she supposed to know that he would want to go out tonight and not tomorrow? Why can't Alex stay home? It's not like he hasn't already been out with Stephanie a million times. We are so unfair!

Ian let her wind up and vent, then reminded her that Alex has done his fair share of staying home to keep an eye on both Kevin and her, and he has canceled plans in the past in order to accommodate our parental whims. Now that she's older, it's her turn to step up and do something she doesn't want to do; Alex had plans first, and his are, frankly, more important.

Then Rachel made her first real mistake. Ian can overlook an occasional flare-up of disappointed temper, but when he said Alex's plans were more important, she said, "Well that's just bullshit!" She said it loudly, and she said it with emphasis of the bullshit.

I just wanted to shake my head sadly. Up until she said that, she was fine. He understood she was upset. But now she's grounded, and ohmygod, you'd think he'd rescinded his permission to date at all, ever again, and told her that she will never speak to, text with, or even think of boys from here on out.

Needless to say, she is so outraged that Kevin was actually uncomfortable being left alone with her tonight.

Ian drove Alex on his date, and during an incidental phone call with my dad a few minutes ago I related his granddaughter's latest teenaged drama queen moment, and when he was done howling with laughter (not that he can relate or anything, because I was never this dramatic. Really!) he said he would be over in half an hour so that we could still go out.

I tried to assure him that we were grown up enough to withstand the disappointment, but no, he insists. The lesson is Rachel's to learn: her temper doesn't get to change anything, and if she's going to act like a small child, she's getting a babysitter like a small child. She is going to be furious when he gets here, because my dad will make her sit in the living room with him. He's not going to let her hide in her room with her cell phone, texting to all her friends about what awful parents she has.

I almost wish we could stick around to witness her entire indignation ;)

Kitty No Name No More

2011-02-08T22:32:00.000-07:00

Our newest addition spent far too much time without a name; the kids debated it, Ian humored them, and I complained about her nameless state until he pointed out that our other two cats were rarely called the same thing for years and seem to understand who's who. But, during dinner, when given two choices, Oz or Weezer, the vote was 4-1 in favor of Weezer.

My consolation was that Oz can be her middle name ;)

There was some concern yesterday that we weren't going to be able to keep her, after all. One of Kevin's friends was calling around to everyone he knew in the neighborhood because his cat's kittens had gone missing and they had found all but one, and it turned out that yes, this little girl was the missing kitten. He told us, sadly, that he knew where she lived and who owned her, but ten minutes later the boy's mother called back to tell us that they only wanted to know where she was and that she was all right. They were getting ready to try to find homes for all the kittens--and hey, if we wanted another one, they had two more!

One more cat here is enough, at least until Ian decided to become a crazy cat lady.

He is totally taken with this kitten and lets her crawl all over him, and he still says he doesn't like cats. I think he's just afraid he'll have to turn his man card in if he admits he likes the cats as much as he likes the dog. It also amazes me how easily Goofy, Pluto, and Tank accepted her. There was no hissing and spitting and no barking, but I think Weezer is getting tired of being bathed by other cats, and especially by Tank's giant tongue.

She's still mine, even so

2011-02-05T22:40:00.000-07:00

What a black kitten might look like

I wanted to name her Cheeto. The kids balked at that, Rachel especially because of that kid named Cheese.

The boys want to call her Lucifer.

My daughter wants to call her Weezer.

Char, Hoover or Dyson.

Kitty needs a new name, I guess.

It happened because I was sick, dammit

2011-02-04T20:56:00.000-07:00

We had a snap of seriously cold weather recently, like half the country, it seems. I slept through a lot of it, but I wasn’t in a coma and I wasn’t immune to hearing the kids both complain about it (we can’t go anywhere!) and celebrate it (no school!) At some point I heard Alex telling Kevin he needed help moving the dog house closer to the back door, which puzzled me because there was no reason to put Tank outside for more than a minute at a time.

But, when I heard Rachel digging in the hall closet, I got up to ask her what they were doing. She was looking for old towels and blankets because there was a kitten hanging around the back yard and they didn’t want it to freeze.

I vaguely remembered hearing the weather on the news; even with the doghouse, that cat would have been a goner. The temperature wasn’t going to come anywhere near zero, and the wind chill was in the sub-twenties.

This is how I know I was sick: I told them to grab it if they could, and then set up a place for it in my office. We have two cats so there was cat food in the house and they’re pretty clever; they could come up with a litter box. I told the kids to make sure the door stayed closed and to keep Tank and our cats away from it, and then went back to bed. And then I forgot about our feline visitor.

Yesterday morning Char reminded me of the extra furball and said it was warming up; the cat would be all right outside as long as I let the kids keep feeding it and provided blankets in the dog house. But it had been in the office long enough already, and if they were feeding it, they might as well keep feeding it inside.

Just keep the dog away from it, so he wouldn’t be tempted to eat it, and the other cats, because they’re both borderline stupid and who knows what they would do?

Yesterday evening, though, someone left the office door open. I heard soft meowing and a dog whining, so I tore into there, afraid Tank was having himself either a snack, or just terrorizing it. I walked into the room where Tank was curled up on the floor and Goofy and Pluto lounged on the chair with this little black furball between them.

There was massive head licking, but no fighting.

I picked the little furball up and realized it was maybe 3 months old. And it purred hard, trying to crawl up my arm so it could rub against my face. With an oh holy crap feeling I sat on the floor and let it crawl on me, wanting to see what Tank and the other cats would do.

And the biggest mistake? Char walked in and saw me playing with this kitten and joined in.

Char presumed we were only left with a few choices: put her back outside (there was a gender check) and risk her running off to who knows what, try to find her a home, or take her to a no kill shelter. Because she knew, without a doubt, that I would not allow another cat in this house.

But, she’s just a kitten and the dog didn’t try to eat her. Goofy and Pluto seem to love her. She might die if put outside. In a shelter she might not find a family for months, and as hard as she was purring, she needs people. I don’t know anyone of our friends who want a cat. And really, what’s one more cat to feed?

I want to keep her.

No, Char couldn’t believe I was saying that any more than I could. The kids spent the afternoon looking for missing cat flyers around the neighborhood just in case, and looked for a mother cat looking for her kitten, but nothing turned up. We’ll still keep an eye out but I think we have another cat.

Her name is Cheeto, and screw the kids, she’s mine.

There's always next week

2011-02-03T11:09:00.003-07:00

Yesterday evening at around 8:30 I put Alex in charge of his sister and brother, grabbed a stack of DVDs, a bowl of popcorn, and joined Ian in the bedroom. He grumbled all day about not being able to take me anywhere on our anniversary, but for me, just curling up on bed to watch a movie with him was wonderful.

I think I heard a dozen times yesterday, "I'm feeling a lot better. I'm not nearly as tired as I was." He even ate more than a few bites of his lunch, and sat at the table with the rest of the family at dinner. He was determined to be present as much as possible yesterday, worried that if he didn't, he would "ruin" our anniversary.

Propped up in bed, he nibbled at the popcorn and declared he didn't care what we watched, leaving it up to me. I picked one I knew he'd wanted to see, RED, got it going, and then curled up next to him.

Around 8:30 I realized he hadn't said anything for a good 5 minutes and that his breathing had slowed down...he was already deep asleep. So much for feeling better and not being as tired.

But, he had tried hard all day.

This morning he did look better. He's not as pale as he's been and he doesn't feel warm to the touch. The one thing he's wanted to eat lately, Trix, my dad brought over for him and he killed a fairly big bowl of it at breakfast, so I have high hopes that the worst of it is over.

If he keeps improving over the weekend we may have a late celebration next week. My dad said he would stay with the kids if we wanted to go skiing or "something." Nice, Dad ;) I may take him up on it, even if we just head up and sit in the condo and watch the snow outside.

But no matter what he thinks, he didn't "ruin" our anniversary. We spent it together, and that's all that matters.

Happy Anniversary, Sweetheart

2011-02-02T00:32:00.001-07:00

The love of my life, she is amazing...

I'm alive...alive...!

2011-02-01T16:33:00.000-07:00

I've been mostly curled up in bed for the last week, feeling like I was run over by a loaded down semi, alternately shivering because I could not get warm, and kicking the blankets off because I felt too hot. I haven't felt that bad in a long time, and I think Char is amazed because I haven't been that still for a long time, either. I slept away much of it, had the TV on when I was awake, but I couldn't tell you what was on, and I drank every time Char told me to. Eating, that was a different matter. Food held no appeal at all, and as much as she wanted me to, I couldn't make myself do more than nibble.

As bad as I felt, I know it was really a fairly mild case of the flu. I wasn't coughing up my lungs, just had a mildly irritating cough once in a while. So there was little doubt that as long as I stayed in bed and stayed hydrated, I'd get over it without any problems.

The thing is, I missed my daughter's birthday. I hate missing birthdays. I missed being the one to drive her to her first date, and while Brad did an excellent job of terrifying her date in my stead, there's nothing like doing the job yourself. Hell, he may have done a better job. I was only going to make him squirm until I dropped the kids off at the mall; Brad went into the theater with them and sat a dozen rows back. Rachel's date, the boy named Cheese, didn't even dare put his arm around her, because that giant, scary black dude would probably lift him out of his chair by his scalp.

I give the kid credit; he still called her the next day, and I don't think either one of them will complain about me being the one driving them places in the future.

But the thing that has me bummed out the most; I'm still running a low temperature and still don't feel up to snuff, and tomorrow is our 16th anniversary. We had plans, all of which Char has already canceled. I'm grateful that we'll still spend it together, but it's liable to just be curled up on the bed watching a DVD, listening to the kids argue in the living room.

We'll make do.

I also had it in my head that Alex would be able to get his learner's permit tomorrow, but apparently I jumped the gun by a month on that. Which, actually, I'm glad about, because by then I'll be able to take him to the DMV for the test.

Char sure as hell doesn't want to.

She refuses to admit he turns 16 this year.

Which is fine, because I refuse to admit I turn 50.

At least he's quiet ;)

2011-01-29T20:20:00.000-07:00

Ian is sick, the kind of sick that has him flat on his back and shivering because he can't get warm enough even though he's been running a temperature. The high was 103^o, which was enough to get me to drag him to the doctor. Normally forcing him to see a doctor would have been accompanied by a lot of whining, but he felt so bad he didn't even have the energy for that. Diagnosis: the flu.

He was less upset with the idea that he had the flu than he was that he got sick right before Rachel's birthday, and was more worried about ruining it for her than he was worried about getting worse. My dad and his brother picked up the slack and took her and her brothers out to dinner, and she got to do everything else that had been planned, but it was without her dad or me there, and she seemed just fine about that. As long as Ian makes it up to her--she's using it as a way to get some quality Daddy time--she's fine. And she's old enough to understand.

Then tonight rolled around. He was going to drive her on her first date, and as much as he hates the idea that she's even thinking of boys and going places with them, he wanted to be the one to take her. Alex agreed to go (because Rachel's date, Cheese (really, his nickname is Cheese) was not going to be allowed to go without Alex as chaperon) but Alex doesn't drive, and Ian was pretty firm on the rule being that until we get to know Cheese and his parents better, if they go out, he's driving them.

He wasn't going to now tell her she had to delay her first date. So he called my dad, who agreed to stand in for him. Cheese, Rachel said, wasn't happy. Evidently Cheese is terrified of my dad. And he should be; my dad is a pretty formidable presence. Rachel's obviously not afraid of Grandpa, but she wasn't happy, either, because Grandpa is not the drop-off-and-leave kind of chaperon. He fully intended to go into the theater with them, even though Alex and Stephanie were going to be there.

Still, they went. And Craig picked Kevin up to take him to another movie, so that Kevin would have something fun to do this weekend, too. And sick or not, Ian and I were looking forward to a quiet evening just lounging in bed watching TV. He's had an appetite today, and I was going to order a pizza for him, well aware than he'd probably just nibble at it, but after the kids all left he asked for grilled cheese instead, ate half, and while I tried to snuggle up to him and watch TV, he fell asleep.

Slowly but surely he's starting to feel better, but I think he's still got several more days of staying in bed and away from the kids.

4 AM

2011-01-22T11:27:00.001-07:00

Ian woke me at around four o'clock this morning; he snuggled just a little too close, held on a little too tight, and the result was waking me up. My first thought was "no way in hell, mister, not right now" but other than trying to practically staple himself to me he wasn't trying anything. So, fine, I rolled onto my side and was going to toss a leg over his and get a little closer, when I realized his eyes were open and he looked terribly upset.

"I have to tell you something."
"All right."
"Because it's been really bothering me and I should have told you a long time ago."
"Okay."
"Last month I ran into a woman I used to work with, and holy shit, I am really sorry."

Now my heart is pounding because he is seriously upset and I have no idea what he's about to spill. I wanted to pull away but I couldn't make myself move and he wasn't letting go.

"At the mall. And I bought her lunch."
"Lunch."
"Pizza."
"That's it? You ran into an old friend and bought her lunch?"
"No. There's more."
"You have exactly five seconds to spill it."
"She helped me pick out the cover for your iPad. I am really sorry."

Color me confused.

"So you had lunch with someone, and she helped you buy a gift for me?"
"I'm really, really sorry."
"And what's the problem?"
"I ate an entire pizza."
"Well, that's gross but what are you sorry about?"
"I didn't save you any."

No, I didn't hit him, but I kind of wanted to.

"Who'd you have lunch with?"
"Marjorie."
"Marjorie. Ian, she's like eighty years old!"
"Yeah, but she only had one slice. And she said you would hate the cover with the flowers on it and said you'd like the red one better. I'm sorry."
"Well, she was right, I think."
"It was pepperoni."
"Oh my God."
"I'm sorry."

I had to forgive him three or four times before he stopped apologizing, and now he swears he has no memory of this conversation. And neither of us knows what he was really apologizing for, eating an entire pizza or relying on someone else to help him shop.

I'm betting on the pizza because that really is just so gross.

Tick tick tick

2011-01-21T21:18:00.000-07:00

In four days, Rachel turns 14. I've always felt like 13 was all about practicing for being a teenager, but 14 is the magic bullet. On the 25th she'll be a teenager, and it scares the hell out of me.

People keep telling me that little boys get the crap out of their systems early and girls save it up for adolescence; if that's true, then the next 5-6 years will be sheer hell. Rach was a handful when she was little; she was a tiny tornado that left us drained every night, wondering how we were ever going to get through the next day. If her teen years hold more drama, I can probably look forward to heart attack #2.

In fact, I damn near had it tonight, when she not-so-casually reminded me that we let Alex start dating at 14, and that Cheese wants to take her to a movie next Friday. She was not happy with the grilling that ensued: what movie, what time, where, who else will be there, what are you doing before and after, and how are you getting there?

You didn't ask Alex ANY of that!

No, because Alex volunteered the information, and I was the way he and Stephanie were getting there.

In fact, I told her, I will be the way she gets to and from this date. It was good enough for her brother, it's good enough for her. If you don't like it, you don't have to go.

There was a flurry of texting: he wants to take her to see The Green Hornet, at the mall, afterward he planned on going to the food court.

Anyone else going?

This is where she got pissed. He wants to know if Alex can go. Because if Alex isn't there, his mom says he can't go. She thinks we need a chaperon.

I assured her that if Alex couldn't or wouldn't, I would make sure she has a chaperon.

She had to let that sink in for a moment. Oh God no, Dad!

OK, so maybe the whole becoming a teenager thing will amuse me once in a while. But you can be damn sure that if Alex doesn't go, I will.

I'd like to run away now

2011-01-17T16:24:00.000-07:00

I swear, every single one of the kids has a major case of PMS today, and I'm ready for bedtime, which is going to come very, very early if they don't just stop already.

No, not them, I'm going to crawl in bed right after dinner and pretend I didn't once want 10 of the little shits.

Tracks of our tears

2011-01-14T20:49:00.000-07:00

When Alex was three years old, I wrote an article for Martial Artists Wired, the title of which I forget but the content I do not. It revolved around an epiphany of sorts I experienced while two young boys in the dojang were sparring. They were both under ten years old; one was a couple of years younger than the other, and the younger of the two connected with the other’s nose with a solid punch. They both stopped—face contact among children has always been against our sparring rules—but it wasn’t an accidental infraction of the rules that stopped them, it was what may or may not come next.

The younger boy burst into tears; the older boy sucked it up.

Every male in the room had the same reaction: a cringe, a gritting of the teeth, and a pointed not-looking at the boy who was crying. It was a message every boy over ten years old in that room knew: don’t cry. Whatever you do, you don’t cry, even when it hurts like hell. He knew it already; he steeled himself against the pain, and forced himself to be ready to continue fighting.

The younger boy, Char pulled off the floor to console. He was upset and distraught over hurting someone else, and he was still young enough that the tears came easily.

I watched all of this happen, and was instantly both fascinated and ashamed. I left my wife to console a crying child, and I fully accepted that the older boy would not/should not cry. At his age, he had already adopted the mask of masculinity, and would not cry in front of his peers no matter what. I was ashamed because I not only understood it, I did not disagree with it.

At least, I didn’t disagree with it until the weight of it unfolded in front of me. I had a three year old son who was quite open with his feelings. He cried when he was hurt, he cried if someone else was hurt. Any time his baby sister was hurt, he cried. His tears came easily and naturally, and at the time I appreciated his sensitivity. When I realized my complicity in how those boys I was teaching were hardening themselves, I wanted to do better for my son.

Never did I want my kids to hear me say the words big boys don’t cry. At the same time, it wasn’t as easy as I supposed to let my sons know that having emotions is not a thing to be ashamed of; the few times in their lives I have cried they were either too young to have made note, or the situation—when my father died—was one in which anyone would cry. I didn’t hide it from them, but they also never really saw it beyond that one time.

In the aftermath of Char’s accident, those first hours when I really didn’t know if she would live or die, my son came straight out and reminded me it was all right to cry. I was on the edge of tears all the time, yet it took permission from a 13 year old to push me over the edge. So clearly, my kids were not learning through my example. I tend to hold as tightly as the next guy, and I did wonder from the time to time if I had failed miserably, because my oldest son had lost the easiness with his feelings over the years.

He is sensitive and caring, but he sucks it up. Like every man out there, he sucks it up.

This afternoon I took him to purchase textbooks for the upcoming semester, and on the way home an SUV passed us; the rear passenger window was open and their dog was riding happily with his head hanging out the window, tongue flapping in the breeze, and it made us both laugh.

It was a beautiful Golden Retriever, and after a moment of amusement, Alex leaned forward with his head on his knees, and started crying harder than I’ve seen him cry since he was four or five years old.

He was reminded too vividly of Stoner, and misses him desperately. He’s been gone just a little less than a year, and while Alex cried when Stoner died, it was only a few tears that he couldn’t hold back, and as soon as he could, he stopped. He gritted his teeth against the sorrow, and swallowed it whole.

We had Stoner cremated, and I assumed that when Spring rolled around, Alex would be ready to bury his ashes, but the urn has been on a shelf in Alex’s room since then. He hasn’t been ready; he still isn’t ready, and today was testament to how tightly he still holds onto that dog who was truly his best friend.

I was upset and sad when Stoner died, but I’d lived a life without him in it, and I knew that sooner or later that upset would pass and the goofy things Stoner used to do would do nothing but make me smile. I understood that in canine terms he was an old, old man and had lived long and had been happy. Alex never saw me cry when Stoner died because I just didn’t. Whether he took that as meaning he should not, I don’t know, but today he was wrecked with grief, and I had to pull the car over to give him some time.

I may not have cried for Stoner, but I can certainly cry for my son and his pain. Because, really, there is very little in life that can pull your heart apart like seeing your child in agony, no matter how tall he gets or how mature he seems.

He has to understand, real men do cry, even if it’s at the side of the road, even if it’s for no other reason than one of his reasons for living is hurting so, so much.

Almost wish we'd gotten snowed in

2011-01-12T21:47:00.000-07:00

Luckily for Craig, he is not a natural on skis; he is, in fact, awkward and unbalanced, which made my day all the more amusing, since I'm usually on his end of it. He got through the half-day beginner's class and one very slow, pizza-legged run down the mildest of the beginner's slopes, but then called it a day after we stopped to have lunch.

The thing is, he didn't stop because he didn't want to keep trying. He stopped because just before we were all heading back out, a woman who was in the class with him stopped to say hello, they got to talking, and the next thing I know he's waving us off and says he'll "catch up later."

An hour later we went back in to see if he was still there and he was, deep in conversation with her. Char went over to them, draped her arm around his shoulders, kissed him on the cheek, and told him she was taking one more run, and then "we'll head back to the condo." I thought he was going to wet his pants right there, but Mz. SkiBunny thought it was funny, and when we returned later, there they were, still talking.

Char noticed before I did, that the only beverages on the table were ice water and soda, and I think she made specific note of it because though neither of us said it, we were both worried that Mz. SkiBunny would order wine, and Craig isn't there yet. No one drinks around him, because he's still not sure how it will feel to him. With that, she wondered if we should invite Craig's new friend to have dinner with us, but before we could, Craig was saying his goodbyes and pulling us out of there.

It occurred to me that I could get her really drunk, stay stone cold sober, and see what could happen. So he wanted out of there, before he did something stupid. But, he did get her number.

Instead of going to dinner with us, he headed for home; he had a job interview lined up for this afternoon and didn't want to have to rush back this morning. I'd be lying if I said that was a disappointment, because it left Char and I alone in the condo. And that place has one hell of a view; that alone is worth the drive there, whether we wind up skiing or not. When we got up this morning, we had coffee while we sat there and took it in, and realized that the snow could wait. A view like that, without kids whining at us to get up and get out there already, that was worth skipping the skiing for.

I had intended on buying a new pair of skis today. I suppose I can do that next time.

I go boom

2011-01-09T22:50:00.001-07:00

Not me

While this is not me, this was me on Saturday. I think I spent as much time wiping out as I did actual skiing, and none of it was pretty to watch.

I'm only taking part of the blame, though. My part of it is in renting a pair of skis intended for someone above my level of expertise. The other part lays squarely on whomever walked off with my skis on Saturday morning. I'd set them in the rack, walked over to help Rachel sign into the snowboard class, and when I returned, my skis were gone. I doubt someone took them by mistake, because in that case they would have realized it partway down a run and returned. The consolation is that they were older skis and I was thinking about replacing them, because they've been run about as much as skis should be run. So the thief got a crappy set of skis. That still left me without, so I rented, and I let my ego try a pair I wasn't ready for.

Char could ride those skis without problem, but she's far better at the whole thing than I am. So after several runs in which I made my way down the slope either on my ass or tumbling, I took them back for a tamer pair.

I know I'm getting old because it took an hour in the hot tub and a few stiff drinks to make me feel better Saturday night.

This morning Char talked me into trying the introductory snowboarding class, because the kids are all now really getting into it; yesterday Rachel caught on well enough to brave the beginner slopes with Alex and Kevin, and it was something different to try so I agreed. And I spent the morning looking something like this:

Still not me

Yes, I went back and rented skis for the afternoon because my ego can only take so much. We're bringing Craig along with us this week when we go back (sans kids) and he better not turn out to be a natural, or I might have to shove a ski pole up his ass.

Renting skis one more time, and buying a new pair once I narrow it down. I hope whomever took my skis enjoys them while they last; they were fairly cheap to begin with, so it's not like they got something worth tossing up on eBay or anything.

Hard to argue with him

2011-01-07T23:57:00.000-07:00

Alex is a saver; all the kids get an allowance and all are expected to save a certain percentage for their savings accounts (that they cannot touch), an annual charitable donation, and then savings that they can touch, but he's taken saving to a new level.

Between cash birthday and Christmas gifts, his allowance, extra chores, and working for his grandfather, he's saved enough that I regret ever having agreed to pay half of whatever car he intends to buy when he gets his license.

Last night he cornered me in my office; he covets my iPad, and thinks one will be useful for school. He does not expect me to buy it for him, but wanted to take money out of savings for it.

I'm fine with that.

But then, I'd also like to get Rachel one as an early birthday present.

That surprised me but I am not against it; I did tell him to think about it hard, because that was a huge chunk of money and she hasn't expressed an interest in one.

Well, not to you she hasn't.

He had more.

I also want to replace my cell phone. And if I get one, can Kevin have my old one?

Now, he knows we relented on giving him and Rachel cell phones before we wanted to. But he presented fairly well thought out reasoning: Kevin isn't in a private school anymore; he's in a different environment that might be less safe overall. He feels safer, but, you know, Columbine. Phones were helpful there. And he's kind of the odd man out; all of his friends have cell phones now, and he's really missing out. Not to mention, Elizabeth would like to be able to text him and he's tired of Kevin borrowing his phone to text her.

I'll pay the extra that it costs to get his phone number.

Kevin has never asked us for a phone because he knew what the answer would be; I know where Alex is coming from, though, because Kevin borrows everyone's phone to send Elizabeth random messages.

I wouldn't tell him yes or no on that because I had to talk to Char, but she agreed later, as long as Kevin doesn't use it at school, cell phones are a losing battle and it would be nice to be able to call him while he's outside rather than go looking for him.

This morning, Alex was still determined to get his sister her own iPad, so once she and Kevin had left for school we went out and got them; he got everything set up and charged by the time she was home.

She shrieked so loudly when he gave it to her that I'm a little surprised his ears didn't start bleeding.

He also handed over his old cell phone to Kevin and was rewarded with a high five and You're freaking awesome!

No, we didn't make him pay for adding Kevin to the cell phone plan. He was being extremely generous as it was, so we got him a new phone and had his old one set up for Kevin. The one thing I worried about, that Kevin would feel like he was getting yet another hand-me-down, was unfounded. He was thrilled.

It will make for a very quite drive to the condo this weekend. They can all keep themselves occupied and if he's good, I'll let Kevin play with my iPad on the drive.

The subject was snow, actually

2011-01-06T22:45:00.001-07:00

Ian, on the phone with his brother: I was hoping for a good six to eight inches.
My eleven year old son: That's what she said.

Son, I am (not) disappoint

2011-01-06T11:58:00.000-07:00

I kept most of my textbooks, and while they are now out of date, I thought that because he was on the fence about taking the class with me, Alex would benefit from flipping through my old Psychology of Sex textbook.

He handed it back to me this morning. This is really boring. I thought there would be more about figuring out how women think about the whole thing.

So no, he's not going to take the class. Which means I don't have to, either.

When he told Char his reason for not taking it, she sighed hard and asked If you want to know what a woman is thinking, just ask her.

He was smart enough to not say anything, but when she was out of earshot: Is she serious?

I think she was, son, but for future reference, if you're going to ask the question, have a ton of chocolate on hand, and be prepared to listen for a very long time.

Instead of the psych class, he's taking a computer class. Because, he says, at least computers make sense.

Act of trust?

2011-01-05T20:43:00.000-07:00

I don't know if it was trust or foolishness, but we decided to let Craig spend the night with the kids while we went off to ski. He had a list of rules that pretty much boiled down to not leaving the house unless it's an emergency, don't even think about alcohol, and don't believe the kids if they tell you they're allowed to be on the phone or texting after 10pm. Alex is perfect capable of being in charge of Rachel and Kevin for an evening, but we wanted an adult there overnight; since he has no school right now, Alex could get his sister and brother up and out the door to the bus in time, but still. There needs to be an adult around. Craig wanted to do this, and he's done well enough lately that we agreed to it.

That's not saying we didn't have Alex texting us frequently to let us know how things were going; he understands our reluctance where Craig is concerned. For that matter, so does Craig, and he doesn't take it personally.

At 6pm Char got a text: Grandpa is here, says he just wanted to bring pizza over but I think he's spending the night.

Char called him; he was as polite as he could be, but the gist was Hell, yes, I'm spending the night. He likes my brother, but doesn't quite trust him with his grandkids' lives just yet. I should point out that Craig raised his boys and they turned out just fine, but I was just a little bit grateful that Brad was willing to butt in. It was testament to the fact that while I am proud of how far Craig has come, I'm still not 100% sure he has what it takes to hold onto sobriety. Brad was there, he later said, so that if something did go wrong there would be a witness. Kids do stupid things and break bones; addicts do stupid things and slip up; there needed to be another adult around to tell the tale if either happened so there would be no doubts about the cause.

Will we do it again? Probably. We'd like to take advantage of some kidless time on the slopes, and we have willing adults to stay with the kids. The kids don't mind as long as we're willing to turn around and take them skiing and snowboarding on the weekends.

Next week, however, Brad is staying with the kids and we're taking Craig with us. I'm hoping to get some good audio of him sliding down the hill, because I know he is going to scream like 5 year old girl being kissed by the kindergarten cootie-monger.

Well, I think it's funny

2011-01-02T21:24:00.002-07:00

Alex tried to register online today for his next semester classes, but was thwarted by the psychology class he hoped to take. He did not, the error message said, meet the age requirement to enroll in said class. We learned this by overhearing him complain to his friend Evan; "It's a fucking psych class. I meet the pre-req. I should be able to take it if I want."

Deny his son an educational experience? Ian turned into Super Dad; he knows most of the faculty in the psych department, and interrupted their conversation to ask who the instructor is. He could make a call and find out if the requirement could be waved.

Alex mumbled his name, obviously not wanting Ian to get involved. As soon as Ian heard the name, he turned around and headed for the phone, chuckling under his breath.

I wanted to know why any course taught there would be closed to a student based on age.

"Because," Ian said before he picked up the phone, "he wants to take a class in the psychology of sex."

I wanted to stop him from making that call; there are plenty of other classes Alex can take, and I see no need for him to get into this particular one right now.

"I took it," Ian informed me. "Relax. It's not like he'll be watching porn. Well, not much, anyway."

I couldn't get to the phone to wrestle it away from him before he had dialed the number.

While he exchanged pleasantries with his former colleague, I went to do laundry and to try to think of something other than my teenaged son fixated on sex and getting a grade for it. And also, to figure out a way to convince him to not take it even if his dad could arrange it. I don't care if Alex understands the particulars of sex, that doesn't mean I want him studying it as well.

As fas as Ian is concerned, any academic endeavor is worth pursuing.

Half an hour later, Ian was off the phone, and had news for Alex. "You can take the class, but you'll have to wait for the first day and enroll as an add-in. He'll hold a slot for you."

There was a but there, and I could hear it.

Alex did, too, because he waited for it.

"You can take it if I agree to chaperone you."

"What? I have to go to class with my Dad?"

It was a class of over a hundred students, Ian explained. He would sit in the very back and they could pretend they didn't know each other. The class wades into some serious territory, and is not appropriate for the average fifteen year old. But, we would allow it under these circumstances; this was the deal, take it or leave it.

I think Ian presumed Alex would leave it. But, he looked at me, looked back at Ian, and then said, "All right. You probably should take it. You might learn something."

Now I think Ian is hoping Alex changes his mind at the last minute, but I know my son; he's going to do whatever he can to make his dad squirm.

And who knows, maybe he really will learn something :)

Happy New Year

2011-01-01T21:27:00.000-07:00

Much of New Year's Eve was spent on the back patio with Alex; sitting in a lawn chair next to his old man was probably not how he intended to spend the evening, but Stephanie was happily hanging around the kitchen with Char and Rachel. If it really bothered him he hid it well--he understands that for Stephanie an evening baking cookies with Char is a big deal. Her mother has been gone long enough that she doesn't really remember her, something to which Char can relate. I think because of that, Char makes an effort to carve out time for Stephanie; she worries about the effect that will have if Alex and Stephanie ever break up, but for now, she's willing to be that female figure in Steph's life. She remembers how it felt, perhaps even on a scale grander than Stephanie feels it, because the women in Brad's life were transient at best, and none of them were someone she could really look up to.

Alex understands that, and he's never complained when his girlfriend comes over to see him but winds up spending more time with his mother and sister. On New Year's Even, though, I don't think he was exactly happy about it.

I think it did make him feel better, however, that I would have preferred to be somewhere with his mother that didn't include ringing in the new year with our kids.

I also would have preferred to be inside where it wasn't so cold that even my toes wanted to invert, but he was sitting outside and it seemed like a good idea to join him. For some reason, if I can get Alex out there on the patio, where his brother and sister aren't in ear shot, I can get him talking. Usually when we're alone out there I can get him talking about the things going on in his life, whether it's serious or not. Last night he turned the tables on me; he asked about my ex-wife.

Because he was so angry when he first found out about her, and because he shut down somewhat at the mere hint of my having had a life before he was born, when Kathy died we vacillated so long on whether it was something to tell the kids or not that by the time we decided, it was basically a non-issue. They were never going to meet her; they knew that Char spoke to her and liked her, but that relationship was strictly online and sometimes on the phone, and it was never going to cross into let's be friends. She had her life, I had mine, and never the twain shall meet, so to speak.

However, now Uncle Craig is here a lot, and Alex has overheard some of our conversations, and some of the talk has revolved around his feelings for her. Alex was curious; how the hell could Uncle Craig fall for his own brother's wife? To tell him it was complicated would be an understatement, and it's not even a question I have a concrete answer for. I don't think Craig does, either.

But, last night Alex wanted to know about it, and with the little I told him, he latched onto the idea that Craig would have happily started something with Kathy if she's made him think there was a snowball's chance in hell of that ever happening. I couldn't give Alex most of the answers he wanted; most of his questions were clearly about things that are none of his business. I can't and won't speak for my brother, and I can't say for certain what kind of interaction he had with Kathy before she met and married Tucker. But then he asked something that gave me pause. Now that he's sober, do you think he'll try to win her over?

My gut reaction wasn't borne out of grief; I still miss the idea of Kathy being alive and happy with her family, but whatever there was between us was long gone when she died. I appreciate Tucker's consideration in letting me know when she had the stroke and when she died, but what I felt wasn't really grief so much as it was sorrow for all the lost potential. Yet at that moment, I didn't want to tell Alex the truth; it felt like a serious lie of omission. Had we told the kids when it happened, it would have been shrugged off with a Sorry. That sucks. But after all this time, I worried he would be angry.

I worry too much.

He grasped that we got the news about her death while on a ski trip to celebrate Kevin's birthday, and that overall our job was to protect our kids from something that might have detracted from that. "We didn't know her," Alex pointed out. "Yeah, so what good would it have done to tell us?"

What he wanted to know, more than the idea that Craig might have made a move if she was still alive, was about her stepkids. Are her kids all right? Do you know?

I wish I did know, at least enough to tell him they're getting along fine. But I truthfully have no idea.

When we finally headed inside, there was hot chocolate waiting for us--they thought we would need it, given how frigid it was out there--and when midnight rolled around I realized that Alex made sure he was standing right next to Stephanie, and he wasn't the least bit shy about kissing the new year in with her.

That left Kevin and Rachel to high five each other, because there was no way in hell either of them was kissing the other.

I have to admit, I enjoyed the time spent in the cold with my oldest son; the times we'll have together like that will become fewer as time speeds on. But it was, to say the least, a nice way to end 2010, and greeting 2011 with his mother, there's not much better than that.

He ain't heavy

2010-12-28T15:17:00.000-07:00

I pseudo-lamented last year that our Christmas traditions have changed; the kids are getting older and the things we used to do, like sending them to bed at a reasonable hour so that we can spend an hour or two curled around each other on the sofa, have gone by the wayside. Last year we got home from church, and the kids stayed up. And it was all right; I missed that quite time with Char but realized that there will come a day when I'll wish the kids were all there there making more noise than I would like.

This year I expected more changes; the family is bigger, all the kids are older, and they had their own expectations about how we would celebrate. Alex was fully prepared to suck it up and go to church with us on the 24th, but the truth is that none of us have been to Mass in months, and I wasn't especially inclined to force everyone, myself included into dressing up and sitting through a service I was sure would leave both Alex and myself with a bitter taste. So we stayed home; the kids had friends over until early evening, when Brad and Craig showed up, and for the first time I can remember we spent Christmas Eve at home.

This was also the first Christmas I've spent with my brother in at least 3 decades. To be honest, I wasn't sure how it would go. He had his own traditions with his kids and grandkids and I knew he would miss them, and I really wasn't sure how the stress of being away from his kids would affect him. For his sake, it was an alcohol-free holiday; he wouldn't have said anything if there had been a bottle of wine or if Brad had brought a twelve pack of beer, but neither Char nor I wanted to shove that in his face. Brad was not thrilled, but only because his tradition includes a shot of something strong at midnight. He doesn't remember when he started it, but Char thinks it goes way back to when she was a toddler, but neither of them really remembers.

Weeks ago Char started to pepper Craig with questions about the things he typically did on Christmas. While nothing we did was going to take the sting out of not seeing his grandkids, she was certain that if we embraced a few of his traditions that it might help. And I think she was right; his thing at Christmas is baking, and our kids were all over it. After dinner they spent the evening in the kitchen with him baking cookies and a couple of pies; Char and I sat at the breakfast bar watching and keeping them company, and it was obvious Craig was in his element. I don't think it was the baking so much as it was that he had the kids' attention, cooperation, and more importantly, they hung on every word he said. It was loud and it was messy, but it was also wonderful to see.

The kids were up late into the night again; after the last of the cookies came out of the oven they broke out the board games again, and while Char and I cleaned up the baking mess they gave Craig a taste of what it's like to constantly lose to them.

Christmas day brought the rest of the family; the true test of Craig's ability to withstand the masses. With Erin and Miko's kids here, the noise level shoots through the roof, and it's a constant battle to keep the smallest ones from pulling down the tree, eating things off the floor they shouldn't, crawling or toddling into walls, bookcases, or the TV. Craig put himself in charge of keeping track of Thad and Alex laid claim to Travis, so that Mom and Dad could relax a bit; more than that, it turned into being something to really see, how well my brother interacts with the little kids, and how a grandfather he could be if he got a better chance at it.

I think next year, as his own kids relax about him, he'll have more opportunities to be a grandfather. I don't think he'll ever move back home, but as he holds tight to his sobriety, I see his kids being willing to bring theirs here to visit him. As it is, all of his boys called him on Christmas and he got to talk to most of his grandkids.

How Craig is doing and how determined he is, that's really the only gift I needed this year.

I am proud of him. That's not something I ever thought I would feel where he's concerned. But I am definitely proud of him.

He's been into the Beatles lately

2010-12-23T12:08:00.002-07:00

Kevin, singing under his breath as we made our way through the mall in search of facilities:

Let me pee, let me pee, let me pee, oh let me pee; there must be a restroom, let me pee-eeeee

I don't think he realized he wasn't just singing in his head, which just made it funnier to us.

Just don't call him Twinkletoes

2010-12-18T14:04:00.000-07:00

Last night was the second holiday dance recital Kevin has participated in. Last year he was the new kid, and as new as he was he held his own and did well enough that people were talking about it later. He showed grace and flexibility, but his creativity stood out. While last year was a mashup of musical genre and dancing styles (Kevin and the older kids who helped him out danced to Stray Cat Strut and were followed by ballet and then a wildly entertaining group Broadway number) they had a holiday theme this year and did most of the numbers in large groups.

One of the things I appreciate about this school is that the instructors allow the kids to explore their own ideas, and they come up with the basic ideas themselves; they flesh it out as a group and the teachers help with the final choreography. The end result is that the performances are fresh and original, a little quirky at times, and the kids really get into it. They don't wind up doing the same things year after year; there's no annual performance of something in particular and nothing written in stone that can't be changed on a whim. New students are taken as seriously as long time students, and there is firm encouragement for the more experienced kids to help their new friends.

The end result is a recital the parents enjoy as much, if not more than, the kids.

Kevin danced in more than half of the numbers this year, and I was blown away by how good he's gotten since last year, and last year I was amazed at his talent and composure. I had one of those moments; this isn't something Kevin does because it's a neat past time. This is something Kevin does because it's what he is.

He was good at TKD (something he still does once a week or so) but he's much more of a dancer than he ever was a martial artist.

Thump has mentioned those moments to me before, when you see your kid doing something and it all clicks into place, when it hits you that they have actually found their "bliss." Char and I were talking about that during intermission, how Thump was on Facebook during the intermission of Romeo and Juliet, talking about how her son can never stop acting. I thought I got it then, but I evidently didn't. But I got it last night.

Granted, I grasp that Kevin is only 11 years old (or, at his insistence, "Almost twelve!") and he interests could switch gears on a whim. My gut, though, tells me this kid is headed for something creative, and as much as I don't want him to be in a hurry to grow up, I also can't wait to see where his interests take him.

Another one I need to scare off

2010-12-12T16:43:00.000-07:00

There's another squeaky new-teenage kid hanging around the house, staring at my daughter like she's it and he's going to die if she doesn't smile at him one more more time he dies. And I'm thinking, I can help with that.

He's been sniffing around here for about a week, and I'm not sure what his name is, but I think Rach and Kevin have been calling him "Cheese." Seriously, what I hear is "Cheese" but I haven't wanted her to think I care enough to ask to be sure.

I'd ask Alex, but his reaction to Cheese is close to mine: no trust there, he just glares at the kid. This works for me, because if this kid is as afraid of Alex as he seems to be of me, maybe he won't be the little dick that SETH! turned out to be.

I've made it pretty clear to Rachel that he can hang around here the same as her other friends, but there's no going out yet. She turns 14 in January, and if he's still hanging around, I'll relent then.

Since the school change, Rachel and Kevin have both been much happier kids. It's been interesting to see them explore their individuality; they don't have to wear uniforms to school anymore, so we did cut them loose in the mall for the most part (Rachel shopped with Alex, Kevin was with us but he had free reign) to buy school clothes, and I admit I was surprised at their choices. Alex was given permission to say no to some things we thought Rachel would want, but for the most part she's dressing far more conservatively than we supposed she would. Jeans and cute t-shirts, tighter than I would like but Char has pointed out more than once that we can't fight biology, and the shirts are going to seem tighter to dad than they really are. I expected Kevin to head for designer clothing since he seems interested in it, but he wanted jeans, slacks, and t-shirts. I really thought he would be the kid in the dress slacks and fitted dress shirts, and I still see him in that in high school, but he wants to be comfortable to horse around, something he actually gets time to do in the new school.

We can't complain about their grades, either. Rachel is trying again, mostly B's, and Kevin is doing really well, A's and B's with a little struggling in math, but Alex is helping him there.

And Alex is facing finals; he recently got the first C of his life and it was a wake-up call for him. A good thing, overall. He's using all his free time to study and to help Stephanie with her homework (really, it's a way for them to spend time together since they don't have much right now.) He put in the paperwork to graduate at the semester break, and next semester it will be college classes only, but we also talked to the principal and she wanted Alex to understand that he is still considered a part of the class and is welcome to attend the prom and other activities until the end of the year.

After the end of the semester, though, his focus in on February 2, 2011. Not that he gives a damn about his mother's and my 16th anniversary: he can get his learner's permit then. Presuming I allow it.

Just stuff

2010-11-30T17:21:00.000-07:00

While my brother was visiting his kids over Thanksgiving, TK was out doing something I didn’t think he’d ever do. He went house hunting. His apartment is nice enough, but he feels it’s getting tight when his kids are there, and he’s pretty sure his living arrangements with Craig are going to be long term. I worried about that for a fraction of a second, because it felt like I was pushing my brother off on him, but he was quick to point out that he likes having Craig as a roommate and this will help continue that, and he really needs more space for his kids. He’s found a few places he’s interested in, but waited until Craig came back to look at them.

We’re all pretty sure Craig is here long term. He had a hard time at home, and stayed for the most part in the house. He wasn’t willing to venture out often because he worried about the people he would run into and the temptations that would pull at him. Here, those people aren’t an issue, and he hasn’t created any undesirable places to hang out. He’s not working a program like AA, but he is staying in therapy, working with a psychiatrist specializing in addiction issues.

He’s doing well, and I’m proud of him. I never thought he would come this far, and I never thought we would have any kind of amicable relationship again. But we’re here, he’s becoming more a part of the family every day, and we’re hanging out.

His next step is finding a job. Five years ago he could have walked into a job easily; his personal life was screwed up but he’s always been damned good at his job, but right now he probably can’t even get seasonal work. We want him to wait for January or even February, once the holidays are over, but he seems bent on at least trying.

I have to support that. He’s willing to have the door slammed in his face, but who knows, he might land something really good.

I’ve got my fingers crossed for him.

We really are more normal than we seem

2010-11-18T12:09:00.000-07:00

For a few minutes on the plane, Craig and I discussed putting his house up for sale. It's paid for; he could live off the money from it for a couple of years while he gets his feet planted a little more firmly, or if he finds a job it would give him a cushion, something he doesn't feel he has enough of. I get a say in it; his house is the family house, where we grew up, it's supposed to be divided equally between the three of us if ever sold. Craig moved into it when I moved my parents closer to me; it wasn't a wanted move on his part, but our parents didn't want to sell it at the time, and he'd given up his house to his ex. He would have been happy enough in an apartment somewhere, but he had kids, and our parents were more comfortable with the idea that family was living in their house, not tenants.

So we talked about selling it; I have no problem with Craig selling it and keeping the proceeds, but we both assumed our sister would. And that's not laying judgment on her; it's as much hers as it is mine, I just happen to think it's more Craig's than anyone's.

A few minutes into batting the idea around, though, he said he couldn't do it. His best times were spent in that house. Some of his worst, too, but I take it as a good sign that he's focused on the good. For the most part lately he's been looking forward, but with the house he can't help but stay a little bit in the past. He's torn. He doubts he can ever go home again for good, but he wants that option. So in the meantime, he'll pack up what he wants to take, stick the rest in storage, and his youngest will move into the house.

Like our parents, we want family living there, not tenants. And we want family that would respect the property as more than just a place to live; Craig's son will never forget that first and foremost this was the place his grandparents chose to make a home for their kids. One of the first things Craig did when we got here was to ask his son if he would move in; as awful as it is, we wanted that set before our sister got wind of anything. She could make a case for being the one to take over that house, but the truth is that it wouldn't be well cared for. And as screwed up as Craig has been, he took care of our parents' house. Which is why I can think of it as his house now and not theirs; Val might intend to take care of it, but she tends to live on impulse, and we've both seen the results of her impulses. I've spent years mopping up the results of one of her impulses, and I don't think my niece will ever get over it.

So he's packing. He's not finding a lot that he wants to take with him; most of it he thinks he can leave behind--the furniture his son can use--but there are a few things he's wrapping carefully in bubblewrap and setting in boxes. There have been a few things he's thought I might want, but most of that--pictures--we can have copies made. There's one thing, though, that we're surprised to find. Neither of us can figure out why it's still here, and why our mother didn't take it with her when she and Da moved. It was a fixture in our lives, something we took note of frequently, something we were encouraged to touch and to hold, but to always put back exactly where we found it, as we found it, nestled on top of her dresser, leaning against the mirror.

It's a very old, very small toy puppy; if you saw one in a store today you'd think it was a prototype for a Beanie Baby, but this is 52 years old. It's not worn out, but you can tell by looking at it that it's old. Other than the times we picked it up when we were little, it was never really played with, never held tight by little hands. At best, it was cradled in the crook of a baby's arm, or brushed gently against her cheeks. When our parents decided to leave Ireland for the U.S., they didn't bring much with them, other than their kids, but this made the trip wrapped in a soft cloth in our mother's purse, and it's the only thing they had, other than a few pictures, of the daughter they lost at just a few months old.

She was born before either of us; Val was only a year or so old, so none of us have any real memories of her, but that puppy is something we all connect with her. I know our mother was likely terrified that one of us would destroy it, but she desperately wanted us to have some kind of connection to our sister, which is why she allowed us to touch the toy at all. Craig and I are puzzled, though, why it was left behind. He'd seen it every day for a dozen years and never thought much about that; it was where it always was, and he left it there, but now there's this looming why in front of us. He says if he had clued into it, he would have sent it when she died so that she could be buried with it.

Craig realized, too, that the puppy belongs on that dresser, and he doesn't want to leave that behind; his son would respect it, but his grandkids might not. They're good kids, but they are just little kids. He offered it to me, reasoning that I had the space for it, but something tells me he needs it more. He can jam the dresser into his room at TK's, and TK won't mind.

He keeps trying to argue the point, but when it comes right down to it, for all these years he's basically cared for our parents' most bitter but very treasured memory, and that might be intentional. When they first moved, I think they expected to eventually go home; Craig was moving in and would watch the house, but I wonder, too, if our mother hadn't fully intended for him to be the one to care for her daughter's only material possession. I wonder if she hoped some kind of stronger connection would develop for him. Or knowing her, hoped that her Angelica (not her name, but what she was called all the time) would become Craig's guardian angel.

Our mother believed in saints and angels, and I wouldn't be the least but surprised if somewhere in the back of her mind was the idea that somehow her lost baby could be Craig's guiding force.

I don't think she could have ever accepted that the specter of the sister we never knew may have played a part in his tendency toward self destruction. It's something we've been talking about, though, the unspoken expectations of being raised in the shadow of someone who never had the chance to be anything other than the perfection that she surely was.

There's definitely a lot to wade through when he gets back. I'm heading home tomorrow, with assurances from all his kids that they'll stand guard between Craig and Val (who is pissed beyond pissed that she wasn't told what was happening. I get that, but in this Craig comes first.) I had lunch with her yesterday, and she still doesn't grasp her role in keeping Craig a functional drunk, and still doesn't get why he can't handle just one drink or how even being around it can unravel everything he's managed to do to get even a toehold on recovery. Still, she was glad to see me, something I didn't really expect.

You know, we all had a perfectly normal childhood. Our parents were as good as parents get. It makes one wonder how the hell we all got so screwed up, because it really wasn't anything they did or didn't do.

Homeward Bound

2010-11-15T12:01:00.000-07:00

In a couple of hours, my brother and I will be getting on a plane and taking him home. He wants to spend Thanksgiving with his kids and grandkids, and who can blame him? He hasn’t seen them in months and he misses them; more than that he appreciates them, and wants to figure out ways to show them.

There are two things he won’t be doing, however. He won’t be seeing our sister. He won’t be staying.

Our sister is one of his triggers. While she can be a heavy drinker, she can also walk away from a bottle of alcohol without a second thought, but she has no issue with convincing him that it’s all right to go hang at a bar with her, that she’ll stop him at “just a couple of drinks.” He didn’t understand for years why he allowed her to manipulate him, or why she does it, but he’s made a decision important to his ongoing recovery: he can’t see her right now. He’s not sure he can tell her no, and he’s not at all sure she respects his efforts to stop abusing his body.

His boys are fully prepared to physically block her way to him, though I doubt it will be an issue. I don’t think anyone has told her that he’s coming home, so she’s not sitting there making plans. Once we’re there I’ll call her, and I’d like to see her for lunch or dinner, and I hope she’s not too offended by the fact that I won’t allow any access to Craig, and once I go home his kids will make sure it doesn’t happen.

And he’s not staying. One of the things we’ll do in the next few days is arrange to have his stuff packed up and moved, and then I’ll come home. After Thanksgiving his son will fly back here with him, because Craig does not want to fly alone. He’s fully capable, but he has a few doubts about being by himself in a situation where a few bucks will get him a drink or two. He’s fairly sure his internal dialogue will try to justify it as “just one drink” and he’s very aware now that just one drink will never be possible.

If you had asked me a year ago if I would be willingly bringing my brother this far into my life, I wouldn’t have even been able to laugh it off because that was a level of absurd too impossible to think about. But now he’s moving here, maybe not for good but for a year or two. It’s either this or move somewhere else, because he’s fairly sure that going home for good is the wrong move.

The thing that has been most helpful to him here, I think, is living with TK. With TK there’s no emotional baggage to pick through as there would be with me, and TK has significant experience in helping people pick through their personal crap. Their friendship is somewhat symbiotic; TK helps Craig with his addiction issues, Craig helps TK with his relationship issues. That’s something I never saw coming, because Craig doesn’t have the greatest track record, but apparently TK is learning from Craig’s mistakes.

This isn’t all about Craig, either. It started with him asking for help, but it’s turning out to be important to both of us, and not just important to our relationship as brothers. We’ve touched upon a few things that I’d frankly never considered as being pivotal in childhood development for each of us, though I should have. We seemed to have taken then same issue and gone in different directions with it, something both curious and little bit sad.

I’ll touch on that some other time.

But, in any case, we’re going home, me for a few days, Craig for a couple of weeks.

In No Particular Order

2010-11-09T18:54:00.000-07:00

The kids hate lunch at the new school; we're making them buy lunch for the first week to see how it goes.
I hate them riding the school bus; I did not realize it would be an issue, but I hate handing them over to the bus driver. I'll get over it.
They're still excited about the new school but it's only been two days.
Both have had far less homework; Kevin is a little ahead of the curriculum right now, but he needs the brush up, so that's all right.
PE is a joke, according to Rachel, but she likes her gym clothes. I never realized that was an issue. Shorts, t-shirt, it looks the same to me.
Kevin likes PE; they played dodgeball today, and he's a hard target to hit.
Rachel likes that she knows kids in every class, and has friends in most of them; I like that she's come home smiling the last two days.
Kevin misses Elizabeth, but he'll see her in dance classes, and she'll be at the public school next semester.
We're taking bets on two things: when the first phone call from the old school comes regarding donations we typically have made every year, and how much longer the school will stay open. They shot themselves in the foot with the huge tuition hike this year. I am not inclined to support it anymore.
My apathy runs deep; none of us have set foot in church in a couple of months. Yet, if anything, we've noted the kids reaching towards religion on their own, something they didn't do often before.
Ski season starts soon. That has nothing to do with anything else, but we're all looking forward to it, and the boys have already hinted at wanting snowboards for Christmas.
Seriously thinking about taking the tuition money and putting a down payment on a place near one of the ski resorts. I have a feeling we'll be spending nearly that much on condo rentals anyway.

Cuz teh kidz knead an edumacashun.

2010-11-06T17:42:00.000-07:00

So.

While Char and I were flitting halfway around the world, getting acquainted with family I had not seen since infancy—and a side trip to visit my cousin's grave; his is a sad story I may someday share—and meeting Peter's family, Brad held down the fort here and stayed with the kids. And while he was at it, he overindulged them on a daily basis, claiming he was exercising his God-given rights as a Grandfather.

While we were gone, the last friend Rachel really had at school left for public school, and while Kevin likes his new teacher, the teasing and not-so-subtle threats continued from his former classmates. Rachel has just been miserable, and Kevin—while he says he can handle it and he's not worried or upset—shouldn't have to deal with any of this.

We promised the kids we'd take a much more serious look at their school situation when we returned, and we did. As is our right, even in this private school, we dropped in unannounced with the intent to wander around a bit and see what exactly is going on around the campus. What struck us both is that it's eerily quiet. A year ago the place was crawling with kids and the noise level was disturbing. Now, it seems like there are only half the numbers of students that there were. It wouldn't surprise me, given that tuition jumped 25% from last year to this year, to find out that enrollment halved.

Still, we didn't expect what we found. Rachel complained that she wasn't against making new friends, but there just weren't that many kids her age around. Given that she has her late grandfather's tendency towards hyperbole, we didn't think it was that bad, but in clearer perspective, it is that bad. There were enough seventh graders last year for three separate homerooms; this year there is one eighth grade homeroom, and it's not large. Most of Rachel's classmates are boys; she's as boy-crazy as the next 13 year old girl, but those aren't the kids she wants to hang around and gossip with.

The final straw, so to speak, came from Damien (yes, that Damien.) We decided to have lunch with the kids and he was there with his girlfriend, looking for Rachel. With Alex not there at lunch anymore, he's taken it upon himself to look after Rachel and to make sure she's not sitting alone all the time.

Trust me, I never thought I would be grateful to this kid for anything. But he has matured considerably in the last year, and is starting to think of others and considers how his impulses affect them before he acts. He struggles with it, but is trying hard (his father has related to TK) to stop being a boy and start being a man. I can appreciate that. While Char waited for Kevin, Damien pulled me aside and told me something Rachel never has.

She cries, nearly every day. He sees her in the morning before going to class, and she's usually teary-eyed as she heads to homeroom. Most of the time when he sees her at lunch, it looks like she's been crying. As far as he can tell—and he's been checking around—no one is picking on her or teasing her, she's just sad. His girlfriend says that from what she can tell talking to Rachel, she's just very lonely and every day feels like she's the new kid. Except, eventually the new kid makes friends, and three months into the school year she doesn't know anyone she feels like she can trust.

The older kids don't want to hang around the junior high kids. The younger kids are afraid of the eight graders. Rachel is floundering in a sea of boys just hitting puberty, and while she enjoys flirting with them, she doesn't see being friends with any of them.

Damien had a sense of why we were there, and just wanted me to know.

The thing is, Rachel has plenty of friends. Our house crawls with her friends after school and on weekends; it's not as if she lacks for someone in whom she can confide, and she texts like a maniac. All her friends are now enrolled in the public school, though, and something about being alone during the school day gnaws at her.

If it were a simple matter of the only thing wrong being that Rachel is lonely at school, we'd work harder at helping her find ways to cope. It's not a fatal situation; she has an abundance of friends and doesn't lack for contact with them. But we have become disenchanted with this school to a degree that makes it seem like more effort than it's worth to push her to suck it up and deal with it. And in the meantime, her grades were beginning to suffer.

Believe me, we went back and forth more than once, we spoke to the parents of many of her and Kevin's friends about changing to the public school and how happy they we were with the level of education their kids are getting, and across the board they seem satisfied. There is some teaching of the tests, but otherwise the teachers seem engaged and interested in what they're teaching the kids.

We gave them the final choice: stay put, or transfer to a new school. We realized that one might want to stay and another might want to transfer, and we were ready to deal with it, but both Kevin and Rachel jumped at it. So Friday morning we took them over to the school they would be attending and they were given a tour and assigned lockers, and after that we formally withdrew them from their current school.

Kevin will be there for the next two years; Rachel only until the end of this school year, but she didn't want to wait, and I can't blame her.

Alex, on the other hand, is sticking with it. If he transferred, it was unclear where he would be placed within the public school system, as a sophomore or a junior, and the way things are now he can apply to graduate at the semester break this year if he wants to. He has all his required classes and will be done with his electives, but he could easily stay put and graduate next year with the rest of his class if he wants.

I highly doubt that's what he wants.
Funny enough, as we were filling out the withdrawal paperwork, for the first time since Alex and Rachel started there, we were offered a discount on their tuition if we would keep them enrolled. There was no making the woman understand that money was not the issue (though I will be glad to not write that check this January) but the kids' long term happiness was.

The concept seemed foreign; kids' happiness? Should that even matter?

It does to me.

Dona Nobis Pacem

2010-11-04T00:09:00.001-07:00

They can stop now.

2010-10-30T17:41:00.002-07:00

Just before Kevin turns 12, Alex will be eligible to get his learner's permit. He is under the mistaken notion that this is a given thing, and that on the appointed day, March 2, 2011, he will be taken to the DMV where he will take, and pass, the exam necessary to begin the process of learning how to drive. Granted, our lives will become somewhat easier once he has his full license, but there's that time in between getting the permit and getting a full license that will present more headaches than I care to contemplate.

His best friend has a learner's permit now, and they both keep pointing out how wonderful life will be when Evan turns 16 and has his license. In their imaginations, Evan has his own car and they're driving all over the place, going to parties, going on double dates. The reality is that we have graduated licensing and with that comes restrictions and curfews, and that doesn't include all the parental rules that will be heaped on top of everything else. Their disappointment will be palpable.

Evan's parents have no intention of getting him a car; he seems to think one will magically appear in the driveway on his 16th birthday, no matter what they tell him. He's done nothing towards earning the money to buy one for himself. We have no intention of allowing Alex to ride as a passenger with Evan until he has more experience behind the wheel, and the penalties for being caught as his passenger will be steep. He's been told this more than once, but he's 15; it goes in one ear and out the other so fast that I can nearly see his hair float from the gush of wind it generates.

Don't get me wrong; they're both good kids and trustworthy, but I was a teenage boy with a new license. I remember how stupid I was, especially behind the wheel. I remember how stupid my friends were--and I'm looking at you, Thump--when it came to cars. My life would be easier if we allowed Alex to ride from the high school to the college every afternoon with Evan, but that's not going to happen this year.

I fully expect to re-earn my World's Meanest Dad trophy.

A year from now, however, Alex will have a license, and based on the cash he's saving, he'll have his own car. I was on board with the idea of buying another family car, one he could use for school and to run errands for us, but not one of which he had control. But, I made the mistake of telling him that if he saved up enough, I would not only allow him to buy a car, I would match his funds. That was before I got a look at his bank balance, and I've regretted the promise ever since.

This is the part of parenthood I never gave the full weight of consideration to: my kids are growing up far quicker than I would like. Alex is on the cusp of driving; Rachel turns 14 in January and based on what we did with Alex, we'll have to fully open the door to dating, and Kevin is speeding towards puberty and more pitfalls than I suspect I can imagine.

We're trying to hold on as best we can, but they're getting away from us, and dammit, they're laughing at us as they go.

Laughing until the first time Alex wants to ride somewhere with Evan, anyway.

Not really eavesdropping

2010-10-28T14:22:00.002-07:00

Last night Rachel stomped down the hall and loudly announced There's a LIZARD in my bathroom.

This prompted both boys to jump up and run down the hall to see for themselves; I got up, but being that it wasn't a rattlesnake or tarantula, I was in far less of a hurry.

Before I turned the corner toward her bathroom I heard this:

Alex: I think it's a gekko.
Rachel: KILL IT!
Kevin: No, don't kill it. I don't think they carry diseases and they eat bugs. And, you'll save ten percent on your car insurance.

I think this trumps the earlier overheard exchange between Alex and Stephanie:

Steph: I don't want to write this paper. The month is almost over.
Alex: October?
Steph: Breast Awareness month.
Alex: Really? I'm aware of yours every month.

Blowing off the cobwebs

2010-10-24T12:59:00.003-07:00

If you ever want to lose blogging momentum, go away for three weeks. It also helps if prior to that you're so busy trying to wrangle two teenagers and a kid who thinks he's a teenager that you just lose track of the blog.

My sister's wedding was wonderful. It was small the way she wanted, just family and a few friends, but it was traditional enough to make our dad happy. He finally got to give away one of his daughters, and before Nika and Peter left the reception (dinner party, really) he told his new son-in-law that returns are allowed, but there's a hefty restocking fee. And I think Peter is taking him seriously.

They took off on their honeymoon and Ian and I took off for Belgium, where he had some buisness to take care of. After getting the ball rolling on that we went to visit some of his family in Ireland. That was absolutely beautiful. He was born in a small coastal town but doesn't really remember much of it, so seeing things was as new to him as it was to me. He has a huge extended family and they made a point of coming together for a family dinner when we were there, even though he doesn't really know most of them. It was still fun, and felt a lot like home.

After that we met Nika and Peter in Johannesburg to meet Peter's family. I expected that to be awkward, but they were very welcoming and a little offended that we intended to stay in a hotel. we spent most of our time with them and didn't get out to see much, but that turned out to be all right. By the time we left they all felt like family, and we were certain that we'd like to bring the kids back next year.

After that we all flew into London, and I headed home with Nika and Peter; Ian had to go back to Belgium and is still there. The business he needed to take care of turned out to be stickier than we originally thought it would be, and I have no idea when he'll be able to come home, but he can't leave until he has everything settled.

I really would like it to be soon, though, because the kids feel like it's his job all over again, and even though he's just taking care of a personal business matter, they're all on edge. I swear, if one more teenager rolls eyes at me...Well, I'll call my dad and let him handle it :)

Learning to be clear

2010-09-25T18:39:00.000-07:00

I felt it wise this afternoon to remind the kids that while we are gone, there will be no spur of the moment parties, no "but we're just hanging out," and no blaringly loud music.

They looked at each other, then at their grandfather, and Alex said He's probably the one you need to say that to.

And he was right. So I told Brad there would be no parties, no hanging out, no loud music.

He's still pouting.

We have calm, sort of

2010-09-23T18:41:00.000-07:00

We have achieved a level of calm on the school front; Kevin is happy enough in his new class and the teasing has abated. This is mostly owed, I think, to the dawning realization on the part of his former homeroom classmates that their teacher is the sort who has to have someone to pick on, and now one of them is about to become her target. Instead of feeling vindicated, he worries mostly that whomever winds up in her sights won't have the support that he did, and her tyranny will continue without interference. He's probably right; she's not new to teaching and likely has a pattern of abuse that rides the line between being distasteful and worthy of being fired. She doesn't have tenure, but she's still there, making young lives miserable.

Rachel still isn't happy because she's lonely and doesn't quite fit in with the kids who are making an effort to be friendly; she grasps that the age difference right now is too much; they're all 17 and 18, and she's 13. She understands that they're being nice, but those friendships don't extend beyond lunch hour. She really only seems to come alive once she's home and is on the phone with her friends, or if they're hanging around here. We've been waffling on what to do for her; she desperately wants us to pull her out of school now and let her attend public school with her friends, but we think that this is important for her to face, at least for a little while. It's painful but it's not fatal, and we will address it further in a few weeks. We have options for her, and if she doesn't begin making friends, we'll do something more.

This isn't an emergency for her; she's not being threatened, her education isn't in peril. She's simply unhappy and lonely, and while we hate seeing her like this, it isn't something over which we need to leap into action.

The main concern we have is that while we're gone, all the kids will be safe where they are. Alex is doing just fine with his schedule and is doing well, so we're not terribly worried about him, and I'm confident Brad can handle any issues that come up with Rachel or Kevin.

The wedding is in a week, and while we're all looking forward to it, I also think we'll be glad when it's over. Peter and Nika will leave on their honeymoon Thursday night and Char and I will follow on Saturday. In spite of my initial reservations about going on their honeymoon, after the summer we had (very enjoyable, but extremely busy) and the stresses the kids' school has imposed lately, I think we're going to relish the time away.

Oh, and for the record, I can passably understand a few different languages, but that doesn't mean I also speak them with any appreciable skill, and I certainly can't read or write anything other than English. If you find me online using something other than English, I'm using Google Translator.

File this under things I SHOULD know about my husband

2010-09-19T20:26:00.002-07:00

Last night we went to my dad's bar to hang around for a little while; TK was bringing his new girlfriend and he wanted us to meet her. He knows better than to make it seem like he was seeing if she passed muster, though I think that's part of it. He's had a few girlfriends over the past couple of years that neither of us could stand (but we did honestly try) and that makes it a little uncomfortable when you're trying to hang out with a friend.

Everything was going quite nicely; she was personable and warm, though there was a little bit of a language barrier because English is not her first language and she doesn't understand some idioms. TK thinks it's cute. I thought she was funny and friendly, and that she was someone we could all get along with.

Then her cell phone rang and TK said she needed to take the call, because she was expecting one from her brother. She started to excuse herself from the table but Ian waved it off and said he didn't mind. So she took the call there, and as she spoke to her brother in French, I realized Ian's eyes had squinted just a tiny bit and then he was mostly expressionless. She only spoke on the phone for a minute or so before she hung up, and when she did Ian got up, reached for my hand, and said, "It was nice to meet you. I'm sorry you don't feel the same way, so we'll call it a night now and leave you two alone."

I was speechless and had no idea what was going on, and neither did TK, who started to follow us to the door with a "what the hell?" look on his face.

"She said," Ian told him, "that she couldn't beleive she was stuck in such a wretched bar with your idiot friends, and she couldn't wait to get out of here."

Now, here is where I should have been offended, but the only thing I thought was, "How did you understand that?"

You would think that after all these years I would have known that he can speak French. I didn't have a clue. And on the drive home I learned that he speaks a couple other languages; he can't read them, necessarily, but he can understand and speak them passibly.

I shouldn't be surprised, because his job used to take him all over the world and he needed to be able to understand what was going on around him, but I had no clue.

And now I wonder what else I don't know about him, and how I can figure it out. I think that's one of the things I like, that he can still surprise me once in a while.

Don't let her fool you--

2010-09-16T20:37:00.000-07:00

--she didn't just get up out of her chair in the principal's office, she had to be restrained from twisting Barbie's little Play-do head off.

There's no protecting them enough

2010-09-15T17:26:00.001-07:00

Over a week ago we "requested" that Kevin be moved to a different teacher's class, a request that's been pretty much shoved aside. Ian has been on it every day, getting excuse after excuse, mostly in the vein of "there's no space in the other classes," and "we have to find another student willing to switch." Which we both find to be total BS. Kevin assured us he could handle things until it happened, but we got a phone call yesterday morning from the principal, because Kevin refused to return to class after the mid-morning break. He didn't just refuse to go back to class, he went to the principal's office on his own and told her he would just wait there until she found him another teacher.

Fortunately, she has a sense of humor and does seem to get him. (She's also not the person Ian's been dealing with on this, but that's really neither here nor there.) The end result was us in her office with Kevin, and us all having to face down his teacher. The problem of the day wasn't so much that she's spent the week giving him grief, but that his classmates have taken her obvious opinion about him as permission to pick on him, and she's not doing anything to stop it. That part of it, we weren't aware of until we were sitting there listening to Kevin pour his heart out.

But before his teacher could counter, Ian held up his hand to stop her and asked Kevin quietly, "Why does it bother you if your classmates think that you're gay? Whether you are or not doesn't even matter, and their labeling you would only matter if being gay was offensive. It's not."

This is where Kevin gave us a major, major lesson in not only parenting, but political correctness. He was already upset, and everything that had been thrown at him and boiling in him was painted on his face in a red flush and I could tell he was straining to not cry. All I wanted was to pick him up and take him out of there, but I knew for one Ian wouldn't have let that happen, and that Kevin needed to get this out. And I'm paraphrasing his and Ian's conversation here, for the most part, but it's 99% on the mark.

"How would you like it if everyone started saying you were German?" he asked Ian. "You know you're Irish, but everyone keeps saying how German you are,"

"I think it would be puzzling at first and then annoying. But there's nothing wrong with being German, either, Kevin."

"But then what if they started saying it like it was wrong? And then they started calling you a 'kraut' or 'Jew baby killer?' There's nothing wrong with being German but it's wrong to call anyone those names. There's nothing offensive about being gay but when everyone is laughing at you and calling you queer and a fag, that's offensive."

Quietly, and just to Kevin, Ian said, "Yes, it is. Said like that, it's very offensive."

I think at that Kevin started to relax because he knew he had made his point to us and we knew just how upset he really was, but then his teacher opened her mouth and said, "Kevin, we just don't want you to go to hell."

I was out of my chair, Ian twitched towards her, but it was Kevin who exploded. "I'm not going to hell, because God's not as mean as you are."

I don't know what she was going to say to that, but when her mouth opened again Ian told her to shut it, because every word that came out of her was only fodder for a lawsuit; the principal asked her to leave, probably because what she worries about the most isn't that we'll sue, but that we really will pull our kids out of the school, and along with it the tuition we pay for all three kids and all those checks Ian writes throughout the year to support different activities. After some quieter discussion with Kevin about the things that have been going on in his classroom and the taunts he's been putting up with, she suggested we take him home for the rest of the day and that he would have a new teacher in the morning.

After Ian picked up Alex and Rachel later in the day, we got a phone call from the new teacher, who specifically asked to speak to him; she wanted to tell him how excited she was to have him in her class and that she was looking forward to seeing him in the morning. Ian and I relaxed somewhat because she was Rachel's home room teacher in 6th grade and Rachel loved having her, and we got along with her. Kevin had been very tense all day and relaxed quite a bit after that phone call, but he still wasn't looking forward to school today.

We dropped the kids off a little early this morning (he didn't want either of us to go speak with his new teacher yet) and Rachel went with him to introduce him to her old teacher. This afternoon he was obviously relieved, and asked if he could go to dance class today (he's missed several because he just hasn't felt like it.) Ian took him, and sat in the waiting area with other parents and some little girls, including Elizabeth, who were waiting to get onto the floor while the teacher went over some new steps with Kevin. The girls were watching him and talking about what had happened at school. Ian says he tried to mostly ignore it, because kids are going to talk, and he wasn't worried about what these particular kids were saying about Kevin, but just before the teacher gestured for girls to come onto the floor, he overheard Elizabeth say, "Well, he doesn't kiss like he's gay."

Ian was amused, but made sure he didn't let them know he had heard that.

The thing is, we know this isn't over. Kevin can relax a little bit, but he still has to face many of the same kids and all of the garbage they now think is fine to throw at him. We also know that we can't protect him from all of it, and that we shouldn't protect him from all of it, but right now, he's still just a little boy. We're not at all certain keeping him in this school is a good idea and we're exploring the options available for both him and Rachel. If he was 5 or 6 years older, I think we would encourage him to face this head on, but right now he's too young and the damage would be too far reaching.

But he really did stand up for himself in the principal's office yesterday, and even if it sounds like he was snotty, we're proud of him. He understands the difference between what someone is and what people say about it, and he understands fairness.

UndrMeanie

2010-09-11T17:46:00.001-07:00

Since the accident over a year ago, I've gained around 25 pounds, and none of it is muscle. This wouldn't be half as annoying as it is, but I'm married to a man who can pound back 3,000 calories a day and not gain a thing, or if he does gain it's all muscle. Now, he knows better than to point out the obvious to me, like get back to the dojang or put in a little more effort at the gym. Or even spend more time in the pool. When I complain about it, once in a while I see his eyebrow arch and I know he's thinking those things, but he usually keeps it to himself. Sometimes, things slip out.

My sister and I are both sweating out fitting into our dresses for her wedding. I know I've gained a few pounds since I bought mine and she says she probably has. A couple of days ago we made the mistake of commiserating with each other in front of Ian and Peter, and Ian off-handedly said, "Well, then put down the cupcakes." (For the record, we had cookies in front of us but I swear we weren't eating them!) He accepted being called a few choice names, and I thought that was the end of it.

But no, yesterday I got home from picking the kids up and what had he done? He made cupcakes! He swears it was a coincidence, but I think we all know better. He's just a little shit.

Time in a broken bottle

2010-09-08T18:03:00.000-07:00

We're giving serious thought to finding a new school for the kids. Several of their friends are already gone, their parents moving them from this parochial setting to either public schools or charter schools; between the transportation headaches for Alex, Rachel not giving a damn one way one the other about school in general, and Kevin having a teacher so homophobic that she's hell bent on forcing her own warped version of what a man is on him, we're questioning the value of keeping them there.

The dissatisfaction has grown from a small kernal of wondering what the hell was starting to happen over the last few years to full blown, WTF this year. The level of education has been above acceptable, that level has been how we've justified the expense, but how the kids are being treated, and how they feel in the current school climate is what bothers us so much. We can deal with Alex having to be carted around all day in order to get his classes in; technically at the end of this semester he can apply to graduate. He has all the credits he needs and will have all the required classes. We've encouraged him to stay in order to have the full high school experience with his friends, but as his friends trickle out the door there are fewer reasons for him to remain there. Half of his friends are doing what he's doing: three classes at the high school in the morning, then being picked up and taken to the community college for the rest of their classes. The other half of his circle of friends is comprised of kids who have left in favor of public school, and a few who are there because their parents are either ultra-Catholic and approve of the climate change, or they're on scholarship and don't want to lose that. He doesn't seem to think it matters particularly what he does; his friends, for the most part, live nearby and if we allow him to graduate he won't lose his social circle. Some of the other things we worry about on his behalf, things like the experience of going to the prom, he says he'll still have. Even if he leaves, he can still go to those things with his girlfriend.

Rachel simply doesn't seem to care about school this year. Most of her friends left over the school year; a few moved, most are now in the public school, but the former friend reminding her day in and day out of how much her life sucks is the little shithead who broke her heart over the summer. She's a personable kid and usually has no trouble making new friends, but the joy of everything seem to have been sucked right out of it for her and she's not even trying. The one person who seems to be looking out for her after Alex leaves campus is, surprisingly, Damien. Yes, that Damien (this is a kid who has changed so much he really isn't the same person anymore.) Kevin says that no matter where Rachel hides in the cafeteria at lunch, or if she's at a bench outside, Damien and his girlfriend find her and sit with her, so she's not alone. But she is adrift.

Kevin, though, has the worst of it this year. This is the first year of junior high, an introductory year, which helps; the sixth grade kids have half a day with one teacher, and then they move between three classes with other teachers. His homeroom teacher, the one he is stuck with most of the day, has decided that Kevin is too effeminate and that it's her lot on life to get him to man up. Her words. "Man up." Without going into specifics, partly to protect him and partly because there very well may be legal remedy involved, she is embracing the Catholic line and seems to believe that her job and his soul depend on getting him to become just another testosterone laden pubescent drone. He was uncertain about her on the first day of school, less certain the second, and distraught by the third. I've already engaged in two discussions with her and another with the school principal, but I don't see her behaviors changing any more than I expect Kevin's to change.

He's had in-school suspension once so far, the school year only a couple of weeks old, for being overheard grumbling, "I'm not gay but you're a royal bitch."

The easy answer is to have him switch classes, and that's likely what will happen. But until that can be facilitated, he's stuck with a teacher who has made up her mind about him in an unfavorable light, judging him for who she thinks he might be and not who he definitely is. She doesn't accept my insistence that he is not old enough to really know who he is and that he should have the support and tolerance of the adults around him while he figures it out, nor does she agree that whatever he might be should be accepted regardless. We must, she seems to think, "pray for him." Unspoken: pray the gay away.

This may be our breaking point.

Alex is ready to move on, Rachel wants to be with her friends, and if the school refuses to support me on Kevin's issues--the likely scenario is that we'll move the kids to other schools. It would be the first time they haven't all attended the same campus, and the first time they haven't had each other to turn to at school.

We are having dinner with Elizabeth's parents tomorrow, because they have many of the same concerns as we do and many of the same questions, and as close as she and Kevin are, if she leaves for a public school, it might be better for his sake if he does as well.

Eventually, I think it's inevitable; it really comes down to when.

Really. What?

2010-08-04T16:46:00.002-07:00

Ian and Craig will be back here tomorrow; he's checked out of rehab and they're taking a day to just hang together, see a movie, whatever. I looked at several apartments but Craig but wasn't sure what he would really like, so TK offered to let him stay with him for a while; he may be the one person iuniquely qualified to deal with Craig. They know each other but not too well, and TK has a lot of experience dealing with other peoples' problems, leftover skills from his priestly days.

One thing Ian mentioned on the phone was that, even though Craig has a job waiting for him at home, he wants to work while he's here (probably because he's not sure he's ever going back, I think.) I mentioned it casually to my Dad, who right off the bat offered to give Craig a job.

My Dad runs a bar.

Craig is an alcholic.

I have no idea what he was thinking.

Anyway, they'll be back tomorrow and our lives are either going to relax just a tad more or get incredibly compicated. The kids are a mix of excited and hesitant; they want to meet Craig, but we haven't complately shielded them from some of the stupid things he's done, so they're understandly worried.

It'll be fine. Craig only gets one chance, so either the kids will have an uncle they really like, or he'll be gone so fast they won't have a chance to get burned.

But really, what was my dad thinking?

I Ramble

2010-08-02T12:00:00.000-07:00

This is our summer of being so completely non-busy that we're busier than ever. It's the first summer that we're both nearly always available to the kids, and the first time they've lived so close to their friends that it doesn't require major planning in order for them to hang out. Granted, there has always been a friend or two hanging around, but that also meant that someone's parents had to drive them all the way out to the sticks, and either Char or I had to drive them back later; that was time consuming and meant that the kids didn't do nearly as much with their friends over summers past.

Since school let out, this house has been dripping with kids. If we don't have plans as a family and we're going to be home, the kids' friends are here, hanging out by the pool, creating more noise than I really care for and eating more food than I thought was possible. But, it's not really a complaint. They're all happy and enjoying life as much as we hoped they would. With their friends hanging out here, we know where they are and what they're doing, even if what they're doing is compelling Char and I to do a hell of a lot of grocery shopping.

This is also Kevin's summer, apparently. He's grown, literally and figuratively. Last year he was still a small kid with child-like tendencies; this year he's half a foot taller, more mature, and losing that little boy look. He's gone from being a nearly shy kid to a very outgoing and social creature, something I don't think would have happened if we hadn't moved. Before, he had two or three friends close friends; these days he's a social butterfly, and better yet, those friends get him. They don't question his occasional affectation, they don't make fun of him when he points out their fashion faux pas; they also don't question why he is the way he is yet still seems attached at the hip to Elizabeth and damn near breathes her name instead of just saying it.

Too late in the summer, really, he decided he wanted to go to camp; we could have gotten him into the last two week session at the camp he wanted to attend, but we waffled hard. His friends get him; other kids might not, and while we know that sooner or later he'll have to face the cruelty that other people can sling at kids who are just a little but different, we just weren't sure that eleven years old is the right age to let him see just how mean people can be.

At the last minute, when we had to say yes or no, Alex told Kevin that camp without his friends would suck, so why not just have a weekend camp in the back yard? He could have a couple of his friends over, they'd sleep in tents outside, use the fire pit as a campfire, and Alex would be their “camp counselor.” There would be swimming, games, anything they really wanted to do, and he promised that none of his friends or Rachel's friends would hang around.

Kevin latched onto it; in the grander scheme of things, he would much prefer to hang with his friends, and if his big brother was going to personally assure a good time, then it was going to be awesome.

Out of necessity, I spent a lot of time this weekend just watching them. Alex and Kevin have the relationship I didn't quite have with my brother. Craig and I were close, sure, but there was always that something in between us, some river or resentment that neither of us could cross. It helps that there are a few years between my boys, and that Kevin looks up to Alex rather than competing with him; still, I watched them this weekend and felt a few too many pangs of what-if.

Craig is essentially done with this part of rehab. He can leave the facility at any time, but hasn't because he doesn't know what his next step should be. He still has a job waiting for him at home, but going home means going back to all his triggers, and the people who are more than happy to drag him back out of sobriety. He is, wisely, reluctant to do that.

He also hasn't asked me what I think he should do. But over the weekend, as we watched our kids entertain each other and Kevin's friends, Char and I talked about it. We both know Craig won't ask, because he feels like we've already done enough and that he should be able to figure out where to go from here. She and I agree, though, he shouldn't be expected to know for sure what his next step should be, and that he should be allowed some paralyzing fear. This is all new for him, and he'll need some support to make it work.

I've been reluctant to let him into my life, for many obvious and not very obvious reasons. My kids don't know him; that was not Craig's choice, but Char's and my decision, made before Kevin was even born. Over the years I've been certain it was the right one; the kids were too young to deal with his personality—though Alex has spoken to him on the phone often enough—and Kevin was far, far too sensitive to even try.

But, things have changed. My kids have changed, and my brother is working very hard at changing. We may never have the relationship my boys have, but we at least have a chance at some sort of relationship. I doubt it will ever be easy, but unless I let a wall down, we'll never know.

If you know me even remotely well, you know how hard it is for me to let anyone peek over that wall, let alone let them over it. But later today I'm getting on a plane so that I can be there when my brother “graduates” from rehab. If he agrees to come with me, while we get him checked out and get his personal stuff in order, Char will rent him an apartment nearby. He can keep working on his sobriety here, away from the things that keep sending him back to drinking and drugs, and with any luck, he and I can start rebuilding our relationship.

I am still reluctant to let him into my kids' lives; I don't think he'd pull any of the kinds of crap on them he has on me, but I'm still not sure what kind of chance he has to stay alive much less sober. But, so many things have changed in the last year—Char's sister showing up and how much she's changed, how the kids are thriving, especially Kevin—that I feel like I need to give him this chance, and by letting him into my life showing him I do have some faith in him.

I'll probably always think he's a damned idiot (still bitter about him trying to sell me to the nuns, I guess) and I'm not sure I'll ever really let my guard completely down, but if I don't give him a reasonable chance, who else will?

Alex gives Kevin chances all the time. He accepts his little brother for who he is and how he is, he embraces it and protects Kevin when he can. I've seen it over and over this summer, and it was so apparent over this weekend. I know there are times when Kevin annoys the hell out of Alex, but he still makes the effort to be what Kevin needs him to be, and I'm certain that's a part of why this has turned out to be Kevin's summer.

That's the least I can do for my brother. If I can't try to be what he needs, when he's trying so hard to be what I need, then I've failed on more fronts than just the brotherhood one.

How I Know He is FAR Too Involved With the Cat Blogosphere...

2010-07-17T13:31:00.002-07:00

I was out late with my sister last night, and Ian tried to wait up for me, but wound up falling asleep on the couch. It was around two in the morning and I tried to gently wake him, just enough so that he could stumble towards the bedroom, and as he started to get up he asked me, quite seriously, "Do you think that when his mom isn't home that Jeter really doesn't get his food mashed up the right way?"

"Who," I needed to know to get the bigger picture, "is Jeter?"

"Skeezix's buddy," he sighed, just short of rolling his eyes at me.

Well, of course, it all makes sense.

"Daisy is his girlfriend," he muttered as he stumbled down the hall. "Skeez's. Not Jeter's."

I'm glad I know that little factoid.

"She's a model."

It took a few moments for the whole thing to sink in; he wasn't talking about people, he was talking about some of his favorite cat bloggers. And while I enjoy a few of the cat blogs, too, I don't beleive I've ever had them quite so firmly on my mind.

Deep down, I think he really wants to know, though. Just how well mashed up is Jeter's food? ;)

Knot tying

2010-07-11T12:07:00.000-07:00

Char's sister, Nika, is getting married in October. What started out as them just wanting to get a few people together and run to Vegas to make it official and to party has turned into a small family affair complete with everyone having to rent formal wear or shop for the perfect dress, and a post-ceremony reception in which there will be an annoying DJ, dancing, and a buffet.

This isn't what Peter and Nika had planned on, but when the discussion over Vegas and would kids be included or not, would there be pre-ceremony drinking or not, Brad got very, very quiet, so quiet that it was hanging in the air and slapping everyone upside the head.

I didn't get to be there when your sister got married, and I was damned sure I'd never be there to see you get married. Since I get to see it, I'd like to see it done right.

“Right” in his eyes means the wedding dress, the giving away of the bride, and a minister overseeing it all, not an Elvis impersonator.

The couple has been living together for a few years and don't really care; they just want to finally make it legal. If Brad wants to see his little girl get married with, as he puts it, style and class, then that's what they're going to do.

What he didn't implicitly say, but Char and I both realized, was that he's actually a little ticked off that we rushed into getting married, and didn't take the time to have a “real” wedding ceremony. He would have flown across the country for it; at the time we didn't think he wanted to. So there's some guilt brewing around here, but there's nothing we can do about it now.

If there's going to be a real wedding, there's going to be a best man, matron of honor, bridesmaids, groomsmen, and a honeymoon. And all of that, too, has become a family affair.

Somehow, in the middle of talking about it all, Char and I wound up agreeing to go on Nika and Peter's honeymoon.

The whole concept of a honeymoon is a little outdated, don't you think? We just want to take a short vacation. Come on, this will be fun!

I don't find the concept outdated; I think it's not only normal but important for a newly married couple to celebrate their nuptials privately, no matter how many times they've already seen each other naked. I agreed to the vacation, but only if we meet up with them a couple of days later.

The kids are staying home; they're not happy about it, but hell, they'll get over it. Brad was invited, but that invitation was met with a snort of derision. He'd prefer to stay home and corrupt his grandkids.

It's something to look forward to, anyway. A few days away with Char, in a nice hotel room, even if I do have to place nice with the in-laws. That's a hardship, you know. Spending time with those people. Maybe I'll spend it drunk ;)

40

2010-07-03T22:10:00.000-07:00

Char began and is ending her birthday the same way: just a little bit drunk. Last night she and her sister went out with a few friends to start the celebrating a little early, and celebrate they did. She called home twice; the first time it was to let me know they had changed their plans and would not be going to a movie after dinner, and the second time to let me know that her dad makes the most BITCHIN' Long Island Iced Teas, and that the new backup bartender has BOOBS OUT TO HERE, and I really might want to drive over and take a look for myself, because, she's is so totally hot that I just might switch teams, but you can come watch.

She denies this now.

She was greeted this morning with a chorus of Happy birthday! from all three kids at once (hell, yes, they knew she'd be hung over) and after that she swore she was never drinking again (that lasted until Brad started making daiquiris.)

What she wanted most out of her birthday was a day with family; she didn't want a bunch of stuff (but don't look at me like that, because I bought her a motorcycle a couple of weeks ago and she threatened my junk if I bought anything else), she just wanted to spend it with the people who matter to her. (When she said that, she wasn't counting on having a hangover, but after some Motrin after breakfast and a really tall daiquiri she felt muchbetter.) We fired up the grill, watched the kids play in the pool, had several mock arguments over who got to hold the baby (her birthday, she won), and just enjoyed the day.

But right now she's a little bit tipsy and she and her sister are sitting out by the pool, having fits of laughter over Brad's girlfriend tripping over her own feet and falling into the pool this afternoon (they don't exactly like the woman) and Travis toddling around all afternoon pointing at people and squealing “You hotstf!”

(Hot stuff; when pressed to tell how he learned that, Erin just glared at Miko.)

Granted, Char isn't happy that she's forty, but then again, she is.

I just hope today was exactly what she wanted.

Every breath she takes...

2010-06-30T17:09:00.001-07:00

If I sleep tonight, I'll be surprised. If I sleep tomorrow night, I'll be very surprised. I fully expect that I'll sit up in bed all night long, listening to the sound of breath being inhaled, breath being exhaled. I expect it because all day I have been consumed with the realization that around 10 a.m. tomorrow, it will mark one year since Char drove through an intersection and was very nearly killed by a drunk driver going nearly 80 miles an hour.

Undoubtedly, the driver's family is going through their own agony, remembering that he blew through a red light at nearly 80 miles an hour, and like a bad game of craps, tossed down the dice that would forever alter the trajectories of two families. I don't dwell on them, to be honest. I'm sure that him being dead sucks, but had he lived it might suck worse. All I care about is what he did, and what he did was change my wife's life forever. He ripped her away from the path she was on and slammed her down violently onto another. She had no choice in the matter, but she will live with the consequences of his choices for the rest of her life.

Don't get me wrong; I am grateful beyond my ability to convey that she lived through it and that the aftermath was not far worse than it was. I waited for that other shoe to drop, ready to dive and catch it, but it never did fall. She handled the resulting nightmares well, she powered her way past a few paralyzing memories, and proved to me again and again that she is far stronger than I will ever be, and that she has more grace of forgiveness than I ever will. But as grateful as I am that she wasn't killed and that we have the hope of many, many years to come, I am still angry that it happened in the first place. I am angry that so many choices were taken from her.

She would tell me to let it go; she has told me to let it go, but that hasn't been something I've been able to do. The truth is, if the other driver hadn't killed himself, I probably would have had to be physically restrained from causing him permanent physical harm. I'm not proud of that. But the heartburn of anger has made me realize that my capabilities to cause great harm could likely not be held in check.

Char usually brushes the changes off as nothing; she reminds me that our lives are, in the dying wake of the accident, better than they were. The kids are happier; they're thriving in the new neighborhood and in the availability of both of their parents. I am, aside from unexpected moments of being pissed off, a much calmer person than I was before. Char is more direct with me; she says what she wants and she makes sure I understand how important some things are to her.

But she had to give up a lot. She says it just isn't as important as it was, but I know she misses teaching TKD. She misses jogging with me; hell, I miss her jogging with me and as a result don't get out nearly as often as I did. She hates the reactions she gets from people who haven't seen her since the accident, and she hates the lingering pain. We all hate that the pain is likely permanent.

So yes, I am still angry about it. I haven't been able to let it go, give it over to the universe, whatever. While I am grateful that she was able to create so much good from the turmoil, bringing our family even closer together, I still resent the way it happened.

I resent the hell out of the grandiose selfishness the idiot who hit her must have had.

But, I am grateful. And a year later I am amazed at how far she's come, how far we've all come, and how worth it the fight to get here has been.

She spent her 39th birthday in ICU, too drugged up to speak, in too much pain for more than moderate awareness. This year, her 40th, when she probably would have been complaining about it being forty, we're all celebrating that she gets to turn forty. The woman could have anything she wanted, I would do anything she wanted to mark the occasion, but all she wants is her family around her. she wants to spend the day with the kids, her father and sister and almost brother-in-law, and with our niece and grandkids and You're-Here-Again? Dack and Theresa and TK. So that's what she's getting; she doesn't want stuff, she wants us.

And cake. A very large spice cake sprinkled with cinnamon and powdered sugar, and God help anyone who get in between it and the birthday girl.

But tonight, there's a very good chance I will sit up in bed to listen to her breathe, and trust me, I will treasure every breath she takes.

Just so there's not an entire month without a post

2010-06-26T14:20:00.000-07:00

We've been busy. Not mega-busy in the sense that we barely have time to breathe let alone sit down and blog, but busy in the sense that we're all more wrapped up in family time and the sheer joy of not having a ton of stuff hanging over us, that to be honest, blogging never occurs to either of us.

I have stray thoughts of I should blog that when the kids do or say things, but it never seems to make it past that transient thought.

Still, the summer so far in a nutshell:

Alex's plans for a summer semester of college fell through when the classes he had enrolled in were cancelled. He was upset and unhappy for a day or two, until he realized that the free time meant potential employment and more time to hang around the pool with Steph, and 500 of their friends.
Alex is working for his grandfather two days a week; his job is mostly to scrub the hell out of the restrooms at the bar, move stock from one spot to another; anything away from the alcohol, and he's the scut slave. So far, he loves it; he's saving for a car.
Rachel is living life with her cell phone glued to her hand, texting so much I think she's developing calluses. Because, OMG, not seeing anyone for five full minutes requires IMMEDIATE ATTENTION. Half of what she texts is still to SETH! who seems to spend an inordinate amount of time here.
Kevin is entrenched in the dance school; I don't think he's stepped foot into the dojang since school let out. He's taking every dance class available to him, and survived a week of Dance Camp. He was also very disappointed that one does not go away to a sleepover dance camp, it's more of a day camp type thing.
This house is crawling with teenagers and tweenagers every damned day. If there are fewer than 6 kids that don't live here, I'm surprised. If there are 10 or more, I'm not surprised. They all at least call before they show up, but Char has an open-house policy for the kids' friends when we're home, so they're always welcome. But frak, they eat like crazy and were feeding them all
The sheer volume of kids was a good excuse to buy a bigger grill.
Char turns 40 in one week. There must be a party for that ;)

Hopefully it won't be nearly another month until there's another post.

(this one was written with some Thumpa-help, to be honest.)

2010-05-27T22:08:00.000-07:00

The oldest two have been grounded this week; while arguing is not forbidden here, getting physical is, and I walked in just as Rachel tried to kick Alex in the groin and as he blocked the kick and shoved her back. I don't care what the fight was about; I care that they struck out at each other. So their first week of summer vacation was spent grounded.

They were pissed off for the first day, but settled into the fact that they weren't going anywhere they wanted to go and they weren't texting, emailing, or talking on Facebook with their friends. They each got one text to let Stephanie and Seth know that they would be out of touch for the week, but that was it. The only way out of the house was with a parent, and any incoming phone calls resulted in Char or me taking messages.

I have to admit, they were pretty well behaved for a couple of grounded teens, and the level of drama in this house was fairly low for the entire week. But with the sheer amount of time that they had, without the distractions for friends and homework, when boredom set in they started paying attention to their parents, and they started asking questions.

Several nights ago Kevin spent the night with Brad, and the other two decided they wanted to play board games with us. Scrabble. I don't relish this game with Alex, because he wins every time I wind up feeling a little bit stupid for the difference in his and my vocabulary. That night was no different; he played the board like a master and created words that I was sure were made up but weren't.

On the other hand, I know I'm going to lose to him, so I tend to relax and just let it happen; when I relaxed, so do the kids, and they start talking. We got to hear about that last week of school, the fun injected into classes after the exams were over, and the friends who wouldn't be returning to school next year because they were either moving or transferring to public schools.

Eventually, they wanted to know about the friends we had when we were growing up. Were we still friends? Did we keep in touch? And since then I've been thinking a lot about high school and the people who mattered.

The reality is that I only keep in touch with one person from my youth. There would be two, but the person I connected with the strongest, and who was my best friend from eighth grade on, died when I was 20 years old. For a long time I was sure that my first born son would be named after him, until the time came to actually ponder baby names and the only other person from those days convinced me he would have hated that.

Anyway, the kids wanted to know about him. What he was like, why we were friends. Did I think we would still be friends even today? Would they have liked him? Did I still miss him?

Yes.

Truth be told, it's not as if I think about him every day. I still miss him, but it's been 29 years and the pain of losing my best friend has faded from sharp to wistful. I don't doubt that we would still be friends today; I strongly suspect that he would have followed the same paths I took in life, although he came weighed down with a lot more baggage.

As the kids picked my brain about him, I realized that his life was a good lesson for them. He represents the sharp divide between having been loved and searching for love. He was adrift in his own family, virtually abandoned to raising himself, and because of it, he made choices that he otherwise wouldn't have.

In intellect, Alex reminds me a lot of him. By our junior year he was emancipated from his parents and living in the dorms at a local university, having graduated early. But he ached for family, and what he couldn't have by right, he tried to create. When he was sixteen, newly emancipated, he got his sometimes-girlfriend pregnant, and in trying to do what was right, he married her.

Yeah, at sixteen.

He wasn't in love, but he wasn't going to walk away from his child, not after having been left behind by his own parents. But he was just sixteen, and struggled. He dropped out of school and scrambled for jobs that didn't pay enough for rent let alone food for his new family. He lived on adrenaline and the generosity of his friends' parents.

Even so, he had a future. He hit bottom and was climbing his way back up with a job that gave some relief, and after the birth of his son he was offered a scholarship. There was hope.

And then there was a horrific car wreck that ripped his family from him. Where he wasn't in love when he got married, he did love his young wife, and his son was like breath to him. He was seventeen years old, and lost everything.

He could have given up, but after nearly a year of agony, during which he had hidden himself away from life so well that we all really did think he'd gone off somewhere to die, he resurfaced, determined to live. He still wanted what he had been cheated out of twice, he wanted a family. He wanted to grow up more, finish school, get the golden job, and then find someone.

When I started college, he transferred and had stepped onto that path with me; we had the same terms to our scholarships and the promise of post-college emoployment. By my sophomore year, his junior, he had solid plans. He knew what he wanted, and he was pretty sure how he wanted to get it. And an idea of with whom.

We were nineteen, and we had everything to look forward to.

He was nineteen, and he felt a lump. And he ignored it. He never mentioned it to anyone, not until it was of a size that was so uncomfortable that he had to tell someone. He went to my father first, and didn't fight it when my mother dragged him off to see a doctor.

Nineteen. He'd been abandoned by his parents, married, fathered a child, been widowed and had his son ripped from his life, and he was suddenly looking at a diagnosis that gave him only six more months to live.

If he had paid attention to that lump and asked for help early on, he would probably be alive today, because even then testicular cancer had a high cure rate.

I do think of him often enough that the unfairness of his life stings; He died when he was just twenty, and his son should have been three and a half. But I also don't think of him often enough that when I do, I feel a little guilty. He wanted what I have; he deserved what I have.

None of that even comes close to saying why we were friends, and the kids are still picking my brain about him, looking for stories about why we were friends and what we did to get into trouble together.

But where things fell short for him, that's what I've been thinking about.

I want the kids to grasp how much promise he had, and how a few bad choices made getting anywhere hard as hell, and I want them to see how hard it was for him to get to the few places he was able, and how horribly things can go wrong. Because when you're sixteen and you crave love that badly, you just don't see how anything can go wrong.

Countdown to Thursday

2010-05-17T12:08:00.001-07:00

A cliche as it is, the last 10 days have been busy as hell. Between work on my dad's house, field trips, dance and TKD classes, and helping Alex and Rachel prepare for finals, we're tired enough that ten o'clock rolls and around and we just fall into bed. This is the last week of school, though, and today is the last field trip to chaperon. I went on three last week, two with Kevin's class (zoo and museum) and one with Rachel's class (museum) but Ian went today: to the amusement park. He agreed to go, I think, because 1) there's a ton of junk food there and 2) Rachel really wanted him to.

He also went because the Parent In Charge asked him to, specifically. Seventh grade boys aren't all that intimidated by the moms that typically go on the field trips, but they're usually wary of Ian and do what he says. The kids like him because he lets them get away with a lot, but he's physically intimidating enough that when he tells them to do something or stop doing something, they listen. Not that they don't complain, but they listen.

I may wish later I'd tagged along, but frankly after last week, I've had enough for this school year. The field trips were fun, but wrangling all those kids is very tiring, and it just makes a person realize that there's no amount of money good enough for the teachers who deal with them 5 days a week.

I'd like to go to bed now

2010-05-07T00:27:00.000-07:00

Yep, long week; I am borderline exhausted and would really like to be asleep right now. I was, in fact, for an hour or so, but Mz. Horny Hands pushed her way to the middle of the bed and is now lying there with arms outstretched as if awaiting crucifixion. She's also snoring lightly, but it sounds like angry bees are about to sprout forth from her head and I don't really want to be right there if they do.

So, I got up and risked waking her up by turning the computer on. I doubt the sound of typing will wake her; she's used to it by now, although it's been a long time since I've crawled out of bed in the middle of the night.

Fortunately, Brad has to work tomorrow, so I won't be dragging my sorry ass over there to haul his construction crap all over the place. This is going slower than the other renovation work we've done; a bathroom is more involved than the painting, floor work, and wall moving we've done. It's slowed a little more due to holding back on certain aspects because Brad wants to teach Alex how to do some of it, which means we'll be doing some serious work on Saturday.

Tomorrow, also, TK returns from his mini-vacation, and I think the students will be happy about that. I've been a tired grump during classes this week and rather than teach I've been conditioning: they work out hard while I stand there and pretend I'm doing it for their own good. I don't have to pay such close attention to technique during conditioning classes, I only have to make sure no one gets hurt.

Only one person had to leave the floor to throw up, so I'm not convinced it was a successful week.

Char is right, however; I'm not sure why we ever thought spending so much time on the dojang was a stellar idea. It certainly lacks importance to us now.

A week full of Mondays

2010-05-05T18:41:00.001-07:00

Busy doesn't even begin to cover the last few days. Between Ian and my Dad practically demolishing part of his house and the beginning of the rebuild, the kids all needing to be taken to dance, TKD, the library, and them needing help with year end projects, trying to get things done around our own house, and having Erin and Miko and the kids over, I don't think we've had much chance to just sit still since Saturday.

Ian has been running ragged, helping my Dad completely rip out one of his bathrooms, and they're taking the construction slowly because Alex wants to learn how to do everything, and he's been filling in at the dojang so that TK can take a few days to spend with his kids sans Mom; I think I saw him for all of 45 minutes on Monday and maybe an hour yesterday, and he won't get home tonight until after 8. It reminds me too much of when he was working and I was teaching at the dojang, and I'm not liking it at all. I really don't know now why we sandwiched our family life into such a compressed time frame for so long, and why we thought it was even remotely worth it. I really would like to find the us from 12-13 years ago and slap the living daylights out of them with the warning that the dojang is not worth all the time it will take away from family.

At least we figured it out before the kids were full grown and it was too late.

I'll be glad when this week is over.

Hope, just a little bit

2010-04-29T21:13:00.000-07:00

In old movies and TV shows, Dad comes home from a trip and the kids all run to the door to greet him, happy and excited, asking Did you bring me anything? I walked through the door today and Rachel barely looked up, Alex grunted, and Kevin was bellowing Turn, turn turn! to whatever video game he was playing.

Char walked in, and was greeted with a chorus of Hi, Mom!

I see how it is.

Craig is all right. He's not great, but he's not awful; he's right on track, although some physical issues that have become apparent are giving him fits and starts. They still haven't fully addressed his blood sugar issues, and I'm not sure if they think it will stabilize and they're leaving it alone for right now or if they're waiting for some magic number, but they are keeping track. He's lost quite a bit of weight because he hasn't been able to keep much down, but yesterday he was able to eat, which perhaps not so coincidentally coincided with him finally starting to open up and talk.

My brother has some deep issues, most of which I was unaware, a few that I was acutely aware of. A few that directly involve me, and some that are indirectly caused by me. But he's talking, unpacking the baggage, so to speak. Even when he's out of rehab he'll be in therapy for a long, long time, I think.

Something that really jumped out at me: he started drinking when he was 13. That's Rachel's age. He hadn't even gotten through puberty and he was getting trashed on a fairly regular basis. He had no clue then what stepping into the party lifestyle would do to him as an adult, or how it would mold the decisions he would make in regards to simple things like homework, graduation, going to college or not. He resents the hell out of realizing that he drank his way out of any chance of getting a scholarship, effectively drinking himself into only having a high school education when deep down he wanted more. He resents the hell out of the idea that of all three of us, I was the only one who went to college; he knows I went on a scholarship, but it's muddled in his brain as me being the chosen one, the golden boy our parents anointed with a baccalaureate degree and a job clear across the country.

I had what he wanted: the degree, the job, and the girl. He has no idea what getting that degree cost me, why I agreed to the terms of the scholarship and the job, and I won't tell him because it wouldn't help anything; it's enough to know that even though he does understand that the road I took was nothing personal, to him it felt personal. To him it felt like I was getting it all, and he was getting a minimum wage job bagging groceries.

And the girl; he despises the fact that I dated Kathy all though high school and then married her. She was the one thing that mattered more than anything to him, and he always held out hope of "someday."

He also knows that hoping for that someday never made much sense. He married very young, too, had three boys, and in spite of himself tried hard to make the marriage work. When it didn't, it was just another thing he felt like he'd screwed up.

His list of things he thinks he screwed up is long, and it's a bit self-pitying, but I can understand that. He's barely scratching the surface of himself and has a long, long way to go.

He wanted to know how many times he's been in rehab, and I couldn't answer. Six? Seven? Twelve? I know he's tried it more times that I've strong armed him into it, but this is the first time I've ever felt like he's committed to it. Even so, right now I'm only giving him a 50-50 shot at carrying this off. He has too many demons, and while he accepts his own role in most of those, the weight of it all might be too much to bear.

Still, I have hope. This is the first time I'm not hearing excuses from him. He knows he stated this 37 years ago, when he was too young to accept that first drink, but he no longer blames the person who gave it to him. He's embarrassed for the things he's done and ashamed of some of his behaviors, but most of all, he's talking and it's not coated in BS.

And yes, he is the charmer and flirt Char mentioned, but that is who he is. It's been a part of his personality since he was very little. He very well could use his charm to gain trust from some woman, but to his credit that hasn't been one of his worst traits; I think I've mentioned before that he is very respectful of women, careful and considerate. It's with other men that he can be a real son of a bitch, where the drinking escalates and the testosterone rears its ugly head. He knows this; he knows he has to work on it.

But, 50-50, and to be honest, a year ago I would have guessed he had less than a 10% chance of ever being sober for more than six months at a time.

Vee Hav Vays

2010-04-28T16:48:00.001-07:00

I've had some good reminders over the last couple of days on why I don't want to be in the position where Ian feels like he has to draw something out of me. He is very, very good at sitting down with someone who has something to tell but doesn't want to and getting them to spill it without them realizing that he's gently manipulated the conversation into going in the direction he wants. I've watched him these last couple of days sit there with his brother and his brother's counselor, and draw out of him things he just didn't want to talk about or couldn't bring himself to talk about; they've all been issues the counselor has tried to pull from Craig but just couldn't get him to talk about.

Ian makes it feel like such simple, social conversation, but for whatever reason, he can subtly nudge things into getting him the information he wants. I don't quite know how he does it, but he knows it's as skill he has, and I never want to be on the other end of it (anymore than I already have been; I'm sure he's gotten me to talk without me realizing it before.) He's usually not persistent about it; he doesn't manipulate the kids into talking about things they don't really want to talk about and wouldn't unless he thought it was critically important, but they probably wouldn't realize what was happening until they'd already told him what he wants to know.

I don't think Craig realizes what Ian has been doing, but he's talking to Ian and letting the counselor listen in. This afternoon I wasn't sure if my being there was a hindrance or not (because Craig is really getting into some deep territory) so I came back to the hotel to call the kids and then kick back for a while. It hasn't been all super-intense picking at Craig's brain; at least from where Craig sits it's been more like his brother happily came to visit, has taken him out on a pass to get some lunch and just get out for a little bit, and like they're just getting to know each other again. And I'm starting to see how they were when they were kids; they were very close then, even if they fought a lot, and I can see how easy they can be with each other. I can also see how much Craig loves Ian, and how very jealous he is of Ian. There's a lot of conflict there, like he doesn't quite get why he wants their relationship again, but resents it all the same.

We're going to head home tomorrow; Craig seems to be all right and even managed to eat and keep food down today, and Ian will come back once in a while when he thinks Craig needs him to. I'm not sure how often I'll come with him, but I've been very surprised to realize just how charming Craig can be and how much I actually like him.

I promised him I wouldn't abandon him...

2010-04-25T22:17:00.000-07:00

It's been, what, a week and a half since Craig entered rehab? This past week has been a flurry of activity for him, most of it medical and mental health screenings, and he's not doing as well as he had hoped. His blood sugar is all over the place, he's still having issues eating without nausea, and they had to remove a polyp from his sinuses.

He's an addict; there was a question of whether he should take pain medication afterward or not. He didn't think it mattered, because it's been a long time since he was able to feel anything from narcotics; I'm guessing that's because his liver is probably barely functioning.

In any case, he feels like shit, sounds worse, and needs someone. So tomorrow Char and I are heading out for a few days, for moral support if nothing else. I don't know what we can do for him other than talk to his doctors and find out how he's really doing, and then just be there for him, but that might be all he needs right now.

The things heroes are made of

2010-04-23T18:11:00.000-07:00

Char and I sat in the warmth and dryness of the car while we waited for school to let out; it was rainy and heavily windy, and as the kids practically fought their way across the parking lot, hair whipping around wildly, Char mused that it was time to take the boys for haircuts.

I reminded her that Kevin wanted a mohawk.

Her sigh was tinged with resignation, but she nodded and said it was fine; everyone else was right, the hair would grow back if he hated it. Her only caveat was to not get the sides shaved; he could have the mohawk, but only sort of. Leave a quarter inch of hair, two to three on top, so that if he really hated it, we could cut it and he'd still have hair.

Worked for me.

I dropped her and Rachel off at home and took the boys to the barber. This guy has been cutting their hair as long as I can remember; I don't think he gave Alex his first non-parental haircut, but it's been almost that long. He's as old as Moses, but he keeps up with trends, and neither of them have ever had a problem decribing what they want.

Alex keeps his hair on the longish side; it's never been down to his shoulders, but it's thick and just long enough that it drives Brad nuts and inspires the occasional "Alexandria" comment. It doesn't matter to me; he can grow it as long as the school dress code allows as long as he keeps it clean and combed. I don't even watch as he gets it cut; he's long past the age where he needs supervision or permission for what he wants.

Kevin, on the other hand, at least needs to check with me before the scissors come out. He sat next to me while Alex went first, and once Alex was in the chair I told him that his mother had agreed; he could get the mohawk as long as the sides weren't shaved.

He sighed much the same way Char had, and said No. Elizabeth thinks it would look weird and everyone would make fun of me, so I don't want one now.

Telling him that what everyone else thought didn't matter was pointless; he's eleven, he cares what his friends think. But, he didn't want the same "little boy" haircut; he had no idea what he wanted. While he waited for his turn, he looked though a few books, and didn't find anything he liked.

And then Alex was done.

He came into the waiting area, his hair now nearly military short; trimmed over the ears, seriously tapered in back, just a little bit longer on top. He looks a little older even, and far more serious.

Kevin went wide-eyed and asked quietly, Can I copy your haircut?

Alex grunted Sure as he flopped down into the chair and Kevin damn near floated back to get his hair cut. That Alex didn't mind being copied meant a lot to Kevin; he still has a bit of hero-worship going on for his older brother, and there aren't many things he can copy from Alex.

But the haircut, that was one, and I don't think I've ever seen him so happy to have it done.

Where Alex looks a little older (he didn't need that) and a little more serious, Kevin looks like a preteen trying hard, but it suits him.

On the way home, Kevin reminded me that we'd said that if he could save enough money to get his ear pierced, he could do it. And he asked Rachel, who told him it only cost her fifteen dollars to get hers done, and That was BOTH ears!

I agree; we had said that.

I have twenty dollars, he informed me. Can I still do it?

Char might get upset, but we'd agreed to it, so I told him yes, he could still do it--but not today. Give Mom a little fair warning.

And ask Elizabeth if it's all right, Alex teased.

Kevin just smiled. Elizabeth, it seems, loves the idea. She thinks he should get a tiny diamond stud at first, and then get a hoop later.

You'll look good Alex assured him. If it really looks good, can I copy you?

I'm surprised Kevin didn't explode with joy right there in the back seat.

So tomorrow after school I'm taking them both to the mall, God help me, and letting Kevin get his ear pierced, and in all liklihood, Alex as well.

I bet Alex checks with Stephanie first, though.

I would.

Leaning left liberally, yet somewhat conservatively

2010-04-22T20:29:00.000-07:00

Lean to make it move, Thumper had said. It's like a motorcycle, Thumper had said. Lean left to go left, lean right to go right, Thumper had said.

About ten minutes on the Trikke, and I decided Thumper was full of shit.

I leaned left, I leaned right, and that damned thing didn't budge. I pushed started, jumped on, and leaned left and then right, and it came to a rolling stop.

Alex, the shit, looked it over, jumped on, and took off. And when I tried to get him to tell me how, he launched into a mathematical explanation involving angles and axis that, frankly, hurt my head. When he was done showing off his brain, I sighed, In English, and he barely managed to avoid rolling his eyes and said, Turn the wheel a little as you lean.

He showed me in slowish motion, and something clicked.

I managed to move that sumbitch about ten feet before it stopped.

By the time Char threatened to leave for dinner without us, I think I was going up and down the street at a reasonable pace, even if I did look stupid doing it.

Today, I managed to ride it almost two miles, and might have gone longer but rain rolled in and the wind picked up, which meant putting it away.

Char bought two Trikkes for my birthday, knowing I would want company. And she was right; this is something fun we can do together. So today she rolled hers outside, asked me to explain and then show her, and dammit she got on and took off.

Lean and skate, she said.

Yeah.

I remember when she couldn't skate for shit; she'd never even been on skates when we were dating, and I can't skate to save my life, but I managed to keep upright and teach her the basics.

Now, she's taking those principles and making me look bad.

But I don't mind, not really.

I am going to make the Trikke my bitch.

Eventually.

49 :)

2010-04-21T16:10:00.000-07:00

Ian is not typically a birthday person; he grumbles about it every year and I think the only reason he ever celebrates is because of the kids. We make a big deal over their birthdays, and they think we should want to make a big deal about ours. This year, Ian actually hinted very strongly about what he wanted (“Hey, look what Thumper got. I want one! My birthday is coming up. I want one!”) and he teased Erin incessantly about having her baby on his birthday.

When her water broke yesterday, aside from turning into Hyperactive Boy and wanting to take her to the hospital right that moment even though she had no labor pains, he started to actively look forward to this birthday. He was getting what he wanted most, to meet his newest grandson, and even admitted that it was better than Erin had him yesterday instead of today, because that meant she would be discharged today, barring complications, and knew she wouldn't mind letting him spend an hour or two with his newest greatest love.

I let him sleep in this morning while I took the kids to school, woke him up when I got home and made breakfast for him, and gave him his present. The Trikke he was coveting so hard (well, and a second one; I know him, he'll want company as he rides.)

My dad took delivery on it for me, because hiding something here just wouldn't work. Either one of the kids would spill it, or he would find it, and I wanted at least the illusion of surprising him. My dad also assembled it before bringing it over this morning--”He's a little kid, he'll want to ride it as soon as he sees it”--and he hung around to see just how “that contraption” works.

Which was all well and good, except for the fact that Ian couldn't make the damn thing move.

Fifteen minutes of “What the hell do I do?” and he was online trying to get help from Thumper, who apparently got the hang of it right off the bat, and then spent the next hour watching videos on You Tube, until Erin and Miko showed up with Thad.

I think he forgot about the Trikke until they left for some much needed rest, and the kids were home from school. He showed the Trikke to them, explained how he thought it should work; Alex looked at it for a few minutes, asked if he could try it, got on...and took off.

It took him about 10 seconds to get it moving and another half a minute to be zooming up and down the street.

Ian was pseudo-upset for about 10 seconds, until he realized that Alex could probably get him moving on it.

Rachel tried the 2nd Trikke and could get it going slowly; Kevin not at all but he's still a bit short for it. Me, I'm not even trying today. I decided to let them have their fun, and when they're at school tomorrow Ian can show me how.

They're spending the rest of the afternoon outside playing (and how cool is it I can actually tell Ian to go outside and play?) and then we're taking him out for dinner (Red Lobster. Where else?) For someone who is usually pointedly unenthusiastic about his birthday, I think he's having a great time, but he's been warned: the bar has been set pretty high for mine.

Happy Birthday to Me, a day early

2010-04-20T18:37:00.000-07:00

Erin came over this morning after dropping Toni off at school; the plan was for her and Char to get some last minute, pre-baby shopping done, and to stock up on groceries neither she nor Miko would feel like shopping for over the next few weeks. She was getting uncomfortable pregnant and didn't want to have to shop for more than essentials until after the baby was born, and with two weeks to go, it seemed reasonable to stock up on non-perishables. After all, she had grocery runners living a couple blocks away if she needed us and just couldn't bear to pull herself up and get the kids ready to go out.

That all sounded good, because I wasn't being forced to go and was going to get to spend the morning with Travis, until her water broke in the middle of our kitchen.

I was ready to pick her up and slam her into the car and race to the hospital; both she and Char were a little too calm, looking at watches and declaring there to be plenty of time. Erin called Miko and told him she'd be heading toward the hospital "in an hour or so" and Char called Brad to ask him to pick our kids up, and then to swing by Toni's school to get her. Erin called Miko's mother to come get Travis; she was content to babysit and wasn't going to spend all day sitting in a waiting room and preferred to watch her grandson. You couldn't have kept me away from the hospital, even if all I did was sit in the waiting room.

It took me an hour to get those women out the front door, and then another 20 minutes at Erin's because she "had" to have her laptop, Kindle, change of clothes, focus object, and probably a six pack of beer, judging by how big the damned bag was.

I was fully prepared to pull the car over and deliver that kid right there on the side of the road, she was moving so slowly. I did ask her to just cross her legs tightly and hold on for another 18 hours or so, just so that he would be born on my birthday, but holy shit, that girl has a mouth on her. I have no idea where she gets that from.

So instead of getting final baby things and stocking up on groceries, Erin and Char spent the day watching TV while Miko and I played cards and snoozed, until Erin stated matter-of-factly, Well, I think it's time.

Half an hour later, 9 lb 2 oz, 21" long Thaddeus Nicoli Kosta popped out into the world, and after getting their own very long look at him, his parents graciously allowed Char and I to count his fingers and toes and proclaim him one of the 6 most beautiful babies we've ever seen.

Baby Thad will get to go home tomorrow, but because it's my birthday, Erin promised to stop here first, so that I can properly welcome my newest grandson into my life.

Where everybody knows your name

2010-04-18T22:33:00.000-07:00

Brad runs a bar; long ago it became the place we go when we want to shoot a game of pool, and it's got a small but decent area for half drunken dancing near the jukebox. We know the bartenders and the waitresses, and we know when the better nights for being there are; Saturday night is not the best night for a middle aged couple that long gave up drinking for the sake of getting shit faced and who don't grind on the dance floor. Still, it's where we went last night. Mostly out of habit.

The kids decided we needed a night out and chipped in to get us a gift certificate to Red Lobster, and then got Brad to pick them up and keep them for the night. It was a sweet, if not underfunded, gesture; we went out to dinner, then headed for the bar, not thinking that it was Saturday night and we would likely be the oldest non-employee people there.

Char wanted to shoot some pool; I don't mind losing (which is good because she always wins) so why the hell not? We had to wait an hour to get a table, just long enough for her to get a couple drinks in and just a little tipsy. It was also just long enough for the frat boys to notice her, tune me out, and develop a dozen kinky fantasies about the older woman who defines MILF.

They watched her move tentatively around the table at first, shooting less than spectacularly, and watched me win the first game of nine ball I think I've won in ten years. And then they started positioning to play against her. I backed off; I knew what they didn't, that she's been playing since she was three years old, long before she could even reach the top of the table without help.

She shot sloppily through the haze of a couple pf margaritas, but once the buzz wore off, she was on fire, and those boys decided to play her for money.

If my wife was less honorable, she could have drained them all, but she played for $2 a game, and no one lost more than $10 to her.

And somehow, I wound up paying for all their beer.

By the time I managed to get back at the table, she was on fire, and destroyed me in 3 straight games of nine ball. She offered to switch to eight ball, not that I do any better against her at that, but by then the sub-30-somethings were all drunk enough that they weren't grinding all over each other near the jukebox, and I took the chance to get a little closer to her.

Those kids? All they could do was watch, knowing that the hot MILF that had mercifully not emptied their wallets was obviously into the old guy who had just sat there and watched; I took some perverse pleasure in knowing they all understood that they'd been played with and set aside, and the old guy was the one she was going home with.

She can flirt with the frat boys all she wants; they wind up frustrated, and I get the girl.

Trying to be fair

2010-04-16T21:43:00.000-07:00

We've reached a parental impasse. Kevin made a request; Char said there was no way in hell and I said, Sure, why not? She doesn't want him doing something he'll be picked on at school for, I don't see the harm.

He wants a mohawk. And an earring.

The kid is smart; he's not whining or begging. He just asked and is waiting for us to come to an agreement. I checked the school's dress code and there's nothing in there prohibiting either; he might run into problems with an earring, but I've seen other boys on campus with them.

Char's logic is He's eleven!

I think we'll have other battles to dig our heels in on; save it for those.

He's eleven! Plus, I'm his mother, dammit!

I can't argue with her playing the mother card, but come on. It's hair. It's not permanent.

(No, I won't go behind her back and take him to get his hair cut, and this isn't an actual argument, but one of us has to give sooner or later, and I'm a stubborn son of a bitch sometimes.)

We don't have to be fair, we're the parents

2010-04-15T22:05:00.003-07:00

Ian got home late Tuesday night/early Wednesday morning and was exhausted, so I let him sleep while I took the kids to school I don't think he stirred until almost noon, and he spent the rest of the day stubbornly refusing to get dressed; if he put clothes on, he might have to do something productive, and productivity was not on his schedule.

Fine; I didn't mind and didn't have anything for him to do, though I did ask him to wear a shirt to the dinner table, but it was off fifteen minutes later.

At eight o'clock he was standing in the kitchen, reaching into a high cabinet for Rachel, when Alex wandered in wearing nothing but boxer shorts.

We've never really had a rule about being fully clothed outside of bedrooms; as long as the goods are covered, we've never said anything and it's never bothered any of the kids until now; Rachel sighed hard and asked dramatically, "Can't any of you guys put pants on? Do you have to walk around in your underwear?"

Ian annoyed her even further when he looked down at his baggy shorts and grumbled, "I'm not wearing any underwear."

In the middle of her over-acted sigh of despair Kevin headed into the kitchen, just in time to hear her say, "If I see one more boy in his underwear, I think I'll scream."

She turned around, and Kevin dropped his pants. She didn't scream, but instead stomped off, leaving a trail of complaints about the male gender behind her.

I have to be honest, I had to work very hard at not laughing at Kevin's quick thinking, but there's a new rule now: no one walks around the house pantless anymore.

The boys didn't mind, but I'm willing to bet Rachel has a few choice words the next time she walks from the bathroom to her bedroom wrapped in a towel and Ian or I tell her start dressing in the bathroom.

That will just be unfair.

His first step will be the hardest

2010-04-14T19:55:00.000-07:00

My ex-wife's death was Craig's tipping point; within an hour of being told of her death he was at his favorite bar (with our sister no less) drowning every might-have-been he felt. Usually a functional addict, this time he couldn't hold it together and wound up calling in sick, then taking vacation days, before realizing that he really would die if he didn't stop.

He doesn't know what made the light bulb go off, but says he had one clear moment of hearing his own voice in his head, telling him he didn't want to die.

So he tried to go it alone, and thought he had quit enough times that he could do it again and make it stick, and went nearly two weeks without drugs and without taking a drink. He doesn't even really remember buying the bottle of bourbon, he just knew when he was sitting there staring at it that he had to call someone who would care enough to talk him out of opening it.

He didn't think I'd get on the first plane I could, but I had told him a long time ago that when he was serious about it I would be there.

I'm not sure rehab will work, not even as badly as he wants it. There is so little of himself left in him that I don't know what he has left to fight with. I don't know if he's physically strong enough, and I don't know if the damage he's done to his body is something he can overcome. He can't eat without nausea, and his liver has to be shot by now. But, this time I'll be in his corner, because this time I know he means it.

Over two days time I spent more time talking to him that I have in the last ten years, I think. I have a better idea of when and where he derailed and how powerless he was to stop it. I also feel somewhat badly for him; he was a royal douche about it, but he loved Kathy more than I realized, but he had no idea how to approach her maturely, and the guilt he felt over having feelings for her at all pushed him into doing so many stupid things that I pushed him out of my life.

He is responsible for all those stupid things, but at least I better understand it.

I don't know if our relationship is reparable, and all I could tell him was basically, we'll see. He's not going anywhere for a long time, and I will go visit him a few times while he's in rehab, but I can't promise him what he wants, not yet.

I was able to honestly tell him something he wanted to hear. He's a fucking idiot, but I love him anyway, and I won't abandon him.