Kobayashi Maru

So this morning we got up to find even more snow on the ground.  This is not incredibly had to comprehend since we live in the proverbial Frozen North.  But it always adds a layer of complexity to driving for me (growing up in Texas, we didn’t get a lot of practice with cars and snow) as well as adding at least two layers of clothing (especially on Ferf and the Muppet).  So we start the day a little behind the 8 ball on time, as Ferf wants us to leave early to get the Muppet to school on time and to ensure that we have enough time allotted to crawl forward at 5 mph in case the roads are slick.

So while trying to get the Muppet to shotgun a bowl of cheerios, we were concurrently putting her fully clothed body into a full body snowsuit with straps over the shoulders and a separate snow jacket.

Then we had to put the snow gloves on and then the hat over the ears and then the Pièce de résistance - the snow boots.  The boots have to go on last, but the snow pants have two parts and the internal sleeve of them is supposed to go inside the boots, while the outer sleeve goes over the boots, thus ensuring a warm and dry foot experience.  The whole thing breaks down when said sleeves bunch up inside the boot causing consternation for your four year old because it is “uncomfortable”.  Then your wife tells her to stomp her feet a bit and it will all be better.  And then it’s not “all better” and the tears well up in you little girl’s eyes and she says, “fix it Daddy.  You’re a good fixer.”  And you wonder how in the heck you are going to “fix” this - again, with a background that includes Texas heat and where “layering” meant you did this with your shirts:

But undaunted, I tried moving things around near her boots and pulling up her socks a little more, and of course, none of this worked.  So I employed that old stand-by that has worked for years with children and less intelligent older people (of course I don’t mean you…I’ve never done this with you) and changed her focus by mentioning the fact that there was lots of snow on the ground and if the suit was uncomfortable, we’d probably have to stay inside today and not go play in the snow.  In fact that sounded like a great idea - it’s warmer inside and we won’t catch a cold…and about this time the Muppet declares that it all feels much better and Daddy fixed it, cause he’s a good fixer, and we should get to school so she can play in the snow.

Mission Accomplished.

And then we got in the car and drove (slowly of course) to school.  When we pulled to a stop in the parking lot the Muppet slid down from her legally required booster seat

and started scrunching her face up in obvious discomfort.  She wiggled her bum around a lot and then said, “Mommy, my panties are all up in my bum!”  As she says this, she keeps rubbing her mitten covered hands over her multi-layered covered bum and trying to grab anything so she can tug on it, and having nothing even remotely resembling success.  I am in the driver’s seat with a serious smirk on my face, trying not to laugh out loud because I know this is semi-serious to the Muppet.

I did however, in the interest of disclosure, sneak a smile at Ferf as she opened the back door to get a better handle of what was going on.

She asked the Muppet, “can you wiggle it out?”

Muppet: “No mommy, it’s way up my bum.”

Ferf: “How can I help you baby girl?”

Muppet: “Pull them out!!”

Now again, the Muppet it wearing a coat that covers her down past her bum.  She has on snow pants that go up past her bum, under them she has on pants with a shirt tucked into them and of course under that she has a pair of panties that are making a run for it up her tail pipe.  SO, Ferf gives the briefest of exasperated looks (heh, I said brief) and then pulls her hand out of her warm gloves and proceeds to burrow it up the jacket, down the snow pants, under the pants, up the shirt and finally (evidently) finds the offending area.  She looks at me and says, “wow, they really are way up there.”  Then she (evidently) gives some helpful tugs on the pinched material.  As she goes in for another pull (from what I could tell from the outside) the Muppet says, “That’s enough mommy!”

And I can only guess that Ferf either:

a) did not hear her

OR

b) thought that she would make really sure that they were fully extricated from the buttocks and not just “enough”

Because the Muppet says, “MOM - that’s enough.  Please pull your hand out of my pants!”

I felt like I should comment at this point, so I jumped in with, “Anything over two tugs is considered inappropriate!”

Then I fell into laughter and Ferf grinned and the Muppet just looked somewhat put out.  But at least her bum was comfortable.

I say all this to say that this is yet another example of how to know when your wife has truly made the transition from woman to wife to mother.  When they are willing to selflessly and unhesitatingly uncover their hands to bare skin and then reach down and grope around a 4 year old’s bum so that she can pull bunched panties out of a butt crack.  THAT IS MOTHERHOOD!

I love my wife.

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If any of you would even remotely self-identify as a loyal or consistent or even semi-occasional reader here, then you are somewhat acquainted with my Uncle Bobby.  He is one of my mother’s older brothers with whom I lived one summer after my folks split up and before my momma made the move up to Bivins, TX where we would live my junior year in high school.  Anyway, you can refresh your memories of him by reading that previous post.  Many of you know that he has been battling with cancer and organ rejection and other such medical issues for a while now.

This morning I got the call that I knew was going to come.  Marvin called to let me know that he passed away this morning in his sleep.  He had been in the hospital for a stretch recently, and in fact, they had not expected him to come home from there.  But true to form, Uncle Bobby is not going to let anyone tell him what to do, so he recovered enough to go home.  (Although it was assumed that it was really just to be made comfortable.)  His brothers and sisters had a chance to go visit and see him “one last time.”  His son and daughters, his grand kids and great grand kids all had that chance.  Quite the gift.

Having someone die is never easy.  I know.  I have had lots of loved ones pass away in my life.  We often will try to ease the loss by looking at it from their point of view i.e. Uncle Bobby was quite sick and in both physical and emotional pain and this really is best for him.  Or we see them in Heaven in a much happier place, and I know that Uncle Bobby is there now.  But all of that notwithstanding, losing someone you love sucks.  It hurts.  It is hard.  The moment of them dying is like a beginning of hard moments that we live through from that point forward.  Christmases they are not here for, anniversary dates, momentous occasions that we can’t share directly with them.  Each of them is a sharp prick to the heart that is unseen but deeply felt.  It seems that my calendar is becoming filled with these memory moments.  Make no mistake, every memory of a loved one gone is bittersweet.  I love that I have those memories, but it is with some sadness that I enjoy everyone of them.  It is with a tinge of longing that I think about every moment that I spent with those I love(d) and a part of me wishes that I could go back in time.  I am not really sure what I would do there if I could though.  I have been lucky (or intentional enough) so that I have not lost someone AND felt like I haven’t told them I love them or let them know how important they are to me.  So going back in time is more complicated for me.  It would literally be simply for my benefit, but then I would have to leave everything here to do it, and it begs the question about how long would I stay there, would I make the same choices, and would I screw up the space-time continuum, and multiple other quantum physics issues that I am not as well versed in as I might like to be.  Suffice it to say that I just wish I had the people I have lost here with me again.

It would appear that unless a miracle of bail-out proportional sizes appears in the next few hours, I am not going to be able to get back down to TX for the funeral.  So, I am left to grieve here.  Without the extended family that is so comforting in such times.

And yet, I have to wonder.  Times like this force one to think.  Deeply.  About many things.  But today I choose, from among those many things, to think about Uncle Bobby.  I chose to remember every smile of encouragement he gave me.  I chose to dwell on his words of affirmation that he poured into my life, and the many sentences he spoke to me that all started with “aww hell boy” and ended with a life lesson that helped make me the man I am today.  I chose to be thankful for the time I was given to spend with him.  I chose to focus on the memories of him singing Marie Laveau because that is something that has brought a smile to my face since I was a kid.  I want to spend some time thinking about the man he was and the man he wanted me to be.

Sometimes there are people in your life (some might be family, or some might be friends, or some might be both) who through circumstance and timing speak into your life at a time when you are most susceptible to listening.  Call them a mentor or adviser, coach, counsellor, guide, instructor, teacher, trainer, tutor - call them whatever you want.  They are people that no matter where in time or space you are.  No matter what you are doing or thinking about doing.  No matter how foolish you are certain that you are.  They are the ones that you know, that you know that you know, believe in you.  They are the ones you think about in your heart before you do whatever it is that you are going to do.  They are the ones that in your mind you hear tell you that you can and will succeed and give you the courage to try.  They are the ones who ignore the facts when you fail and tell you to get up and do it again.  They tell you that they have “had worse cuts than that on their eyeball” when you think about giving up.  They are the ones who put bourbon in your coke before your mom comes into the room and winks at you and says, “when i was your age, I had a gun in my hands.  No reason why you can’t have a drink in yours.”  They are the ones who want you to know that they think you are a man before you do.  They are like my Uncle Bobby.

Our culture really doesn’t have rites of passage anymore for men.  We graduate and wonder if that rolled up piece of paper makes us a man.  We get hair on our chest and wonder if that makes us a man.  (well, if I had hair on my chest, i would have wondered.  Back off on the smirk their mister - grass don’t grow on a playground!)  We get married (eventually) and wonder if that makes us a man.  We have kids and figure, if I am not a man at this point, I am not sure I’ll ever be one.  Seems like other people know you are a man before you do.  My Uncle Bobby was the first one to see it in me.  He was the first one to talk to me like it, and challenge me like it, to treat me like it.  I am not sure I can really explain HOW he did that.  He didn’t do anything drastically different than anyone else at the time.  It was just different with him.  I could, and did, talk to him and sit out and watch the sun go down with him, drink the occasional beer with him, and just see it in his eyes.  And that is the single most powerful communication that a boy can have.  It is when someone you love and trust gives you that look that you somehow just know.  You know that you know that you know.  A stake is driven in the ground and some kind of spiritual ley line emanates from it and ties you to that place and that person.  Uncle Bobby was that for me.  That one place that I knew I was tied to.  The place that I would always measure my travels from.  The place that everything could be compared to no matter where I went or what I did.

For the rest of my life, no matter what I do (and I plan to do some pretty bodacious things) I will always wonder what Uncle Bobby would do, but I will never wonder what he’d think.  And I know that it would start with, “aww hell boy” and end with that look.  Thanks for everything Uncle Bobby.

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So maybe the unusually lengthy title implied the intent of this post.  Or it is possible that some of you are still a little confused, or maybe you just really don’t trust me not to pull a bait and switch on you.  Whatever the reason, you have already read this far and I have not gotten around to getting to the point.

So, point.  No wait, context.  Let’s go context first.  Ferf called me today at work and asked if there was anyway I could pick up the Muppet from preschool.  Now this is not a difficult thing for me necessarily, as her school is literally 5 minutes from my office - ok, 7 if I hit all three lights on the way.  But 12:30 is hardly high traffic time - even with the normal lunch rush type commuters on the roads.  But it is not a normal request for her to make of me.   She almost always picks the Muppet up from school.  Since she doesn’t work at that time of the day…you know how it is with Passion Coaches, they work the strangest hours.  Anyway, in the interest of full disclosure, I should tell you that I hesitatingly said yes.  You know how it is, one of those slowly and haltingly stated “suuuree hun…”

One of those comments that implies an affirmative, but concurrently denotes a “why are you asking me this????”  But in a very kind way of course.  Because one wants their wife to know that they would indeed do anything for them, but that having said that, you don’t really expect them to ask.  Honestly, one never really expects someone to cash the proverbial blank check.  But Ferf, she has been known on occasion to cash that check.  And this was, obviously, one of those times.

So I dropped everything I was was doing…and therefore should really apologize to the world for poverty and world hunger still being in existence…I was so close to solving it, but alas she completely broke my chain of thought, and for the life of me, I have not been able to get it back.  Nonetheless, I did leave work and go to pick the Muppet up from school.  I drove up, parked, got out, and walked into the school to sign her out.  As I stood there in the hallway, outside her class, surrounded by other moms of students I realized that I was the only dad there to pick up his kid.  Not that big a deal for me, I can handle it.  So I lean back against the wall and stand there silently.  I do this because I am totally not sure about social protocols in this circumstance…so I thought about other social protocols that I am familiar with.  In both elevators and while standing at urinals it is proper to not make eye contact or make conversation.  SO even though I was not going to be changing floors or peeing on them for that matter, I figured strong and silent would work for me.  The moms seemed somewhat understanding of me and for the most part left me alone in my strong and silent ethos.  When the door opened, the Muppet was the first kid they let out.  She lit up like a Christmas tree, said “DADDY!!!” and ran to me, threw her self into my arms and hugged me.   (yes, it was the perfect thing to play into my strong and silent thing I had going.  I am absolutely sure that in that moment, every mom there wanted me.   But I digress)  In her hands she had a picture that she had drawn and in her excitment she told me that she had drawn it to give it away as a present.  I was about to ask her who she was going to give it to when she walked over to the front office desk and said, “excuse me” to the school secretary, Mrs. Barbara.  Then she told her that she had driven a picture of a continent and wanted her to have it.  As she explained to her which continent it wasi n great detail, one of the moms said - I think to both me and the other moms who were watching this intently - “she’s going to grow up and be class president one day.  You can just tell.”  The other moms smiled and nodded and even verbally agreed with her and looked at me with encouraging eyes.  It was a freaking Hallmark moment for these people and all I could think was…”CLASS President!?!?   CLASS???  Are you freaking kidding me!?  Wanna set your sights a little higher there toots?”  But I looked at her with a gentle smile and said, “awwww thank you.”

After the Muppet gave her masterpiece over to the Mrs. Barbara, who taped it to the wall by her desk, she grabbed my hand and we started walking to the car.  As we were walking across the parking lot, the Muppet looks up at me and says, “Daddy, guess who I sat with at lunch today?”   This is not an uncommon question for her to ask, as her school puts different kids next to each other each day to encourage diverse friendships.  So, I said, “I don’t know baby girl.  Who?”  And as I close the car door she says, “Eric.”  As I walked around the car to my side, I thought, “huh.”  And, “who the heck is Eric?”  And, “have I ever heard this name before?”  And, “I should ask Ferf if she knows a kid named Eric.”  And, “I’m starving…I can’t believe that Ferf called me last minute to do this and I didn’t have a chance to grab lunch.”  WHAT?  It is what I was thinking…

But once I got in the car and started it up, I had already forgotten all about those thoughts.  I was already thinking ahead to getting back to work once I dropped her off with her mom.  But the Muppet’s train of thought had not skipped tracks.  No, she was sitting there in the back seat with a big smile on her face, and said, “Daddy, guess who I sat next to at lunch today?”  This brought me back to where I was, and I said, “hmmmm…was it Eric?”  She lit up and said, “How did you know!?” with genuine excitement.  I told her that Daddy’s know everything.  Then she said, “You know what Daddy?”   To which I replied, “Talk to me Goose.”  And she said, “every time I look at Eric I think I about being married to him.”

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For all the dads out there, I can tell you that I did not wreck the car.

I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I tried “strong and silent”.  And that got me a repeat of the line because the Muppet thought I hadn’t heard.  So once again, I got, “every time I look at Eric I think I about being married to him.”  I nodded and said, “yes dear, I heard you.  That’s really nice.”

I am never picking her up from school again.  I don’t care what Ferf is doing.

And Eric, if you are reading this,  dude, I will kill you if you even THINK about her.  Don’t even try to play the “innocent 4 year old” card with me.  I’m serious kid…

I figure I have a lot of years to perfect that speech and a lot of young boys to scare the hell out of, but for now, I will keep it short enough that even a 4 year old can understand.

Ferf still thinks it was cute.

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SO I was listening to Dr. Dave Currie the other day talk about Christmas.  It was not your normal Christmas sermon, homily or summation.  It was more like deep thoughts on Christmas.  He suggested 10 gifts that are not normal nor really expected.  So I share them with you and maybe even add some extra thoughts…

1. Gift of Affirmation - write a letter to a person telling them how much they have meant to you.  This gift is particularly important if there is reason to believe that the person you are writing to is going to be celebrating their last Christmas.  Dave had spoken to 2 people this week who thought that this could be their parent’s last Christmas.  I suggest that you not wait that long to do this.  Whoever has really made an impact in your life, that is who you should be doing this for.  Believe me that it will mean more to them than anything you could possibly buy them.  It doesn’t have to follow any particular format.  Just tell them that you love them, and WHY.  The more specific you can get, the more impactful the gift will be.
2. Gift of Encouragement - send a little card to someone just to encourage them.  This is not the same as the longer and more thought-intensive gift of affirmation.  This is simply a little card to say, “Hey, I’m thinking about you and I like you.”  It’s like a quick note on a Facebook wall, but because it is hand written and snail mailed, it means more.
3. Gift of Your Presence - drop in on someone.  Again, this gift is particularly important if the person is a shut-in.  Someone who cannot get out and see you.  The elderly and the infirm are the very best recipients of this gift, but other potential people are those you haven’t seen in a long time, old friends that you have lost touch with, or family members.  Down South, we like to call this “goin’ a visitin’”.  Don’t even call ahead.  Just show up.  Bring them a coffee, or bring nothing but your own smiling face and some free time to focus on them.
4. Gift of a Phone Call - this is for those who are not close enough to go visit.  Reconnect, reminisce about days gone by and just appreciate them for their friendship.  This is extremely easy to do, but somehow we all neglect it.
5. Gift of an Invitation - add a place setting at your Christmas dinner table and invite someone who is away from their family.  Everyone knows someone who is not able to get home this year - especially with the economy being what it is.
6. Gift of Forgiveness - within your own family especially, identify a hurting relationship and seek to reconcile with that person.  Possibly the hardest of the gift suggestions.  In fact, most people would rather spend money on a gift…
7. Gift of Blessing - write a card or note to members of your immediate family to share why you love them.  Call it a Blessing and then bless them with your words, emotions and heartfelt thoughts.  Personally, I think you should do this verbally IN ADDITION TO writing it down.  The written piece can serve as a reminder, but nothing is more personal that standing in front of someone, putting your hands on their shoulders, looking into their eyes and speaking love and blessing directly into their soul.
8. Gift of Gratitude - email someone who has been important in a specific area of your life - a mentor - and thank them for the part they played in your learning.  For some of you, this will require some thought as to who is a mentor in your life (or who has been in the past).  But once you figure that out, then you can do this with some ease.
9. Gift of Cash - random act of kindness to someone who is tight financially and could use the help.  Put some money (how much is really unimportant) in an envelope and put it somewhere they will find it (preferably where no one else will find it first).  No note, no nothing.  Just a gift of that which they need.  And believe me that no matter how strapped you are right now, there is someone you know who is worse off.  That is the unfortunate truth in this world.
10. Gift to God - spend 2 uninterrupted hours alone with God to thank Him for your life and everything in it.  Yes, I know 2 hours is a long time.  Yes, I know that 2 uninterrupted hours is even more difficult.  I don’t care.  The suggestion stands.  Just say yes and do it, or say no and don’t.  I’m not the one you’re giving it to (or not giving it to).

So there are some serious gift ideas.  They don’t cost much, if anything, at all except some thought on your part.  That is what makes them so special.  That is why they are more important that something you can buy.  And why I’ll be expecting lots of these from all of you.  I’m kidding….as far as you know.  But in case you are concerned that I am not, then I will accept any and all of these. Except the last one.  Even I am uncomfortable being confused with God.

Merry Christmas!!

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Now seems like a good time to break into song…

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I love musical interludes…

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So I got sent this link today and I have found it to be one of the best videos I have ever seen.  I wish every church in North America could see it.  I am providing this for you to watch and then we can discuss it.  Tell me what you think!
[youtube]D7_dZTrjw9I[/youtube]

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Some of you might have noticed that my list of links has been paired down in the last little while.  And this is surely true.  I had to make hard decisions last night, like:

• CNN or syndicated re-runs
• vanilla ice cream or a reeses peanut butter cup
• facebook or reading a book

And lastly

• who to keep in my links list?

Why, you might ask, did I have to do these things?  Why pile up such momentous decisions and do them all at one time?  Well, because I am not one to flee the difficult decisions in life.  I would make a stellar President of something I would think…

But, I have those links there because those are things I actually like to read.  So, that being said, why on earth would I take them away?  Well, some because they stopped writing.  They just weren’t committed to the blogging world and their readers (at least me anyway.  they weren’t committed to me.  and that just hurts too much to see the link sitting there every day.  mocking me.)  And some because, they don’t link to me.    I know.  I admit a shock as large as yours.  It’s hard to believe, but it is true.  And lastly, it is bacause I am ready to expand my repertoire of blogs that I read.  Oh yes, I do read them.  I am a blogger on both ends.  I write and I read.  I go both ways like that.  But not like that - you sicko!

SO.  I am going to open it up to my reader(s) to suggest blogs that I ought to read.  Expand my horizons.  Enlighten my learning.  Point me in the way of enjoyment.  Show me the way.

Or just suggest some sites I ought to look at.  Try to keep them mostly inoffensive so I don’t have to hide them from Ferf or the Muppet.  But don’t send me to crap either.  Just cause someone is at home and has time and access to a computer does not mean they should be allowed to write, nor does it mean that I should read it.  I am not a pity reader.  And for those of you who read mine out of pity…I deeply thank you for being better people than I am.  The world is a better place for having you in it.  And I am humbled by the fact that you chose my little site as a focus for your pity.

So, let the floodgates be opened.  Let the recommendations fall where they may.  And may all of us be better for the exercise.  Or at least me.  Really, that would be enough.  If you get something out of it too, then hey, bonus!

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