Parenting Survival Guide

My son, the jewelcrafter

2011-01-07T18:53:00.001-08:00

Let’s start by showing off his work. For Christmas, Jules fixed up our wedding rings:

And he made this ring for his mother out of silver wire and a lab grown sapphire:

You see, in his spare time, Jules has been working at the local jewelry store. His interest in electronics and soldering has turned into an interest in metalwork, blacksmithing and jewel crafting. He has impressed the local jeweler enough that they’ve cleaned off their second repair station out, and it’s now his workspace. All that I knew … but he saved the big news until Christmas because he didn’t think it was such a big deal.

You see, the jeweler is so impressed with him that he has offered (verbally) to send him to school to be a jewel crafter, with a work contract on the flipside to pay it back.

One of my kids might actually get a real, paying job that has a possibility to grow into a career! Don’t get me wrong: I respect Adam’s passion for his music, Jory’s love for children, but neither of them has a career lined up.

I don’t know if my heart can survive the excitement!

aka: goofdad

PS: Bear with me … I’m really trying to get back into the swing of blogging again. It’ll be spotty at first, but I’ll get there! -- Doug!

Goodbye High School

2011-01-03T23:17:00.000-08:00

So, between the new job, then breaking my hand (don’t ask), I haven’t been blogging in well over six months. Now, I need to get back to it, so this is my New Year’s Resolution, and here goes with my first post:

Drop the bomb: I’m pulling my freshmen (Ethan and Topher) from the local Public High School. Read on for more info.

Both Ethan and Topher have been struggling. Ethan has been having headaches that we’re trying to sort out with his pediatrician. They’re debilitating headaches, so he’s been missing a lot of school. When I asked the school for make-up work, I got back incomplete assignments, assignments with no explanation, or in book assignments when the books are stuck at school because of budget issues.

Topher, on the other hand, got 4 teeth pulled and braces in, so he missed a lot of school. Then, when the holidays came, he started having some serious anxiety issues. This didn’t surprise me, but it did make life difficult. He just wasn’t sleeping. He’d sleep 1-2 hours a night, he’d be a young Zombie-Boy during the day, and he was turning into a grouch. When I kept him home, he got the same run-around over work that Ethan got. When I sent him to school, he spent more time in trouble than in class.

The final straw, however, came from “Useless” … the Dean of Students. I got Topher to school the week before Christmas … first time in days. I told him to be sure and get as much makeup work as he could, and make sure it was complete, so he could work on catching up over Christmas break.

But that’s not how the day went. I got a call from him 10 minutes after school let out stating that he had spent the whole day in ISS (In School Suspension). Turns out that because Julian had a hard time getting out in the morning, they were 2 minutes late, which on top of his other issues piled up to an all-day sit-in. Having already talked to the dean, having already talked to the attendance office about the issues we were having, I was expecting a phone call from the school in such circumstances. I dropped everything and went straight to the school (sometime I’ll have to tell you how much I love working from home!).

Everyone was in a staff meeting, and I stood in the office for 1/2 hour waiting to be seen “Almost Useful”, his counselor. This did nothing positive to my temper, by the way. When she finally did see me, the conversation went something like this:

Almost Useful: So, what seems to be the issue?
Me: Topher spent the whole day in ISS, and I was supposed to get a phone call from Useless when that happened. I realize I’m asking for special treatment for this kid, but given that he’s suffering from insomnia and anxiety over the holidays, and that he’s trying to make a stable life after being in 5 families in almost 15 years, I don’t think that that’s out of order.
Almost Useful: Wow … I’m sure if you had communicated with us about what was going on, some arrangement could have been made. Communication is the key to keeping things like this from happening.
Me: Really? Good, because I’ve been on the phone with an adult volunteer Every Day he’s been absent, I’ve talked to Useless about the fact that we’ve been having issues, and I’ve even turned in a note from his doctor stating that we’ve been consulting with them over these issues but they can’t see him until after Christmas Break starts.
Almost Useful: Well, this is the first I’ve heard of it.
Me: Then it seems that the communications failure isn’t mine, it’s the schools internally, yes?
Almost Useful: Well, ISS issues really aren’t my problem … look, here’s Useless now!

Sure enough, Useless was walking into the office as we spoke.

Useless: What’s up?
<skip rehash of what happened during the day>
Me: After our last meeting, you agreed that if something came up with Topher, you would call me to find out if it really was a discipline problem, or if there were extenuating circumstances (like, his brother) and help him get into class more often. Instead, the first I heard of him being in ISS was when HE called me after school? Could you explain that?
Useless: Well, we’re making those phone calls now.
Me: Don’t you think it’s a little late for that? How can he get his make-up work now?
Useless: Well, he should have come to me. I’d have figured something out.

<I later found that to be a lie. I found out that last time Topher was late for class because someone knocked into his head with their backpack on the way to class … right in the spot where one of his teeth had been pulled, Useless had told him “too bad, no more free passes” … but I didn’t know that at the time, it just reinforced my decision later>

Me: You mean to me that an insecure kid, with known authority issues, was supposed to approach you rather than you, as an adult, handling the situation?
Useless: Well, communication is a two-way street.
Me: Thank you! That means you both failed to communicate then, yes?
Useless: No. If Topher wanted this handled earlier, he should have come to me sooner.
Me: Then how is communication a two way street if it all has to come from him?
Useless: Well, you have to understand if he’s not my top priority. I have 1400 students to track.

Well, your honor, that was when I lost it. I stopped being loud and angry. My mama used to say: We’re Italian, which means we’re loud. And we’re German, which means that when thins get bad, they get deadly quiet, not louder. Sure enough …

Me <in the quietest voice I could muster>: So, tell me where to sign the forms and I’ll take some of those off of your overworked hands.

So ... Julian wants to stay in school. He’s taking electronics and welding and agriculture … things I can’t do at home. Jory is still receiving services from the special ed department, and he’s old enough he could have walked any time he liked. Ethan and Chris, however, will not be returning to that school. They will be homeschooled, and will join the waiting list for the Oregon Connections Academy. For the moment, the younger kids will remain in the schools, as they are predominantly happy there.

Wish me luck on this new adventure. I’m scared, but I'll survive!

aka: goofdad

It’s Wordless!

2010-06-17T20:11:00.001-07:00

Annika told me today:

“I’m still seven!”

aka: goofdad

Happy Birthday Annika Rose!

2010-06-16T21:23:00.001-07:00

Annika, my first girl born in Oregon turns 7 today.

Hard to think that we’ve been in Oregon as long as we have, or that my little girl is 7. She woke up this morning and was shrieking over the fact that she’s a year older. It’s been a good day.

And no, I haven’t dropped off the face of the earth, or ever the blogosphere. Just been busy as hell between the new job, 8th grade graduation, 5th grade graduation, Cub Scout Bridging, Girl Scout Bridging, my new job, Topher, Teke’s wedding and more!

I’ll get to all of that later, but I had to get on today to wish Annika a happy day!

aka: goofdad

Good Times with Old Friends

2010-05-31T18:16:00.000-07:00

So … It’s been a busy week. Since I started the job at Yahoo! last week, I haven’t had a moment’s rest! So far I’ve been out with friends practically every night. Yes, I’ve missed all my bloggy friends, and I doubt it is going to be any different this week.

I’ve visited my cousin, visited my Jr. High School girlfriend, visited old friends from dance, visited my mother-in-law … But the best experience of the week:

I got together with Curt and Pam, two of my best friends from the Jr. College I attended. Curt was the friend that when I had a 6:45 AM MWF class and a 7-10:00 PM T/Th class … he offered me his bed to sleep in (he worked nights) so I didn’t have to commute 45 mins each way to go home. He and Pam were part of a crowd of us that used to claim a table in the cafeteria and spend the day together, classes excepted. The last time we saw each other was my wedding, almost 12 years ago. By then we lived almost 90 minutes apart, and we all had busy lives wrapped up in careers and kids.

When they heard I was coming down for two weeks, they told me they would come out to the East Bay to meet me and Adam. We decided to spend the day at the Oakland Zoo, so their kids had something to do while the adults hung back and caught up. After the zoo, we went to Fuddruckers.

I got to talk with their daughter, who was a baby at my wedding last time we met. I got to goof off with their 7 year old son, whom I had never met before but was instant friends with (once he figured out that I was almost as silly as his dad). I got to watch Adam hit it off with Curt, wanting to know more about Curt’s career in teaching music. Then Adam got shuttled off to interact with the kids, have a good time, and generally perform the job of babysitter … he was great at it! Things went so well that when we got to dinner, his son insisted he was going to move north and come live with me. When I said “but your dad would miss you!” he responded “Well, we could come down and visit him sometimes!”

And that summed up the experience of the day … we need to come down and visit him sometimes. At the end of the day, I was exhausted, but at the same time smiling and refreshed … feeling like everything was right in the world. I still missed my family, but I slept better than I have all week.

So … next time needs to be sooner than another 12 years. Let’s shoot for measuring in months this time (and single digits, at that!).

It will help us all survive!

aka: goofdad

First Day of the Rest of My Life ...

2010-05-24T21:29:00.000-07:00

So ... started at Yahoo! today. You know, you forget pretty quick how much every first day is the same. The same boring paperwork. The same administrative snafu's ...

But I got through it.

Drove for over an hour ... everyone on the team expressed how crazy I was! All I could think was how lucky I was that it was SHORTER than the commute I've been driving for the last 6 months. Drove right past both colleges I attended (Berkeley and Chabot) ... made the drive more than a bit nostalgic, but not so much that I stopped :-)

Filled out my I9, W4, and a bunch of other papers, went to lunch with the team, came back to fix machine hassles ...

Typical first day.

Then, after an hour drive home, Adam and I grabbed food to go and sat down just the two of us to watch a movie. I don't get to do that NEARLY often enough!

It was the perfect end to the perfect day.

It's been a while since I smiled about going to work, but I can honestly say I'm looking forward to it ... commute and all. I survived to get here, and now I insist on enjoying it!

Yahoo!

aka: goofdad

The best part of going to CA

2010-05-20T19:42:00.000-07:00

Next week, I start my new job at Yahoo! I'm going to be staying at my Mother In Law's house in Richmond while training at the Santa Clara and Sunnyvale campuses over the next two weeks. I was going to fly down, but plans have changed, and I'm driving down with Adam. I'm going to be doing lots of things while down there ... visiting family, hanging out with friends.

So ... what is the "Best Part" ... what's the best part of driving to CA?

OK...actually, the visiting with friends & family is the best part.

Starting a new job that's going to allow me to get back to working from home is a damn good part, too.

But I'm definitely going to stop by BevMo! It's so much cheaper, and with a much better selection, than any store near me in OR. I'm totally planning on driving out of the Bay Area with several hundred dollars worth of Scotch & Tequila ... I'm down to the dregs around here, and I'm totally feeling it!

I couldn't survive much longer ;-)

aka: goofdad

PS: I'm going to be in the SF Bay Area for two weeks ... If any of my readers down south want to get together for dinner / beers / whatever, let me know.

Saying "YES!"

2010-05-19T10:53:00.000-07:00

So, there's a lot of great "yes" stories over at Five-for-Ten! There's stories of romance, of birh, of giving in. As one of the few dad bloggers participating, I thought I'd do something different. I thought I'd talk about why I said yes to blogging.

When I first started surfing the blogosphere, I was angry. Angry at Topher's biological family for not taking care of business. Angry at DHS for not taking him out of an obviously dangerous situation. Angry at all the feelings I was having over "just a neighborhood kid" ...

I started by searching for blogs about DHS, CPS, and more. I found many blogs condemning CPS, including the unhappygrammy. While I agreed with them, the system is broken, their anger just fed into mine and didn't help. So I kept surfing. Eventually I found some of the blogs that now make up the core of my reading: Mothers of Brothers, First Day of the Rest of My Life, and We Are THAT Family. These were blogs that resonated with me ... that had stories that I needed to hear, needed to read. They were stories of life going well, of life going badly, of life ... and I was desperate for stories about life. Like a "responsible reader", I started leaving comments on those blogs, and I got responses back.

So ... my YES moment was brought about by Emily Mendell of Mothers of Brothers when in a response she told me that I have some great stories to tell, and that she'd be interested in reading my blog if I ever decided to start one.

I was scared. I was gun-shy. I stewed for bit ... and said YES, I do have stories to share!

I started my blog that afternoon.

Fast forward a few months, and Terry at First Day of the Rest of My Life posted something with a badge for "Five for Ten" which I didn't recognize. I visited momalom.

Commit to reading their blog and commenting? no problem. Commit to THEIR chosen topics ... wow ... but again, the more I thought about it the more I decided that YES, that sounded like fun.

So for the last 10 days, I've said YES to Five-for-Ten, and like saying yes to blogging, I'm glad I did it! I've read many of your blogs ... I've tried to read them all, and I will likely finish that this weekend. I haven't mentioned Chips'n'Dips (hah ... snuck that in there!), but I've tried to write meaningful posts on the topics at hand.

Thanks for sharing your lives ... for writing on the same topics I was writing on, if only for a while, so we could share each other's points-of-view.

Yes, I survived Five-for-Ten! And I'll definitely be back if/when Jen and Sarah do this again.

aka: goofdad

It's my birthday too, yeah!

2010-05-19T08:48:00.000-07:00

For those not in the know, my son Adam was born the day before my 20th birthday. That means that the day after his birthday ... is mine ;-)

I'm not going to make much of a blog post about my birthday ... I just couldn't resist the titles. Instead, you get a (mostly) Wordless Wednesday!

Me, in my cube ...

Yes, I'm an avid RPG player, and Vampire is one of my favorite games ;-)

Hope you survived seeing pics of me ... I'll be back to my regularly scheduled, kid centered posts soon ;-)

aka: goofdad

They say it's your birthday!

2010-05-18T14:19:00.000-07:00

Ninteen years ago, I wasn't a father. Nonetheless, my son was born. I didn't know it when I met him, days after his birth, at a Square Dance convention but the baby I played with, who'se fists bunched around my fingers, would all too soon be someone I claimed as my own.

I didn't see Adam for years. To me, he skipped from being a baby in a car seat at a dance to being a young boy with a bit of a lisp graduating from Kindergarden. There is no in-between.

I missed it.

I wish I could have been there for his first steps ... but I taught him to drive.

I wish I could have been there for his first words ... but I was there for his first english paper.

I wish I could have been there when he cried for food ... but I was there when he cried ... over girls, over devastating medical news, over the hurts that cut deeply.

Thinking back on all the things we've done over the years, missing those first five and a half doesn't sound like much ... but they're fully 1/4 of his life ... and now that he's talking seriously about moving out ... the 14 years I've had just don't seem like enough. I want to reach out and hold him some more. I want to keep him home where the problems are less real, and the bills are covered.

He's planning on staying home about another year ... He needs to get a bit more of a handle on his medical condition, get some things in order. But he's ready. I can feel it in my gut, and I'm sure he can. I already miss that baby that I held so many years ago. I already miss that hard headed stubborn 5 year old that argued with me over toys.

And I already miss the punk rocker pain in the ass that's occupied the bedroom across the hall from me for the last several years.

My Son: Adam

Happy Birthday, kid ... you may be ready, but I'm damned well not.

God ... help me survive this!

aka: goofdad

SAK

2010-05-17T10:10:00.000-07:00

Today is the NSFW post, and if you're easily turned off by visions of middle-aged, overweight, tired adults still trying to get it up ... read no further.

Because today's Five-for-Ten topic is ... Lust ... the SAK title would be ... Sex After Kids ...

I must admit: I'm not the boy my wife fell in love with 20+ years ago ...

I don't have the over-abundance of energy ...

I so not in shape for going on 70+ mile backpacking treks ...

I can drive myself from place to place* ...

And, I must admit: I'm not the young man my wife married 11 years ago ...

I don't dance 4 nights a week ...

I come home from work exhausted ... and still take kids to activities ...

I've ~~gained a ton of weight~~ ~~earned my beer belly~~ put on a few pounds ...

I'm not as flexible as I was when I was dancing, if you know what I mean ...

On the flip side, my wife is the same girl I fell in love with 20+ years ago ...

I rely on her to make me smile, and to brighten the room when she does ...

She makes sure I get where I need to go ...

She loves sneaking ~~off campus~~ out of the house to go do ... well, nothing and everything ... together ...

AND, she is the same woman I married 11 years ago ...

She is great with kids ... and the only woman I could ever picture as the mother of mine ...

She is a hungry kisser ...

She can still totally makes me hot and bothered when she puts her mind to it ...

WHICH IS WHY

I'm damned proud to say that although we are more off than on as we get older ... too many committments, too little sleepey time, too many little ones intruding on what private time we get ...

When we DO get it on, we get complaints from the neighbors! That would be the 18 year old across the hall, and the 11 year old in the room next to him.

When your 18 year old complains from lack of sleep in the morning and asks you to keep it down next time, you gotta know life is good.

Dear ... I love you ... my body and my mind burn for you. We may not have the time and energy to get to each other as often as either of us would like, but that in no way diminishes my desire.

Now, if I can only survive my wife's wrath for posting this ;-)

aka: goofdad
* When I was younger, I made the deal with my parents to take the aforementioned trip to Australia in lieu of getting a driver's license. That means that in High School, Christina did all the driving.

Role Models

2010-05-14T15:04:00.000-07:00

Been struggling with Five-for-Ten's topic of the day since ... well ... since I read it when I started. Courage was an easy topic. Happiness fell into my lap. I'm a man, so Lust should be just plain fun. Yes ... whatever. But Memory? What do I want to talk about? I've related cute stories of my past in my blog before, but that's "a memory", not "memory" ... what could I possibly say about "memory" ...

I've been texting those closest to me, and mom just texted me back "well, there was a book called I remember mama. arent I interesting enough?" ... I LOL'd, but it did it ... I started thinking ... If I were to look back at what shaped me, who would I write about?

Of course I'd start with mom. Her temperament and mine are so similar it's scary. When things are going well, we "hum on the same frequency" and bystanders can't keep up with the conversation. When we fight, fireworks go off and houses burn with our gaze. I remember her supporting me, emotionally, through High School and College. I remember her impromptu remodeling of the house ...

I went off to play video games at a friend's house. I was probably 17 or so at the time. When he dropped me off at home, the garage door was open, and you could SEE THROUGH THE WALL into the living room. He said "Wasn't that wall intact when I picked you up?" ... "Yes" ... "I think I'll pass on hanging out. Looks like you have a lot going on!" We had been talking about knocking that wall out for a long time, but it was a support wall, so we were waiting on the logistics. I remember the sheepish look on mom's face (and the shit-eating grin) when she said, hammer in hand, "I just wanted to see through ... it started as a little hole" ...

Then, there's dad. Dad, who graduated with a Master's in Math from U.C. Berkeley and proceeded to drive cab for years, because he couldn't get a job teaching. Dad, who after the cab company went bankrupt went back to school to get an MBA and became a CPA. My favorite memory of Dad is from about the same era as my memory of mom, when we were looking to get a new stereo for mom ...

Walking through the Good Guys, Circuit City, and every other electronics store we could find. Daniel (who eventually blossomed into Alyson) in tow, looking at stereo systems. Dad asking "What do we want? What do all these numbers mean?" ... me explaining it all to him. Daniel looking at me in the car on the way back, after having spent better than $1000 on stereo equipment asking "How did you wrestle that much money out of dad? There WERE cheaper systems there! I can hardly get gas money out of him!" (remember...he's an accountant). I just explained that it's easy to touch mom for $20 here or there, because she's a soft touch ... but if you want to spend real money, all you have to do is convince Dad that the price difference is worth it, and he'll spend money like water ...

I can't leave out Grammy. When I was growing up, she was the matriarch of the family, much as mom is now. She held things together, reminded us of who we are. At times she ruled with an iron fist, and at times with a gentle touch. I remember her couch (I'm sure there were several, but they were always in the same place, and they all blur together) ...

I remember sitting on the couch (she called it a "divan") next to Grammy playing Batman and Robin while watching TV. I was a toddler. It didn't matter. She was always willing to be Robin to my Batman. I remember when they cut the skin cancer out of her leg and it became harder for her to move from that couch. I remember headed out the front door (we owned the house across the street), and before I could make it to my car, she was shouting "Hey, Douglas, where you going?". I remember her hauling herself out of that couch, bad leg and all, to walk to my cousin's house to babysit him when he was dying of leukemia ...

Along with Grammy comes Grandpa. He was rough around the edges, a foundry worker who had lived a life of hard, relentless work to support his family. He wasn't big on sympathy. He taught me that if you did something yourself, even if you could afford to have someone do it for you, you would get more out of it. I agree. I remember him working on his car ...

We were coming home from Church Grammy had already passed, and Grandpa could pretty easily have afforded to have someone do his brakes for him, but NO. I looked across the street to see him with the car up on jack-stands, him underneath doing it himself. My Grandpa had taught me some rules for working on a car, one of which was that you never, never climb under a car WITHOUT A SPOTTER. Yet, there he was. So, I walked across the street to spot for him. I stood there, a good 6 feet away, when the drillbit he was using to punch a pin (note ... drillbits are NOT punches) shattered and a piece of it flew out and hit my eye. After several trips to the ophthalmologist it was decided that my eye would be fine, but that I'd have internal scarring ... I think it was the only time in his life I ever heard him apologize ...

I remember my wife, when we were younger. I refer to her, often, as my ex-girlfriend or my High School sweetheart, but the truth is we never actually dated. But I remember falling in love with her ...

I was headed to Australia with the Boy Scouts for the World Jamboree. I remember my mother driving me to Christina's house, but I didn't recogize where we were going. Mom wouldn't tell me, and, if I remember right, I'd never been there before. We got there, and there was Christina with all my friends throwing me a surprise "Bon Voyage" party before I took off to the other side of the world. I knew then that I'd never have a better friend ...

Last for today, there's Alyson, nee Daniel. My sister, nee brother. How to talk about someone who you grew up with, but never knew until adulthood? Someone whose bravery was trapped inside, never shared. Someone who suffered mightily yet never let on ... not until later ... much later ...

I remember sitting at my mother-in-law's dining table, playing Munchkin. Daniel said he had something to share, and Marjorie stayed home. Daniel explained, over a card game, that he was suffering from Gender Dysphoria, that he had always felt like he should have been born a girl, and that he was going to start doing something about it. I remember the look on his face as he revealed this, knowing that it may be the end of our relationship ... or the beginning. Or both. I remember, after recovering from the bomb dropped on me, her asking me if I would mind if she presented female on the drive back to OR (she was driving me up the next day). I know I said sure ... I don't remember it at all. I remember the look on her face when she asked me to be with her while she told mom and dad ...

These people have shaped my life! I look back on all the things they taught me: Mom taught me to go with my gut, Dad to research and spend my money when appropriate. Grammy taught me to watch out for everyone around me, Grandpa taught me to TCB. My wife taught me that a good friend is more valuable than anything. My sister taught me, and continues to teach me, what it means to be brave in ways I could never imagine.

I hope ... no, I pray ... that when my children are pushing 40 and they look back at the lessons I've tried to pass on to them over the years ... I hope their memories bring as much joy and sadness ... as many smiles and tears ... and as much learning as my memories of these key people in my life bring to me.

They'd at least better pretend to ... I couldn't survive that kind of rejection ;-)

aka: goofdad

BTW, as well as being Five-for-Ten, it's also Fatherhood Friday. All you ladies visiting from Momalom, go check out the guys blogging as well. There aren't many of us, but were getting there!

Children's Day at the Coast

2010-05-12T15:11:00.000-07:00

Episcopal Diocese of Oregon

Children's Day at the Coast

St. Luke's by-the-Sea

Photography by:

Doug Young, Christina Young, and Rev. Susan Church

(clicky for bigger version)

aka: goofdad

The Pursuit

2010-05-12T09:28:00.000-07:00

I started thinking about Thomas Jefferson on the Declaration of Independence and the part about our right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. And I remember thinking how did he know to put the pursuit part in there?
-- Christopher Gardner, The Pursuit of Happyness

It's interesting how, when you're given a topic, the fates conspire to send you messages based on that topic. One of those messages arrived from a fellow scout leader last night...

I was talking to one of my closest friends at scouts about what's going on with Johne. Another leader, overhearing the conversation, said unto me "You know, Doug, you bring this on yourself. It wouldn't hurt you to say no once in a while!" I was taken by surprise. She was serious, and I didn't have a clue how to explain the simple fact to her:

yes! it would!

15 years ago, I was a peaceful person. I was a single guy who didn't hang out at bars or do rowdy night clubs or any such thing. I'd go to work in the morning, come home, eat dinner, watch a movie and chill ... whatever. It was a very simple, very peaceful existence. If you woud have asked me, I'd have said I was happy.

Soon, though, an ex-girlfriend got involved in my life again. She brought with her a failing marriage and 4 young boys that I quickly fell in love with. They eventually became my step-sons after her marriage fell apart. Those 6 people (yes, her ex-husband included) would change my life forever. The day I proposed to Christina and she accepted I was happy!

In December of 1998, my daughter was born. Again, my life changed. Her, and later her brother and sisters, brought a whole new kind of happiness to my life. Those four young lives, that are a part of me, that I held within seconds of their birth ... they've changed my love in ways that I had no inkling of in my past experience. If you had asked me, Proud Daddy, walking out of the hospital with my newborn any of those times, I'd have explained to you that I was happy!

In February of 2010, we made the decision to foster Topher. It was, and is, an difficult and ongoing decision. It's brought pain and joy, troubles and smiles into our family in ways we never could have expected. Watching this young man literally turn his life around away from the suicidal depression he was wallowing in before he came to us has been incredibly rewarding. Knowing we had even a small part in that has brought out emotions I didn't even know I had! If you'd have asked me 3 weeks ago I'd have told you I was happy!

2 weeks ago, Johne reached out to me having seen the change in Topher. We reached back as a family, and got burned for it. It's a mild burn, but it smarts. We could see how much it could have been worse. It scared us, much as touching a fireplace and blistering a finger scares a toddler. Would we do it again ... yes ... perhaps with a bit more care next time, but yes. Am I happy I did it? YES.

I've come to the conclusion that, at least for me, happiness is in the doing. I look back on the bachelor staying home and think "He was happy, but I could never go back to being him ... I'd be miserable". Each change, be it minor or catastrophic, success or failure has led to a new happiness.

If that bachelor had refused to take his ex-girlfriend's calls, had kept at work and kept his life in order, he'd have truly believed he was happy. I know ... I have friends who have done it. I just couldn't be that person. I wouldn't be happy with who I was, and that would be the worst sorrow of all.

So ... back to the top ... yes, it would hurt me to say "no".

I would and could never be happy with the decision.

This part of my life... this part right here?
This is called "happyness."
-- Christopher Gardner, The Pursuit of Happyness

and

Life is not tried it is merely survived
If you're standing outside the fire
-- Garth Brooks, Standing Outside the Fire

aka: goofdad

Dragonfly

2010-05-11T14:12:00.000-07:00

As I said here, Julian was asked to participate in the school art competition. He's finally done with his dragonfly, and I thought I'd share some pictures:

The dragonfly is made up of blued titanium, so it doesn't weigh much, and is about 6 inches or so long. The legs are black coils wrapped around steel wire, the head is steel (the titanium got ordered in the wrong size). The overall effect is incredible. He's debating selling it, but considering it's about $75 or more worth of titanium, he'd have to charge a fortune.

Wish him luck in the contest, though! Win or lose, he'll survive, and be stronger for it either way!

aka: goofdad

Defining Courage

2010-05-10T15:24:00.000-07:00

Something close to 15 years ago, I sat and watched a movie called Angus. It was a nice commentary on the whole High School experience, but one quote struck me hard, and has been with me ever since:

Grandpa: Superman isn't brave.
Angus: Did you take your pills this morning?
Grandpa: HeHe. You don't understand. He's smart, handsome, even decent. But he's not brave. No, listen to me. Superman is indestructible, and you can't be brave if you're indestructible. It's people like you and your mother. People who are different, and can be crushed and know it. Yet they keep on going out there every time.

This was the first time I had heard this concept. I now quote that at my Scout group every year. I explain to them that Courage and Bravery mean doing what you think is right, even when there's a very real possibility it's going to hurt. If you can't get hurt, you can't be brave. Your acts, as Grandpa says, may be good and decent ... but not courageous.

Well, last week it hurt.

Johne came to me asking for help with a potentially abusive situation. He asked me, point blank, to foster him. My immediate reaction was to say no. Instead, as I said in my previous blog entry, I reached out to his dad. Over the course of the next week+, he made a sizeable impression on my family, and when the very real possibility of him needing a foster placement came up, we as a family decided that yes, we would handle that responsibility.

Then, DHS got involved. His mother, in defense of her position in all of this, accused me of grooming (don't click on the link unless you want to say ... eeeww!) her son. She accused me of brainwashing him into saying the things he had shared with me to DHS, as if I had put those ideas into his head. She called the police on me, and reported me to DHS.

Great way to return a favor, yes?

So, I've now been interviewed by the police in the matter. I've had DHS sit down and talk to my foster son (who, fortunately, more or less laughed in their face). For a short time, I was in danger of losing it all ... my foster son, my kids, my freedom.

All because a kid reached out to me for help and I reached back.

Intellectually, I know what I did was right. I stand by every decision I made. I knew the potential consequences, and did what I knew to be right anyway. I know that I'd do it all again if I need to. I know that all that means I should be feeling courageous.

But right now, I'm not feeling courageous. It's taken every ounce of self control I have to even blog about this. To those of you that know me on Facebook have watched this all unfold and have stood by me ... I appreciate it! My courage and my self control are hanging on by a thread, still, but that thread may have snapped if not for the occasional "give me a break" or "WTF" popping up in my comments.

I know that I'll survive. I'll pull it back together. Hopefully when Johne reaches again (I'm confident he will), I'll be strong enough to reach back, even knowing what to expect.

For those of you just catching up with the story ... Thanks for reading. I'm not going to shy away from this, not going to let it interfere with who I am and the good works my family does.

Sometimes courage hurts!

aka: goofdad

PS: I'm trying to participate in momalom's "Five for Ten" ... it sounds like a good idea. Wish me luck! Click the badge on the right (or here) for details.

The Talk

2010-05-05T09:47:00.000-07:00

About two weeks ago, The Well Read Hostess posted a blog entry that ended with the following paragraph:

My son is 8. The questions he asks about life's many mysteries especially those that involve body parts and babies are looping in ever tighter circles around the BIG QUESTIONS. I've always said I'm going to be totally straightforward, no euphemisms, no weird or cute terminology. But oy. Sometimes this stuff is way harder than 3 a.m. feedings, chafed nipples, and projectile baby poop.

It reminded me of a story that I've been meaning to blog about ever since. Unfortunately, other things got in the way, but the story has been kicking around my brain dying to come out, so here it is. For those of you "in the know" ... sorry, yeah, you've heard it before a time or ten ;-)

My four older boys being my step sons means that occasionally the subject of adoption comes up. It's happened less and less over the years, but, especially early on, it was a VERY important topic at our house.

Imagine this conversation, 10 or so years ago ... while we were pregnant with Douglas:

Adam (8 at the time, which is why WRH's post above reminded me): "So ... if you adopted me, then you'd be my real dad?"

Me (the exact same age I am now ... I don't get older ... at least I don't feel older): "Yes and no"

Adam: "huh?"

Me: "It would mean that some Judge somewhere said I was your dad. It would be good enough for the law, the school, and everything else. They'd even go change your birth certificate to list me instead of Bio-Dad. But I can never take away the part of you that came from him. It would only be on paper. You would still be part of Mommy and part of Bio-Dad. I can never change that, and wouldn't even if I could because I love who you are too much to change you."

Adam: "Oh. OK"

And that's where the conversation ended ... or so I thought.

fast forward about 2-3 weeks.

Forget the last half of this story for a sec. I had. Weeks had gone by. I had thought it was yet another conversation dropped ...

We were at my mother-in-law's house for dinner. She needed something from the store. My pregnant wife ~~gave me the look~~ looked at me and I quickly volunteered to go. I asked if anyone wanted to come with, and Adam did. This was nothing unusual ... Adam was always wanting to come with ... so I didn't even think anything of it.

On the way home from the store:

Adam: "So, dad, I've been thinking about the conversation we had."

Me (tearing through my mental list of conversations with kids): "and ..."

Adam: "You said that there was a part of the daddy and a part of the mommy that made up a baby, right?"

Me (oh, that conversation): "That's right."

Adam: "So ... how does the part of the daddy that makes the baby get into the mommy's tummy?"

I swear, I just about wrecked my van. I was NOT expecting to need to have the talk yet. I had only been a dad for about 2 years, and most people don't have to have the talk with their TWO YEAR OLDS! Worse yet, I was solo. My wife was at my mother-in-law's house. My parents were nowhere to be found.

shit ...

So, I pulled the van over as carefully as I could. I decided, the same as WRH stated above, not be totally straightforward. I told him EXACTLY how the part of the daddy got into the mommy. I told him that it was FUN, and something that mommies and daddys actually WANTED to do. I told him that no matter how he was tempted, no matter how much it sounded good, that he should probably wait until he was married and wanted to be a daddy himself.

He told me not to worry ... to his 8 year old brain, it sounded totally gross and disgusting, and he was never, never, NEVER EVER going to even think about doing that.

I decided I could survive that attitude.

aka: goofdad

Live in the sunshine

2010-05-03T14:15:00.000-07:00

"Live in the sunshine, swim in the sea, drink the wild air ..."
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

Just before I went to CA, I was notified by one of my favorite bloggers, Juggling Eric, that I had received the Sunshine Award for my blog!

The Sunshine Award: The Sunshine Blog Award is awarded to bloggers

whose positivity and creativity inspire others in the blog world.

First, let me say that I was not positive that positivity was a word ... it just sounds made up ... but positivity IS a word, and I know because GIYF. However, my Google-fu over the last week has not been strong enough to find a link to the origins of this award. Win some, lose some.

Second, let me say that bloggers giving bloggers awards feels kinda weird to me. On one hand, I'm incredibly honored that someone thought of me when they saw this. Heck, I'm thrilled by comments and followers, by the people who care enough about what I write that they even read it, that I'm surprised as hell to be getting an award for it! On the other hand, it feels just a little like we're all drinking the Kool-Aid (do I have enough links to the Urban Dictionary today?). On the gripping hand, I think my best option is to just roll with it and have a good time!

So ... apparently I'm positive and creative. I must admit that there are days I don't feel either of those, but I guess it means I've been honest in representing my stated blog goals, which were to keep an upbeat attitude and try to focus on the good stories as much as I can! All credit for creativity goes to my family for putting me in some of theses situations ... I swear, I couldn't make this stuff up!

The rules, according to Eric, are:

1. Put the logo on your blog or within your post
2. Pass the award to 5 bloggers
3. Link the nominees within your post
4. Let them know they received this award by commenting on their blog
5. Share the love and link to the person from whom you received this award
6. Share 5 things about yourself

So, with the logo above, I have to pass the award on and talk about myself. I'm having trouble narrowing this down to 5, so in classic kool-aid fashion, I'm going with 6 ;-) It'd be seven, but Eric would have been on the list, and since he gave me the award, I'm not just sending it back. Seriously, though, among the 30ish blogs I subscribe to, these are the blogs I go read first thing in the morning, before work, no matter what. They deserve everything they can get!

THIS DADDY'S BLOG: This dad has 4 kids ... which gives you an incredible sense of humor no matter what. His posts are witty and always bring a smile to my face.
Life of a Father of 5: Between Scouts, procrastinated home improvement, and kids ... I find Father of Five's posts to be close to home ... often!
Mothers of Brothers: Emily and Jennifer are great! They are spot on to make me smile, or cry, or get mad, or emote some other way with practically every post. They are the ones who, when I first started this adventure, encouraged me to start writing my stories down. There are days I feel I owe my sanity to these wonderful ladies!
First day of the Rest of My Life: Terry is raising her boys near where I grew up. Not only do I love reading her posts and being a voyeur into the lives of her and her boys, I love pouring over her posts looking for references to places I used to go when I was younger!
Just One Foot: Terry recommended this blog to me early on when I started blogging. I'm really glad she did. Judy is not only one of the bravest people I've ever read about, she has some incredible life stories to tell!
No End in Site: This mom posts about her large, young family. I really enjoy reading about their adventures and outings, their ups and downs. Her posts are among the first I read when I hit my blogroll in the morning before work!

I'll go notify all these people in some comment somewhere after my afternoon meetings. First, though, you get five things about me. Some of these, if you read my older posts, you already know. Some you may not.

I have too many cars. We only have 3 licensed drivers living in our house, but we have 5 cars. One extra I can understand ... two I don't. At the same time, I can't think of any of them that I'd be willing to give up, so ...
My house constantly looks like a tornado hit it! Let's just say that I didn't marry my wife for her housekeeping skills. With 9 (10?) kids the place can go from spotless to trashed in about 34 seconds, so keeping up with it can be quite daunting.
Before we started fostering, we took in families that we knew who were going homeless. We've taken in 4 families in the last 10 or so years. Even when fostering gets difficult, it's easier than taking in a family, because with fostering we ARE the parent, and we DO have the final word ... When you take in a family, it's harder ...
My kitchen cabinets don't have doors. Seriously. We took them off to redo them a couple years back, and got caught in the procrastinator's hell ... but I've discovered I honestly like my kitchen open. Things are easier to get to, and I don't slam my head into cabinet doors (a real danger when you're 6'4" tall). Sure, you can see the clutter ... get over it.
I can't stop shouting "Yahoo!" ... I'm incredibly excited to land a job there, and look forward to going back to being a full-time remote employee and being home with my family!

So ... I survived interviewing ... and I survived blog awards ... Yahoo!

aka: goofdad

Johne

2010-04-30T13:52:00.000-07:00

So, what do you do when you get a call from your boys’ friend:

“Hey, Doug, this is Ethan and Topher’s friend Johne. I’ve known Topher for years, and have really seen the change in him since he’s moved in with you. I’ve really got to get out of my house. Would you be willing to take in another foster son?”

UMM … UMM … Wow!

That call came in Monday afternoon. I was home from work to take care of Topher, who had banged his knee on my brickwork and I needed to take him to the Dr. This call hit me totally out of the blue.

I went and sat at McDonald’s with Johne for about an hour and a half. He talked. I listened. He confessed a lot to me. What he told me made me want to cry.

Without going into detail: His older sister and he are constantly at odds. His parents are constantly at odds. He feels responsible in part for, and caught in the middle of, both situations. It’s driving him into a depression that he has no clue how to control. He had heard that Topher was cutting himself to relieve stress and decided to try it himself. Having seen his chest I fear he’ll have permanent scars from his first attempt. The end result, though, is that he didn’t find release in cutting. It didn’t help…

…so he reached out to me.

He spent the rest of the day at my house, and then I took him down to meet with his dad. His dad and I talked. More importantly, I talked, he listened.

Here are some of the decisions that he and I made together:

Neither of us is comfortable with Johne being at home without his dad anymore. Rather than have that happen for longer than a couple hours, Johne is going to start coming to my house when he doesn’t feel up to dealing with home. He’s been given blanket permission to just show up, both by his dad and by my wife and I, whenever he needs to.
Johne’s dad is going to try to deal with the family situation at their house. Johne is staying the weekend while his dad tries to start this process. I wish him luck. I’m not overly confident it’s going to go well at all.
Johne is going to join some activities with my boys, likely Scouts and Church. Not only will this give him someplace to be, but it will extend his support network to include the people in those groups, making him stronger in the end.
Johne is going to seek counseling. In Oregon he can do this without his parents because he’s 14. I’ve already forewarned Topher’s counselor to expect him, and I will be making arrangements to get him in ASAP.
I’m not going to be calling DHS … yet. Until and unless I have something more concrete, I’m going to leave that decision up to his counselor.
Johne is not moving in with us. Our family is still adjusting to having a troubled teenager move in with us, and will be for some time. Another would tip the balance more towards chaos, and I’m not sure we can handle it. When the situation with Topher settles down, and life returns to “normal” (whatever the hell that is), we may revisit this, but by that time I expect his family situation to have either improved or imploded making this a moot point.

I’m glad that my family, and especially 14 year old boys, can inspire other kids to reach out for the help they need and deserve. Getting help when you’re in a bad situation is the best way to survive it.

Prayers appreciated … for all involved.

aka: goofdad

TGIF

2010-04-30T13:11:00.000-07:00

I'm back, and should be back with vigor. My absenteeism was totally worth it, but I'm now bustling with stories to tell.

What a busy two weeks it's been since I last did this! So, here is a rundown of what the parenting survival family has been doing during these two weeks:

So, for those that have missed us (and, for those that haven't):

Jory broke up with his girlfriend. He's been a grouch, and a pain to live with. This shall pass, but it sucks for now.

Adam got together with his friends and recorded their first CD. While I’m not expecting double platinum or anything, I’m hoping it does well enough for them to call it a success. I’m already so damn proud of him it hurts!

Julian was invited to enter his chain-mail into the school art competition. He’s basing it off of the one found here, but like any artist he’s re-imagining that and making it his own. Among other things, he’s using colored titanium rings to make it light and colorful, like a real dragonfly. Watch this space for pictures of the work in progress / finished product.

Johne has joined the family, kind-of. While I am not currently in a position to foster him, he is in a bad situation and I’m going to do my best to help him. More on this later.

Ethan is slowly coming to terms with the fact that while he doesn’t get as much dad time as he did before Topher moved in, he’s still my son, and I’m still proud of everything he’s done. When his ex-girlfriend said last weekend that she was considering dumping Topher and going back to Ethan, he said “NO”, that he was tired of the drama she was causing in our family. He said she could date or dump Topher, as that was her decision, but that he was not interested in the slightest. He explained that the pain caused by the bouncing back and forth was just not worth it. THEY DO LEARN!

Topher has recovered from being a total ass, and is now working on being just a regular member of the family. He’s getting along, keeping up on his school work, sleeping better, and overall seems to be settling in after the blow-up that was the last couple weeks.

Sylvia attended our church’s annual tea last weekend. She dressed up:

Where in the world did this drop dead gorgeous young thing come from? I’m going to have to buy a shotgun just to mount over the door, aren’t I … she’s ONLY 11!!!!

Sylvia, Douglas, and Annika all went with Bammy to the agricultural festival last weekend as well. They had a great time looking at all the animals. They really, really wanted their faces painted, but the line was upwards of 1/2 hour long to PAY to get your face painted. Instead, they decided to use Bammy’s face paints (yes, she has face-paints) and do their own … on the way home … in the van. Annika was a pink Dalmatian, and Douglas got a glorious multi-colored star painted on his face. All the artwork was done by Sylvia. While possibly not up to the professional standards of the person charging at the festival, I’m sure they had more fun their way. I wasn’t smart enough to snap pictures, so you’ll have to take my word for it.

Kaleigh has a crush on the newest member of our family, Johne. It’s really cute … she follows him around, hangs on his feet, etc. He puts up with her, and even smiles and plays with. It's incredibly cute!

Chris and I are thinking positive about Yahoo! We're hoping I landed the gig. It’s scary and exciting all at the same time.

Surviving together … that’s the key. Having a great time, doing good works … that’s what it’s all about, right?

aka: goofdad

Absenteeism

2010-04-26T19:18:00.000-07:00

Going to be gone for a couple days.

Just got word I'm interviewing with:

On Wednesday.

Wish me luck!

aka: goofdad

Shopping?

2010-04-22T15:19:00.000-07:00

What are your Top 3 places to shop?
Somehow, I think I'm going to bring a distinctly different perspective to this question than the women responding over at the Confessions and (UN)Experienced sites ... but they asked, so here goes:

3. Guitar Center: OK ... mostly all I do here is window shop. I'd much rather buy used. I'd much rather buy from a smaller local business. But, the sheer size of Guitar Center ... the fact that you can pull practically anything down off the wall and play it (tune it first, for the love of all that you hold dear!) is a joy. And ... Strings! Where else can you select from so many different types. This is the veritable Home Depot of music stores. The people are almost as equally useless, a lot of what they carry is worthless, the prices are rock bottom ... but where else can you find one-stop-shopping with a musical family?

2. Jerry's Home Improvement Center: This place is the shit. They've got knowledgable, helpful, useful people combined with a real lumber yard combined with a HUGE hardware store ... It's like Home Depot combined with Lowes combined with ... well ... a lack of clueless employees. If it wasn't 45 minutes away, I'd go there every time I needed a 2x4 ...

1. Powell's City of Books: I'm an avid reader, and Powells is the best place to go for books ... hands down. I could get lost in there for ... well ... the rest of my life. I stopped by there last night to pick up one book ... spent $50 in about 15 minutes. When you read a novel a week or so, having a bookstore like this nearby is great. They even buy books back ... now if I can only convince myself to let go of my books ...

So ... like I said ... a different perspective. But I'm cool with that, and those moms reading will survive ;-)

aka: goofdad

The “College Game”

2010-04-22T14:02:00.000-07:00

For the second day in a row, I’ve gone to respond to someone’s blog and couldn’t keep my comments short. Yesterday, it was Emily from Mothers of Brothers. Today, it’s Terry from First Day of the Rest of My Life.

Terry's oldest is going through the college application process, and Terry is struggling with the chaos of it all and hating the pressure. You can read much of the history on her blog. Like holding my kids, this is a subject I feel very strongly about. Despite the degree on my wall from U.C. Berkeley, one of the top universities in my field, I don’t encourage my kids to attend a major university fresh out of High School.

When I was deciding what college to attend, I didn't play the game the way the schools wanted me to. My family has deep, deep roots in Berkeley and the SF bay area. At the time, there had been someone in my family either working at or attending the University of California, Berkeley, since the day it opened (I’m not sure this is still true, but I’m not sure it’s not, so I’ll leave it as phrased). Both my parents have degrees from U.C. Berkeley. Much of my family is still in the city of Berkeley and the surrounding areas. To this day, my grandmother owns a house 6 blocks off campus.

There was only ONE school I had any desire to attend, therefore I didn't apply anywhere else.

I got turned down.

I was crushed.

BEST THING THAT EVER HAPPEND TO ME!

There was some screw-up with my SAT scores. I had to go to ETS and fight to get scores at all, and in the end the scores I was told were mine just couldn’t be … they only added up to 1150 or so, and the English was higher than the Math (If you know me, that last part is a dead giveaway … NO WAY … I got a perfect 5 on my AP Calculus test that same year, so no chance I scored a measly 500ish on the math portion of my SAT … but I digress). I must have been hard to live with, but I didn't care at the time.

So, after shedding many tears, and much of my dignity, I went to a Junior College. I chose Chabot College in Hayward. It was 45 minutes away from home. I chose it for several reasons. First, it was a drop dead gorgeous campus that reminded me a lot of where I wanted to be. It was also far enough away from home that nobody I knew would be there to see my embarrassment, but close enough to commute to while living at home. Supposedly they had a Berkeley Transfer lock-in program that I could apply for that would guarantee me to eventually get where I wanted to be.

Because of a counseling faux-pas, I missed the transfer program. Coming out of Chabot, I was turned down for Berkeley again. After talking to a UC counselor, it was decided that I should take a year off and work rather than apply elsewhere, as transfer students from other four year universities get lesser priority than transfers from 2 year colleges. So, I taught Jr High and High School at the now defunct Spraings Academy, a school for children with learning disabilities.

I finally did get into UC. In the end, I spent 3 years at Chabot, 1 teaching, and 3 at Berkeley. It was a WONDERFUL experience!

When I got to Berkeley, my sister was already a Sophomore there (she got accepted her first year), so it was easy to compare my education with what she was going through. With very few exceptions, I had both a broader and deeper understanding of the topics our studies had in common. By going to the Jr College, I had received a better education than I would have at the major university. This was because of the pace Berkeley sets for classes … you really don’t have the time to get a good understanding of something before it’s time to move on. Also, it’s easier to learn in a class of 30-50 than in a class of 100, 300, or god forbid 700 students.

I taught lower division Programming at Berkeley, as a TA for 2 of my 3 years, and once as a guest lecturer (i.e. fake professor) after graduating. In none of those cases did I have the time to teach my students what I really thought they should know. There were 200 of them in the class I lectured for ... 200 !? How could I possibly keep up?

The time that major universities shine is graduate work. From an adult perspective, these schools are PHD machines. The PHDs are what give the school notoriety. Those students are the ones that get attention. Anything less than that is often viewed as a waste of a professor’s time.

I met some wonderful people at Chabot who I keep in touch with to this day. My year teaching was the same … I have recently been trading emails with one of my former students and may soon end up working with him. I also met some great people at Berkeley as well, both professors and fellow students. I’m glad of ALL the experiences. Today, I look back and am glad of all the disappointing rejection letters, because without those I would have missed out on getting to know some of the people that most influenced who I am today.

So … In response to Terry’s question of how to handle it: The computer in the movie WarGames said it best:

A strange game. The only winning move is not to play.
-- Joshua (WOPR)
WarGames, 1983

You can't win the game ... College has become more and more of a meat-grinder since we attended. My best advice: Don't play. Take your time, get a good grounding at a Jr College, and then transfer in. It will NOT affect your post-graduate applications, be they for graduate work or industry work, because your degree is just as valid as everyone else’s.

I wish Terry’s son all the luck in the world, whatever decision he makes. You’ll survive and be just fine. Try to have fun while you’re doing it!

aka: goofdad

Snuggling with your kids …

2010-04-21T10:30:00.000-07:00

This started out as a response to Emily’s recent post on Mothers of Brothers: Age Old Questions. The problem is that I’m one of those people who can’t not re-read my emails and posts (only time I don’t is text messages … they’re too quick and pervasive to edit). With this response, though, every time I edited it got longer instead of shorter and more concise. After a couple of attempts, I gave up and decided to turn it into a blog post of it’s own.

So … here goes:

I know I'm going to be an oddball here ... I'm a very physical person. We co-sleep with our young ones for, typically, as long as we can stand it / as long as they want to. When I first met my wife this was not the case. Then, the babies slept in cribs, and her rule was “as soon as they’re old enough to climb out of their crib, we need to get them a toddler bed” … for the last three children, we haven’t even owned a crib.

To make matters harder: When we first got together I suddenly had these four boys, three of which I had never got to change their diapers, never got to burp them, never got to hug them or fall asleep with them sleeping on my chest … all those things that you do with babies to bond with them.

So ... I started snuggling with them early on. Every morning, or every evening, or both, I’d climb in next to them, typically wearing my PJ bottoms (which I don’t actually sleep in, but what the heck), them typically wearing boxers or whatever. Sometimes I’d “spoon” with them, letting their bare backs press against my bare chest. While it’s different than doing it with an infant, it was still very rewarding. Sometimes they’d roll over and hug me, falling asleep with their heads on my shoulder. Sometimes they’d lay on top of me while I scratched their backs. Whatever worked ...

And it worked.

We bonded.

No, it’s not exactly the same as the bond I have with the kids I held as babies. But no two kids bond the same anyway. It’s close enough to the same that I can’t tell you if the difference is because of personality or because I missed those extra-special early years, so I'd say it was VERY successful!

Years later I read an article in Parenting Magazine stating that spending 5-15 minutes holding your kids as they wake up was a great way to a: wake them up slow, b: make your mornings go smoother, and c: bond with your kids … I felt vindicated. I was very glad for that article, too, because that was about the same time my wife’s ex-husband started making heinous accusations against me, and when CPS came to investigate I was able to point to that article as backup for my claim that it was normal and natural. Honestly, CPS didn’t need convincing … what I was doing, while not the norm, was not illegal, immoral, or damaging to my kids. It was making us a stronger family.

I was nervous about how it was going to go as they got older. When we moved to Oregon, away from their dad, the court required us to take them to counseling … meh. This happened to be about the time my oldest started to go through the change. I discussed it with the counselor … what should I do? The outcome is that I didn’t stop just because he started getting erections (ooh…there’s one of them there words). Instead, I used it as a chance to lever open the door to talk about the changes his body was going through, what to expect, etc.

Fast forward about 8 years, and now I’ve got two sticky situations:

First:

My daughter is starting to go through the change. In a way, this is much closer to the situation Emily blogged about because, to be honest, I’m much more comfortable discussing erections with my boys than I am discussing sore budding breasts with my daughter … But still ... the discussions need to happen. I’m working really, really hard not to cross the line here, and I don’t know for sure how things are going to progress. Right now she still wants me to hold her, but I admit I’m much more careful about where my hand falls when I put it around her than I was in the past …

Second:

Topher grew up in a house where he was hardly ever touched, hardly ever hugged. The thought of being held confuses him and he’s not comfortable with it. The thought of not being able to put my arms around one of my kids when they’re sad warps MY brain. Discussing his “changes” … really uncomfortable … and, at the same time, even more necessary because he has nowhere else to turn to. Right now, neither one of us is exactly happy with where things stand … but we’ve only been at this 3 months … we’re still bonding, and it will take time.

We’ll figure it out.

Finally, some direct response to Emily … I say take your own advice: Trust your gut. If it feels like you’re crossing a line, you probably are. Be open and honest with your kids and, in general, they’ll return the favor. My oldest boys have drifted away, over the years, from snuggling ... but even at 18 and 20, I still find it happening on occasion that we're both in a cuddling mood. I hold the big, muscular, hairy men they have become and miss my little boys ... but I love them so much it doesn't matter. Taking comfort in each other is what it's all about, and in my opinion you should hold onto that as long as possible!

Puberty is not really much more fun from the parent’s side than it was when you were a kid … but you, and they, will survive it.

aka: goofdad

Well, the Honeymoon is OVER!

2010-04-20T08:55:00.000-07:00

Having spent the last 24ish hours fighting with Topher, I'd have to say that the "honeymoon" period is done.

He's now admitting that he's missing his mom. He's rebelling against the fact that he has responsibilities. We're keeping him from reading (never mind the fact that he spends 20-30 hours a week online playing WoW). We're making him clean. We're making his life miserable.

So: He's made ours miserable. He says he wants to move out (not an option). He says he doesn't like our family. Then he says he wants to be here and loves us.

He's confused. He's hurting. He's finally coming to grips with the terrible situation he has been in, and the terrible situation he is in, in that he's been torn out of the family he knows and is having to adjust at the age of 14.

It's painful to watch. It's hard to live with.

We'll get through it together. And we'll be stronger for it.

aka: goofdad

TGIF

2010-04-16T18:18:00.000-07:00

So, I enjoyed the Friday Wrap-up I did a couple weeks back, but had some weird weeks in the meantime. I'm going to TRY again to make my Friday wrapup a regular thing.

Wish me luck! This week in the Parenting Survival Household:

Jory is getting ready to change jobs ... He's working through a school program and they want him to try several different things.

Adam is realizing that his birthday is coming up and asking for outrageous gifts ... again ...

Julian made a wonderful chain-mail heart ... just for the heck of it:

Here it is next to an altoids can, just for size comparison...

He stores rings in those cans, same as I did when I was in college ;-)

Ethan is happy the quarter is over. He struggled last quarter and is welcoming a fresh start.

Topher cried.

Sylvia delivered and paid off the last of her Girl Scout cookies.

Douglas wants to move his bed into Adam's room.

Annika is just enjoying life, playing with her brothers and sisters, and having an overall good time.

Kaleigh has taken to kissing me, then wiping her had across her mouth and saying "Eeew" ... then coming back for more. It's SO FUN!

Chris and I are patiently waiting for Yahoo! to get their HR department to arrange a flight for me to interview.

That's a wrap for this week (or, actually the last couple, but hey...).

Surviving Together...

aka: goofdad

A sign of things to come?

2010-04-14T17:02:00.000-07:00

So ... Topher has been having headaches. Bad ones. We took him to the doctor week before last and the doctor said they are tension headaches, and that we should "reduce the amount of stress in his life" ...

Let's see now ... he's been torn from the family he knows, even if it wasn't safe. He went from a familiar family of 4 to a chaotic, strange household of 11. He's had to learn new rules, figure out new ways of living, try new foods and new experiences, and overall change his life in almost every respect.

It's been a change for the better ... incredibly so at times, and he even agrees with that ... but stressful?

DUH!

And explain to me how, exactly, I'm supposed to reduce that stress? His idea has been to lock down all his feelings and pretend they don't exist. He has admitted that he knows it's a cowardly way out. He admitted that he knows he has to face those feelings sooner or later. He's just not been up to it yet.

In the meantime, the doctor prescribed Motrin ... in over-the-counter strengths.

umm ... like I hadn't already tried that. Thanks ... for nothing.

But there may be a light at the end of the tunnel:

Last night he had a fight with his closest friend. No, not Ethan. Ethan is now family. This was with a girl, but they're not dating. But they spend their life texting each other. So ... that makes her his girl friend but not his girlfriend (note ... two words, not one).

Apparently he broke some pie-crust promise he made to her. Details on the promise aren't important. What's important is that when he looked up at me he said "I hate it when I hurt her" ... and cried. He let me hold him for a minute while he cried into my shoulder.

It's the first time he's done that since he moved in. Heck ... the only other time I've seen him cry was when his great-grandmother died last year.

No, it isn't the river of tears that has to come eventually over losing his old life. No, it isn't the flood of emotion that I know is coming.

But it is a start. And if he can start letting it out ... even a little at a time ... we can heal some more.

Baby steps towards surviving ... together.

aka: goofdad

Torn over Scouting

2010-04-13T15:23:00.000-07:00

I, Doug, realize the obligation to my fellow Eagle Scouts;
to my home, my country, and my God.
I will at all times do my best to assist other scouts
who are climbing the trail to Eagle
to give back more to scouting than it has given me
to assist my troop as much as possible
and to be a living example of the Scout Oath and Law
to the best of my ability.

I took that oath on January 13th, 1989. When, in subsequent years, the Boy Scouts took their anti-gay policies all the way to the Supreme Court, I cried. It was wrong. They were wrong. I knew openly gay leaders, at least one of which was involved in the Supreme Court battle, and I can honestly say they were no danger to me or any of my friends. They did not push who they were on us, and knew and taught the scouting program easily as well as any leader who I was sure was straight.

But I stuck with the program, because for all they were doing something stupid, it appeared that they were still a force for good. They still taught boys to stand up for what they felt was right. They were still the best leadership training around.

But what does this teach our kids? At the same time they were banning gays because they claimed they were putting children in danger, they were keeping files on KNOWN child molesters and not doing anything about it. When it came time to put up a defense, the best they could say was "the local troops were responsible, not us" and "we didn't want to traumatize the children who had been abused". The Cascade Pacific Scout Executive had the cajones to get up on the stand and blame the parents for trusting the scouting program!

WHAT?

I am, currently, an active Scout leader ... so I can repeat from memory:

The Scout Oath:

On my honor I will do my best
To do my duty to God and my country
and to obey the Scout Law;
To help other people at all times;
To keep myself physically strong,
mentally awake, and morally straight.

The Scout Law:

A Scout is Trustworthy, Loyal, Helpful, Friendly,
Courteous, Kind, Obedient, Cheerful,
Thrifty, Brave, Clean, and Reverent.

Which of these can an organization that kept files on more than 1,000 child molesters while ousting men who weren't dangerous ... all under the lie of protecting our children ... claim to be? Trustworthy? Would you trust them? Loyal? Loyal to WHO? Helpful or Friendly? Only if you're one of those 1,000 men. Brave? Well, it certainly takes balls to do what they did, to make the claims they make ... but you can't call it standing up for what is right.

Can such an group be called morally straight? Or was it doing their duty to god?

What Scouting has given me, recently, is a reality check ... I'm unsure if I want to be involved in this program anymore. I'm sure my boys are safe, but only because I'm active and paying attention to make sure of it. But now I'm wondering if it's worth it. I'm wondering if I even want my children associated with this program.

I teach my boys that brave means standing up for what you believe is right, even if it hurts. I teach my boys that thrifty means spending your time wisely as well as your money. But now I'm asking: Is it wise to continue with this program? Is it brave? Or is it the brave thing, the wise thing, the right thing, to walk away?

I don't know. I don't know if BSA as we know it will survive this blow. I'm not sure I want it to.

aka: goofdad

When medicine is not enough

2010-04-13T13:46:00.000-07:00

This is a hard post to write. For everyone who has been wondering why I've been off and on lately, this is (at least part of) it. Topher is doing well ... as well as can be expected ... and it's a good thing, because life is trying to hit me in the head with a new 2x4 ...

My son Adam has Ulcerative Colitis. He was diagnosed about 18 months ago, and it has been one dissappointment after another. Initially his symptoms improved, and for about four months I had my son back. Then, in about May, he flared up again. It's gone back to being bad ever since.

It's like he's sick all the time. Heck...he is sick all the time. His body thinks so, anyway. That's what an auto-immune disease does to you. He sleeps until noon, and still can't make it all day without a nap. He doesn't have energy and he moves about like his spirit was broken. Over the last 18 months, they've changed his meds repeatedly. Nothing has helped for any length of time. He applied for disability, and was turned down. His doctor wouldn't say he's disabled unless his latest medications didn't work. I've was put in the awkward position (yet again) of not knowing what to pray for. If the meds worked, they wouldn't declare him disabled, and he wouldn't be able to afford the meds. If they didn't, we might get the disability, but he'd still be sick. Lose / Lose

So ... the news is in. The meds didn't work. We are going to be hiring lawyers to sue for disability, and his doctor has stated he'll back us up.

His doctor says he can double the dosage on the current (expensive) meds, but that's essentially the end of the medical treatment. The next step is surgical. They're discussing the possibility of removing his colon entirely. The good news is that if he really has Ulcerative Colitis, the surgery will help (although it will come with its own set of complications). The bad news is that there is a chance that what he has is Crohn's presenting like Colitis, in which case the surgery will still come with complications, but the disease will also still be there. I've read papers that state the probability of this is "slim", I've read papers that say that it's as high as 1 in 3. It seems that there is no real tracking done on people who are re-classified as Crohn's patients after surgery, so I'm unsure who to believe.

I'll admit it: I'm scared shitless

pun only partly intended (if you don't get it ... go read more about ulcerative colitis)

So ... we find ourselves in need of prayer. Pray that this is the right decision for him. Pray that Adam gets better and can lead a normal life. Pray for more than mere survival for an 18 year old child who has barely had a chance to have dreams, let alone have them crushed by a medical condition.

Pray for all of us!

aka: goofdad

National Child Abuse Propoganda

2010-04-12T14:32:00.000-07:00

Child Abuse Prevention Month bothers me. I walked into the mall with Topher this weekend, and there were cutouts of kids from infants to toddlers to teenagers standing in the walkway. Each had a sad story taped to its chest explaining what had happened to the child that that particular cutout represented. Honestly, it was heart wrenching. And we can all agree that child abuse is heart wrenching. In an ideal world, it would be preventable.

We don't live in an ideal world. Many, many of us were abused as children in some way. Depending on what statistics you believe the overwhelming majority of us were abused in some way, shape, or form. Those of us that weren't should consider ourselves lucky to not have those scars.

That's likely true on the surface. But not as scary as the alternatives. Depending on the study, as many as 80% of children removed from their homes and placed into foster care fail when it comes to adulthood. Additionally, they are twice as likely to have PTSD as war veterans. If the first set of scary statistics is to be believed, this all means that children left in any but the worst of those abusive homes still fare better than the vast majority of those taken out and placed into foster care. Add to that the statistics on how many children are abused within the system, and the results are staggeringly obvious:

Our foster care system is failing the very people it's intended to protect. BADLY!

People become social workers and foster parents with good intentions. It is too easy, however, to get caught up in the system and lose sight of what you're there for. Too many children are wrongly removed from their homes while too many children that are truly in danger are left.

The system, as it stands today, is broken.

I don't claim to know how to fix it. But these people do. While I don't necessarily agree with every bullet point they have to offer, I think they're on the right track. In all but the most extreme cases, families should be kept together and taught new skills. Children should be given every opportunity to thrive where they are. Train social workers to work with families, not intimidate them and scare them with losing their kids.

SO ... what can a mere mortal do?

Foster a child. Do it not for the money the state gives you, but for the sake of the child. I started this journey into chaos to support one child. He's doing much better after just over 2 months.
If you don't have the means or the mentality to foster, reach out to help those who do. Maybe cook a meal for a local foster family so they can have a night off after a long day of school, marathon therapy sessions, and running around. Maybe offer to carpool their kids to school. Maybe just a "Thanks for taking care of the kids" ... it doesn't take much to go a long way.
DON'T report every little thing you see. When you see someone having issues with misbehaving kids, try and give them the benefit of the doubt. Have you behaved badly when your child was melting down? Would it have hurt you to have some stranger report that as abusive? Case workers are overloaded with investigations, and adding to that weight makes it harder to see the real cases when they come up.
DO report when the behavior is so over the top that you can honestly say "I'd never, in my worst moments, treat my kid like that." Report when you have reasonable expectation that an abusive situation is occuring.
If nothing else, donate to NCCPR. They've got a plan on how to help families. It may not be perfect, but it seems to be working. That's better than we can say for the current system.

Reach out. Perhaps you can help someone else survive. The rewards are incredible!

aka: goofdad

Details on Hunter

2010-04-12T13:07:00.000-07:00

Such as they are:

Born: Thursday 4/8/2010 ... exact time is unknown :-(
Name on Birth Certificate: Joshua Charles (Since the name "Christopher" doesn't appear anywhere on Topher's birth certificate, we're confident in calling Josh "Hunter")
Weight: 5lbs 12oz
Length: 12"

He is currently home with his mother. She is claiming to have moved in with her boyfriend. Time will tell if DHS believes this story or pulls him ... we are currently in "wait and see" mode and praying hard!

Like Topher, I'm not sure exactly what to pray for. I pray both that his mother cares for him and that he comes to us, even though the two are mutually exclusive.

In any case, he is cared for and loved. We'll all survive!

aka: goofdad

HOW old are you?

2010-04-08T19:43:00.000-07:00

What are your Top 3 favorite ages?
(Or, your Top 3 favorite ages for your kids?)

I actually asked Christina for help with this one, because it struck near and dear to our hearts today!

3. 0: And this is why: Hunter was born! Happy Birthday, little man!

2. 6ish: It's nice when they get old enough to talk and carry on conversations, old enough to go to school, and they get really, really inquisitive and get into everything!

1. 18: I just love my older boys, and I've discovered that 18, at least for the two that have gone through it in our house, has been the age with the perfect balance between teenage rebellion and naiveté and real adulthood. It's absolutely my favorite.

In the end, it doesn't matter how old you are. If you can survive us, we can survive whatever you can dish out!

aka: goofdad

Welcome to the family!

2010-04-08T19:34:00.000-07:00

Topher's sister had her baby this morning. Somewhere around 6:00. The baby weighed in between 5 and 6 pounds. Mother and baby are doing fine!

She's still living with her mother. She's still in what DHS described as an unsafe environment for an infant. So, the questions are now running through my head. Will DHS follow through, or were they just empty threats? Will they continue with their promise to place him with us? How much sleep am I going to be getting over the next several weeks?

We've spent the day today placing calls to the worker, cleaning house, and basically going into a full standing panic. There are, as I see it, two basic choices: The baby comes home to us and is thus part of our family, or the baby goes home to her and is part of Topher's family, and thus, again, part of our family.

In either case, Welcome Joshua Charles (Hunter) to our thermo-nuclear family!

We survive it all ... together ...

aka: goofdad

Just another

2010-04-07T09:02:00.000-07:00

Wordless Wednesday:

My Shirt: Best Dad, Hands Down ... with all my kid's handprints ... I get one every year for Father's Day and they're my favorite shirts!

His Shirt: The center squirrel just dropped his acorn, and the shirt says "It's ALL fun and games until somebody loses a nut!" ... yeah ... we're talking about ACORNS, right?

We survive ... together!

aka: goofdad

Topher turns 14!

2010-04-06T15:33:00.000-07:00

So, this year Topher's birthday fell on Easter Sunday. That made it a BIG DAY for him. Check out the smile, and the story of the day comes after the break.

So ... the festivities started Saturday. Between Easter, a big family party, and being baptized ... Sunday was already shaping up to be a busy day. Add to that wanting to go see Clash of the Titans with his friends, and it was booked pretty solid. He called his mom to ask if he could visit her on Saturday, the plan being I'd cook for the party while he visited, and then I could drive to the movies on Sunday knowing the cooking was done. His mother behaved typically, throwing a tantrum, having her boyfriend call back after she hung up on him to chew him out some more, having his sister text me. So (and no, I wasn't calm about this, but I am now) we rearranged the plans, cancelled his friends, and took off to the movie on Saturday as a family.

The movie was brilliant. In my opinion, it was a great remake that added depth to the film (Perseus actually had some real motivation) without losing too much (I did miss Bubo). If you have the time and some extra money, I would definately reccomend it.

We came home afterwards, had pizza for dinner, and dyed easter eggs. Topher didn't know how to dye eggs ... apparently he hasn't done it ever before that he remembers. So, we had a good time teaching him to dye eggs, and he had a good time turning his fingers different colors. Fortunately, most of the colors came off by the time we got to church in the morning (along with a little skin) ...

Everyone went to bed, and the Easter Bunny came and hid the eggs, and the Easter Baskets while we were asleep. We got up in the morning, and I took him for breakfast while the family got up and filled his room with about 100 balloons. He called us all kinds of nasty names, smiling the whole time. It was worth every second!

Then came church.

I present Topher to receive the Sacrament of Baptism.

in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

and

That would be Bammy on the left, Christina and I on the right.

After the congregation demolished the cake above, we went home, where I cooked 2 legs of lamb (which, having seen Nunsense, will always be referred to as Leg-o-Lamb-o-God!) and a turkey. Bammy cooked a ham, made a salad, and set the house. Kimberlee did a potato bar. Mousie did sodas. Topher visited his mom. While visiting her, he discussed the party in the evening, which she remembered she had been invited to and she decided to show up with his older sister and his sister's boyfriend.

This made the first hour or so of the party a tad tense. Details aside, they ~~fled~~ left after about an hour, intimidated by the size of Topher's new family. Topher's reaction: "Praise God!", which got a good chuckle out of everyone.

After the party, he went home and collapsed.

We all survived an awesome day, that's for sure!

aka: goofdad

The great defender

2010-04-06T12:10:00.000-07:00

So ... Ethan, Topher, and Douglas all share the same Guitar/Bass teacher. Turns out, the bass teacher's son M is the same age as Douglas. They were in the same class last year, but are in separate classes this year. While they haven't been best friends, they get along decently enough.  Talking to M and his parents last night after Douglas' bass lesson, I learned something about my son.

It seems M has been having trouble at school lately. From what I understand from his parents, his grades have fallen and he has been unlucky in his choice of friends. Recently he managed to get in trouble over both things, and is trying his best to straighten it out.

One of the things he is trying to do is separate himself from the "friends" that got him in trouble. In doing so, he angered them and is now on their list to be picked on. Apparently there was a scuffle on the yard between him and one of the other boys that ended with the other boy going to get a friend to take it to the next level.

When the "friends" showed up to make M's life miserable, my son decided, unbidden, to step in and say "No". He explained (probably loudly ... after all, he is related to me) to these other boys that enough was enough and they weren't going to make this any worse than it already was. From what I understand, when they threatened to go get more friends, he said words to the effect of "Fine ... I'll just go get the duty teacher."

I heard this story for the first time last night. I am incredibly proud of my young man.  I'm thrilled that he had the courage to stand up to bullies for someone that isn't even a close friend just because it was the right thing to do! I am encouraged that he's willing to seek help from authority rather than try and handle an escalating situation on his own. I hope he and M become closer friends over it, but even if that doesn't happen, this was an incredibly brave act and one to be celebrated.

Because I know grade-school bullies, I fear reprecussions. But, especially with the addition of M at his side, I'm pretty sure he can survive them.

        aka: goofdad

If that's movin up

2010-04-06T11:16:00.000-07:00

Mama if that's moving up
then I'm movin out
-- Billy Joel

So ... Jory had his IEP meeting Wednesday Night. He turns 21 next school year, so that's going to be his last year in the public school system. They're trying to get him ready for living on his own. The official stated goal is to have him ready to move out on his own by June 2011. I'm excited. I'm scared. I'm not sure he's ready. I'm sure I'm not.

Here's a list of what was brought up and how it's going to get tackled.

HUD
Since he's technically disabled, Jory qualifies for help with housing. Since the HUD waiting list is long, the school is going to help him fill out the paperwork so he can be on the list, and thus get to the top of the list, as quickly as possible.
Laundry
Jory needs to start doing his own laundry. Exclusively. With the old washing machine, he knew how but was never forced to do it. With the new washer, he doesn't even know how (heck ... I barely do). Starting this week, mom needs to back off and teach, so he will be confident and capable.
Cooking
Jory needs to start helping cook. We've decided to give him Wednesday nights (our Lenten Date Night, which we're going to continue because we enjoy the one night out a week!). Initially, this will be with mom's help, but she will be backing off over time to make sure he can generate shopping lists, shop, and follow a recipe on his own.
More Household Responsibility
We need Jory to start taking more responsibility around the house. Among other things, that means we will be asking him to do some more cleaning. It also means we will be leaning on him rather than Kimberlee to babysit on our Wednesday date nights.

All of this means that Jory will be a busy beaver on Wednesday nights. He'll be responsible for cooking, cleaning, feeding the crew, and babysitting.

If he can survive that, he should be able to survive on his own, you think? I hope so!

aka: goofdad

No, I didn't fall off the face of the earth

2010-04-06T10:53:00.000-07:00

I've been fighting a cold for weeks, and finally just took some time off work over Easter weekend to try and recover. I didn't blog, I didn't work. I did shop (and argue ... 'cuz I hate to shop) with my wife. We spent WAY too much money on Easter.

I'm still physically exhausted. I'm still way more disconnected from my kids that I like, or can live with long term. But it was a productive time, and I'm glad I took it.

Be prepared ... over the next few hours, I'm going to spew forth entries to make up for lost time ;-P I have stories to tell about Douglas, about Jory, about Topher, and more.

Honestly, it's key to my survival to use "spew" in a sentence from time to time ... just because I can ...

aka: goofdad

My poor truck

2010-03-31T13:33:00.000-07:00

So ... this is going to surprise everyone: we own a lot of cars. We have the big 15 passenger van (currently laid up until I can replace the serpentine belt) named "Bertha". We have the minivan, which is "blue" or "periwinkle" or just "the van". We have the Mercury Mystique which is "Misty". We have the 91 Ranger named "Strider". And then there's my truck -- the 89 F250 affectionately known as "Fugly" ... yeah ...

So: we just bought a new Washer and Dryer. We decided to give the old washer to Kimberlee. When we were cleaning for my cousin's visit I asked Adam to deliver the washer. He got Ethan to help. They put the washer on our appliance dolly and loaded it into Fugly and away they went.

It would have been cheaper if I had bought Kimberlee a new washer, had it delivered, and had this one hauled away.

You see ... they didn't take it off the dolly ... they just laid it on it's back and left it in the truck bed to roll around. Somewhere between our house and Kimberlee's they stopped at a red light. The washer rolled to the front of the truck bed and slammed into the wall (no biggie ... Fugly is named that for a reason). But, when Adam put his foot on the gas, it also rolled all the way back. And the upper corner of the washer caught the back window in my canopy and shattered it.

When my kids were little, their bio-dad used to get really angry when things were broken, and I swore to them and to myself that things were things and family was family and I would never take out my frustration over broken things on my family.

I struggled with that Friday night ... and Saturday morning, when we took the canopy off and hung it from the awning on the side yard, where it will stay until I have money for a window (umm...all my spare $$ is wrapped up in the washer at the moment).

I especially struggled when Ethan told me that it wasn't the first time it had rolled like that. The first time, the window had not been latched properly, so the washer hit it and simply popped the window open! Did they figure it out? NO! Did they brace the washer before doing it again? NO! Ethan could have ridden in the back of the truck (legalities aside) and kept it from rolling around ... but NO!

When the window popped open, they stopped the truck, got out, and made sure it was latched! Then they went on their merry, oblivious way.

The "hit" that shattered my window was the second hit.

I'm mostly over it now. I'm still frustrated. I'm still repeating ... things are things and family is family ...

If I can convince myself, we may yet all survive this.

aka: goofdad

New Toys!

2010-03-31T12:45:00.000-07:00

So ... Ethan got his drum set ... and earlier this week HE snapped this picture of Kaleigh playing the drums with his good drumsticks ...

Glad he took it ... if anyone else had let her play the drums, she (and probably they) wouldn't have survived!

aka: goofdad

PS: The shirt says "Gamer in Training"

Bees!

2010-03-30T15:45:00.000-07:00

Where do you find a bee at the end of March in Oregon? Apparently at my kids' school! And who would find it? Kaleigh, of course! And ... who is allergic? Until this weekend, we didn't know it, but: Kaleigh, of course! It all started when Rick called me Friday Morning. You see, he and Kiwi decided Thursday night to come up and visit for a couple days (Sat night through Tues morning).

So ... the question was: could we get the house presentable and get a Dungeons & Dragons game together with level 15ish characters all between Friday at noon and Saturday at 6ish. Of course we can!

I immediately called Mousie, who started generating characters. I started researching an adventure. I also called the kids to straighten up the house ... remember those piles of laundry? Don't stress about putting it away for now ... just get it out of the livingroom! Make the main parts of the house acceptable for company, and away we go!

What, you may ask, does all this have to do with Bees? Well, you see, during the mad rush to straighten up the house on Saturday, Sylvia and Amber had the brilliant idea to take Annika, Kaleigh, and Walter to the school (2 blocks away) to play safely on the playground. I figured getting the little ones out from under foot was well worth the loss of the two girls (who, admittedly, were already spending most of their time chasing the little ones anyway). I handed them the extra cell phone (yes, we have one of those) and sent them on their way.

Sure enough, the cleaning got done much faster. They made it to the school just fine, played for a while, and then the impossible happened.

Kaleigh, on a blustery day in March in Oregon, managed to find a bee and convince it to sting her (probably not that hard for a four year old). She got stung right next to the webbing between her thumb and her index finger. We got the call, got her home, and took care of it. By the time we got home from church on Sunday, though, her hand had swollen to almost twice it's normal size, and was red and angry.

So ... off to the ER, just to be sure. They said pour Benadryl down her like it's going out of style, and ice it, and she'll be fine. They also said get a medalert bracelet. Since she's had an allergic reaction, chances are the next one could be worse. We now get to talk to our regular doctor for a second opinion, and then we have to decide if we should start carrying an epi-pen.

Woo-hoo!

BTW, the D&D game came off well ... 7 hours of pure combat for 9 players. Kids had more fun than some of the adults, but most everyone had a good time.

YES, we pulled it off. And we survived the experience. That's what family is for, right?

aka: goofdad

TGIF

2010-03-26T13:27:00.000-07:00

So ... I've been trying to figure out how to wrap up my week in my Friday Posts, and I think I'm going to start making a list, every Friday, about what my kids are doing or have done in the last week. It can be special, funny, or just normal ... depending on the week and the kid.

Since last Friday:

Jory has been helping around the house, and mostly has been glued to the PS3 plaing his newest game: Brutal Legend. I'm about ready to hide the disc from him to get a little more help out of him, but hey: It's Spring Break.

Adam got back together with Ashley. Kindof. Well, it won't be official until after Prom, because she's going with someone else, but after that. I'm confused.

Julian has been working on a new pattern for a Chanimail belt. For those who can follow, it's a 4-in-1 English weave done in small rings, with large rings running down the center attached with an 8-in-1 japanese weave to the 4-in-one on the sides. Confused yet? Actually, I'm not, but it's looking gorgeous, and I'll post pictures when it's done!

Ethan is enjoying his new drum set ... that is until I took it down for fighting with his sister. We'll be putting it back up tonight. Black drums with black heads ... sexy looking.

Topher has been playing WOW all week. He visited his mom last night, because we don't have a no-contact order for now, and that went well, but other than that I need a shirt that says "Hi Pops!" across the shoulders, 'cuz that's all I see of him...

Sylvia ... WHO? ... oh, yeah, I have a daughter by that name. She has been at a friends house every night this week. I think the only time I saw her was when I got home Wednesday night after just having rented New Moon. She grabbed it, and then said "Amber, can we go to your house and watch this?!?!?" and was off again. I love you! Bye! LOL.

Douglas planted plants for the Cub Scouts on Tuesday, helped me give Bammy's dog cookie her meds on Wed, and has been an all-around helpful dude all week!

Annika spent 99.999% of the week either at Bammy's or getting ready to go to Bammy's. I saw her more over there than I did at home. But when she was home, she was desperate for some Mom-n-Dad time, so she slept on the toddler bed in our room ... which was cute, except for the fact it's Kaleigh's bed ...

Kaleigh actually slept in her own bed for 2 nights this week. We need her to get in the habit, so that when/if we get Topher's nephew (Joshua, who will be called "Hunter") he isn't kicking her out of her place with us. We'll see how that goes.

So ... overall ... we had a fun week. The kids had a great time for Spring Break. I survived missing them.

C'est La Vie!

aka: goofdad

The definition of Insanity:

2010-03-25T16:33:00.000-07:00

Albert Einstein defined insanity as "doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results". My carpool driver listens to NPR, and so I've been hearing a LOT of listening to the latest shenanigans of both parties over the recently passed Health Care Reform Act.

Before I even start, I want to make a couple of things clear:

I'm uninformed and I know it. So are you (more than likely, anyway). I haven't even seen this bill, and have only heard it reviewed by a handful of sources. Even if I had seen it, it's 2300+ pages of post-graduate legalese reading, so I would STILL be uninformed. I can only form an opinion based on sources I trust.
I'm biased in that my son, up until this bill passing, was about to become uninsurable, with a debilitating pre-existing condition that was going to financially ruin him at the age of 18.

All that being said, I have to say I'm dissappointed in how our congress is acting. All sides are behaving badly. You only have to look at how the votes lined up to see that they're voting predominantly along party lines. I don't think any of them are fully informed and unbiased, either.

So, I wish they'd think of a few things before arguing over this further, dragging their good names and the good name of our country through the muck and mire further:

We can all agree that healthcare as it stands is BROKEN. It came up on both sides during the debates. So why keep it? Sure, we can't agree on how to "fix" it, but that doesn't mean you should stagnate! If you take a serious illness to three different doctors and get three different opinions, "nothing" is almost certainly NOT the right thing to do. Sooner or later, you're going to have to pick a treatment and see how it works for you. You may pick wrong. You may have to revisit that decision down the line. Why is this any different? The new ideas are surely going to be imperfect, lopsided and broken ... but we haven't been able to get what we have to work, so why fight so hard for what we can all agree is broken?
Sometimes change for change's sake is good. Sometimes, when my kids aren't getting along, the easiest way to fix it is to change something. If they're constantly fighting over seats in the van, move the carseats and insert some chaos. If they're fighting over what cereal to eat in the morning, buy some new kinds and stop buying the old. If my code is not doing what it should, make a change that should do something minor, or even nothing, and see what effect it has. Sometimes making a change for the sake of change can highlight not only what was wrong in the old system, but what was right. Then you can re-evaluate and make a more informed decision on where to go next.

I don't think this 2300+ page mega-reform act is perfect. There are parts of it that make me happy, and there are parts of it that make me incredibly scared. But instead of clinging to an old, admittedly broken, system and trying to fight the change ... let's give it a chance. Let's look at how the new ideas filter down, and see if they provide some insight as to what WAS working, what IS working, and, hopefully, what might work in the future.

That way, the next 2300+ page reform has that much better chance of getting it closer to right. And the one after that. And the one after that.

TL;DNR version: How does holding on tightly to the status-quo while admitting the status-quo is broken not fit Einstein's definition of insane? I truly don't understand.

I'm pretty sure I can survive this "Healthcare Reform" ... if only I can survive so-called congressional debates ...

aka: goofdad

Throwing it all away!

2010-03-25T15:53:00.000-07:00

To the tune of Genesis: Throwing it all away, it's time for:

What are the Top 3 things you should have thrown away... like, yesterday?

3. Old TV's: Last year at tax time (has it really been that long?), we bought a 32" plasma TV for our bedroom and a 42" plasma TV for downstairs. When we shut down our shop, we brought in 1 42" TV and 1 52" plasma TV, and 1 52" DLP. But, I still have those old CRT tubes ... because ... because ... just in case ... yeah.

2. Computer Carcasses: I think I have the carcass of every computer I've owned for 10 years or more in my garage. Some I've tried to give away AND THEY CAME BACK! I just need to drop kick them into a trailer and take them to be recycled! But I can never bring myself to actually DO that ...

1. My Old Washer/Dryer: We just spent a fortune on new machines, and I'll freely admit that I said NOT to take them away ... but why? I don't know. Nostalgia? Don't think so. I have a friend that wants the washer, leaks and all. I kept thinking maybe I'd keep the dryer ... but I know better. I really need to just get rid of it!

aka: goofdad

Getting the laundry done

2010-03-24T11:29:00.000-07:00

So, a while back I posted that I would never encourage my wife to take a truck load of laundry to a laundromat and do it there. Well ... now that is pretty close to true! Up until last week, we owned an aging Maytag Neptune washer/dryer set that we had purchased when we lived in CA. Christina must be reading This Daddy's Blog, because I swear she channeled his wife "T" when our taxes came back ...

When we bought the Neptune, it was TOP. OF. THE. LINE. in consumer-grade laundry. At the time, we had 5 (6th on the way) kids and it's speed and capacity felt just incredible compared to our run down old top-load washer and hand-me-down dryer. Fast forward 10 years or so, and now we have 9 ... and both the washer and dryer were slowly taking longer and longer per load ... and the washer was leaking ... and the capacity was just not cutting it anymore ... and (dare I say again) we got our taxes back.

So my wife went shopping. She absolutely fell in love with the electrolux washer dryer set ... this will really surprise you ... TOP. OF. THE. LINE. in consumer-grade laundry, just 10+ years later. Here's a picture from the electrolux website:

4.7 cubic foot washer 8.0 cubic foot dryer

My pocketbook hurts just looking at them! $3000* later, they're installed. The installer put them on the floor, because no way was I paying another almost $600 for the pedistals to put them on. Did we want them higher ... I'm 6.4, and my wife is no slouch, so YES, but not at that price. Instead, I got my teenagers to help and built a heavy duty wood pedistal. Not only was it WAY cheaper, but I got to customize the height so the tops fit nicely under the cabinetry in my laundry room. I'll spray paint it silver later (sure ... whenever that makes it to the top of my honey-do list ...)

We snaked out the dryer vent, since we were pulling everything out anyway, and reinstalled on a huge 15" pedistal. All I can say is WOW. This washer is faster than the old Neptune, and it's WAY BIGGER. Laundry is getting done in record time around our house!

Now I need to invite This Daddy over ... Maybe then some of it would get put away** ...

Clean clothes ... makes survival nicer, that's for sure!

aka: goofdad

* We'll be getting upwards of $500 back over the course of the next several weeks from electrolux, power company, and then some on our taxes next year. But, for now, Easter is on hold because goofdad is feeling broke (fortunately for my kids, I get paid again before Easter comes around, so it'll be better...some...)

** Just so you know ... this is not Christina's job ... most of my kids are easily old enough to put their own laundry away! Those that aren't have older siblings. NO EXCUSES ALLOWED! yes, some of that laundry is mine, and I'll get it put away soon ... I promise ... I've been busy and ... and ... and ... damn!

Randomness and Cynicism

2010-03-23T10:48:00.000-07:00

Stealing my title from Juggling Eric ... thanks, my friend ... it's how I feel today. Nothing prepared to write about, and lots of little thoughts running through my head ...

It's Spring Break ... all my kids are home (or off with friends and family), and I'm still stuck commuting. 80+ miles each way. To a job I'm growing to hate more and more each day. I'm working for a company that has been having A/C problems for months, but hasn't fixed it ... so we had to buy BOX FANS to keep the machines in the server room from overheating and crashing. No shit ... really. What's it going to be like in June? This Sucks!

Last night I was so exhausted that after fighting with Topher for behaving like a twerp, I came in, cooked dinner, and went to bed. I so wanted to log onto WOW to hang with friends, but I've been trying to not get sick, because I can't afford it. That means that instead of giving in to feeling like crap and getting it over with, I'm stretching it out ... yeah, that's better.

I even forgot to call Kiwi on her birthday last night ... after chatting with her during the day to find a good time to call. Yeah ... pick an expletive to put here.

As my grandfather used to say: I'd have to feel better in order for them to bury me ...

Topher started counseling yesterday ... it sounds like the counselor and he hit it off, and after talking with her it sounds like she'll put a stronger no-contact in place. I think that'd be good for him.

Enough for one day ... I'm barely surviving this random crud ... I shouldn't subject you to more ...

aka: goofdad

The perfect babysitter

2010-03-22T11:56:00.000-07:00

Sortof ... anyway, it’s time for:

This actually happened a couple weeks ago, but I've been waiting for the perfect time to share, and today seemed like it. We were in the process of closing down the shop, so we were rushing around on a fine Sunday, getting to Church, getting back, headed to the shop to clean-up, etc.

At a time like that, I would NEVER decide not to argue with Jory and to leave him home with Kaleigh. After all, Church is a family event, and the convenience of leaving a babysitter home with the baby so I didn’t have to get either one out the door would not be appealing, would it?

And, when my wife said “I’ll head to the shop, you check on Jory and Kaleigh”, I would never just walk in and glance at them lying on the bed, snuggled in together, watching TV and sneak out without even saying “Hi”. Without even looking at what they were watching.

And, when my wife asked “What were they doing?” … “watching a movie together.” … “Which one?” … quick phone call … “Umm … The Godfather II”. NO. We would never condone that. That would be a totally inappropriate movie for a 20 year old to be watching with a 4 year old, right?

Even if it WAS keeping her quiet?

I'm happy to report: she survived … with minimal scarring …

aka: goofdad

Hair Deux

2010-03-19T10:20:00.000-07:00

Not to be outdone by Topher’s hair experiences, Adam and Ethan decided it was time to attack theirs. The biggest difference here: they weren’t as ~~timid~~ ~~boring~~ normal as the latest addition to the family. Instead of black, they decided for blue and bright pink respectively. I know it’s not Wordless Wednesday. Not sure what to say to these, though …

First you bleach your hair out … may as well put dishes away while you’re doing it …

Then you goop the heck out of it … may as well try to do the blond ~~mold~~ beard, too!

Red goop is so much more interesting.

The blue didn’t work well … it didn’t take in his beard at all, and his head is just a blue-shade of bleached blond. But the red … stunning!

Surviving hair is easy. Piercings, too. Don’t anybody say the T word, though!

aka: goofdad
PS: All images were taken with my phone, and with the exception of correcting the white-balance on the last one, none has been altered.
EDIT: Forgot to add my Fatherhood Friday badge down here ;-(

A Musical Fantasy

2010-03-18T19:00:00.000-07:00

Last night, the fourth grade classes at our local school presented their play. Going in, the sum total review I got was “Douglas’ play is really cute. You need to see it Wednesday nite” from Bammy.

Understatement. This was a production of monumental proportions (at least for a group of 4 graders, that is). How did this happen and I didn’t know about it ahead of time?!?!

There were sets that included 10’ tall pillars, thrones, and backdrops. There were costumes galore. There was even a “curtain” made up of 3’ tall banners, each sewn with an individual letter to spell out “Rumpelstiltskin”. The play itself was primarily the Rumpelstiltskin story, but included about a metric load of other fairytales as well. Douglas played Rip Van Winkle (whose only line was a snore) and one of the lords of the castle during the Rumpelstiltskin part (more lines, no snoring).

Here’s a picture taken during the play. Since there are a lot of kids on stage, I thought I’d help you figure out which one was mine! Actually, I left the picture un-cropped because I wanted you to see the costumes and the set. Mics and stage speakers ... for a 4th grade production!?!?

This was one of the court scenes, and you can see the pillars and the throne in the background!

And here is another picture of Douglas as part of the support choir during another scene. See the curtain piece in the background (red arrows)? Awesome!

The storyline was cute. The humor and modern twists were fun for both the kids and the audience. The musical productions were impressive. I had a wonderful time, even though I was about 5 minutes late.
I’m glad I went. I’m sad, though, too.

This all happened without me knowing it ahead of time. This 90 minute commute … this 11-13 hours away from my kids every day … it’s GOT TO STOP. My contract is up in June, and I’m going to have to explain that if they can’t deal with me working remote 60%+ of the time, don’t bother offering to renew it.

I honestly don’t think I can survive much more.

aka: goofdad

Me? Quirky?

2010-03-18T10:26:00.001-07:00

What are your Top 3 quirks?

3. Driving: I don’t know if it’s a male thing (because Christina and Kimberlee aren’t like this), or it’s a learned thing (because Bammy is, Adam is, and Julian is working on it), but I absolutely must know where my car is at all times. Not that my wife is not a safe driver, but there’s a difference between “a safe driver” and “I can hit a rock with my back tire after missing it with my front because I know, in minute detail, how my wheels track differently”. I definitely fall into the latter category.

2. Sandals: I have a saying I learned from a priest many years ago: Socks are for Shoes … Feet are for Sandals. So far, Oregon’s weather has defeated me less than a handful of times. I only wear shoes when bicycling (clipless pedals), paintballing, or slogging through thick mud (such as cutting down a Christmas Tree). Otherwise, it’s Birks for me!

1. Money. OK … even I don’t get this one. My bills in my money clip have to be faced, in order, folded neatly, lowest bills on the outside. I sometimes break this rule (like this morning when I bought a latte and my carpool was waiting outside impatiently), but I fix it as soon as I look at it again. It just irks me for some reason I don’t get.

None of this has anything to do with survival … well … maybe the first … meh.

aka: goofdad

And the award goes to:

2010-03-18T09:02:00.000-07:00

On Monday, Sylvia’s Girl Scout group had an awards ceremony.

Someday, I’ll post about all the little things that bother me about the differences between Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts. I have enough experiences with both to have some pretty strong opinions. But today, I just want to be one proud daddy.

Sylvia was part of the flag ceremony. When they lit candles to talk about the Girl Scout Law, she got to go twice because they didn’t have quite enough girls and she’s one of the older ones. However, she didn’t stand still long enough for me to snap a picture of either of those ;-)

Here she is receiving her swag from the nut sales earlier in the year.

And here her leader is presenting her with all the badges that she’s earned since the last awards night.

I was very pleased. She earned a ton of badges, which I don't know all the names of (sorry). But most of all, she was happy and exicited (you can tell from the smile and the fact that she couldn't keep her hands still). That makes me happy, and excited.

A good time was had by all, right down to the refreshments at the end. Then, after refreshments, her leader told me she had a volunteer project she wanted MY help on. Cub Scouts were bad enough … now I have to survive Girl Scouts, too?!?!?

aka: goofdad

It's only hair, right?

2010-03-17T09:51:00.000-07:00

He was celebrating being home.

Nothing more ... this is just a Wordless Wednesday ;-)

First, he sprayed it white (found a can of halloween hair-spray)

Then, he dyed it (with Christina's help)

Black.

He even did his nails to match (don't have a pic of that) ... Whatever ...

-- Insert pithy quote about survival here --

aka: goofdad

UPDATED -- Praying for Topher!

2010-03-16T08:25:00.000-07:00

So ... after talking with Topher, and talking to his mother, DHS called me to confirm the Friday decision. Topher is to remain home with me. He is to call his mother, with supervision, and if she pressures him to come home we are to call DHS. The official desire is for long-term reunification. I would not place money on that, as I don't think she has that much self control. I will be getting him into counseling, and we will go from there.

Thanks for all your prayers. As I said Friday, I couldn't have asked for a better outcome.

Original post follows:

So, it turns out that what the DHS worker told me on Friday was a bit premature. Topher's mother and sister are throwing a fit (still, it seems, largely about the money), and so there is going to be a more thorough investigation. While I doubt the outcome will change, it's still going to be hard on everyone. There is currently no talk of a home visit, but the worker is going to interview Topher during school today.

So ... at some point during the next several hours my boy is going to be taken out of class and asked to tell a stranger everything he can about why he shouldn't go home. He says "No problem, it's easier than you think", but I don't believe him. It's going to be hard on my fragile, emotionally crushed young man. I can't even be there to hold his hand. He's going to have to expose all his hurts, all his fears, and all the hopes he's built up over the last 6 weeks I've had him, and he's going to have to do it on his own. I fear I'll be picking up the pieces from this for some time to come.

Please pray ... pray hard ... that it goes well for us. That it doesn't hurt him too much, and that he can stay where he's safe. Pray for survival and more for my boy. Pray for a life he can be happy in and proud of.

Thanks!

aka: goofdad

The Prodigal Son

2010-03-15T16:28:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday, I taught, and was taught, a lesson about the Prodigal Son. If you don’t already know the biblical version, go see it here. My version starts out differently, because he wasn’t originally my son, so I didn’t hand him 1/2 (or even 1/10) of my fortune. Instead, he was born into a bad situation. I guess that doesn’t make him “prodigal” by the definition of the word. But that’s OK, because the lesson is the same.

He grew up in relative poverty. He had, through the years, been bounced from house to house, from family to family (4, not including mine, that I can list off the top of my head just from the stories he tells). He met me one day and started paying attention to how I treated the people around me, himself included.

He came to the conclusion that even the people that I paid to help around my house, or around my shop, were treated well. He couldn’t help but want a piece of that. He started working for me, first on a volunteer basis, then various arrangements were made. He got paid. In pure dollars he got paid more than my own kids … but he was spending much of it on basic needs where my own children never had to do that. I bought the shoes for his feet, I fed him, I worked hard to improve his life where I could.

Eventually, he moved in as part of the family. He got a room of his own, even though it displaced one of the other boys. I rented him a cello, even though his brother has been wanting a drum set for more than a year. I bought him a laptop, new clothes, and more. When my wife asked, I looked to her with my bleeding heart worn on my sleeve and said “We agreed to help!” … we argued.

Then his brother, who had been displaced, came to me and said “WTF?!?!? How can you treat him like that? I’ve been wanting things for years, but he gets what he wants at the drop of a hat!”

And we had long talks. He understands … some. It hurts … everyone.

So … I have to say:

To Topher: You are my son, who was dead and now is alive, who was lost and now is found.

To Ethan: You are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we have to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and now is alive, he was lost and now is found.

In conclusion:

I always thought I understood all the players in the Prodigal Son story. I knew it to be about celebrating the joy of the return. I knew it to be about the Father being generous and forgiving. I always identified with the older brother. I was wrong. I never knew how much it hurt from the Father’s side. I never understood, but I’m starting to. How could the dad do anything different? He knew, before it began, it would hurt everyone involved. But he couldn’t live with himself … couldn’t survive … with any other outcome.

I know I couldn't ...

aka: goofdad

Chaos Unleashed

2010-03-15T10:20:00.000-07:00

subtitled: What happens when Christina is sick.
or: Yes, Emily, I lose it more often than I care to admit.

Today’s post was inspired by Emily at Mothers of Brothers, who left the following comment on my Friday blog entry:

I honestly don't know how you handle everything that comes your way. Do you lose it evey now and then? Do you bury our head in a pillow and scream? DO you have a mantra to repeat? I am humbled by your sensibility and generosity and ENERGY to come out the other side. I get overwhelmed with one kid who doesnt have any of these issues. I'm just so fascinated and wondering if you were born cool, calm and collected or it was something that you acquired over time? And can I get some?

and by Julian, who read the above and commented:

Dude: Cool, calm, and collected !?!? You’re a loud, arrogant, annoying a**hole! What are you blogging? Fiction ?!?!

Yeah … thanks for the support, kiddo. So, read on to hear about my weekend:

Coming into the weekend the plan was: I was going to rent a cello for Topher, get Ethan’s iPod fixed, get Topher’s PSP fixed, build a day bed for Douglas (from a picture he and Chris found online), mount plasma screens (from our shop) on the wall (without spending $100 each on store-bought brackets), set up a pool table, build computer racks and mount computers in them and mount the screens on the wall. Add to that Church Sunday morning, where I was in charge of the young-adult Sunday School, and a 6:30 Sunday night bowling league. Yes, it was a busy weekend to begin with. Before she got sick, Chris’ plan was that she was going get the boys to help clear a space for Douglas’ bed and clear space downstairs for the pool table to be set up, deal with meals, and get some laundry done.

Except Chris was sick, starting about Friday morning, carrying on through the weekend. That meant that I didn’t get out the door early on Saturday to get to the music store when they opened (already an hour+ behind). It meant I didn’t triple check that Ethan had his iPod. We got to Gracewinds Music in Corvallis, about 1/2 hour away, to begin the day by getting a cello. Turns out Topher is not quite big enough for a full sized one, so for the next year or so I can give him crap about being 3/4 sized! Woo-hoo! Best part is, when we trade up all my equity in this cello applies to the full sized one! After re-ringing us 3 times because I’m there with teenage boys (ooh, they have picks in a music store? I need some! ooh, can I get drumsticks so I don’t have to carry my good ones back and forth to school? Pops, can I get a book to go with the cello? Couldn’t you boys have figured all this out while we were WAITING for them to get the cello out of the back instead of WHILE I’M PAYING). Then, since the MacStore is right across the street … oh, wait, dad … I forgot my iPod. Can we come back later today. NO. It’ll have to wait. *sad face*. Then it’s off to Gamestop to get the PSP replaced, and to a used shop in Albany to get some patch cables and a practice amp. That’s when the twins (Ethan and Topher) found leather trench-coats for $25 each. Much begging ensued, followed by capitulation. I’m usually much better about that.

Finally got home at 2 … about 2 hours later than planned. The older boys had moved the pool table downstairs without clearing the floorspace for it and leaned it against the wall … you know … the one where I was supposed to mount a TV!?!? ~~Much yelling~~ Some loud discussing ensued. Topher showed off his cello, then it was back to work. The area where Douglas’ bed was going to go was not clean, so that needed to get done before I could get to building. The trundle (yes, he now has a trundle for guest use) was at Bammy’s house, so I had to go get that (insert a 1+ hour interlude while I visit mom). Douglas needs a mattress, and Julian’s is dying, so can we get new mattresses? Off to the local furniture store to get on that. When I got home from that trip, everyone was settling down … because they’d had a busy day… I ~~bellowed~~ explained that I’d been on my feet for 10 hours, hadn’t had lunch, and didn’t want to hear it! The good news was that somewhere in there, space got cleared (some) and the Pool Table got set up while I wasn’t looking.

Crash … Wake up (minus an hour of sleep … explain why time changes again?) …

Then we’re off to Church, where I’m teaching about the Prodigal Son. Of course, my ~~teenage jerks~~ young adult boys were tired, and didn’t come. That meant I got to teach it twice, because this reading had a lesson for them (I’ll blog about that later). That means that my day started off growly. I got home only to have to run to Home Depot to get machine screws the right size(s) to got into the back of my plasma TV’s *growl*. When I got back, everyone had their butt parked in front of some electronic media playing a game. I ~~yelled like a banshee~~ got really mad and threatened to put a hammer through the center of each and every screen that came on without my permission for the rest of the day! Yes, Topher, that means the laptops, too! I built Douglas’ bed, which came out quite nicely, and he’s VERY happy. The boys kept cleaning on and off throughout the day. I got the TV’s mounted on the walls. I didn’t get the racks made or the monitors on the wall. I didn’t make my bowling league. I went shopping with Chris and I cooked dinner instead.

During the day (don’t ask me exactly when … I can barely remember what happened, let alone the order) Kimberlee came over to help clean/supervise kids/etc. At some point in the evening, her son Walter took off his own poop-filled diaper and proceeded to finger paint himself and MY PILLOW with his poop! You know … the expensive, synthetic down one that doesn’t make my neck hurt? Yeah, that pillow. And … it wasn’t in a pillowcase due to an incident with Kaleigh earlier.

By the time I went to bed I was beyond “lost it” … I had been so angry I swear steam was coming off my head. I had done almost 2 people’s worth of work mostly alone (Chris helped, but being sick … yeah). I wanted to fall on my pillow and sob and scream … except I was too exhausted to cry … and I didn’t even have a pillow to scream into.

At times like this, I try to remember parable of the Ducks … thanks mom:

When you see a brace of ducks out on the water, they look calm and collected, serenely floating from place to place. BUT, if you dive under the water, you can see they’re paddling like hell underneath it all!

So ... you're seeing the calm collected top view (mostly). But, yes, I’m paddling like hell. I love them all … even Walter. I volunteered for this. It’s more than survival … it’s living! Today I can honestly say I wouldn’t trade any of them for the world!

But if you’d have asked me last night, you could probably have had them all … cheap … really cheap … I’m glad nobody was there to offer.

aka: goofdad

I hope Grandpa was right!

2010-03-12T17:05:00.001-08:00

My grandfather used to say: Trouble comes in threes. If that’s true, yesterday was my perfect trifecta, as we handled each problem in turn, and came out the other side!

The Girlfriend:

Ethan and Topher and the incredible GF. Topher has been chasing GF for over a year now. Ethan started dating her shortly before Topher moved in (could someone explain this to me! What does it mean to date when you won't hold hands 'cuz it's yucky, you can't drive and do things together in the evenings, and you won't kiss each other because ... eeew ...). Topher said he was OK with that, as she’d never shared his feelings. Until Valentines day, when she said she had feelings for him. I convinced Ethan to break up with her and let Topher have a shot. That didn’t work. Topher broke up with her, to let Ethan have another shot. That didn’t work. It was causing no end of stress in the house. The were both behaving like little turds, and I was about to send them to the back yard to lay with the rest of the dog droppings when we came upon a solution:

They both, with some urging from me, decided to tell her she had to pick and stop playing with their emotions. After school, they spent an eternity outside her house pacing back and forth, arguing between the three of them, and they finally left her to decide. By the time we all got home, she had decided. She chose: neither. Throughout this whole thing, I was holding my breath, trying to figure out how to comfort whoever was on the “losing” side. Turns out they both lost, and they commiserated and found comfort in each other’s company.

Like Brothers.

I couldn’t have asked for a better outcome.

The Sister:

Topher’s sister is apparently missing him. Or, if I read her texts correctly, she’s missing his SSA income. She’s pointing at the fact that he is starting to do better and said “He’s better now. He needs to come home”. The advantage of fostering by voluntary power-of-attorney is not having the state involved. The disadvantage is that his mother has the power to revoke it at any time she chooses. Yesterday, the disadvantage began to severely outweigh the advantage.

So … DHS/DFS/CPS has been called. I can’t say who called them, but I got the phone call from Topher’s caseworker at about 9 AM this morning. After a brief discussion, where it came out that Topher has had an open investigation since January, that his mother had not informed his worker that she had moved him out, and that she had likewise not informed his worker that she was being evicted, the following was decided:

His case worker has declared the power-of-attorney non-revokable. He has said if she revokes it, he’ll just pull Topher and place him back with us. We are discussing what to do when it expires in August, but this is now a “permanent” placement (as permanent as foster care gets).
Because of the way his mom and sister have been pressuring him, we’re severing contact and all visitation arrangements are to be handled through the case worker.
The case worker is going to handle as much of this from his side as possible, leaving me to focus on Topher.
If Topher’s nephew (Topher’s 17 year old sister is 7+ months pregnant … yeah … ‘nuff said) ends up being taken by the state, we’re on the list of potential foster parents. A baby would be a nice addition to the family, and having a blood relative would really be a boon to Topher as well.

Again, I couldn’t have asked for a better outcome.

The Wife:

Christina is still struggling with bringing Topher into the family. The biggest struggle is that he is very needy, and is demanding a lot of attention. She’s feeling like she’s having to compete with him for my time, and that’s never good. We fought Wednesday night, but Thursday morning we came to an understanding:

We are in this for the long haul. As he learns to handle his troubles, he will become less and less needy, and we will be able to settle in together.
At this point, as she agreed to bring him into the house, we’re reduced to three options:

Sacrifice the marriage to save the boy
Sacrifice the boy to save the marriage
Figure out how to get back to working together and save them both.

Since we both agree that neither of the first two is acceptable, that leaves the third, and we’re working on it. The news this morning made it more obvious. With the severing of contact with his biological mother, she is now the only mother he has, and she’s working on stepping up to the job. It also helps that we may be getting a “bonus baby” on top of all that, and she’s doing much better today. She made sure I offered to foster the baby, and she even mentioned that she thought it would be better for Topher if the baby was here and not randomly out in the foster care system.

Still working on this outcome, but I can see the light!

So … I hope my grandpa was right and these troubles come in threes … because I don’t know how many more of these I can survive!

aka: goofdad

A day late

2010-03-12T16:15:00.000-08:00

What are your Top 3 favorite things about being a parent?

So ... Yesterday was a BAD DAY (tm), but today is better, so I'm doing my Top Three Thursday on ... well ... Friday. Because yesterday was all about fostering, I'm going to twist the answers to specifically address being a foster parent.

3: Watching the pain fade. Watching him decide not to reach for a knife to cut himself, or to take his hurt and frustration out on the people around him in inappropriate ways. Watching him decide that this family is where he needs to be ... even when times are rough.

2: Watching the smiles show up. Watching him break into a simple, sweet smile at the drop of a hat, knowing that even if you had nothing to do with this particular good time, you helped set the attitude on life that allowed him to enjoy it.

1: One more mouthy teenager, without the intervening years! I LOVE my rebellious, smart assed, foul mouthed teenagers. I like that they'll tell me when I'm wrong, and argue their side even when they know they HAVE to lose (hey ... it's in my job description). I didn't have to change his diaper. I didn't have to deal with the terrible twos, or the whiny threes, or any of those other annoying middle years.

It's a painful process. It's different than having one of your own. But, if we can survive, the payoff is worth it!

aka: goofdad

Victories

2010-03-10T10:14:00.001-08:00

So … this week has been hard for Topher. It’s been a rough week emotionally, and he’s struggling with a lot of things all at once. Yesterday (why does this always seem to happen on Tuesdays?) it got to him, and he had a difficult evening. Read on to share in his victories.

It started over the weekend. Over breakfast on Saturday he told his mother he was cutting himself. It went simultaneously very well and horribly wrong. To his mother’s credit, she didn’t get angry. She burst into tears and confessed to having done it when she was younger. She showed him some scars on her arms where she had cut/burned herself over the years. That sums up the good part. Within two minutes, however, she pulled the conversation back to herself and her problems. That morning needed to be about him, but in the hour+ the three of us spent out, only about 5-10 mins total were about anyone but her. I won’t enumerate the troubles she laid on his young, delicate shoulders. They’re big to the point of overwhelming, and will have their own post so I can react to them.

Victory: After breakfast, he and I talked about how it went. I asked about how he felt, and he blew all of her problems off with:

“I’m out of that, and I can’t worry about it.”

When I asked if he thought he would ever be strong enough to go back:

“If it’s just my mom, yes, but not yet. If her boyfriend is there, I don’t think I’ll ever be that strong.”

WOW

Just … WOW … I know he is worrying about them … but it’s a start!

Sunday we went to church. There we discussed Lenten failures (no details) and refocusing on where God is leading us. We put together an offering for Haiti. Topher took some of the change from his pocket and put it in.

Victory: He’s feeling comfortable enough about his own situation to start being generous to others!

Then yesterday rolled around. He had girl problems … again. He texted me, telling me he was done. He was going home, and didn’t want to talk. I told him I was proud of him for walking away from the situation (I was), and that I was going to be giving him a big hug when I got home. He cursed back at me, said no more hugs, no more talking, he was just going to deal with it his way. Then he stopped texting me back.

Small Victory: He started calling our house home last week, and I’m calling that a victory.

BIG VICTORY: He didn’t “deal with it his way” … he didn’t cut himself. He played a video game all day. He went in his room and chatted online. He cried and slept. He got lectured over the way he treated me.

But his skin is whole! No new cuts, no red lines.

Congratulations, kiddo. You survived another day … without hurting yourself.

aka: goofdad

Not feeling guilty

2010-03-08T16:31:00.000-08:00

Despite the title, this is not a Not Me Monday post. Mostly ...

Like many of us, I've been reading the posts on MckMama's blog, on We Are That Family, and in other places about Compassion International's Kenya trip. I freely admit to crying when appropriate, and sometimes when not. It scares me that people in today's world live in such poverty when it takes so little from us to make it better.

It hurts me that these children are living in such poverty. It hurts me that I'm cynical, and see this (at least in part) as all of us being manipulated to try and raise money for a charity. It really hurts me that I believe it's the only way to get these people the help they need, because most of us are too HUA to pay attention to the poverty around us, let alone the poverty half way around the world!

For the record: My extended family does sponsor children in 3rd world countries. My immediate family sponsors, well, locally. We give of our time and treasure to the church, and do so willingly and with a happy heart.

And yet, I do feel guilty for not doing more. It hurts that what I spend on gas in two days to get back and forth to work could provide for these kids for a month. But if I didn't spend the money on gas, I wouldn't be able to do the good works I do. It hurts to think that I'm considering renting a cello for Topher rather than sponsor a kid in Kenya. But if I didn't invest in Topher like he was one of my own, I wouldn't be raising the next generation to continue the good works (neither Topher for being resuced, nor setting a good example for my other children).

I've prayed a lot over the last week (actualy, over the last month and more), and if I wasn't already reaching out so hard my heart bled at home I would find a way to sponsor a child in Kenya.

I do feel guilty, even though I know my whole family is investing all their energy and spare money to keep Topher safe and get his family to a situation where he can safely go home. I do feel guilty every time I do something nice for my kids, every time I start my car. Currently, we aren't able to commit to doing more, but it's out there. And we will be sitting down to consider it again soon.

In the meantime there's something I can do: If you're reading this and you're not giving all you can, then visit one of the blogs linked above and sponsor a child in Kenya. It's really not that much, and you can make a BIG difference.

Those other blogs define survival in a way I can't even touch ... again ... go ... follow the links ... they need all the help you can give!

aka: goofdad

Watching through the windows

2010-03-05T10:30:00.001-08:00

So ... my ~~deadbeat~~ friend Mark called last night. He wanted to offer ~~curse words~~ support over my post yesterday. He’s going through something very similar, and is not having nearly as easy a time (if you can call it that) as I’m having with Topher. He called while I was helping go over what’s left in my shop, trying to get the last of it cleaned out and ready to turn back to the landlord. I left the building, not wanting to discuss this in front of the kids. Standing out there, in the cold, on the phone, I got a different view of everything going on.

Everyone was working when I left, but then Kimberlee showed up with Sylvia, Amber, and Walter. I waved as they went into the shop, and then watched while I stood outside on the phone. While Chris was talking to Kimberlee, the kids turned into kids. Amber and Sylvia went and talked in a corner (I still don’t understand girls). Adam kept trying to work. Topher started playing with the little ones. At first it was just wave and wave back … then it turned into a chasing game, with him vaulting through the internal “windows” (just square holes in the non-support walls) while the little ones had to run around the walls through the doors. He’d hide behind the counter while they searched. Once, I watched Topher miss his vault and go head first through a window, only to somersault up on the other side, smiling ear to ear. Shortly after this started, Amber and Sylvia joined it. It became a running, yelling ruckus through the empty(ish) shop.

For a whopping 10 minutes, nobody worried that the place was needing cleaning, or about the kipple on the floor, or the tools on the counter. For 10 minutes I got a glimpse of a world, where everything is chasing and smiles and smacking your older brother or sister if you caught them off guard. For 10 minutes I got to see faces and games that told me I hadn’t spent nearly enough time with my family in way too long. For 10 minutes I watched and knew that this young man had, despite his problems, become one of the kids and part of the family. They don’t play quite the same with outsiders.

For 10 minutes, everything was right.

Those 10 minutes showed me … closing my shop down was the right decision. I’ve missed out on those smiles and that running around.

I don’t know how I survived so long without them.

aka: goofdad

On Lenten Promises and Broken Hearts …

2010-03-04T09:48:00.001-08:00

I said, in my post about Ash Wednesday, that Topher dropped a bomb on me and that I couldn't blog about it. Today, he gave me permission to drop it on my readers. This morning he said I should let it out, that he no longer wants to hide, that getting things out in the open is the only way to heal.

Actually, after last night (described below), I texted him this morning asking if I could blog about it ... he texted back "Idc" ... those three letters mean a lot, though.

What follows is what broke my heart. You've been warned.

It started innocently enough. It was Monday before Ash Wednesday, and I was talking to all the kids about Lent. Topher, being new to the house, had no idea of the meanings behind Easter, let alone Lent. We talked about the desert. We talked about Traditions. I said that as an adult, I try to use Lent as a time to do some introspection. I try to find something about my life that needs changing and take the action to change. It may be giving something up, it may be doing something positive. I said that as my kids move towards adulthood, I ask them to do the same. I explained that at 13 he was still young, and that I couldn’t and wouldn’t force this practice on any of my kids, let alone on him.

Then I said “Good Night!”, left his room, and started towards bed.

He walked out behind me:

“Pops, I think I know what I’d like to give up for Lent.” (Dayam … what was that … 30 seconds of introspection?!?)

“OK. You want to share?”

“Yeah. I think I’m going to give up cutting myself.”

I swear, my head must have spun around in place about 3 times, and my world exploded. In the calmest voice I could manage, I eeked: “You cut yourself?” I’m sure my voice squeaked at the end … I was having a hard time holding it together.

“Yeah. When I was at home I used to lock myself in my room and sit in the corner. I’d re-arrange the furniture so I’d be in a small space and just sit there. Sometimes I’d cut myself. I think I want to stop that.”

eek: “That’d be great, kiddo. That’s a wonderful thing to give up. Let’s discuss it tomorrow, OK?”.

I then proceeded to my room and cried for more than an hour. How could this be going on? Did nobody in the past care about this kid? I swore the cycle of hurt would stop if I could possibly manage it. I started googling like mad, trying to find an easy answer. There isn’t one. Most people don’t get it … but I do. I’ve hurt so much that it felt good to punch a tree or a brick wall. I’ve cried so hard I wished I could have cried blood. Like I said after Ash Wednesday, it’s an external manifestation of internal turmoil. And that’s what everything I read said. The scary part is they phrased it differently.

They said: It’s a Symptom.

In all probability, there is a deeper hurt there, something he’s not ready to talk about. I’m sure I’ll learn about it, but it’s going to take time, and healing, and more time. I’m going crazy trying to get my name on his medical plan (state red-tape) so I can get this young man some counseling. In the meantime, life keeps coming.

He told me this last Monday that he hadn’t been totally successful. Apparently Sunday night was a bad night (he’s having girl problems). When he showed me the cuts, it was with the phrase “You’re going to be really pissed at me”. I amazed him (and myself) by remaining calm. Hugging him. Telling him that I was proud of him for trusting me and that I would never, ever be mad at him for being open and honest with me. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do as a parent.

Last night I was talking to a friend, filling them in on everything going on, and Topher walked out. He said “Be sure and tell her about this weekend … about Sunday Night, and what I told you Monday” … I asked if he was sure … that’s when he said he was tired of keeping it a secret, that it wouldn’t get better unless it was out in the open.

I was, and am, one proud parent.

Final note: Monday, when he was sure it was OK, he showed me his journal. He’s writing down his feelings, trying to find another, less destructive, outlet. When I asked why, he said he liked to write. Then he mumbled something about it working for me, so it should work for him.

I knew my blog was becoming key to my survival. I couldn’t have imagined it was setting an example and becoming key to his!

aka: goofdad

Top 3 Thursday ...

2010-03-04T09:06:00.000-08:00

What are the Top 3 things you like about Spring?

3: It leads into Summer: It's starting to get warmer, things like shorts and flip-flops are becoming more common. In our house, at least, Spring becomes like an early Summer. There's time at home (Spring Break), school is winding down ... It's a fun time all around.

2: The Sounds: From kids playing outside to birds tweeting (yes, tweeting) in the trees, I just love the sounds of spring.

1: Easter: Better than Christmas ... Easter is awesome. We celebrate baptisms and welcome new life. We sing for joy at the resurrection. It's new life out of nothing. It is the very embodiment of Spring!

It means we've survived another year!

aka: goofdad

Brothers are forever ...

2010-03-03T14:15:00.000-08:00

Sadly, this is not Topher's first time around the block when it comes to being fostered. He's told me several times about his former foster family, where he lived for a year about 8 years ago. He tells stories about his foster-parents and their kids often. It worries me sometimes that his favorite memories are about his foster family. I've never heard a cute story or a fun story about living with his mom. So, with nothing but a picture of his foster-brother, a misspelled name, and a phone number, I set out to find these people who had made such a difference in my son's life.

The first thing I tried was the phone number. Unfortunately, it's been disconnected. Next I tried googling the misspelled name (I didn't know it was misspelled). I got results in Albany, NY with that spelling, as well as Texas ... not really useful. After several click-through's, failed searches, and more, I finally stumbled across a two year old pdf copy of a 4H newsletter that listed his foster-dad and his foster-sister. I sent Topher a copy of the picture in the newsletter and got an enthusiastic "Yes, that's him, how did you get that picture?!?!?"

Armed with the correct spelling now, as well as his foster-sister's name, I did more searching. I sent email to the 4H club, found his foster-sister on Facebook and tried to friend her. Then came the waiting game.

Two days passed.

Then: his foster-sister sent me an email back saying she was passing the information on to her dad. I got an email back from the 4H that afternoon with a current phone number. I called and left a message.

More time passed.

Last Friday, on the way home, I got a call from his foster-dad. We made arrangements for Sunday afternoon. Two out of three of their adult children made it to visit with Topher. I have never in the 18 months I've known him seen Topher smile so much.

They talked about old times. They talked about what happend to pets I'd never met, horses Topher remembered, and more. They walked through the house (they still live in the same place) so Topher could see how it had changed. They discussed how tall he was (he's now taller than his foster mom). They told embarassing stories, laughed, and had an overall great time.

I was a bit of an outsider, not being part of that family, not sharing that history, but they invited me in as much as they could knowing that I was now important to the young man they had such an influence on so many years ago. When we finally left, we traded phone numbers and promised to keep in touch. After all, we're connected now. Connected because we all care for this young man, and all want the best for him.

If nothing else, Topher now has an updated picture of his brother ...

... brothers are forever ...

It's feels like such a small thing ... but if it helps Topher survive the hard times now and the hard ones ahead, it was worth the effort.

aka: goofdad

Camping with Cub Scouts

2010-03-03T11:12:00.000-08:00

So, this last weekend I went camping with 10 ~~screaming little monsters~~ adorable young Cub Scouts and 3 ~~louder bigger monsters~~ helpful Boy Scouts. I've already recapped shopping for the trip and how my weekend started. Read on for the rest of the ~~comedy~~ adventures!

So, Friday night started out with everyone (both the kids and the adults) cooking hot-dogs over the open fire on skewers. A handful of boys ate the aforementioned cups of noodles, as they did not want hot dogs (why they couldn't have mentioned this at the meetings where we planned the meals, or while shopping, is beyond me, but they'll learn!). They then took about 45 minutes to set up their gear in the open 3rd floor of the lodge (Cub Scouts don't do tents in cold weather). While they did that, I fractured a few speeding laws driving home as I had forgotten the fixings for s'mores in the van during the opening fiasco. Got home, grabbed the graham crackers and chocolate, drove back. Filled their bellies with sugar and ... well ... sugar, and then sent them off to bed.

Then came the issues surrounding sleeping arrangements. Over Protective Parent complained that there was no adult sleeping up on the 3rd floor with the boys, and pointed out that the rules stated there could be since it was "dorm room style" sleeping. She was worried that "something could happen". Laid Back Grandfather volunteered to sleep on the second floor at the foot of the stairs, and that mollified OPP. In the meantime we only had 1 female parent who had not made her own sleeping arrangement, so she got a trailer all to herself. That left Me, Ethan, and Topher sleeping in my truck (no biggie ... done it before ... will do it again) with the other men in the other trailer (provided by LBG, who was sleeping upstairs on the floor).

Evening Came, and Morning Followed. The First Day.

We got up in the morning and watched as the boys ~~made a mess of~~ cooked their breakfast. They had very few issues all told, with the biggest being the lack of experience necessary to have bacon and eggs finish at the same time so you can serve them together rather than eat on the run as things get ready. Pretty much the normal fare for Scouts of all ages. Hunting Dad cooked for the adults, and all was good. OPP had to run into town, and left her boys (one Cub, and one Boy Scout) at camp while she was gone.

After breakfast was cleaned up, we let the boys head off on a hike into the netherlands. We made sure we had reception, made sure the Boy Scouts had their cells in case something happened, and sent them off. This gave the adults a chance to kick back, have come coffee, and relax. They got back, and I pulled the Boy Scouts aside to get ready for the afternoon's activities. We were working on our Scientist badge, it being more fun, not to mention safer, to do such activities on an outing rather than in the Church where we meet.

After lunch, where most of the Cubs complained because the adults still had hot-dogs left over as well as cold cuts for sandwiches while they merely had sandwiches (and cups of noodles), we did our Scientist badge. The Boy Scouts ran some experiments with the Cubs about inertia. They played with spinning a pail of water, yanking a paper out from under a cup full of water, dropping coins into cups, and more. I'd love to say that no water was spilled by these antics, but I'd be lying. Fortunately, it was only the Boy Scouts that got wet. Welcome to being a leader.

In the meantime I ran experiments with fire. We lit matches, held them up to cards, and blew to prove airplanes can fly. We sucked water up into a cup by lighting a match and inverting the cup over it. Nobody got burned, and very little water was spilled. Pictures of this exist, but I have to get them from Hunting Dad, because I was a little busy making sure they didn't burn the place down!

Then came dinner. The boys had hobo stew. They followed their own recipe, but it came out fine. The adults had Elk Steaks provided by Hunting Dad. Then came "campfire time" ... The boys did a skit or two:

And the Boy Scouts amazed us with their skit prowess:

Then came sleeping hassles redux. The good news is that the lone female parent decided to go home rather than sleep in the trailer, so me and my boys got the trailer (with the heater) ... YAY! The bad news is that the boys on the third floor decided to discuss inappropriate topics (penis size, among others) which just reinforced OPP's opinion of "there needs to be an adult up there". Oh, well.

Evening Came and Morning Followed, the Second Day

So ... Sunday we got up, cooked breakfast (which was a redux of Saturday's breakfast), packed our gear, cleaned the place, and headed home.

On the way out, I told the boys that I figured my job was to make sure they had a rotten time so they'd never want to go camping with me again ... thus saving me the trouble of having to do this again any time soon.

They all said I failed.

They all said we did more than survive ... we had a BLAST!

aka: goofdad

How to be a total jerk to your wife

2010-03-01T15:41:00.001-08:00

Sorry to say it but I screwed the pooch last week. Anyone who knows me knows that this never happens to me (wait, is this still not me Monday?). Tonight is my first chance to make it up to her … any suggestions?

Background:

Wednesday before last, my wife went in to have a minor surgery. I stayed with her the whole time. They had to run some tests afterwards, which they said would be back Friday or Monday, and that she should come in on the next Wed (ie, last Wed) to get her stitches out. Friday rolled around, and I asked if she’d heard back. “No” was all I got. Monday, same. On Tuesday, I mentioned that I was concerned, and that maybe she should call in for the test results. She said she could wait.

The Screw-up:

Wednesday came around, and I got busy. Then Thursday I was coming home and wanted to go out, but she said the babysitter cancelled so we couldn’t. So, I made plans with Ethan and Topher to take them to a school thing. Then they blew me off (teenagers …) and the babysitter showed, so we ended up going out anyway. Friday morning on my way out the door to work she finally says:

“Aren’t you going to ask how it went at the doctors? Don’t you care?”

OH

SHIT

She didn’t tell me over dinner Thursday ‘cuz she didn’t want to cry about it in the restaurant. Great.

To make it worse, my day was already running late. I needed to run out the door as it was so I could make it back to go camping with the Cub Scouts. I had a meeting on Friday that had taken me 2 weeks to set up. I couldn’t just blow it off.

Between unpacking from camping, getting some cleaning done, taking Topher to go see his former Foster Parents (look for a post later on how this went), getting tired whiny ~~brats~~ angels to bed … you know, mostly the usual shit with 9 kids … I didn’t have a thing I could do last night to make it better.

So … tonight it is. I’m headed home about 45 mins earlier than normal. I’d like to do something nice for her … I’m open to suggestions.

If you see a blog entry from me tomorrow … you’ll know I at least survived …

aka: goofdad

PS: The tests came back fine ... She's going to be OK. It's just that I didn't ask (like a damn fool).

Not Camping with the Cub Scouts ... Not Me!

2010-03-01T11:26:00.000-08:00

This weekend I DID go camping with the WEBELOS. All ten of them. Ranging from 9-11. And 3 Boy Scouts ages 12 to 14. In the spirit of MckMama's Not Me Mondays, here's the story of Friday Night.

I DID NOT let a bunch of the boys pile into my van Friday Night and send their parents on ahead to meet us at camp. I would never volunteer to drive an 11 passenger van full of young boys up to a campground with no backup. Nope ... someone else should volunteer for that job.

I definately did not forget my wallet at home and have to drag that van full of Scouts, pulling a trailer, past MY HOUSE so I could get gas.

And, after getting gas, that was NOT ME broken down by the side of the road, my serpentine belt having given out with no warning, calling those self same parents to come get their kids. And someone else had to call Adam to bring the truck to come rescue me.

I would never ~~abandon~~ leave Adam by the side of the road with a broken down van while I took the truck and the trailer up to camp with me. That'd be downright rude!

The rest of the trip went very well! Look for an upcoming blog about it as soon as I get the pictures downloaded!

aka: goofdad

PS: Here's a shout out to my ~~deadbeat~~ friend Mark ... he's been literally CRYING into my phone because he's not mentioned in my blog ... so now you are. I would never call any of my friends a PANSY. Not me...not on Monday!

Top 3 Thursday …

2010-02-25T10:27:00.001-08:00

Sometimes, a Blog Carnival catches my eye, so here goes:

What are the Top 3 reasons why you blog?

I’ve only just started blogging. My reasons for starting are spelled out here. Here are the reasons I keep doing it:

3. My readers. I’m gaining a few regular readers who aren’t family, don’t know the players involved personally, but still are interested in what’s going on in our lives. It’s weird, because I didn’t start blogging in order to be read. But every time I get a comment from a name I don’t recognize, or see a face I don’t know in the “followers” section, my heart skips a beat. It means someone out there is thinking of us, sharing our struggles, rejoicing in our joys. Just knowing that does serve to keep me going.

2. My family . Many of my family members are out of the state, don’t know what’s going on in my life, and need a way to keep it touch. While I try to send emails, and have tried websites in the past, spewing random blogs seems to be working for now as a way to keep them appraised. There is so much going on that it’s easier this way.

1. My Sanity. The number one reason I blog is still the same as it was when I started. I have too much going on … and too much is negative. Blogging gives me a way to focus on the good things, and to let go of the bad things. It relieves stress. It makes me smile. It’s great that others like it, it’s great my family can see it, but I’d still do it if none of that were true.

Blogging helps me survive … straight up.

aka: goofdad

So … maybe they’re not so grown up yet …

2010-02-25T10:03:00.001-08:00

The other day I blogged about how wonderful it was that my boys were growing into young men I was proud of. All I can guess is that Julian must have read my blog … because last night I swear he regressed … He teamed up with Kaleigh for goodness sake!

It started a few weeks back with me borrowing the movie The Hangover from a friend of mine (my carpool driver and fellow Scout Leader). I still haven’t watched it … it looks cute but a little low-brow, and I just haven’t been in the right mood for low-brow humor lately. But I do have teenage boys … 4 of them, to be exact. Plus a 20 year old. Come to think of it, that’s probably why low-brow humor doesn’t appeal to me right now … I’m too busy living it!

Anyway, the boys watched it, and I’ve been trying to return it to him for a week+ now, but we seem to both keep forgetting. I’ll bring it to Scouts, and then forget it in the car. He’ll ask for it on the way to work and I’ll have left it at home. Both of us, while laughing it off, were getting frustrated over it. So … I decided to put an end to it. Last night, before going shopping with the WEBELOS, I got his movie together. I put it on the table by the door and put my work badge on top of it to remind myself to return it in the morning.

Then … my children happened. When I got back from shopping, the movie was still there. My badge was gone. I ~~yelled and screamed~~ organized the troops to start ~~tearing the house apart~~ looking for my badge. Topher said “You should put a beeper on it” … and then wisely shut up when I glared at him. We looked around the table by the door to see if it fell. It didn’t take long to figure out it wasn’t there, at which point suspicion fell on my ~~little she devil~~ gorgeous daughter.

She looks so precious, cute, and innocent.

It’s really deceptive, isn’t it?

“Kaleigh, did you see a picture of Daddy?”

“Daddy?”

“Yes, a little picture of Daddy!” (hands making a square about the size of a credit card)

“Yep!”

“WOW! Where is it?”

“Dono … sgone!”

“Where did you see it?”

“Dono … sgone!”

Thus sort-of confirming she had it! When you have a nearly 4000 square foot house this is the kiss of doom! As they said when trying to sell you knives, though: But Wait! There’s More!

After looking for almost an hour, Julian suddenly gets this look of clarity on his face. Seriously, I think if I’d have held a light bulb over his head it would have lit up. He stands up, walks across the house like he has a purpose. He walks to the dining room table, reaches across the ~~mess that piles up there~~ … ~~crap the kids leave there~~ … hmm … can’t think of a good way to say that. Anyway, he reaches across to the middle of the table, where Kaleigh can’t reach so nobody thought to look there and picks up my badge.

“This one?”

“umm … yeah … how the hell did it get there?”

“Kaleigh was playing with it earlier, so I took it away from her because I knew it was important.”

wait for it.

you know it’s coming.

“I put it in a safe place … I just remembered.”

Yeah. So much for growing up.

I’ll survive this … and so, with the grace of God, will they.

aka: goofdad

Shopping with Cub Scouts

2010-02-24T21:35:00.000-08:00

So, I'm the WEBELOS den leader, and I tend to run my Cub Scout den more like a Boy Scout patrol. In case you don't know the difference, the general rule for Boy Scouts is that they do things themselves. Therefore, I try to let the boys make their own mistakes as we go.

To that end, we went shopping tonight. 8 boys running free in Walmart with minimal adult supervision. The two boys who arrived late could find us from across the store just by closing their eyes and following the noise. I told them they had a budget of $60 ...

90 minutes later, with much running back and forth, they finally had everything they thought they needed ... and they spent $115. The adults came in at the $60 budget, and we spent $50 on desserts.

I only had to tell them once to ~~shut the fuck up~~ that I didn't want to be kicked out of Walmart. There were no major fights. There were a few disagreements, but it was hard to tell the difference above the general din. They aren't perfect on what they're going to eat (cups of soup for lunch?) ... but they did it themselves.

And, they did it in budget ... see, this is not my first time around the block, so I knew how much they were likely to spend ... I told them $60 to keep it around $100 ... and it worked!

That's how you survive Cub Scouts!

aka: goofdad

Long live teenage rebellion!

2010-02-23T16:20:00.001-08:00

I’ve heard it said that teenagers rebel against everything their parents believe and stand for so that they can grow up into miniature versions of us. I’ve lived through teenage rebellion from both sides now … and it hurt from either side. But last night, I truly got a taste of what my boys have grown into. I have to say, it was worth all the heartache, all the pain, all the arguments. I feel like I’ve seen the light at the end of the tunnel!

Background:

With everything going on with Topher, I’m struggling with what my sister calls a conflict of principles. I know that he needs to be with us and not with his mom. I know that the longer he stays, the more he will heal. So, I am doing my best to hold on for as long as I can, permanently if possible.

The problem is, I’ve had my kids taken away. When my son Douglas was born, My wife’s ex husband made some heinous accusations against me, and they put my boys in the care of my mother for 2 weeks while they investigated. They eventually concluded that it was nothing but a custody stunt, and closed the case, but I’m still left with the scars on my heart from not seeing their first moments with their brother because I couldn't be there with them. I’m still left with the memory of what it’s like to have strangers come in and take your kids. And I can’t imagine what it’s like to think of it being permanent. It hurts to even think that I’m considering doing that to another parent.

Last Night:

So, last night at Walmart, I talked to Adam and Julian about my dilemma. I confessed that I’m scared of what I’m doing. I’m nervous that I’m doing wrong for all the right reasons. I’m scared that my good intentions are for naught, and I’m trodding on someone else to implement them. I confessed that I’d do anything … I’d sell myself on a street corner (like anybody would buy) … to keep from losing my kids ... and asked who I was to make this kind of life-changing decision for someone else’s kid.

And my boys surprised me. They put their arms around me and told me I was doing the right thing. They explained to me that I had introduced this young man into the family, and, therefore, family he was. They told me they couldn’t stand to watch their brother go through any more of the kind of experiences he’s been through. They told me to not look back, to do whatever it took to keep their family safe.

They didn’t hesitate. They didn’t consider him less than family. They didn’t even think about how it would inconvenience them. Last night they were the ones pointing me in the right direction when I was feeling lost. It was totally backwards. It was totally wonderful. If this is the end result of all the teenage rebellion … worth. every. second.

I don’t know what I did to deserve these kids, but I do know they are, all of them, key to my survival!

aka: goofdad

Building our House

2010-02-22T12:45:00.000-08:00

A bit ago, while Chris and I were arguing, Annika said the coolest thing to Bammy:

“Daddy and Mommy built our house for us”

Now, we’re not into construction, although we do many of our own repairs. And no, we didn’t actually build the house we’re living in. But it occurs to me, the more I think about it, that this is true. We are building a home together, and we’re doing it day by day. Here are some of my thoughts on this analogy proposed by my 6 year old wise woman:

Like any construction job, it’s never truly finished. We'll keep working on it as long as we're able.
Like any construction job, there are setbacks. Our family ebbs and flows, reaches out and reflects in.
Our children are both windows that show us the view outside and mirrors that reflect back on everything we do.

The more I think about it, the more I think our house is, overall, exactly what I have always wanted it to be. It’s beautiful. It’s safe. It’s comforting. It encourages togetherness. It’s accepting.

So, this one is for Annika ... yes, we live in a house Mommy and Daddy built. And we're still building. Together, we can survive anything.

aka: goofdad

Not Me Monday

2010-02-22T09:44:00.000-08:00

In the spirit of MckMama's blog, I'm going to tell you some of the things that didn't happen this weekend ;-)

Surely I didn't encourage my wife to take my pickup truck, fill it with laundry that's been piling up, and spend $100 at the laundromat to get it all done rather than making small dents in it over time. We'd never let laundry pile up for that long ... wait ... with 9 of us, it's not very long, is it?

She definately didn't run my truck so low doing the laundry that I ran out of gas while picking up Topher on the way to church on Sunday Morning, leaving me to catch a ride from a fellow parishoner who saw me stuck on the side of the road!

I absolutely didn't schedule family time with my older boys at the same time as my weekly bowling league, thus making myself need to be in two places at once.

None of that would EVER happen to me and my family!

aka: goofdad

Klondike

2010-02-19T12:23:00.001-08:00

One of the biggest things I'm looking forward to at the end of my Cub Scout career is having the time to go on outings with my older boys again. When Julian was a WEBELOS, I started running short on time to split between my older two boys and Cub Scouts. The Scout Troop was doing fine, so I discussed it with Adam and Jory (who were 12 and 14 at the time) and asked if they’d mind if I started focusing more on Cubs and less on them. It was one of those tough choices as a parent where there is no right decision, but one must be made anyway. I knew I was going to miss many memories. I knew I was, at least in part, sacrificing their scouting career for Julian’s. I knew, though, that it was the best choice we could make at the time, and that we’d survive it.

But this weekend is Klondike. It’s camping in the snow! I know … everyone living through the snowpocalypse on the east coast think I’m crazy, but it’s one of my favorite outings. I’m a California boy … we didn’t get snow unless we imported it! It’s a little different here in OR, but not much. You have to go up into the mountains to see the snow, and I can’t go! <pitiful whine>

I have a WEBELOS outing next weekend, and I simply can’t be out two weekends in a row … especially the weekends when we’re cleaning out our shop getting ready to shut it down.

So it is with fondness that once again I send my older boys off (this time Julian and Ethan … Topher hasn’t been with us long enough to have gear for snow camping) while I stay home with the Cubs. They whine and don’t want to go … I laugh inside, and remember all the times I whined when I was that age and went on to have a good time anyway. The procrastinate, and don’t want to pack. I remember packing for summer camp at 3 AM the day I was supposed to leave.

And all the while, I’m thinking … if Douglas hurries his Arrow of Light, he should earn it at Blue and Gold next year … then I’ll be fresh out of Cub Scout aged boys and I’ll get to go camping with the big guys again. I might get to go to Klondike next year!

Wanna bet they don’t want to go with me?

I think I can survive that.

aka: goofdad

PS: Kimberlee’s son Walter is going to be a Tiger Cub year after next. She asked me if I was going to stick out Cub Scouts for him. I had a good belly laugh at that. Not on your life. I’ve missed enough outings already. Sorry, but I’ve served my time.

PPS: I'm adding this post to Fatherhood Friday, which I have just joined for their first anniversary. YAY!

You never forget your first

2010-02-18T10:48:00.000-08:00

With fostering, the firsts have a tendancy to hit you fast ... and hard. I just thought I'd share a few of Topher's with everyone:

The first time he responded to "I love you" ... that would be 2/3/10. My heart lept, and I told him so. Embarassed, it took him the better part of a week to say it again. That's fine. I still heard it!

The first time he actually called me "dad" ... 2/12. I told him he couldn't do something, and he texted his friend saying his dad wouldn't let him go :-)

When he told me I was the only adult he knew he could trust this last weekend, it was definately a first for me!

And when he broke my heart on Monday night, it was also a first.

I know he doesn't read my blog, but if he ever does, I want him to know: I never knew how bad it was, and I will do everything in my not inconsiderable power to keep it from ever being that bad again.

Together we'll survive!

aka: goofdad

Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return

2010-02-18T10:11:00.000-08:00

And when you pray, do not imitate the hypocrites: they love to say their prayers standing up in the synagogues and at the street corners for people to see them. In truth I tell you, they have had their reward. But when you pray, go to your private room, shut yourself in, and so pray to your Father who is in that secret place, and your Father who sees all that is done in secret will reward you. -- Matthew 6:5-6

I think I've been hearing that quote, and been bothered by it, on Ash Wednesday about as long as I can remember. The gospel says to pray in secret, to not make a public spectacle of yourself ... and then we mark our heads with ashes as an outward sign of our devotion ...

Wait ... say what? Back that truck up and run it over me again!

That makes zero sense. The explanation is simple ... it's a matter of perspective. If you're leaving the ashes on your forehead to show everyone that it matters to you, you're doing it wrong. If you're doing it to remind yourself, that's OK. But I also think that maybe that's too simplistic. Couldn't the same be said of the people who pray in public? I hate to admit it, but there are times in my life where praying in church is the only praying I get to. Does that make me a hypocrite? a fool? What about those who rend their garments? I won't say it's happened often, but there have been times I've been so hurt I've torn my clothes out of sheer frustration. It had nothing to do with the people around me; it had to do with my inner turmoil. Isn't it all, on some level, an outward sign of our inner pain?

Yet, to say I don't get it would be wrong, too. We all know the hypocrites that this verse is superficially talking about. Genesis talks about them in the song Jesus He Knows Me. And obviously these are the ones being talked about in the verse. But are they the only ones?

And ... I’ve come full circle to the matter of perspective, haven't I? Over the years I’ve come to find my own balance. I go to evening services, and my closest friends and family are the only ones who see me with ashes. By the time I get up in the morning, they’re no longer visible, and nobody that sees me today knows. It’s private. And yet, I feel I’m confessing something when I say I do it this way on purpose. I feel like I’m cheating the system. I feel like I’m only a small step above the little kids who are embarrassed by their ashes and wipe them off so nobody sees. I wish I had better perspective myself, because I need it. I need it so I can share it.

I need it because this post isn’t about me. Topher dropped a bomb on me Monday night. He shared with me some of his less public manifestations of his inner turmoil. I’ve promised not to spill his secret in my blog, but I will say it’s shaken me. I’m searching for perspective and balance so I can filter it down through to him. I’m glad he’s sharing, and I’m glad he’s feeling good enough about his life now that he’s given it up for lent, and hopefully for life. We have begun the healing together.

But someone should have warned me how much it was going to hurt. How much of my own turmoil would come out. It's different than raising your own kids. With your own kids, you have a much better defined relationship by the time they're old enough to talk, let alone by the time they are old enough to manifest inner pain by any way other than screaming. But that doesn't exist with a foster kid, and some days it cuts to the core.

Hope you didn’t click the link looking for answers … I don’t have any today. Answers aren’t necessary for survival, questions are.

And I got lots of those!

aka: goofdad

A few minutes with my wife

2010-02-16T09:59:00.001-08:00

It doesn't happen very often, but last Saturday it did. My older boys all took off ... some to visit relatives, some to visit girlfriends, some just to get wrapped up in computer games. I found sitters to watch all the little ones. Thus it was possible, for a brief moment or three, for Chris and I to go to dinner.

Alone.

No kids.

No kids meals, no begging for shakes or desserts, no arguing over who sits where (we refrained from all of that, thanks!). Just the two of us.

We didn't have long, and as parents of so many children, we couldn't hardly turn off our phones. We got calls from the shop and from some of the kids. We made a few calls ourselves to get things straightened out, but it was still wonderful.

We went to Shari’s (the official name of the restaurant, according to my family, is “Aw, f*** it, let’s just go to ‘Shari’s’”). Nothing special or fancy, but nothing was needed. The food was typical, but it was the best I’ve had in a long time.

Because of the company. Because I got to eat it with the most wonderful person I know.

Soon enough, the world was blowing up in our faces again. We went straight from there to pick up Kaleigh, and from there to more kids, and chaos reigned.

But for a brief moment … bliss

Happy Belated Valentine’s Day!

aka: goofdad

A good marriage being key to my survival, I'm declaring the following for Lent: At least once a week I will find a babysitter to watch each and every one of my kidlets, and take my wife out for dinner. I think we both could use it! -- Doug

Blue and Gold Winner

2010-02-15T13:15:00.001-08:00

This weekend our Cub Scout Pack had our annual their Blue and Gold Banquet. My WEBELOS den represented itself very well during the “business” part of the meeting. They did their skit on their own, while I stood in the back of the room and watched and cheered. They earned over half the badges presented at the meeting. I had 5 boys earn their WEBELOS badge. All of my boys earned something, most of them earned several things. It was very successful.

But, at least in our pack, honor is not won or lost on the “business” side … it’s all about the desserts. Our Blue and Gold is a spaghetti feed followed by a dessert contest, where the boys were responsible for the desserts. Douglas worked with Bammy to come up with an idea that they thought was praiseworthy for his dessert this year. They made Hamburger Cupcakes!

They’re really simple, but labor intensive. Basically, you take chocolate cake circles (we cut up chocolate cakes using a cup as a cutter), and white cupcakes split in half. Add yellow, red, and white frosting (mustard, catsup, and mayo). Assemble, and sprinkle with sesame seeds (a little milk helps them stick).

We actually added a little “to-go” box around one for presentation (it was a small plastic box that Bammy had lying around). It really looked like a platter of miniature hamburgers.

The guest judges were tough. We had three District Executives (two past, one current), and two representatives from our sponsoring church. They argued. They went back for seconds. They hemmed and hawed. They ~~took for freaking-ever!~~ wanted to make sure the right boy won.

Then it was time for the dessert awards. The first award was “most creative” … which went to the scout who put bananas in hot-dog buns and added frosting. I watched Douglas’ face crash to lose to such a similar idea. “Most artistic” went to a boy who did a brownie pizza. “Best Scouting”, “Best Tasting”, “Best in Theme” … all went to other boys, and I watched Douglas’ face sag a little more with each announcement. I could hear him thinking “I sprinkled sesame seeds on those … were they not paying attention?!?!?” … or maybe that was what I was thinking … one can never tell.

And then they got to the “Silver Spoon” … the best-in-show award. The one that has gone to the same kid 3 out of the last 4 years (he graduated into Boy Scouts, so it was really up in the air this year) … and guess what? There’s a reason Douglas didn’t win any of the other awards. His hamburger cupcakes took the #1 spot!

WHAM! Two seconds from bummed to walking on air! One happy Cub Scout … one proud daddy! I went to take a picture of him holding the cupcakes in his uniform, but having won Best in Show, the cupcakes were GONE. Below is another picture of them from before the judging. I’ll post a picture of him with his “Silver Spoon” when it gets presented this week.

Someone please tell me hamburgers qualify as essential for survival? Cupcakes? hmm?

aka: goofdad

Good Customer Service

2010-02-11T10:43:00.000-08:00

This is really going to surprise you ... we have a lot of cell phones at our house. As my son would say, we have "an official crapton" ... My wife and I both have Droids (woot!), and the four older boys all have cells. We use Verizon's Family Share plan, but that only covers 5 lines (2+4 = 6), so Ethan's phone was on my parent's Family Share plan. In case you missed it, though, we added a foster kid last week. And, we're paying more for our landline now than we are per cell phone. That makes two more lines we needed to add.

In case life wasn't complicated enough, though, add to the mix Adam's phone breaking, getting swapped out for an old one, getting repaired, and needing to get swapped back. Plus, we need to add Jory wanting a new phone number because his ex-girlfriend won't stop calling him and bugging him. AND Julian sacrificed his planned upgrade last month so I could get my droid, so it's time to fix that for him.

Got that straight? Welcome to life with 9 kids.

So, it started Monday with a call to Verizon. They were able to set us up with a "sub account" which is basically a second account, without the credit check, linked back to the first account. We got two new Envy Touch phones to put there (the second one was "free" with purchase of the first). They said to take care of the rest once the phones were in our hands and the accounts were created. I took the intervening two days to download and create a spreadsheet of our usage for the last several months to see what the best combination of people was so we could minimize our minutes on both accounts. Turns out we NEED unlimited texting, but with the right combination of people, we can reduce both plans down to their 700 minute minimum.

So, when the phones arrived last night, it was an official "Phone Zoo". I had 7 phones in my hands for 6 lines, plus my phone which I was using to make the call. Two of the phones weren't activated at all, and one technically belonged to my father.

Here's what we needed to do: We wanted to move Jory's phone (4 year old flip phone which he loves) to one of the new #'s, take his old phone # for the house on the phone Adam has been using as a replacement. Adam gets his old phone back. We then wanted to move Julian's current phone to Topher's new number, and the envy's to Ethan and Julian on their existing numbers. Then, we needed to move Ethan's phone off of my father's contract and onto one of ours. Then, move my phone over to the new account (without interrupting my "new every two" service date, which is coming up!) where I would now share minutes with Julian, Ethan, and Topher (some of which moved as well). That leaves Adam, Jory, and the House on the existing contract with Christina (who now starts getting a "new every two" discount for the second account).

Clear as mud, right?

I spent an hour on the phone with a very patient Verizon customer service rep, who was frustrated herself because their computer system only lets her make 5 changes per transaction. She was patient when the phones refused to activate automatically by dialing *228, and walked me through programming each one by hand. She was patient when I got lost trying to map physical phones to phone numbers, when I made test calls on the wrong phone, and when we got disconnected (she called me back). She made suggestions on what order to do things both so her computer system could handle it and so we'd keep organized. She talked about kids, phones, and Droids (she has the Motorola Droid herself), and made things comfortable during the downtime while phones were waiting to go through the computer system. Overall, she handled the situation with poise and grace, and kept me smiling the whole time.

She reminded me why I have Verizon. I may get frustrated with their technical support, but their customer support team has come through for me every time!

Cell phones may or may not be essential to survival, but good customer support experiences definately are!

aka: goofdad

And yes, I know I'm on contract ... so "free" phones are not "free" ... TANSTAAFL, but it makes everyone happy to think the phone was free.

Words fail me

2010-02-10T08:09:00.000-08:00

Ann ika decided to make a mask out of a tortilla ...

What else can I say?

aka: goofdad

DFS ... Welcome to the Fail Boat!

2010-02-09T10:10:00.000-08:00

Topher's mom is an addict. In addition, she's been diagnosed with schizophrenia. If that wasn't enough, she's got cancer. Don't get me wrong ... I'm not going to make any excuses for her. Rather than dealing with her problems she used illegal drugs to cope. I have big problems with the choices she made and with the danger she put her children in. I'm just setting the stage.

You see, she got busted for using a couple weeks back, but was lucky enough to dodge jail. She is working with the Department of Family Services (DFS) so she can keep her kids out of foster care, because the system often does a lot more damage than good. That's why Topher is staying with us, under voluntary guardianship, rather than being taken by the state. It's helping him focus on being a kid while she works at putting together a safe environment for him to return to.

I'm praying she can pull it off. I'm afraid, for everyone's sake, that she may not be able to. No matter what the outcome, I will be staying in Topher's life and will fight tooth and nail to keep him safe.

But, fears and opinions about her lifestyle aside, it's not fair for DFS to set her up to fail. They've said they're going to help her with rehab and get her on some medication to control her medical and mental health issues. She talked to the mental health doctor they referred her to. He won't prescribe any medications for her until her sees her, which is understandable, but the next available appointment they have is in the middle of May. They told her that she's just going to have to hold it together until then. DFS won't recommend a different doctor, so she's stuck.

May.

This is a woman who hasn't spent 3 weeks clean in the last 7 years, and uses to control her pain and her brain ... and they want her to stay clean for 3 months unmedicated? She is literally hallucinating in her own bedroom after 22 days clean ... she's scared to walk her dog for fear she won't be able to find her way home ... how can she possibly hold it together 3 more months? I may not like her, I may not respect her, but treating anyone like that is downright indecent and inhumane!

So, I'm sending out a prayer request. Pray for Topher's mom. Pray that she gets the help she needs, and can hold it together until then. Pray that there's a cancellation and she can get in sooner. Pray DFS reconsiders and finds her a doctor that can see her sooner. If for no other reason, pray that she doesn't break a little boy's heart.

Please pray for all of us, but especially for her, because DFS is failing her, and without our prayers, I honestly don't know if she'll survive this.

aka: goofdad

End of an era

2010-02-05T09:00:00.000-08:00

So ... about 18 months ago I borrowed $30,000 from my family and opened an internet LAN gaming center. I found a partner, invested tons of time, and in a month we were open. We have 10 ~~high end~~ decent gaming computers (they were high end when we put them together), two XBOX 360's, one Wii, a Pool Table, and a tabletop RPG Table.

About 6 months into the experience, things were getting difficult. The shop wasn't making a profit. Since the primary reason I opened it was to help my kids with their resume's, and they couldn't work for free because it wasn't family owned, this was a BIG problem for me. There were other issues with the partnership, but the whys are largely irrelavant. I made a buyout offer, and my partner freaked. He cleared out everything he brought into the shop, from the freezer to the microwave to the TV stands. Then, when things got worse, he came in and literally tore the wires from the backs of the machines (doing upwards of $1000 worth of damage), pushed over a customer, and more. We were ousted by the police, and were locked out for 6 weeks while we settled this. He finally settled with me (for less than my offer, in the end, so ... I was confused), and we re-opened last March.

Fast forward 6 months, and I got let go from my real job. You know...the one that makes 6 figures and pays the bills. As a family, we struggled for a bit, until I got my current job. It's 80 miles away, and I can't (currently) telecommute, so it's putting me out of the house for 11-13 hours every day. It sucks. bad. really. But it pays the bills, and when you're used to making 6 figures, that's a lot to say.

Now comes the hard part, though. With me being away, we're really starting to feel the strain as a family. It isn't just that the shop is still losing money. I could afford that (mostly). It's that we haven't had dinner together as a family in over a year. It's that we're starting to argue over who watches the shop when, or who picks up the non-driver who is watching the shop when all 3 drivers in the house have had horribly long days. It's that my little kids are now in constant daddy withdrawls. It's that I'm fighting, big time, with my wife over stupid stuff.

So ... with much crying ... we're shutting it down. We're going to sell off some of it. Large chunks of it will just be absorbed into our lives. The computers aren't worth near enough to make a dent in the debt. We need a new XBOX at the house. So ... $30K later, we need to re-evaluate our position, let go, and move on.

The upside ... my kids are about to become the coolest. kids. ever. With 15 networked PC's at the house, a 52" TV for watching TV, 3 40+" TV's for game stations, two XBOX 360's, two Wii's, a PS2, and probably a PS3 on it's way, I expect 9 to be a low-tide mark for the number of kids in my house at any given time. I expect weekends to hover at 12-15.

The only thing I'm insisting has to go is the soda fridge. Not that I can't afford to run it ... but with that many kidlets, I can't afford to stock it!

I think the kids are going to have a pretty easy time surviving this change. I hope my wife and I do, too.

aka: goofdad

I love my wife

2010-02-04T15:06:00.000-08:00

So, this morning my wife and I fought. No, I don't mean some lame, tame argument over who's turn it was to do the dishes or take out the trash kind of fight. Those are easy. I know better. I'm wrong. No, this was hard. This was an all out, sit in the car in the office garage alternately yelling, crying, screaming, and whispering into the phone for an hour kind of fight. It's not about our shop, which we are pretty sure we're closing, but it is. It's not about money, but it is. It's not about Topher, but it is. It's not about the fact that I'm an incurable slob who has a desk stacked with soda cans from the last week which will probably stack there until I can’t see over them and into the mirror, at which point I’ll throw a fit and throw them all out, but it is. It's one of those fights that only two individuals who love each other so much that they can't imagine life without each other can have, because if you didn't love someone that much you would brush it all off and not care.

Let's just say, it's not been a good day. But the key to my survival lies in that last sentence. “Two people who love each other so much that they can’t imagine life without each other”. So, I thought I’d try today to talk about why it is that I love my wife so much. Not a snarky cute list, but something with a little bit of actual meat behind it. I hope it helps.

Christina and I were best friends in High School. I mean BEST FRIENDS. We ate lunch together every day. I used to sit in the attendance office where she volunteered and help her enter excuse slips into the computer. She used to drive us all over town for lunches, or after school, or just to explore (I didn’t have a license). She’s the one who threw me a surprise party when I left for Australia with the Boy Scouts. She dragged me (kicking and screaming) into Square Dancing, one of my favorite activities all through college. I loved the fact that she was older, but willing to spend time with me anyway, always laughing, always on the go. I hated the fact that she was dating someone else, but ~~nobody’s perfect~~. yeah...she is

Chris and I got back together years later. Jory was 8 at the time. Her marriage was falling apart (actually, in retrospect, it already had but they just didn’t know it yet), her life was in crisis, and she reached out to a friend. I found I still loved the way she smiled, even when she was angry. I loved the way she’d pack up the kids and drive to my job, half an hour away, just to say “hi”. I’d gone out with a couple of girls in college, but none of them made the sun brighter just by walking under it the way my wife did. Add to that the fact that she had the most incredible passel of kids and it was heaven!

She is wonderful with kids. I like mouthy, smart-assed teenagers who can argue about anything. She likes little ones that play cute games and cuddle and watch TV. I come in like a bull in a china shop, yelling at everyone to get things done. She talks them through it, cajoling and being nice, helping them. Almost always when one of us is upset, the other can be the voice of reason. I love the way we complement each other.

I recently got a job in Portland. She’s always dealt with bills and the house and homework and more, because I had to work. But up until recently, I’ve always been there to help, even if it was only something small. Now it’s harder, because I’m out of the house for 11-13 hours every day. I’m 80 miles away, with no easy way to get home if something comes up. And I work in a cube farm, where I can’t even chat on the phone without everyone overhearing. She not only has to handle everything, but now she has to do it on her own.

I don’t envy her.

She is the strongest woman I’ve ever met. She does handle it all. I love the fact that she’s not a Type A person who needs to have every homework assignment for every kid perfect. I love the fact that she is more focused on letting them learn at their own pace, even if it doesn’t line up with what the school is doing. I love to sit and listen when she’s had a busy day, and hear all the things that she’s done, the places she’s been, the activities she’s watched. Even when she’s worn out, she’s the Queen ... the Mom ... the Light of my Life.

So ... even when we fight ... even when we’re at our worst ... I can’t imagine surviving without her. I love her. I. Love. You.

aka: goofdad

PS: There was good news last night ... but I'll blog about it later. I needed this today.

Why did it have to be "Pops"?

2010-02-03T12:22:00.000-08:00

This whole thing with Topher started to get serious a couple weeks back. I had been the kinda-sorta father figure in his life for some time, but it was starting to look like it was going to turn into more than that. I explained to him that we had a name problem.

Topher is actually Donald Christopher. Up until recently, he has always gone by Chris. He hates the name Donald, as kids have teased him about being Ronald Mc- ever since he was little. But, as I explained to him, "Chris" around my house was taken. By my wife. About the only person more important to me than my kids. End. Of. Story.

Knowing he hated Donald, I just started calling him Topher. This went on for about a week, and then he snapped at me about it:

"That's getting old!"

"Umm...What is?" (always, always play stupid ... just in case you are)

"The Topher thing." (aww, crap)

"Sorry...Was trying it out. Didn't mean to make you mad."

And there it sat, for a bit, until another conversation came up. You see, Topher has been struggling with what to call me. "Dad" isn't working for him because he has a lot of negative history around that word. Most of the men in his history that he's called "Dad" have ended up abandoning him or hurting him or both. But we were getting close enough that "Doug" wasn't working either. We googled words for Father ... and there's fewer than you think. I liked "Matua". He flashed on "Pops".

"Umm...that doesn't work for me..."

"Why not?" (now he's playing stupid ... damn)

"Let's just say I feel about 'Pops' about the same way you feel about 'Topher'" (get out of that one, punk!)

"hmm ... fine ... I think I can live with 'Topher', Pops!"

at which point he giggled and texted all my other kids that have cells that I was now Pops.

If it wasn't such a big step for him to trust me that much, I'd be ~~ready to kill the little brat~~ angry. Mostly I'm ~~pissed off, livid, and otherwise ready to kill he little brat~~ bemused. I'm proud of him for whatever steps he can take towards recovery from the situation he's been in. My heart leaps for joy at the fact that he's starting to feel a sense of family that he hasn't had through much, if not all, of his life.

but ...

Why did it have to be "Pops" ?!?!?

There are worse things...I guess. I'll survive this one.

aka: goofdad ... and now, Pops!

Yesterday's Birthday Boy

2010-02-03T11:52:00.000-08:00

Finally getting to the promised pic (sorry...only one...snapped during scouts last night)

aka: goofdad

my Bug is 14!

2010-02-02T09:52:00.000-08:00

Ethan turns 14 today! I meant to snap a picture of his sleeping face this morning, but forgot on my way out the door. So I'll post a picture or two tonight when I get home.

In the meantime, it's time for a montage of memories:

18 months old, having just moved in with me, screaming in your crib, when your mother rolled over and said "There's a bug over there that wants you" (thus was born the nickname)

3 years old and still holding on to your pacifier like your life depended on it. We had to hide those things, and you screamed for days!

3 years old and refusing to talk. Walking into Bammy's house and saying "Grandpa! Baseball!", climbing on Adad's lap to watch the game. Pretending to be stupid when Bammy asked "What was that, Ethan?", and replying "GoqudkereaoweijkopaodntohieIaoe" (best transliteration of gibberish I got)

4 years old and on time-out for hitting your brother. Bawling your eyes out. "Do you want to get up?" I asked. "*sniffle* ... *snort* Yes!" you replied. "Are you going to be nice?" ... "*sniffle* ... *whine* NO!"

6 years old and starting School in a new state, spending Kindergarten in a school that we later found was closing that year. Arguing with me over whether you ever went to that school or if it was just your brothers (I was there, young man ... I know I'm right)

9 years old on your first Scout Outing with the Webelos, going to the South Beach and the Hatfield Marine Biology Center.

10 years old doing Scout-O and getting totally lost with the map and compass.

10 years old getting in trouble for helping your sister on the way to school when she had a flat tire on her bike and couldn't control it. I was so proud of you!

10 years old getting in trouble for racing the school bus on your bike! Not so proud, this time.

The last two years, going to a school where, for the first time, you didn't have a sibling attending with you. Watching you grow up overnight.

Watching your first concert playing the drums, your first parade in the marching band ... Hearing you play the piano for the first time and realizing that I totally missed you learn that.

Overall, being incredibly proud of the child you were, and happy to know the man you're becoming!

No trite quip about survival today ... Just need to say:

Happy Birthday Ethan!

For the fam: if, for some reason, you don't have Ethan's direct line, drop me an email and I'll send it to you so you can call him yourself to wish him a Happy Birthday.

Ikea's got nothing on Teenagers, Tools, and Two-by-Fours

2010-02-01T11:43:00.000-08:00

I learned from my Grandpa that when you do something yourself, you get more satisfaction out of it than when you just buy it. Well, this weekend we decided to put that to the test by building beds. It all started when the decision was made for Topher to move in with us (which also happened this weekend...look for more about that later). That left us a bed short. Add to that the fact that my bed had mostly fallen apart, and we had our weekend projects cut out for us.

The Projects:

My wife and I had picked up a gorgeous dark walnut king sized water bed frame at a garage sale over the summer for the right price (haul it away and it's yours), and it's been sitting in storage ever since (insert “honey-do” excuse here). I had 2 big issues to solve. First, we sleep on a regular mattress with springs so the dimensions were slightly different. Second, neither my wife nor I are small people, so we needed to have the bed frame be freestanding built around a support structure that could handle the weight of two large adults who aren’t exactly laying still (insert and ignore teenage groans about adults being too gross here).

Topher wanted a bed of his own, and envisioned taking out an old set of built-in shelving in the room he’s sharing with Ethan (which is fine, they were just clutter magnets anyway), and building a sort of half-on half-off overhanging bunk bed over the existing double mattress … definitely custom.

The Work:

Saturday morning found Topher and I off to Home Depot for lumber and screws, with Christina, Jory, and Adam took my old bed apart and worked at cleaning out the inevitable clutter that gathers under the bed like I was still 12 years old. Don’t ask me how some of that stuff got there, let alone where it came from?!?

While building, I endured much whining about “I don’t know how to do this” and “I’m afraid of saws, they’re sharp”. Topher endured much cursing about “nothing ever seems to fit” and “Why isn’t this going any faster”. Christina endured a house full of testosterone powered grunting, yelling, and chest beating. Julian, Ethan, and Douglas joined in helping, too. Sylvia and Annika discreetly left for Bammy's house. Overall I think we had a great time: nothing went perfect, but nothing was so bad to stop us from moving forward. Topher learned to use the saw (see the photo, ignore the messy garage), we got the jobs done (although there’s always more to be done), and we had beds to sleep on every night.

The Results:

My bed is gorgeous, rock solid, and level all the way across. Last night was the most comfortable night I’ve had in a long time. Never mind that my mattress is as old as the bed frame that just fell apart. Never mind that the new frame isn’t “New” and had to be cut, shimmed, and otherwise modified to get it to fit. We built it together as a family, and that made everything perfect.

I’m not posting a picture of Topher’s bed, because I’m trying to give my new young man a modicum of privacy. I can say that he was so happy when he saw it that he hugged Adam and Julian for their help in building it. He commented to me at one point over the weekend that he’s never had brothers before, let alone brother that cared that much.

When I woke him up for school this morning, it showed that we were both refreshed and happy with our weekend endeavors. Grandpa was right…we did it ourselves, and that made it much better!

So, sleep being necessary for survival, I’d say we had a very successful weekend!

Starfish

2010-01-29T10:05:00.000-08:00

It was late in my High School career, maybe even into my college life, when I realized that not everyone's parents spent their lives teaching lessons through parables. I had never thought the bible to be obtuse, or difficult to understand, because I was used to puzzling out what it was my parents and grandparents actually meant instead of listening to what they said. Somewhere between "You make a better door than a window!" (means, you're blocking my view!) and "I hope I never get that old!" (stop whining, I got it worse!) translating in real time became second nature.

So, without further ado, here's one of my favorites. One that I heard from Bammy, and I tell to anyone who hesitates long enough to listen, about who it is I want to be.

----
Once there was a young boy, wandering down the beach at low tide. As he wandered along, he would occasionally bend over and pick up a starfish that was washed up on the shore and pitch it back in the water so it wouldn't dry out and die.

An old man saw this, and asked the boy "What are you doing?"

"Saving the starfish!" The boy replied.

"You're wasting your time!", said the old man, "Just look. The beach is full of starfish washed up by the tide. If you spent every waking moment at it, you couldn't possibly save them all!"

"You're right," said the boy, picking up another starfish and tossing it in the water. "but I made a difference to that one."
----

So, the moral here is pretty straight forward. I spend my life trying hard not to be the cynical old man who has given up on trying because I can't solve the world's problems. I try to be more like the boy, and make a difference where I can. But that's not what I need to say today.

Lately, I've been feeling like the third character in the story. If you missed it, class, go back and try again. Too often in recent months I've been feeling like the starfish. I've been feeling like I've overreached my boundries, and I can't get back into safe waters before the tide strands me out in the sun.

So, what I need to say is: Thanks! Whether you're part of my family, one of my kids, one of the WoW players I hang out with online, a co-worker, someone at church, or someone who's blog I've taken to reading in recent weeks ... whether you know it or not or it was intentional or not ... you've all been that boy for me. You've scooped me up out of the sand, hucked me back into the sea that is my life, and made a difference to this one. You've helped me survive, and I'm counting on you to help me next time, too.

You see ... like the starfish ... I'm not going to stop reaching!

Topher

2010-01-28T16:23:00.000-08:00

If you've been following along, by now you know that Topher is my newest kid. I just thought I'd share part of how I came to love a kid so much that I'd be willing to become a foster parent. One day, maybe, I'll share how he came to be in the situation he's in ... but I have to come to peace with it first, and my lack of peace is at least part of why I'm here blogging.

Topher came into my life because of my shop. About 18 months ago, I opened a LAN Gaming Center in downtown Lebanon. Currently we have XBox 360's, a Wii, a Pool Table, and 10 gaming PC's. Everything (except the pool table) is connected to the internet, and teens and tweens can come in to the shop and for $3/hr can play whatever they like (with their parent's permission, of course).

Problem was, Topher's family was broke. Flat Broke. Like, he never had $3 to his name. He used to come by the shop just to hang out and watch everyone else play. He'd bring things in to help decorate to trade for time. He'd walk in, go to the back for the glass cleaner and wash my windows...and then ask if he could get some free time for having done it. Sometimes, if the shop was busy, or something was going on, the answer was no. Most of the time it worked for him. I started being generous with my time. After all, he was a walking, talking ad for my shop, which is always good, right?

Now, people often come in and ask "Why did you open this place? It can't be making money!" No, it's not. It's losing money. Some months more than others. "But," I'd say, "you see I have 8 kids, and I need them to get some work experience worthy of putting on a resume. This is a relatively inexpensive way to do that given the state of the economy." As soon as I said "8", Topher would chime in (if he was there, which he always was) and say "9! You have me, too!" and I'd smile 'cuz he was cute.

Then, last June, after our annual Strawberry Parade, I saw him & waved, told him I needed him at the shop for something. The Scout Leader with me asked "Is that one of yours?" and before my brain engaged to say "It's just a kid that hangs out at my shop and does odd jobs for me," the truth popped out. I sad, simply, "Yep", because there was nothing more to say. You see, he was right. "9" it was.

That was the day I claimed him. That was the day that our survival got intertwined together.