I look forward to my little "date nights" with my wife. A quiet dinner alone, a movie, an afternoon at the museum...Anything as an escape from the day to day life.
But, even though we call them "dates," they're not really the same as the dates we used to have. For instance, we used to be that couple that would annoy the wait staff at a restaurant. "Oh, we're sorry! We've just been sitting here talking for twenty minutes and haven't even picked up the menu..." Now, we have heard almost everything that we have to say. And, frankly, we are just so excited to eat a meal without the usual child interruptions (spilled chocolate milk, arguments about who gets to use what color crayon to help the "pirate through the maze to find the treasure chest full of chicken nuggets," or the littlest one with the constant desire to move from the high chair to the "big boy chair" and back). We just want to get our food and eat in silence. Newly dating couples want someone to talk to because they are always alone, and married couples just want a meal where everyone will just shut the hell up. And, of course, to people who are not married in the restaurant, we sound like we are fighting. But in reality, that's just how married couples learn to communicate; in loud, quick statements.
"Get the shrimp! 'Cause I'm getting the steak!"
"I am getting the shrimp!"
"Okay!"
And what we do is also so different from when we were dating. Movie selection is not as compromising as it once was. I used to walk into a chick flick without hesitation while holding her hand. From our courting process to even early into our marriage, I saw "Sex and The City," "Valentine's Day," and "He's Just Not That Into You." She also went to see "Smoking Aces," "True Grit" and "Shoot 'Em Up." We didn't care what we saw just as long as we were together. Going to the movie now takes too much time and preparation to plead your case on why your selection is better that theirs. It seems now we don't go to the movies as much, anyways. Probably, because we don't want to sit alone in different theatres...
Movies are an easy date for married couples with children, though. Two hours, in and out. Get home, pay the babysitter, put them to bed, date's over. Time is a huge factor. You can't go to anything over two hours, for fear that the babysitter will call with the message that a child is sick...or the dog is on fire...or that the police were very polite. So, that eliminates a lot of concerts, amusement parks, and dancing at night clubs (however, that last one is completely okay with Gina after she witnessed my latest performance on "Just Dance" for the Wii. It's nice to be able to see what you look like while dancing to Katy Perry's "Hot and Cold" before taking it out to dance floor).
Really, anything without kids can turn into your own little mini-date. The fifteen minutes alone before they wake up as you drink a cup of coffee together. The three minutes that they are in the bathroom and you can hold hands on the sofa. Or the twenty seconds that you get when your kids are "hiding" behind the curtain in the next room while you just look at each other with a half-delirious, half-numb gaze. Basically, any period of time at all without the children in the room with your spouse is a "date." Or at least you have to tell yourselves that, or else you may go months without having one.
It's not that I don't love my kids. I love them unconditionally. I would jump in front of a bullet for them. And they love me and my wife just as much as we love them. They just don't realize that the way that they show it is really annoying! And it destroys our stability a little bit each day, every day, all day long. And, so, if you don't take little, tiny breaks from them, you'll eventually snap. You'll have that moment when your six year old daughter won't eat dinner and you'll explode into saying, "You will eat what I made! Because eating is one of the basic fundamentals of living. So, if you don't eat, you will die! And I am not explaining to SRS that you died because you don't like red peppers in your spaghetti! They will put me in jail!"
So, tonight, is date night with Gina. As is every night after the tiny people in our house fall asleep. And our date night is: ice cream, a syndicated episode of the office, and her falling asleep on my lap as I play "Angry Birds." And I know what you're thinking: "You could cut the romance in the air with a knife..." But I love our married "date" nights even more than our dating years. Because, unlike those dates, I know that I don't have to worry about screwing up and her never calling again. I will always have a girl who will call me. And that makes me the luckiest "dater" I know.
Monday, May 7, 2012
Friday, May 4, 2012
The Most Embarrassing Story From My Childhood
When I was seven years old, my family took the all-American road trip from Kansas City to Disneyland in California. My parents loaded up the beige station wagon's luggage rack, piled in all four kids, and we set out west. It was the Sallman's own personal "Manifest Destiny." It was to be a magical trip. They routed the trip carefully, in order to see as many sights and visit as many family and friends as possible.
(NOTE: There are endless amounts of stories and anecdotes that came from this trip. But for the sake of this particular post, I am going to focus on one particular leg of the trip.)
On our way through the the Southwest, we stopped in Phoenix to visit my dad's friend and his family. It became a bit of a pit stop for us, and it was a welcome change from sleeping in the back of the station wagon or on the ground at some random roadside campsite. And the family was very hospitable to the large number that was invading their home.
During our stay, the patriarch of the house invited us out to a nearby forest to explore some local caves. I remember being excited, as I had just begun a rock collection and knew I could round up some interesting additions to my newly formed habit. We crawled in through a tight opening and once in we were able to stand and explore. It was very exciting for a seven year old. But the cold air, and the road trip food and walking around apparently hit me all at once. As we exited the cave, the rest of the group went to start a fire and prepare a meal for the night. I, however, needed to find a clear place to squat to relieve the agony that was brewing inside of me.
I grabbed my dad and asked "Where should I go poop?"
"Oh, well, come here," he proudly proclaimed. We trekked up the wooded hill about twenty yards and found a tree that forked low to the ground. As we approached the tree, he found a smooth, long, flat rock and wedged it in tree's fork. "There," he gleamed. "Just drop 'trou' and sit on the rock like it's a bench and hang your butt off the other side," and continued down the hill again.
Now, remember, I'm seven when this happening. I have reached the age where there is actually shame. Until age six, little boys have no problem using anything as a personal toilet. Why, just the day, I saw a little kid get out of a car in a parking lot and pee on a light post that was on the main aisle of the shopping center. He just smiled and waived at all the honking cars. His mom came out of the store just as he was finishing, screaming "What the hell is the matter with you?!?" But after age six, we begin to process what is acceptable or not, and are easily embarrassed when we are caught doing these things in public.
I began studying the rock. I pushed on it to make sure it wouldn't fall. I checked the angle of the tree to ensure that no dropping could fall onto me or my clothes. I even licked my finger and tested the direction and speed of the wind to make sure that I didn't catch any back splash. After playing every scenario of embarrassment through my head, I took a deep breath, pulled my pants down and hoisted myself onto the rock. A cringe of terror took hold of me for a second as the rock settled into place under the weight of my 65 pound frame. But then, to my amazement, I began taking care of business. The realization of the phrase "nature's call" rushed over me as I felt like one with the wild...A caveman. A undomesticated, feral beast. I almost began howling in delight with my small white butt hanging off a limestone rock...
...Until, it became abundantly clear that I had completely missed one big calculation in my "preventative checks." I had been so careful to make sure that I wouldn't fall into or soil myself or clothes with my own waste that I overlooked one major embarrassment factor. But before I had a chance to correct it, it was too late. I heard the loud voice from the campsite below.
"TURN AROUND! NOBODY WANTS TO SEE THAT!"
But, alas, I couldn't turn around. No seven year old has the ability to pinch and stand and turn around...
And THAT is the most embarrassing story from my childhood.
(NOTE: There are endless amounts of stories and anecdotes that came from this trip. But for the sake of this particular post, I am going to focus on one particular leg of the trip.)
On our way through the the Southwest, we stopped in Phoenix to visit my dad's friend and his family. It became a bit of a pit stop for us, and it was a welcome change from sleeping in the back of the station wagon or on the ground at some random roadside campsite. And the family was very hospitable to the large number that was invading their home.
During our stay, the patriarch of the house invited us out to a nearby forest to explore some local caves. I remember being excited, as I had just begun a rock collection and knew I could round up some interesting additions to my newly formed habit. We crawled in through a tight opening and once in we were able to stand and explore. It was very exciting for a seven year old. But the cold air, and the road trip food and walking around apparently hit me all at once. As we exited the cave, the rest of the group went to start a fire and prepare a meal for the night. I, however, needed to find a clear place to squat to relieve the agony that was brewing inside of me.
I grabbed my dad and asked "Where should I go poop?"
"Oh, well, come here," he proudly proclaimed. We trekked up the wooded hill about twenty yards and found a tree that forked low to the ground. As we approached the tree, he found a smooth, long, flat rock and wedged it in tree's fork. "There," he gleamed. "Just drop 'trou' and sit on the rock like it's a bench and hang your butt off the other side," and continued down the hill again.
Now, remember, I'm seven when this happening. I have reached the age where there is actually shame. Until age six, little boys have no problem using anything as a personal toilet. Why, just the day, I saw a little kid get out of a car in a parking lot and pee on a light post that was on the main aisle of the shopping center. He just smiled and waived at all the honking cars. His mom came out of the store just as he was finishing, screaming "What the hell is the matter with you?!?" But after age six, we begin to process what is acceptable or not, and are easily embarrassed when we are caught doing these things in public.
I began studying the rock. I pushed on it to make sure it wouldn't fall. I checked the angle of the tree to ensure that no dropping could fall onto me or my clothes. I even licked my finger and tested the direction and speed of the wind to make sure that I didn't catch any back splash. After playing every scenario of embarrassment through my head, I took a deep breath, pulled my pants down and hoisted myself onto the rock. A cringe of terror took hold of me for a second as the rock settled into place under the weight of my 65 pound frame. But then, to my amazement, I began taking care of business. The realization of the phrase "nature's call" rushed over me as I felt like one with the wild...A caveman. A undomesticated, feral beast. I almost began howling in delight with my small white butt hanging off a limestone rock...
...Until, it became abundantly clear that I had completely missed one big calculation in my "preventative checks." I had been so careful to make sure that I wouldn't fall into or soil myself or clothes with my own waste that I overlooked one major embarrassment factor. But before I had a chance to correct it, it was too late. I heard the loud voice from the campsite below.
"TURN AROUND! NOBODY WANTS TO SEE THAT!"
But, alas, I couldn't turn around. No seven year old has the ability to pinch and stand and turn around...
And THAT is the most embarrassing story from my childhood.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
My Two year old's "Hail Mary!"
When we pray at night, this is what we hear from James, the two year old:
"Hair Mawy, fur of glades,
The Load is with three,
Bless it arm now
Among lemons,
And bless it is the flute
Of thy room, Jesus.
Holy Mawy
Moth or of Got
Play for us sitters
Now, and at the arm of breath.
Almond."
"Hair Mawy, fur of glades,
The Load is with three,
Bless it arm now
Among lemons,
And bless it is the flute
Of thy room, Jesus.
Holy Mawy
Moth or of Got
Play for us sitters
Now, and at the arm of breath.
Almond."
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
A Quick Question and Answer Session
A Quick Question and Answer Session
Q: "Justin, how did you become such a great father and husband? Surely, you must have a natural insight into psychology and sociology? Or, perhaps, you are a modern-day prophet, receiving messages from up high to spread to the common people of this land, in order to create a more peaceful, just and verdant world."
A: No, voices in my head, I'm not! I am in no way, shape or form a great father or husband. I have simply learned what seems to work in my particular situation. If these tips work for you, then so be it.
Q: Justin, what's your take on spanking?
A: Listen, I believe that there are a lot of good parents who spank their kids. I also believe that great parents don't ever have to spank. That's because standing on the dining room table, waving a semi-automatic handgun above your head and shouting expletives that you've just made up out of blind anger will get the point across even better.
Q: I want to teach my kids life lessons and teach them about day to day behaviors. Should I wait for the opportunity to present itself, or should I sit them down and have a actual lesson?
A: I've learned that the best way to teach anything to small children is to use props and costumes. But be careful. Some can be more detrimental than helpful. For example:
Good Idea: Dress up in a giant tooth superhero costume named "Molar Man" to explain the importance to proper dental hygiene.
Bad Idea: Dressing like a clown and tapping on their bedroom window in the middle of the night to explain a fire evacuation route.
Good Idea: Using stuffed animals to demonstrate how bullies are not friends.
Bad Idea: Using stuffed animals to explain how meat packing plants work.
Q: When you are faced with a parenting or marriage challenge, and you and your wife have different points of view, how do you handle it as a team?
A: Excellent question! It's important to realize that you and your spouse may not always see eye to eye on everything. You must handle the problem maturely and politely; like adults. For instance, I usually just walk around the house mimicking my wife, using the high-pitched "wife" voice until she resigns to the fact that I am right. Or until she puts me in time out...Whichever comes first...
Q: When do you have "the talk" with your kids?
A: Immediately. As soon as they start comprehending words and sentences. It's never too early to talk to your kids about the risks and the social and moral repercussions of falling into the world of carnival workers or "Carnies." Wait! What "talk" are you talking about?
Q: Is it true that you can open a beer can with your pinkie toe?
A: Yes.
Q: How do you keep the fire lit between you and your wife?
A: Never speak to each other. You see, when you are first dating someone, you're always NOT talking. Movies, clubs, concerts...And you're all "puppy dogs and ice cream" with each other...I try to speak to my wife as little as possible to make sure she never realizes how boring I am or how many repressed issues I have shoved deep, deep into my psyche and drowned with booze. So, when she says, "You're still the same man I met all those years ago," she means it!
Q: Which one of your kids is your favorite?
A: There is no way I can answer that! Besides, they know who they are...
Q: "Justin, how did you become such a great father and husband? Surely, you must have a natural insight into psychology and sociology? Or, perhaps, you are a modern-day prophet, receiving messages from up high to spread to the common people of this land, in order to create a more peaceful, just and verdant world."
A: No, voices in my head, I'm not! I am in no way, shape or form a great father or husband. I have simply learned what seems to work in my particular situation. If these tips work for you, then so be it.
Q: Justin, what's your take on spanking?
A: Listen, I believe that there are a lot of good parents who spank their kids. I also believe that great parents don't ever have to spank. That's because standing on the dining room table, waving a semi-automatic handgun above your head and shouting expletives that you've just made up out of blind anger will get the point across even better.
Q: I want to teach my kids life lessons and teach them about day to day behaviors. Should I wait for the opportunity to present itself, or should I sit them down and have a actual lesson?
A: I've learned that the best way to teach anything to small children is to use props and costumes. But be careful. Some can be more detrimental than helpful. For example:
Good Idea: Dress up in a giant tooth superhero costume named "Molar Man" to explain the importance to proper dental hygiene.
Bad Idea: Dressing like a clown and tapping on their bedroom window in the middle of the night to explain a fire evacuation route.
Good Idea: Using stuffed animals to demonstrate how bullies are not friends.
Bad Idea: Using stuffed animals to explain how meat packing plants work.
Q: When you are faced with a parenting or marriage challenge, and you and your wife have different points of view, how do you handle it as a team?
A: Excellent question! It's important to realize that you and your spouse may not always see eye to eye on everything. You must handle the problem maturely and politely; like adults. For instance, I usually just walk around the house mimicking my wife, using the high-pitched "wife" voice until she resigns to the fact that I am right. Or until she puts me in time out...Whichever comes first...
Q: When do you have "the talk" with your kids?
A: Immediately. As soon as they start comprehending words and sentences. It's never too early to talk to your kids about the risks and the social and moral repercussions of falling into the world of carnival workers or "Carnies." Wait! What "talk" are you talking about?
Q: Is it true that you can open a beer can with your pinkie toe?
A: Yes.
Q: How do you keep the fire lit between you and your wife?
A: Never speak to each other. You see, when you are first dating someone, you're always NOT talking. Movies, clubs, concerts...And you're all "puppy dogs and ice cream" with each other...I try to speak to my wife as little as possible to make sure she never realizes how boring I am or how many repressed issues I have shoved deep, deep into my psyche and drowned with booze. So, when she says, "You're still the same man I met all those years ago," she means it!
Q: Which one of your kids is your favorite?
A: There is no way I can answer that! Besides, they know who they are...
Saturday, April 21, 2012
I love the 80's
I have learned that your kids will develop into whatever you mold them to be. Usually, they will reflect the personality traits you exhibit. But I believe that, if you are awesome enough, you will also subconsciously shape them into the greatest mash-up cast for a 80's television show ever.
My oldest, Danny, is a perfect cross between MacGyver, Lieutenant Templeton "Face" Peck, and Mork from Ork. MacGyver is a good description of Danny for two simple reasons: He loves to tinker with things and make them work and he will wait forever before getting his hair cut and will inevitably end up with "hockey hair" every three months or so. Danny is also the "Face" of my squad of children. He is quick to approach anyone, he's handsome, and he knows what to say to get things done. Also, I've seen him in the back yard with his toy rifle, and I have to believe that, just like the rest of the A-Team, he wouldn't be able to hit the broad side of a barn...But, there's a third side to him. The goofy, unexplainable and genuinely funny side. I once walked by his room and he was standing on the edge of the bed, flapping his arms and hooting like an owl. I asked what he was doing, and he replied "Just practicing..." I couldn't even imagine for what he was practicing, so I just kept walking, shaking my head. Another time, he came up to me walking like a robot and asked in a mechanical voice, "What is the recipe for peanut butter?"
Ana is a tricky one. She has a complexity that is hard to identify, so I have had to dig deep for this. You see, Ana had a timidness to her that keeps her from taking a lot of chance. This comes probably from her brothers being so over-the-top. But when she is alone or in a comfort zone, she has a creativity that is impressive. When in front of a authority figure, she sometimes becomes Vicki from "Small Wonder." She needs prompting for everything she needs to do, and is very slow and mechanical and precise in all her movements. When in this mode, she also takes everything extremely literally. "Could you put that bucket on the porch," is a quick way to find her climbing the trellis to place a bucket on the roof of the porch. Other times, she is sucked into the tomboy role as she is surrounded by two brothers. This is when she transforms into Louise McCloud from "The Young Riders." (I told you that I had to dig deep!) She plays "Soldiers" with Danny, digs in the sand box with James, and will settle for comic book movies instead of anything marketed towards young girls. But deep down, she is Blair from "The Facts of Life." Very pretty and very aware of it. She LOVES getting her hair done, and loves even more when people compliment her on it. She's not vain or egocentric. She just likes the attention occasionally pulled from her very "present" brothers and be placed on her. Ultimately, however, she seems to play the "female partner" of any 80's show. She is Mrs. King, Jennifer Hart, and Daisy Duke; able to keep up with the boys and usually the straight-laced one of the bunch.
James...Ah, James! He is the wild man. Imagine the insanity of Capt. H.M. "Howling Mad" Murdock, the tenacity of Sgt. Bosco "B.A." Baracus, and the unconventional leadership and disguises of Col. John "Hannibal" Smith all rolled into a 2' 6" package. He will drag anyone into his world, put on a cowboy hat and goggles, and physically push them into a game of "I pity the fool who don't play hide and seek with me," in which he will put the person in a place to hide and then spend about ten minutes "looking" for them. James also has hair of Jack Tripper and the coy looks of Remington Steele. He is a handsome boy, as well, and gets just about anything he wants, like Ricky Stratton. With his talking cars, his tendencies for large jumps and the uncontrollable desire to slide across the hood of my car, I also believe he is part Michael Knight. Although he doesn't have the chest full of "man mane," I have seen him destroy a cheeseburger while rolling on the floor and babbling unintelligibly, as well.
But, even though this sounds like a terrific cameo-rich episode of the Love Boat, there's more. They turn into dynamite teams when they're together. They play off of each other's strengths to form an unlikely alliance. Danny is the Bruce Banner to James' Hulk. Ana is the Larry Appleton to Danny's Balki Bartokomous. And James is the JR Ewing to...well...Everyone...
My children are who I make them. Everything I do, every word I speak, every gesture I make is a small nudge from me to them to who they will become. And, frankly, I am proud of who they are now and who they will become. And, anyways...I'm the 6 Million dollar Man, "Hawkeye" Pierce and The Fall Guy....Just Saying...
My oldest, Danny, is a perfect cross between MacGyver, Lieutenant Templeton "Face" Peck, and Mork from Ork. MacGyver is a good description of Danny for two simple reasons: He loves to tinker with things and make them work and he will wait forever before getting his hair cut and will inevitably end up with "hockey hair" every three months or so. Danny is also the "Face" of my squad of children. He is quick to approach anyone, he's handsome, and he knows what to say to get things done. Also, I've seen him in the back yard with his toy rifle, and I have to believe that, just like the rest of the A-Team, he wouldn't be able to hit the broad side of a barn...But, there's a third side to him. The goofy, unexplainable and genuinely funny side. I once walked by his room and he was standing on the edge of the bed, flapping his arms and hooting like an owl. I asked what he was doing, and he replied "Just practicing..." I couldn't even imagine for what he was practicing, so I just kept walking, shaking my head. Another time, he came up to me walking like a robot and asked in a mechanical voice, "What is the recipe for peanut butter?"
Ana is a tricky one. She has a complexity that is hard to identify, so I have had to dig deep for this. You see, Ana had a timidness to her that keeps her from taking a lot of chance. This comes probably from her brothers being so over-the-top. But when she is alone or in a comfort zone, she has a creativity that is impressive. When in front of a authority figure, she sometimes becomes Vicki from "Small Wonder." She needs prompting for everything she needs to do, and is very slow and mechanical and precise in all her movements. When in this mode, she also takes everything extremely literally. "Could you put that bucket on the porch," is a quick way to find her climbing the trellis to place a bucket on the roof of the porch. Other times, she is sucked into the tomboy role as she is surrounded by two brothers. This is when she transforms into Louise McCloud from "The Young Riders." (I told you that I had to dig deep!) She plays "Soldiers" with Danny, digs in the sand box with James, and will settle for comic book movies instead of anything marketed towards young girls. But deep down, she is Blair from "The Facts of Life." Very pretty and very aware of it. She LOVES getting her hair done, and loves even more when people compliment her on it. She's not vain or egocentric. She just likes the attention occasionally pulled from her very "present" brothers and be placed on her. Ultimately, however, she seems to play the "female partner" of any 80's show. She is Mrs. King, Jennifer Hart, and Daisy Duke; able to keep up with the boys and usually the straight-laced one of the bunch.
James...Ah, James! He is the wild man. Imagine the insanity of Capt. H.M. "Howling Mad" Murdock, the tenacity of Sgt. Bosco "B.A." Baracus, and the unconventional leadership and disguises of Col. John "Hannibal" Smith all rolled into a 2' 6" package. He will drag anyone into his world, put on a cowboy hat and goggles, and physically push them into a game of "I pity the fool who don't play hide and seek with me," in which he will put the person in a place to hide and then spend about ten minutes "looking" for them. James also has hair of Jack Tripper and the coy looks of Remington Steele. He is a handsome boy, as well, and gets just about anything he wants, like Ricky Stratton. With his talking cars, his tendencies for large jumps and the uncontrollable desire to slide across the hood of my car, I also believe he is part Michael Knight. Although he doesn't have the chest full of "man mane," I have seen him destroy a cheeseburger while rolling on the floor and babbling unintelligibly, as well.
But, even though this sounds like a terrific cameo-rich episode of the Love Boat, there's more. They turn into dynamite teams when they're together. They play off of each other's strengths to form an unlikely alliance. Danny is the Bruce Banner to James' Hulk. Ana is the Larry Appleton to Danny's Balki Bartokomous. And James is the JR Ewing to...well...Everyone...
My children are who I make them. Everything I do, every word I speak, every gesture I make is a small nudge from me to them to who they will become. And, frankly, I am proud of who they are now and who they will become. And, anyways...I'm the 6 Million dollar Man, "Hawkeye" Pierce and The Fall Guy....Just Saying...
Friday, April 6, 2012
Celery...Broccoli...Gotta be...
When you first become a parent, you understand that your life will change. But you never fully understand to what degree until you are in the middle of an auditorium, surrounded by 1000 squealing children and large singing, dancing vegetables staring down at you from stage from behind concert lights.
All three of my children have gone through the "Veggietales" phase. But none as much as my youngest, James, is right now.
A couple of months ago, we received some of the silly vegetable videos as a gift, and since then, tomatoes and cucumbers have taken over our lives. They even have their own place in our nightly prayers..."God bless Daddy, God bless Mama, God bless Bob, God bless Larry..." In fact, anytime we go to the grocery store, we cannot pass through the produce section without an atomic toddler meltdown if he can't get a armful of fresh vegetable to take as new toys. I have found these "toys" strewn about the house later, as he will inevitably retrieve them from their slumber out of the refrigerator. Some are half eaten by the dog, others are drawn on with pens and crayons, while the rest usually fall behind furniture and my wife and I are sent on a "find Archibald the Asparagus before he starts to rot and cause the house you smell like old urine" mission. I used to like eating vegetables. Now I love to eat them. Because in my mind, I am silencing the Silly Songs in my head. I feel like the Hannibal Lector of produce: "Can you still hear the Vegetables Singing, Clarice?"
Don't get me wrong. The Veggietales are fun videos with a positive message about God's love. But, just like any other children's show, it can definitely wear on the sanity of a parent after the six-hundredth viewing. Just like Dora the Explorer. I have dreamt a many a night the day when the grumpy old troll fills her backpack full of rocks and tosses her into the river while creating a stuffed mantle piece out of the talking monkey.
Wednesday night, I took all three kids to see "Veggietales" Live...by myself...for the first time. Gina had youth group and this was a one-night-only event. It was obvious to the veteran parents around me that this was my first kids' show on my own. The mother of three in the row directly in front of us kept turning to me and smiling a sweet, compassionate smile as James was screaming in her ear because he wanted to run down the stairs and onto the stage to dance with Larry. And when the squash came out, he stepped down, grabbed her face and did that thing that kids do. You know: teeth clenched, grunting loudly and shaking as if he were a phone set to vibrate.
There was a song in which all the cast members invited the kids in the audience to dance in front of the stage. Now, I have seen clips of The Beatles on The Ed Sullivan Show or tweens watching the Jonas Brothers exiting a limo, but I never thought I would ever see that kind of reaction from hundreds of tiny children. In one riotous movement, the seats were emptied and the front of the stage was swarmed with miniature hands sticking up, trying to catch a touch of the giant stuffed tomato costume. Luckily, security was blocking the way. Yes, security. The same black shirts with yellow writing you would see at a rock concert were standing (or kneeling, rather) with their arms outstretched, trying to prevent any breach that could possibly endanger the cast or disrupt the performance. The only thing that made me cringe at this sight was the idea that it would be my son that they would have to heave back into the crowd or drag away to the back of house while he was kicking and shouting obscenities.
Ultimately, we survived. The show ended, we picked up some souvenirs, and we left. But on the way home, I started thinking, "So, this is it?"
Over the last few years, I have started to feel my age and my position as a father. And it's not a bad thing; just different. When I was young, I loved concerts and live theatre. I took every opportunity to enjoy all kinds of genres in a variety of venues. When I was 16, my friends Mike and Robert and I snuck away on a road trip to Kansas City from Concordia to see Lollapalooza. After that, outdoor music festivals became a fixture for me. "Edgefest" in Omaha, "Jayhawk Fest" in Lawrence, and many others...Later, as I became of age to enter bars and clubs, I started seeking out smaller venues (The Beaumont, The Granada, The Uptown) to see musicians and acts that inspired me. B.B. King at the Lied Center, Band of Horses at City Market, Ingrid Michaelson at Knuckleheads...
But the other night, I realized where I was in life. It started with Jiggle Jam at Crown Center. A music festival for kids. Mr. Stinky Feet and They Might Be Giants headlined with arts and crafts and bubble station all around the grounds. We returned sunburned and exhausted, much like the music festivals of my youth. And then, for a "Grown-Up Date Night," I scored tickets to see Green Day at the Sprint Center a couple years ago. It was that night that I realized that I wasn't the hip, young guy I once was. My wife and I spent the entire show standing, trying to hear music from behind a group of screaming twenty-somethings, complaining that it was too loud and that our feet hurt. We tried again last fall, when we went to see Better Than Ezra at Power and Light. This was a lot more relaxed and laid back. Much more our style as of late. And given the era of popularity for this group, we were surrounded by a lot of like-minded people.
But being a dad is fun. And seeing the look at enjoyment on my kids' faces during and after a show in which a girl dressed up as a monkey performs cartwheels around the stage while giant vegetables serenade makes it all worth it. Let the young people have their mainstream shows. Because someday, it will be them echoing the phrase, "I can't believe I am saying this, but I am excited to see Toy Story on Ice."
All three of my children have gone through the "Veggietales" phase. But none as much as my youngest, James, is right now.
A couple of months ago, we received some of the silly vegetable videos as a gift, and since then, tomatoes and cucumbers have taken over our lives. They even have their own place in our nightly prayers..."God bless Daddy, God bless Mama, God bless Bob, God bless Larry..." In fact, anytime we go to the grocery store, we cannot pass through the produce section without an atomic toddler meltdown if he can't get a armful of fresh vegetable to take as new toys. I have found these "toys" strewn about the house later, as he will inevitably retrieve them from their slumber out of the refrigerator. Some are half eaten by the dog, others are drawn on with pens and crayons, while the rest usually fall behind furniture and my wife and I are sent on a "find Archibald the Asparagus before he starts to rot and cause the house you smell like old urine" mission. I used to like eating vegetables. Now I love to eat them. Because in my mind, I am silencing the Silly Songs in my head. I feel like the Hannibal Lector of produce: "Can you still hear the Vegetables Singing, Clarice?"
Don't get me wrong. The Veggietales are fun videos with a positive message about God's love. But, just like any other children's show, it can definitely wear on the sanity of a parent after the six-hundredth viewing. Just like Dora the Explorer. I have dreamt a many a night the day when the grumpy old troll fills her backpack full of rocks and tosses her into the river while creating a stuffed mantle piece out of the talking monkey.
Wednesday night, I took all three kids to see "Veggietales" Live...by myself...for the first time. Gina had youth group and this was a one-night-only event. It was obvious to the veteran parents around me that this was my first kids' show on my own. The mother of three in the row directly in front of us kept turning to me and smiling a sweet, compassionate smile as James was screaming in her ear because he wanted to run down the stairs and onto the stage to dance with Larry. And when the squash came out, he stepped down, grabbed her face and did that thing that kids do. You know: teeth clenched, grunting loudly and shaking as if he were a phone set to vibrate.
There was a song in which all the cast members invited the kids in the audience to dance in front of the stage. Now, I have seen clips of The Beatles on The Ed Sullivan Show or tweens watching the Jonas Brothers exiting a limo, but I never thought I would ever see that kind of reaction from hundreds of tiny children. In one riotous movement, the seats were emptied and the front of the stage was swarmed with miniature hands sticking up, trying to catch a touch of the giant stuffed tomato costume. Luckily, security was blocking the way. Yes, security. The same black shirts with yellow writing you would see at a rock concert were standing (or kneeling, rather) with their arms outstretched, trying to prevent any breach that could possibly endanger the cast or disrupt the performance. The only thing that made me cringe at this sight was the idea that it would be my son that they would have to heave back into the crowd or drag away to the back of house while he was kicking and shouting obscenities.
Ultimately, we survived. The show ended, we picked up some souvenirs, and we left. But on the way home, I started thinking, "So, this is it?"
Over the last few years, I have started to feel my age and my position as a father. And it's not a bad thing; just different. When I was young, I loved concerts and live theatre. I took every opportunity to enjoy all kinds of genres in a variety of venues. When I was 16, my friends Mike and Robert and I snuck away on a road trip to Kansas City from Concordia to see Lollapalooza. After that, outdoor music festivals became a fixture for me. "Edgefest" in Omaha, "Jayhawk Fest" in Lawrence, and many others...Later, as I became of age to enter bars and clubs, I started seeking out smaller venues (The Beaumont, The Granada, The Uptown) to see musicians and acts that inspired me. B.B. King at the Lied Center, Band of Horses at City Market, Ingrid Michaelson at Knuckleheads...
But the other night, I realized where I was in life. It started with Jiggle Jam at Crown Center. A music festival for kids. Mr. Stinky Feet and They Might Be Giants headlined with arts and crafts and bubble station all around the grounds. We returned sunburned and exhausted, much like the music festivals of my youth. And then, for a "Grown-Up Date Night," I scored tickets to see Green Day at the Sprint Center a couple years ago. It was that night that I realized that I wasn't the hip, young guy I once was. My wife and I spent the entire show standing, trying to hear music from behind a group of screaming twenty-somethings, complaining that it was too loud and that our feet hurt. We tried again last fall, when we went to see Better Than Ezra at Power and Light. This was a lot more relaxed and laid back. Much more our style as of late. And given the era of popularity for this group, we were surrounded by a lot of like-minded people.
But being a dad is fun. And seeing the look at enjoyment on my kids' faces during and after a show in which a girl dressed up as a monkey performs cartwheels around the stage while giant vegetables serenade makes it all worth it. Let the young people have their mainstream shows. Because someday, it will be them echoing the phrase, "I can't believe I am saying this, but I am excited to see Toy Story on Ice."
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Say, What?
One of the beautiful things about being a parent is the opportunity to construct sentences you would otherwise never be able to say...
"Hey! If you want to watch Veggietales, get the disc...Don't try to shove a cucumber into the DVD player!"
"Yes, you're right. A T-Rex could probably beat Spiderman in a fight..unless he teamed up with the Hulk...Wait! Are we talking 'prison rules'?"
"The dog does NOT need a mustache..."
"Get out of the washing machine!"
"Look what's for breakfast! Green eggs and Ham!
"Who put Mater in the toilet?"
"Fine! Just go ahead and try to fit in between the banister rails. But don't get mad when I have to
grease your head up to get it out!"
"Can you wait a second? I can't change your diaper while frying bacon...You'll get burned!"
"I don't know why sometimes I cry while drinking my 'special' coffee in the morning..."
"Yeah, man, I would like to come out with you guys tonight to see the Violent Femmes, but I just warmed up some Spongebob shaped Chef Boyardi and getting ready to snuggle up n the counch to the latest Pixar DVD...OOOH! Great Idea! Why don't you come over here instead?"
"What in the hell is Totoro?"
"What are you doing? You can't eat frozen juice concentrate from the can with a spoon!..." (Note: This is sentence was actually spoken to my son using my wife as a proxy while she was pregnant.)
"I don't care if she's my daughter and I don't care how much shes set her heart on it, I am her father and I am NOT dressing up like a kitty cat for Halloween...Fine! But I'm not wearing the tights!...What? Tights, too?...Okay, fine!"
"I guess daddy IS as pretty as a princess..."
"Transformers are NOT going to blow up your school....Now, go back to sleep..."
"I think the 'Diary of a Wimpy Kid' movies are the best films that have come out in the last few years."
"Well, babies don't start out eating baby food. They start by drinking milk...from the mommy...Well...You know how cows feed the calves?....Yes, that's right with their 'sprayers'...."
"Hey! If you want to watch Veggietales, get the disc...Don't try to shove a cucumber into the DVD player!"
"Yes, you're right. A T-Rex could probably beat Spiderman in a fight..unless he teamed up with the Hulk...Wait! Are we talking 'prison rules'?"
"The dog does NOT need a mustache..."
"Get out of the washing machine!"
"Look what's for breakfast! Green eggs and Ham!
"Who put Mater in the toilet?"
"Fine! Just go ahead and try to fit in between the banister rails. But don't get mad when I have to
grease your head up to get it out!"
"Can you wait a second? I can't change your diaper while frying bacon...You'll get burned!"
"I don't know why sometimes I cry while drinking my 'special' coffee in the morning..."
"Yeah, man, I would like to come out with you guys tonight to see the Violent Femmes, but I just warmed up some Spongebob shaped Chef Boyardi and getting ready to snuggle up n the counch to the latest Pixar DVD...OOOH! Great Idea! Why don't you come over here instead?"
"What in the hell is Totoro?"
"What are you doing? You can't eat frozen juice concentrate from the can with a spoon!..." (Note: This is sentence was actually spoken to my son using my wife as a proxy while she was pregnant.)
"I don't care if she's my daughter and I don't care how much shes set her heart on it, I am her father and I am NOT dressing up like a kitty cat for Halloween...Fine! But I'm not wearing the tights!...What? Tights, too?...Okay, fine!"
"I guess daddy IS as pretty as a princess..."
"Transformers are NOT going to blow up your school....Now, go back to sleep..."
"I think the 'Diary of a Wimpy Kid' movies are the best films that have come out in the last few years."
"Well, babies don't start out eating baby food. They start by drinking milk...from the mommy...Well...You know how cows feed the calves?....Yes, that's right with their 'sprayers'...."
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