So I have a new cell phone ...
So I do have a new cell phone, or what you might aptly call a miniature friekin' computer small enough to fit in my pocket.
Now it's no secret that I'm not a huge fan of technology. Although I am proficent on the web and do some blogging, I'm not sold that all the intrusive technology that we've allowed into our lives is a good thing. And so it should come as no surprise to a lot of people that this new phone has befuddled me. In the first three days, I have found that it's most useful as an alarm clock and for receiving pornographic videos and photos from friends. Whew, I'm glad I spent the money I did.
I should back up a bit, though. I never started out to buy a new phone that could double as a remote control for the space shuttle. Rather, I set out to purchase a simple phone for my oldest son to connect with his mother and I. The plan was that dad would upgrade to a new phone and Garrett would inherit dad's old phone. Fine and good, right?
But, ahh, things are never that easy with cell phones, are they? After waiting for an hour in the store (no kidding) to talk with a representative, a chirpy young man - whom we'll call Mr. Chirpy - with a spiked hairdo and a large ring in his ear asked what we wanted. I explained simply that I needed to add a line to my plan, buy a new phone for me and prepare my old phone for my son. "Yep, we can do that," Mr. Chirpy explained excitedly. "But what kind of phone do you want?" And, honestly, from that moment on, things are kind of a blur. Mr. Chirpy went into sales mode and threw a long enough pitch at me that I could feel myself growing older. There were these phones and those phones and these plans and those plans and these rebates and those rebates and these options and those options ... and then he abruptly stopped, smiled and stared at me, waiting for an answer.
"Look," I said, "what's it going to cost me to get a new phone and a new line and get outta here?"
Mr. Chirpy excitedly started in again, droning on about upgrades and contracts and activation fees and v-casts and downloadable music and blah, blah, blah ... After waiting for an hour just to talk to him and spending another 20 minutes getting no where, I saw a promotional sign on the counter for Verizon's newest phone, the Envue. The promotion included a sales price and a rebate and it all seemd pretty reasonable considering the phone you were getting. I looked at Mr. Chirpy and told him I wanted that phone and a plan that would accomodate my phone, its new features and a line for my son ... and please no gift wrapping necessary. I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that we were close to wrapping this deal up. How naive of me.
Once Mr. Chirpy found the phone in the back room, he started in on the accessories available and the computer work necessary to activate the phone and change my current number to the new phone, transfer over all of the data from my old phone to my new phone and assign a new number to Garrett's phone. All told, we'd been in the store for 1 hour and 40 minutes, but eventually, both Garrett and I were clutching our new phones. I was thinking we had to be close to be done, right?
Once again reality is like a slap to the face some times. Just then Mr. Chirpy slammed down about a pound of paperwork on the counter and commenced to highlighting the gazillion places I needed to initial and to sign. I'm not kidding; I walked out of there with a stack of paperwork 15 pages thick ... for two friekin' phones. By the end, I wanted out of there so badly, I'm not sure what I signed. I may have inadvertently given one of my sons away or promised their souls to Verizon ... I'm not sure. But I needed to get outta there and we did - 1 hour and 58 minutes after we entered.
So, anyway, I do have a snazzy new phone and I'm sure that everytime I push a button accidently there are some nervous people in bunkers around Moscow wondering who has control of their missles.
Posted by: Devlyn Brooks on 8/21/2008 at 12:34 PM | Comments (1) | Permalink
Really ... a happy dream?
This morning I awoke to a very pleasant dream. Seriously, I did. ... And while to many the thought of waking to a pleasant dream isn't noteworthy, for me it is.
Since the divorce three years ago, I've suffered from nightmares of an extreme nature. Actually for the first year after the divorce, I became so afraid of going to sleep, I often avoided it until my brain and body would just shut down. In fact, I was terrified enough of sleeping that I often functioned on three to four hours of sleep per night, sometimes for weeks on end. Until eventually one weekend when I didn't have the boys, I would essentially sleep from Friday after work until Monday morning to catch up. It wasn't a pleasant way to live. But eventually things did get better, with the nightmares coming less frequently until they diminished altogether last summer. My only relapse was a short bought of nightmares this summer.
And so, this morning when I awoke from the pleasant dream, I honestly felt bewildered. It'd been so long since I had remembered having a good dream, I felt a little like I woke up in Alice's Wonderland.
I don't know if the dream was a result of me recently getting more sleep, or the improvements in the boys' mom's life, or the fact that I've just been more content as of late. But regardless of the explanation, I can say that it was a welcome surprise.
I only hope the trend continues; waking up that way was more pleasant than I ever remember.
Posted by: Devlyn Brooks on 8/20/2008 at 12:47 PM | Comments (0) | Permalink
Dad, can I have some cologne on?
So the Bug went off to his Youth Commission field trip in style this morning. ... What does a 5-year-old need for an outing to the state park where they'll hit the hiking trails, swimming hole and have a picnic lunch? Well, cologne ... of course.
As I was getting ready for work this morning, I sent the Bug off to his room to get dressed. A few minutes later he returned dressed, except for his shirt.
"Dad, can I have some cologne on?" he asked, standing there looking at me getting ready.
I had to ask him ask to repeat his question because although I thought I heard him correctly, I didn't believe it. I've never discussed "cologne" with him and although he's seen me use it before, he's never asked about it.
"You know, cologne. Can I put some cologne on?" he asked again.
"Well, sure, kiddo. But do you even know what cologne is?" I asked.
"Yeah, it's that stuff you put on to smell good for girls," he said.
"OK ... we'll spray some on," I said. "But is there something I should know?"
"No," he said adamantly. "I just want some on."
So I sprayed a couple of squirts on him, and as he was pulling his T-shirt on, he asked, "Will people still smell it even if I have my shirt on?"
"Yeah, people should still be able to smell it," I said. "You sure there's not something I should know?"
"Nope," he said and walked out of the bathroom.
Dad's not so sure ...
Posted by: Devlyn Brooks on 8/20/2008 at 11:20 AM | Comments (0) | Permalink
Funny I'm not grayer and balder
While we've always known Carter knows no fear, this past weekend gave me a good look at what the next 12 or so years are going to be like. I will be very gray, near bald and suffer many painful ulcers.
The Bug has always approached life in a no-holds-barred fashion. Jump in the deep end of the pool even though you don't swim well enough ... sure. Ride your your bike as if it doesn't have brakes. Why not. Wrestle your brother even though he's five years older and 60 pounds heavier than you. A fantastic idea. Walk up to strange dogs, wander out of the house to play without telling anyone, climb tall trees that have broken and sharp limbs, and on and on ... yes, sir, that's the Bug. And while the thought could be disconcerting at times, I thought I had grown accustom to raising such a child ... until this past weekend.
We were out of town visiting friends whose boy of the same age has a go-kart and mini-four wheeler and we also went tubing behind their boat. Carter has never driven a four-wheeler or go-kart before and he took to them like a cocaine junkie moving on up to crack. Not long after we arrived he was ripping up and down their dirt driveway, bouncing over potholes, almost running over the dogs and narrowly missing trees, people and large automobiles. While we managed to get a helmet on him before he plunged into his gasoline-fueled nirvana, there was still a knot the size of a softball in my stomach until they had to quit because of darkness.
On Saturday, there was more of the same. Fast-paced racing between the boys, two in the go-kart and one on the four-wheeler, cruising up and down the driveway and whizzing by each other in opposite directions. And that wasn't even the part of the day that kept me on edge.
Later that day we took the kids tubing behind a boat. While Carter had never been tubing before, let alone swimming in the middle of a lake, it wasn't daunting to him in the least. He was the first to volunteer to tube and kept giving us the signal to increase the speed. Time and again he went. He couldn't get enough. And all I could do was watch and feel myself going balder by the minute. While I'm not a worry wort by nature (I say kids should eat a little dirt once in a while), watching your 5 1/2-year-old whipping around on a tube behind a boat that's travelling 20 mph can test any parent.
Late in the afternoon, we (the adults at least) decided we'd had enough, but the Bug and his little buddy wanted to ride together in the tube one last time as we headed back to shore. So we cruised around the lake with the two them in the tube so that they could get their last fix of speed and adrenaline. And then we headed to the dock at a fairly moderate speed. I was ecstatic we were headed back to shore and was thankful we had survived the day without injury. And then the Bug struck again ...
About 30 yards from the dock, the Bug decided he wanted to swim in the rest of the way. With no regard to the distance to shore or how deep the water was, he jumped off the back of the tube. Only, as he did, one of his legs became entangled behind his little buddy and so all I could see was Carter dangling behind the tube, one leg stuck in it and his head pointed to the water. And then he was gone. Making matters worse, the tube was tall enough that none of us could see behind it and I had no idea what had happened to him. In a split second I had ripped off my hat, glasses shirt and shoes and dove in. I did my best Michael Phelps impersonation and swam like a mad man to get behind the tube. Once there, the Bug greeted me with a big smile, oblivious to the fright he just gave everyone. After dad got over his nasuea, the two of us calmly made our way back to the dock.
My nerves were shot the rest of the day. Like I said, I thought I had grown used to having an adrenaline junkie for a son, but I learned this weekend that it's all just begun. I can't even get myself to think about the stunts he's going to pull in the future.
Posted by: Devlyn Brooks on 8/19/2008 at 11:29 AM | Comments (3) | Permalink
Seriously ... an accountant?
It seems that a good friend was recently extolling the virtues of a certain newspaper editor to a fine, young lass that he knows.
As he tells the story, she is desparate enough that she is asking him for available men, and so as he was working through his list of contacts, he came across my name. So he gave her a sales pitch ... and he got passed my being divorced and having two boys and she was fine with that. She got passed me being employed as a newspaper editor. She got passed the fact that I live 200 miles away. And finally she got over the fact that I am not a model for GQ. So, she gets by all of this, but when she sees the mug shot on the blog, she comments that I look like an accountant. Hello! An ACCOUNTANT for crying out loud! ... I've been called some very unkind things, but I've never in my life been accused of looking like an accountant.
I was stunned to say the least.
So, I feel the need to set the record straight ... I have never been, nor have I ever dreamed of being an accountant. For several years in high school, I took many a business class to get out of taking real classes, but never once did I admire those well-dressed guys who sat in offices with potted plants and worked with spread sheets all day. I have never desired to study accounts receivable, nor accounts payable. No thank you.
Now, don't get me wrong ... I've known a couple of accountants in my lifetime and they are fine, sturdy, pillars of society. But they weren't exactly the type you wanted to close the bar down with, if you know what I mean. I, on the other hand, have closed down many a bar and have too many outsanding parking and speeding tickets to be a pillar of society. Talk to any of my close friends and you'd get the picture pretty soon that my past extracurricular activies preclude me from joining the tight-knit accounting fraternity.
So, before this vicious rumor grows out of control, I feel the need to nip it in the bud. Once again, I am not an accountant,; nor will I ever be one; nor would you want me to be your accountant. While I do fairly adequate, ... er ... well, OK ... an adequate job of managing my own financial affairs, there's a healthy bribe waiting for the H&R Block guy come April. Is that the guy you want doing your accounting?
Also I've informed the front office that we need to change my blog mug ASAP. Sully my reputation by calling me a drug lord or an attorney or something of the kind, but by God, don't ever accuse me of being an accountant. Man, this is how vicious rumors get started ...
Posted by: Devlyn Brooks on 8/18/2008 at 5:15 PM | Comments (3) | Permalink
Never doubting fortune cookies again
Call it coincidence ... call it divine intervention ... call it what you want, but I call it the best birthday present I could never have even imagined.
Late last week the situation in my ex-wife's home improved to a level I've been praying for for three years. And while I have been through this up-and-down cycle for far too many months to truly believe that this nightmarish chapter of our lives is overwith, I am hopeful for the first time in a long time. I truly think that the boys' mom has come to a point in life that she wants something better for herself and the kids ... which directly means that dad's life will improve in untold fashion.
Had you asked me early last week if I could be this happy, I would have laughed in response. Today, while admittedly it still seems to good to be true, I can only tell you that my 34th year has begun better than any in a long, long time. Now that I know the boys are safe in both of their homes, I truly feel a change in my life. There are simply no words to describe how relieved I am at this point and if you've never had to worry about your kids in this, bless you. I wish you never do. But for those of you who have endured something similar, maybe you'll know how describe better the day that knot in your stomach finally dissapates because I can't ... I'm still in shock. Maybe, just maybe, three years of constant praying, in addition to the prayers from dozens of others, have paid off. And maybe, just maybe, this upcoming Labor Day, the guardian angels who have been watching over the boys the last three years may be able to take a little deserved R & R.
About a week ago I joked about picking up a fortune cookie that contained the message that something exciting was about to happen in my life. I remarked that in the recent past exciting hadn't always meant something good. ... But now, I'm a true fortune cookie believer. Like I said, maybe it was a coincidence that I decided to pick up that fortune cookie that day, despite the fact that I rarely pick them up, but sitting in my shoes it's hard to imagine an explanation that simple. It seems to me that it was a sign ... a sign just to hold on a little longer even though I had reached the end of my sanity. You know what they say: The night is always darkest right before dawn ...
I don't know the explanation of the fortune cookie message, but I do know this: The boys' mom is making concentrated decisions to improve her life and thus improve the boys' life ... and I couldn't be more grateful. No, the exciting event pretold by my fortune cookie wasn't winning the lottery or finding the girl of my dreams (both of which would be fine by the way if you still have some surprises in the bag for me up there, Big Guy!), but nothing can compare to knowing my sons no longer have to live in a poor situation. Like I said, I could never have imagined a more important birthday present.
If the rest of my year is to be this good ... how can I not wake up smiling every day this year?
Oh, and I'm going to be grabbing many more fortune cookies in the coming days ...
Posted by: Devlyn Brooks on 8/18/2008 at 1:50 PM | Comments (1) | Permalink
Maybe I am a bad 'wisher'
As he does every year, last night on the phone Garrett asked me what my birthday wishes are for the next year. While many people believe it's bad luck to share your birthday wishes with others, this is a little tradition Garrett and I started three years ago when things were bleak. Hoping to cheer him up and bolster his spirits during some tough times I began sharing my birthday wishes with him, making up grand wishes that would likely never come true and usually didn't. But to an 8- or 9-year-old they were often more fun to hear and think about than the present reality. And so now each year, he asks about Dad's birthday wishes.
But he caught me off guard last night. I hadn't expected the question so early being my birthday is on Sunday. And, truthfully, I hadn't really thought about it this year; I hadn't felt the need to rehearse a good answer for Garrett's sake. So, I had to tell him the truth.
"I only have one wish this year, buddy," I said, "that you and Carter have a great year in school and that you guys stay safe, happy and healthy. If that all comes true, I'll be happy."
"But Dad, you have to wish for more than that," he said. "It's your birthday wishes. You have to wish for something for yourself."
"Nope ... that's it," I said. "As long as you and the Bug are OK, I'm good."
"Dad, that's not good enough," he said. "You never wish for anything for yourself. Not this year; this year you have to make a wish just for you."
"Alrighty then, I tell you what. I wish that I will see my closest friends more in the coming year than I did last year," I said.
"No, Dad," he said, getting frustrated, "something just for you."
"That is for me," I said. "I have too many good friends that I haven't visited in a long time. I need to start."
"But that isn't just for you," he said. "You have to wish for something that's just for you."
"Well, that's what I got for you tonight, kiddo," I said. "Those are my wishes. If you're OK and I see my friends more, I consider that a pretty good year."
"Dad, you're a bad wisher," he said. "But I'll see you tomorrow so you've got one day to come up with some wishes that are just for you. I expect them when you pick me up tomorrow."
"OK bud," I said. "I'll work on it."
Well, I think Dad's in trouble. ... I now have four and a half hours to come up with some wishes and the well is empty. Maybe, Garrett's right. Maybe I am a bad wisher.
Posted by: Devlyn Brooks on 8/14/2008 at 1:03 PM | Comments (2) | Permalink
Ellen Hopkins ... meet the Bug
So the Bug is officially registered to attend the big "K" this fall. I dropped off the remaining paperwork (which, by the way, have you seen what you have to fill out to register a kid in school nowadays?) this morning. And it's now official that Carter will be spending his afternoons with Ms. Jennifer Kava for the next nine months. I suspect that Ms. Kava and I will become fairly acquainted.
I'm not saying that I expect the Bug to be trouble. He's not a troublesome kid, really. He's just ... ahh ... busy. But I've been really happy with the ways things have turned out this summer during his daycare program, which is situated in his school and has given him the opportunity to get to know it well. The structure of the program has been good for the Bug and it has him psyched for school to start. But you know, the school system isn't necessarily built to accomodate free thinkers and, well, let's just say that the Bug likes to color outside the lines a bit.
And so this morning the sweet and kind lady behind the office desk at the school probably didn't understand the slight scare she put into me when she accepted his paperwork and said, "Oh, sure, we've known about Carter. He's in Ms. Kava's class."
Well, you know, you get a little jumpy when the office worker tells you she already knows about your child. "You know about Carter," I asked, more than a little anxious.
"Well, yes ... we received his pre-screening paperwork," the office worker said, adding when she saw the quizzical look on my face, "I just meant we received his paperwork, not that we'd heard anything about Carter."
She must have saw me relax a little and so she asked "Do you have concerns about Carter coming to school?"
"Well no, he's just a little ...," I said, trying to think of the right word, "he's just a little ..."
"Spirited?" she asked. "That's the word we like to use around here."
"Yeah, that's the word, I guess," I said. "I was going to tell you that he likes to color outside the lines a bit, but spirited works."
"Ahh, don't worry," she said. "He's going to be fine and he's going to have a good year. They all settle down after the first couple of weeks."
"That's reassuring," I said, feeling more relaxed.
"Thanks for coming in Mr. Brooks," she said. "Ahh, by the way, have you met the principal?"
Talk about a buzz-killer ...
Posted by: Devlyn Brooks on 8/13/2008 at 11:40 AM | Comments (0) | Permalink
Finally an epiphany ... thank God
I'm still at a loss of words today and I've given myself more than 24 hours to digest it, but unbelievably sometime early Monday morning, I was given a gift of peace ... a breakthrough into what's been nagging at me for months.
Granted, most of that day and night I was in bed with a migraine that was blinding and a fever that could have cooked an egg on my forehead and stomach cramps that felt like something was tearing out of me, and so when I awoke Monday to feel the clouds lifting, I didn't want to believe it at first. The peace I had found seemed so clear, so bright and so simple that I wondered why the hell it's been driving insane for so long.
As you know, I have struggled through this summer trying to find answers as to why the hell I couldn't be happy. I progressed through many a day driven mad by the fact that everything in life seemed to be such a mystery and even though I could put my finger on several things that made me unhappy, I couldn't quite find the answer to why I couldn't find happiness. Despite great care from my friends and even professional counseling, I found myself bumbling around for answers like someone trying to make their way through a forest at night.
And then about 2 a.m. Monday I awoke with sweat-drenched hair and the clearest answer you could ever imagine: The answer was simple physics. For far too long I was trying to move an inmovable object. I know, it probably seems a little weird, but I'll try to explain. In physics you learn that when an immovable object and a moving object collide, something has to give. Logic would tell you that if the immovable object isn't going anywhere ... well, then, I guess the moving object has to.
What the hell does this mean for me? Well, put it this way: For far too long I drew my happiness from how content and well taken care of the boys were, meaning that I knew I couldn't be completely happy until my ex-wife's life had stabilized and I felt the boys were getting the care that I think they should. I kept waiting for things to get better for my ex-wife, or hoping that she'd see the need to change and I was trying to will it to happen. Thus, the immovable object. However, after three years of repeated failures, I was failing to learn that the immovable object wasn't going to move. The situation in her life may never improve and she may choose to accept that. And now I must too. In that moment of clarity early Monday morning - whether it was brought on by the hallucinations of a fever pitch or not - I realized that despite the situation in my ex-wife's home, I have to move on. I can accept only half the responsibility of raising the boys for now and whether that may change in the future I cannot know. And so the moving object has finally learned that it's fruitless to try to will the immovable object to move. And thus I have found my freedom in not feeling compelled to try anymore.
Still, for anyone that's watched or listened or read about my struggles this summer, this probably seems a pretty simplistic answer to a very complex problem. But it really isn't. Consider that the boys are the most important things in my life and you can imagine how stifling it's been to not be able to protect them from everything they've experienced. Consider that for three years, my prime motivator for getting up in the morning was making sure the boys got through one more day as unscathed as possilbe ... and maybe this all starts to make sense for those of you looking in from the outside. Now that I understand I cannot affect change on the immovable object, I have realized the freedom of not trying, and each of the other pieces of my life I've been struggling with have fallen into order one by one by one. If I can't possibly be responsible for protecting the boys 24/7, I can see where I have the time and the commitment to work on me and learn to take care of me and find those things I used to enjoy and find new things to enjoy and, yes, even find a companion, which the boys have been so anxiously waiting for.
I realize that this is all pretty hard to believe, the fact that someone so troubled for so long could find peace in the middle of the night in between trips to the bathroom. But thanks to two straight days of feeling more excited about life than I have in two months, I truly believe I've found the answer. Be a doubter if you must, but lordly I haven't felt this good in a long time. Thinking about the last couple of days, I guess the best analogy I can give is one to a Suduko puzzle. For anyone who has played them, they will understand. But for those who haven't, let me explain it this way. They are puzzles in which each line and square in the puzzle contains pieces of the puzzle - most often numbers - that have to match perfectly for the answer to be found. One numeral out of place and you're going to come up empty. Find that one right numeral and then all of a sudden ... bang ... it's perfectly clear. Just as an epiphany in the middle of the night can make one's issues perfectly clear. Make a little more sense?
I am not foolish. I realize there still will be up days and down days and now I have to work on learning to take care of myself. But for the first time in a long time, I'm ready to do that and to embrace it. I'm excited to begin this new adventure and excited to think that for the first time I'm ready to invite someone into the adventure with the boys and I, and to do so without feeling guilty. I'm ready to just be dad and control the things I can and trust that one day the boys will understand.
I finally feel the freedom my good friend was talking about and I'm finally excited about the future. And for I once I truly believe that I will find Devlyn 2.0 and like him.
All thanks to a long forgotten physics lesson and a 102-degree temp ... who woulda thunk it?
Posted by: Devlyn Brooks on 8/12/2008 at 12:58 PM | Comments (0) | Permalink
Going for Olympic gold
Thanks to an early exit off to bed for the Bug last night, Garrett and I enjoyed a few moments alone together, watching the Olympics and playing a game of chess. While beling alone was a special moment, something to savor, the night was made even more memorable with what we got to witness.
Anyone who's paid attention to the pre-Olympic hype knows about Michael Phelps, the USA's unnaturally gifted swimmer who has a shot (at the time I write this) at earning eight gold medals at this summer's Olympics. Well, on Sunday night (here in the US) Phelps participated with three other swimmers in the 4 x 100 meter swim relay. For Olympic and swimming enthusiasts, this is the swimming relay you don't miss. It's the pinnacle of swimming competition, with each country throwing their best four swimmers against the world. And this year there was added drama because the heavily favored French team had vowed to the press they were going to "crush" the Americans.
Well, you might expect that the Americans pulled out a come-from-behind victory that was awesome and inspirational and uplifting and courageous, and just about any other adjective you want to give it. They won when the last swimmer, the anchor, came from behind to pass the leading French swimmer, swiming the fastest relay split time in history, to do it, nonetheless.
The ending was a made-for-TV-drama you couldn't have scripted any better. It had Garrett and I on our feet, cheering and high-fiving and hugging like we knew these swimmers. We had silly smiles on our faces and were laughing and rewinding it to watch it again. It was special.
I know it's one of those moments that will be etched in my memory. I only hope Garrett remembers it as fondly.
Posted by: Devlyn Brooks on 8/11/2008 at 6:37 PM | Comments (0) | Permalink
