Buzzkill
"So what are you playing?" Crazy G. asked Bug and I last night.
"Wrestling," Bug said without looking up from the furious action on the TV screen. "And I'm kicking Dad's butt."
"Yes, he indeed is kicking my butt," I added.
"That looks like it's an awefully vicious game," my mother said in her own special judgemental tone.
Not even having to look back at her, I knew that Crazy G. was wearing the frown of disapproval ... you know the one your parents wear when they're questioning your obvious lack of parenting skills and wondering how they raised such a buffoon.
I, as I often do when we come to this point in our ongoing conversation over parenting, said nothing to Crazy G. and continued to run around the ring to avoid the dropkicks from my son's wrestling character. After a few calculated throat-clearings and murmured "ahems", which were meant to elicit a response from me but didn't, the lack of a response eventually grated on Crazy G. ...
"You know, you would never have saw a game like this in our house when you were growing up," she said.
"Nope," I said. "You wouldn't have. But you also never saw that I played these games at other people's houses."
"You did not," my shocked mother protested.
"I did so," I responded, "just never told you about it. I figure that the kids are going to play the games somewhere, so at least if I'm playing them here with them I know what they are seeing. If there's something completely over the top, I tell them why and we don't play that game anymore. At least I know what they're playing then."
A little more grumbling from Crazy G. sitting behind us and then silence again. A few more minutes passed by ...
"Is that a girl on that game?" Crazy G. blurted out.
"Yes, Mom. That's a girl on that game," I said.
"Yeah, and she's kicking butt, Grandma!" Bug said, further fueling my mother's indignation.
More unintelligible grumbling ... and then ...
"Say what you will, you would have never played a game where a man hit a woman in my house," Crazy G. said as she left the room, adding a parting shot: "Good example you're setting son."
And with that she killed all of the fun in the room. ... "Buzzkill," I shouted after her as we switched the game to baseball.
Posted by: Devlyn Brooks on 7/01/2009 at 1:52 PM | Comments (2) | Permalink
Tags: children, columns, devlyn brooks, family, moms, parenting perspectives, video games
Timely phone calls
I have good friends ... maybe the best of friends. So I consider myself lucky. And while I don't live close to most of them, which tends to be a drag, I re-discovered this weekend that a timely phone call can make all the difference between wanting to crack a beer and navigating the day without a major breakdown.
Twice this past weekend I re-connected with friends who have made important differences in my life and have been there to lean on during some of the most difficult challenges one can face. Both times the calls came unexpectedly because we don't talk all that often and serendipitously because the events of this past weekend were enough to test anyone. But the importance of both calls was a reminder that no matter how crappy your feeling or how unsure you are about what's going on in your life, there are people available to whom you can unload all of your baggage. ... People who will gladly heft that baggage for a little while for you to lighten your load. People who will listen and tell you they wish they could do something more than listen but if that's all they can do they will stay on the line as long as needed. People who, despite a month passing since the last time you talked, are just as vested in the conversation and in your life as if you spent time together everyday. People who can't necessarily make the situation better, but who can offer you a half hour or an hour respite from the trouble, and are glad to do so.
I don't tell my closest friends enough how much they mean to me. I take them for granted, like we all do, until it comes another time when they drop everything to take a phone call. And it's times such as these that I do stop to recount the good things in my life and use it to put the troubles into perspective. The situation usually hasn't improved by the time I get off the phone, but the phone call usually is enough to help me put one foot in front of the other again ... to help me take one more bite of the elephant.
Thank god for those phone calls.
Posted by: Devlyn Brooks on 6/29/2009 at 1:23 PM | Comments (0) | Permalink
Tags: columns, devlyn brooks, parenting perspectives
He knows no fear
I used to enjoy the fact that the Bug was born with no fear, that he'd plunge into about any situation or adventure without a thought about the ramifications. But Monday night as I watched him ascend the stairs to the high diving board at the pool, I started to rethink how cool it is to be the parent of a thrill-seeker.
Had I let him last year, Bug would have tackled the high diving board then, but being I couldn't be in the pool to assure that he could swim to the other aside once he came back up, I wouldn't let him go. I wanted him to have another year of swimming under his belt so that he could surely swim across the pool to the ladder before he attempted the high board. And, yeah, you can about imagine how that sat with the Bug last summer.
So Monday was Bug's long-awaited night. It was the first night of the summer swimming season that I could get the boys to the pool, and he'd been waiting since late last summer to give the high board a shot. As expected, he didn't hesitate for a moment. He clamored up the steps, walked to the edge of the board and stepped off. Nothing fancy, but still a 12- or 13-foot plunge into deep water ... Bam! ... nothing to it.
After what seemed like an eternity underwater, he surfaced and casually swam to the ladder to get out. While a huge smile emerged on his face, it wasn't any different than a welcome-home-dad smile or a dog-licking-his-face smile, or any other such joy-inducing smile. You could tell he enjoyed the leap and freefall, but not extraordinarily so. ... Which, I guess, as one who knows his own fears, astonished me.
It's well known that heights and I aren't on each others' Christmas card lists, but I would have thought the plunge might have elicited at least a little blip of excitement. But it evidently didn't. He gave me a high five and a hug to celebrate his first high dive board experience and off he went to get in line to do it again.
And that's when I realized how many more years this little thrill-seeker will be living under my roof and how much more dangerous his stunts will get. ... I officially don't think it's so cute anymore that he knows no fear.
Posted by: Devlyn Brooks on 6/24/2009 at 12:49 PM | Comments (1) | Permalink
Tags: children, columns, devlyn brooks, family, moms, parenting, parenting perspectives, swimming
What a night
The kids and I came as close to a drive-in movie last night as we ever have. We attended Fargo's first Movie in the Park night this summer and I think the experience was better than a drive-in movie ever could be.
About once a month the park district hosts a movie in Island Park. They bring in a giant inflatable contraption onto which a movie screen can be lashed and they set it up at the bottom of a hill so that families can throw down blankets or set up their camping chairs to watch a flick outdoors. We were newbies to the event and so that may have colored our feelings, but we all left thinking it was about the best movie-going experience we'd ever had.
Admittedly, I'm a sucker for those tingly moments, those moments you know when the kids look back on it, they'll think, "That was pretty cool." And I think last night's movie in the park will be one of those.
We started the evening with a trip to the outdoor municipal pool, located in the same park. After chasing after the boys in the pool for two hours, we dragged our tired selves to the car, grabbed our blanket and chairs and snacks and sauntered over to the movie. There boys spread out in there chairs and munched on popcorn while they dried out from their swim.
To say the weather cooperated would be an understatement. By the time the movie came on at dusk, temps must have in the low 70s. There was very little wind, there were no bugs and no humidity. You couldn't have scripted the night any better.
I can't describe how cool it was to watch the kids giggling and laughing at Kung Fu Panda on a huge movie screen along with hundreds of other kids on a beautiful summer night in the park. The lights from the nearby basketball game and from the car headlights whizzing by on nearby streets oddly just added to the ambience ... maybe just because how often do you see so much going on in the world while at the same time watching a movie?
Garrett chuckled his way through one of his favorite animated films and about two-thirds of the way through the Bug finally gave in to a full day of summer play and swimming. He drifted off to dreamland under the stars on a hill in a park in the middle of town. ... Man, what a way to go to sleep. ... Man, what a night.
Posted by: Devlyn Brooks on 6/23/2009 at 1:47 PM | Comments (0) | Permalink
Tags: children, columns, devlyn brooks, entertainment, family, moms, movies, parenting perspectives
Pokin' through
They were just the tiniest bits of green I'd ever seen, but they brought an enormous smile to my face none the less. Looking out my bathroom window Sunday morning, when I squinted it certainly looked like there was a greenish sheen floating above the dirt in my backyard. So on our daily morning visit outside, Massey (the trusted family pup) and I swung around to the backside of the house.
As I got to the edge of my paver stone slab that we call the "patio" I bent down and squinted again. Because it was still early morning and I had just begun to drink the first cup of coffee, I wasn't necessarily trusting my eyes. However, it did seem that the greenish sheen I'd seen from my bathroom window was still there. It evidently wasn't just an effect caused by looking through a screen. ... A couple of more eye-rubs and a couple of sips of caffeine later, and it was still there. ... JOY! ... "Oh yeah," I thought, as I started to grin. It was true, my grass was pokin' through and I had reason to celebrate. I knew then that as soon as Garrett got up I could do the victory dance of one who didn't deserve to be so self-rightous, the gloating dance of one who was wrong for a week but thanks to some perverse cosmic reason was made right. That's right ... I knew I could show him that dad didn't follow the directions and still managed to win, and that he could no longer hold over my head the failed grass planting. ... I knew it wasn't right, that I shouldn't be feeling that way toward my own offspring. But it was a parent's gloat, a gloat coming from all of those times you're wrong and have to own up to it. This time, however, thanks to nature taking over and giving the grass seed what it really needed, I got to be wrong and still be right. ... Ahh, it was a guilty satisfaction. ... Yes, childish, but still satisfying.
I basked the morning away, sitting in my chair on the "patio" drinking my mud and thinking about my monumental accomplishment. I prepared myself for what I assumed was a legitimate gloat-fest, and I waited in anticipation. ... Eventually, Sleepyhead (as son No. 1 is known during the summer months) wandered his way out to the patio, and I unleashed a horribly choreographed victory dance, chanting something to the effect that my grass was growing and na-na-a-boo-boo.
That's when Sleepyhead looked at me, grinned and said: "Good job, Dad. You grew grass. Now, maybe you should work on rocket science."
That's right ... in a moment's notice he whisked aside all of my deserved glory and let me stand there in my backyard, just the dorky dad wearing his holely pajamas and very badly dancing, instead of the champion I was a moment before. ... Kids, arrgh, I hate when they get the best of me.
Posted by: Devlyn Brooks on 6/22/2009 at 12:14 PM | Comments (0) | Permalink
Tags: children, columns, devlyn brooks, family, gardening, moms, parenting perspectives
Would the crow be better with salt on it?
The grass seed I planted in my backyard better get its growin' on soon or I'm going to have to eat a heapin' helpin' of crow.
Last weekend, Garrett and I tackled re-seeding about a fourth of my backyard because it was tore up last year to fix the basement wall. Quite a mess was left behind and I wanted to spruce it up so that the kids had grass to play baseball and soccer on versus a portion of grass and a portion of scrubby weeds and bare dirt.
Went to Wal-Mart, bought the seed and headed to the backyard. Garrett was dubious because the directions said that we also needed to buy some grass seed start-up fertilizer and do all this preparation to the soil. Falling back on my experience working for a landscaping company during my summers in college and my general dad-know-it-allness, I brushed off his concerns. I told him all we had to was rough up the soil a bit, throw down the seed and make sure the seeds got plenty of water. Presto! Bam! Instant lawn! ... Just to be more confident, I bought enough seed to cover my entire yard, according to the directions, let alone a fourth of my backyard. I figured if you aren't going to follow the directions, just throw quadruple the amount of seed that's required at the bare patch and let nature do the rest.
Well, that was officially a week ago now and ... no grass. Nada. Zero. Zip. Zilch. I should know, I've been down on my hands and knees in my backyard inspecting for the slightest sign that something green is coming up. I have spotted some slivers of plant life pushing through the soil, but I'm pretty certain none of it would be classified as grass. And I've been going out there in the mornings to give the grass a little pep talk ... you know, cheer it on a little. But I gotta tell you, I'm not pleased. Unless something happens soon I'm going to have to admit that I screwed up $20 in grass seed, and possibly because I didn't read the directions. ... God, I hate eating crow in front of my son.
Posted by: Devlyn Brooks on 6/20/2009 at 3:23 PM | Comments (3) | Permalink
Tags: children, columns, devlyn brooks, family, gardening, moms, parenting perspectives
'The Talk'
I'd promised myself for years that come the time, I'd handle "The Talk" with my son with a coolness not expected of parents, that I'd stun him with my hipness and knowledge gleaned from my vast experience. I pictured that we'd have this amazing moment where time would stop and everything else in the world would give way to this time-honored discussion between father and son. It was all planned to the tiniest detail, even how the conversation would unfold. And I had prepared for the moment because I knew I had to: I knew I had to avoid repeating how my "Talk" unfolded and scarred me for life.
The memory still is seared into my brain: I was about 12 or 13 when my mom turned the responsibility of "The Talk" over to one of my brothers. I suppose being a single parent she didn't quite feel comfortable discussing sex with her son, but putting my brother in charge of the talk turned out be a far more dangerous decision. Picture it: It was an uncomfortably hot summer day and I was sitting in the back seat of my brother's car, which had no air conditioning. He and his wife were in the front and we were sitting along a business street, waiting for someone who was in a store ... I can't remember exactly who. But I can remember, all too well, my sister-in-law turning around in the front seat and telling me that my mother had asked them to talk to me about "The Birds and the Bees." I don't know if my brother chickened out of the job and thus it fell to his wife, but I never asked. In fact, after I hastily and embarrassingly said that I knew enough about sex, the conversation ended abruptly and we all endured an achingly awkward wait for whomever it was we were waiting for. The subject was never brought up again.
So when I realized that my time would come to have "The Talk" with my oldest son, I rehearsed the possible scenarios, right down to the opening lines. I knew that I was going to pull it off like no other dad had, that my son would look back and think, "God, Dad did that so right," that maybe he'd even go back to tell his buddies how cool his dad was. Man, it was planned out so perfect. ...
In recent weeks it'd become apparent that the time had arrived; I couldn't put things off any more. So Saturday night after a hard day of yard work, Garrett and I were capping off the day with a soda around a bonfire in the backyard. Bug had went inside and I found myself relaxing with my oldest son in about the most perfect Minnesota setting for which you could ask. And despite all of my mental preparation and the planning to get a few minutes of one-on-one quality time with Garrett, when the time came, I immediately forgot everything I had practiced. Sweat formed on my brow and plams and all I could blurt out was: "Son, we need to talk." Immediately he gave the 11-year-old, "Oh God, what is it now?" eyes which soon enough turned into a look of horror when my second sentence came out. ...
"There comes a time when a Dad has a certain conversation with his son," I said, thinking to myself that I was delivering the corniest Dad speech ever but knew I was unable to stop it. "It's time we talk about sex, son. ..." And on I blathered, often comically about men's and women's anotomical parts and what they do. Later I reached a crescendo during a section about how babies are made and finished it all off with a not-so-riveting section about how special and important sex was and that it wasn't to be taken lightly. Alternately I sounded like Walt Disney's Goofy and the guy who narrated those U.S Department of Education health movies we watched when we were in seventh grade. I might as well have been dressed either in a comic strip dog getup or in an out-of-date tweed jacket, wearing some black, thick-rimmed eyeglasses while holding a pointer stick and using it for emphasis to point to oddly shaped body parts on chalkboard. ... Yeah, it was that bad. ... I think, at one point, I may have even slipped into that cheesy baritone voice that narrator used to exude an aura of expertise.
As I finished, he stared at me and I could see the gears working in his head. I couldn't quite tell if he was stunned from the topic or at how his dad had just turned into a caricature of a 1960s TV dad or cartoon dog. Regardless, I knew that I managed to leave him as speechless as my sister-in-law had left me some 20-plus years ago. ... And damn I had had all that time to practice. ... Perhaps, in another 20-plus years, Garrett will pledge to himself that he's going to handle "The Talk" so much better than his father did in the summer of 2009, sitting around a bonfire in the backyard. ... I wish him luck.
Posted by: Devlyn Brooks on 6/18/2009 at 9:42 PM | Comments (1) | Permalink
Tags: children, columns, devlyn brooks, family, moms, parenting perspectives
Bringing home the hardware
Pathetically, my right shoulder and wrists are tender today, but the bragging rights I own have assauged the hurt.
Last night I recaptured the North American Intercontinental All-American Brooks Household Bowling Championship, a title I lost some months back to my oldest son. A prestigious title to be sure, the NAIAABHBC is something the boys and I compete for periodically, and recently I'd hit a drought. ... That's right, my oldest son, the 11-year-old, had put the big bowling hurt on me the last couple of times at the lanes. But last night I showed him whose da man: Riding an awe-inspiring three-game average of 108, I dominated the elder son, and the 6-year-old Bug, crushing them and demonstrating once and for all the mighty presence that I am on the bowling lane.
There's currently no scheduled rematch, even though Garrett thought any real father would give another shot tonight. ... (Did I mention that half way through Tuesday's match, Garrett was struck with an upset stomach and didn't much care to finish his last two games, let alone care about the score?) But being the kind father I am, I demonstrated some tough love, telling him that it's not classy for losers to make up excuses. You know, I felt it was my obligation to shore up his sportsmanship.
And so yes today he already was demanding a rematch. But unbeknownst to him, that match is going to have to wait. While I've told him that heavy scheduling will prevent a rematch anytime soon, the truth is that I need to nurse my aching shoulder and wrist. ... Besides, it's likely that I would lose my title and I'd like to hold onto it a little while longer. It's not everyday I'm the NAIAABHBC champion.
Posted by: Devlyn Brooks on 6/17/2009 at 8:11 PM | Comments (0) | Permalink
Tags: bowling, children, column, devlyn brooks, family, moms, parenting perspectives, sports
Priceless
Crazy G. and I took the Bug to our first baseball game of the season last Friday. (Garrett was with his mom.)
Here is a summation our our trip ... my apologies to MasterCard:
- Admission into the ballpark so that Bug could spend three hours playing in the sandbox, playground and bouncy house and not watch one minute of the game: $22
- The privilege to park within walking distance of the ballpark: $2
- Cotton candy that Bug had to have and then never opened and subsequently was thrown away in an unopened bag: $3.50
- Hot dog which he picked out of the bun which ended up in trash: $1.50
- Bottle of water which sat on the bleachers and got warm while he was playing in the sandbox and thus he wouldn't drink: $1.50
- Hawkeye bobblehead doll which now resides on his dresser and hasn't been touched since we got home Friday night: $15
- Miniature silver bat with RedHawks logo so that we could get Hawkeye signature: $7
- Miniature red bat with RedHawks logo so that his brother wouldn't feel left out: $7
- Fee so that Bug could spin the prize wheel and win a RedHawks pencil: $1
- Having your 6-year-old curled in your arms at the end of the night watching the post-game fireworks and looking up to you to say, "Thanks for bringing me to the game, Daddy" before laying his head down on your shoulder to ooh and ahh some more: Priceless.
Posted by: Devlyn Brooks on 6/16/2009 at 12:31 PM | Comments (1) | Permalink
Tags: baseball, children, columns, devlyn brooks, family, moms, parenting perspectives, redhawks, sports
An honest-to-goodness spit take
Last night the boys, Crazy G. and I were playing Monopoly. The TV was on, but more just for background noise than anything because it was on CSPAN.
At some point Bug asked what the guy on TV was talking about.
Crazy G. interjected that she didn't know and that it sounded like "gibberish" to her. So she asked me if I knew what he was talking about.
"He's talking about eradicating polio," I said, about the gentleman speaking at the National Press Club.
"Who?" Grandma asked.
The timing was so perfect that Garrett lost it, spittle flying everywhere as he tipped back in his chair and fell over. He was crying and laughing so hard that it took a solid 5 minutes before the game could get underway again. He was still laughing intermittently when he went to bed.
It's the first time I'd ever witnessed someone actually spit spit because they laughed so hard ... poor kid, his stomach hurt after all that.
Posted by: Devlyn Brooks on 6/16/2009 at 9:01 AM | Comments (0) | Permalink
Tags: children, columns, devlyn brooks, family, moms, parenting perspectives
