I pushed our loot to the register and Kendra walked off with Ethan in search of some gum. The woman at the checkout counter noticed them and asked if she could help locate what they were seeking. I let her know their agenda, and she advised me that sadly, they did not carry gum.  I braced myself for the disappointment, and called out to Kendra to let her know.  Ethan looked up with a slightly alarmed expression (gum has become somewhat of a “problem” for him). The lady, who could not have been nicer, saw Ethan’s face. She said she might have some gum on her, and reached into her smock. She produced a pack of gum. It was still in the cellophane wrapper. She smiled kindly at Ethan and offered him the first piece from her personal stash (while this was exceedingly kind, this type of stuff just has to stop. I am about 98% sure he believes the world and everyone in it exists purely for his entertainment and amusement. My parents do nothing to help this condition either… but I digress).

Ethan was satisfied. He rewarded his faithful servant with an Ethan smile while playfully tucking his chin, lifting his outward shoulder slightly, and turning his head inward toward his mom in a semi-bashful pose. He gave a whispered “thank you” to raise the cuteness meter a little more, then turned his gaze away from her so he could fully concentrate on enjoying his gum. Ethan was ready for a second piece by the time she was done scanning our items. He looked at his gift giver as he swallowed the gum. He turned to Kendra, “More. More gum momma.” Kendra told him there was no more and that we might try to find some later. Ethan turned back to the woman helping us, “More”. He had spoken. She began to reach  into her smock when Kendra whisked him out of the store reminding him again that he was done for now but maybe we’d find some later. I thanked the kind lady again and took our purchases outside.

There it was: the little black sanding sponge. I’d forgotten we even picked it up, and I didn’t remember it being scanned. We decided on a package of sandpaper instead, so we didn’t even need that sponge. Kendra checked the receipt…not there. I didn’t want to deal with it. The thing didn’t cost more than 2 or 3 dollars anyway. It was right there in the basket, so I am not even sure how she missed it. Ethan was being squirmy now. He needed to be changed. We needed lunch. We still had things to do. I held it for a moment… looked at it, looked back at the store. Ethan looked at me curiously. I tossed the little black sanding sponge into the back of the vehicle along with everything else. Ethan was standing in the cart, so I took him with me to return the cart to the store.

I was expecting a fight with my conscience, but it was eerily silent. It was like the silence from your parents when you feel like you are too old to be scolded. When you know you’re wrong, and they know you know you’re wrong… but they just give you the look. They don’t say anything. You expect the lecture; you want the argument. But they just stand there looking at you… saying nothing. It’s that loud silence. There’s no need for words. I looked at Ethan. He looked at me.

We got back to the parking space. I handed Ethan to Kendra then grabbed the little black sanding sponge. Kendra offered to change Ethan while I returned it. I walked back in to the store and gave the item to a different woman working at the returns counter. She smiled and shook my hand. It seemed ridiculous that she would be so appreciative of me returning something worth less than a few dollars. Then it seemed more ridiculous that I initially balked at returning it in the first place; even when I had to walk back to the store to return the cart.

Kendra and Ethan were buckled in and ready to go when I got back. We pulled out of the parking space and Kendra began to drive off. I noticed it out of the corner of my eye, “Wait!”. Kendra stopped abruptly. I looked over to the parking space we had just left. Ethan’s right shoe was sitting in the space. Kendra had been on a mission for those shoes, and finally found them a few weeks ago. Even after she found them, it was no small feat to finally get them. I will just state that losing that shoe would not have been a good thing. I turned and looked at his toes wiggling in his sock. I hopped out to grab the stranded shoe. I had to think it was no accident that I happened to glance and see it… and had I not returned the little black sanding sponge, I would have to think it would be no accident if I had suddenly misplaced his shoe.

I slid his shoe back on…he looked at me and gave me the Ethan smile, and I couldn’t hear the silence any more. There are no small tests.

Thanks for coming along for the ride…

Kendra and I were floored… this was our first confrontation with this type of situation, and it really hit us out of nowhere (as these things do). We needed to react, but we needed our reaction to be appropriate to the circumstance. Fortunately, we had a little time to discuss our approach and gain some perspective rather than needing to follow through with our initial emotional responses. We started to focus on the potential reason’s why this event happened rather than just the event itself. We began to realize that we were dealing with the actions and decisions of a 14 year old boy, and all the confusion, clumsiness, and insecurities that accompany that. We realized that this was an opportunity for an awakening… for a lesson in accountability…an eye-opening opportunity for growth.  It brought to mind one of my own “wake-up” events. I remembered feeling alone and out of control… that no one would understand… that there would be no way back to redemption. We didn’t want to introduce hopelessness to the situation, so when I met with Logan, one of the first things I did was tell him my story.

I was about his same age… It was summertime in Albuquerque and my friend Marque and I were bored. We were lazing around his apartment when the notion struck us to visit our friend Eric. He didn’t live too far away, but the walk to his house was all uphill and it was very warm that afternoon. We thought about riding our bikes, but the same conditions made riding an unattractive option. Eventually, one of us brought up the idea of taking Marque’s mother’s car. She was upstairs asleep since she worked nights, and wouldn’t need the car. Marque was 16 and a licensed driver. I was 14 and had logged several hours at TNT Go-Carts… not exactly the same thing. But, I wanted to be cool and pull into Eric’s driveway behind the wheel. So I begged Marque to let me drive. He didn’t want any of his neighbors to see me pulling his mom’s car out, so he agreed to pull over and let me drive once we got to the park (City View).  Yep, here we go.

The streets east of the park get fairly steep, and I was having trouble keeping the speed of the car consistent. I started to mash the accelerator to prevent the urk and jerk motion, but failed to release it when I took the final left and right turns of that voyage. A family was crossing the street a few houses up the block. I was coming around the turn pretty quickly, and I panicked. I pulled the wheel hard to the right, lifted my foot off the gas, and mashed down as hard as I could on what I thought would be the brakes. It wasn’t the brakes.

We sped toward the curb; then up the curb and through some hedges; then onto the lawn and toward the house. The people looking out their front window looked about as surprised as I was to see us barreling toward them. Somehow, we stopped. I remember lifting my feet up after we went over the curb, but I’m not sure how me finally came to a stop. I think Marque might have slid across the bench seat to step on the brakes. I just remember feeling foolish and not knowing what to say.  One of the residents came flying out of the house and was banging on my window. He was screaming something, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I rolled the window down and kept staring ahead. I remember him reaching in the car and turning off the engine.

The police came. I remember the homeowner being very upset and wanting to know what charges he could press. He was screaming and being very animated, and I remember looking at the house next door and realizing where I was and thinking, “Oh yeah, Vicky Roe lives there. Damn.”, as they were putting me in the back of the police car. I have never felt more cut off from the world… and the humiliation of having your friends seeing you like that… that lingers.

Eventually, Marque got to take his mom’s car home, and somehow word got to my friend Jay who drove by on his motorcycle and gave me a ride back home. The souvenirs from my trip? A $180.00 ticket, a promise of a follow-up call to my home regarding the damage to the property, and 6 points off of a driver’s license that I didn’t yet possess. I could’ve taken out a family, I put my friend in a bad position with his mother, could’ve damaged her car severely, ruined someone’s yard, got a ticket I couldn’t pay, and became an insurance liability for my parents before they even needed to have me on the coverage. The outlook was bleak.

I went to my brother, as I tended to do when I found myself in precarious situations, but the remedy for this one fell directly on me. He helped me come to terms with the fact I had to man up and come clean and face whatever music was in the cards.  I had an uncomfortable conversation with my dad that evening when he came home from work. Things were pretty day-to-day for the next few weeks. But, I paid my consequences and worked off my debts, and eventually, I saw the opportunity to grow that was wrapped around that situation. Our hope for Logan was to shorten the distance between the event and the realization of the opportunity. He has fences to mend and he has consequences to reap. But I am hoping the understanding that I am familiar with his path and that I understand where he is coming from will keep him from feeling isolated and strange through all this. The remedies we’ve designed should help address why he did what he did…and we are here to support him through it all.

So, we will see… I had to hit snooze a few times before I finally heard the alarm clearly. Let’s hope this tune rings loudly.

Thanks for coming along for the ride…

We spent the holiday on Monday running around together. And as I watched the boys and searched their actions for any hints or signs of internal fire, I contemplated the great many contributions of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., I asked myself “What if he didn’t share his dream? What if he hadn’t heeded the call to service and followed the convictions of his heart?” There were way too many possibilities for me to fully explore… I was just certain that the absence of his patience and diplomacy; his strength and courage; and his vision and hope during that important time would have drastically affected the civil rights movement. The echoes of his work and his inspiration have circled the globe several times over. Could someone else have carried that torch? Might other groups or individuals have surfaced at later points that could have put us back on or near the path he blazed? Maybe, maybe not; of course it’s impossible to say. I can’t fully imagine the world had he not followed his heart; I can only say I am glad to know the reality that exists today because he did. And as I contemplated the prospect of Dr. King not following his fire, I began to run through the same exercise with other prominent figures in history and the potential bleakness that might have been…then on to a smaller scale…to me; to my sons.

I believe we all have God-given talents and abilities. I don’t know that they are always revealed in ways we expect or at times we find convenient. They may not be the talents or gifts we would have preferred to receive or any that we find immediately useful…but they are what they need to be, and at times they may even be intended to serve others rather than ourselves. God lights fires within us to do certain things or to walk certain paths…call it passion; call it heart; call it drive… however you associate with it or relate to it, it is the unquenchable fire that moves you toward a specific goal. Sometimes those fires align with your talents and abilities. Sometimes those fires shine as passion’s bright lights to attract the people with the right talents and abilities to you in order to get things accomplished. So I watch them in hopes of catching a glimpse of a flicker of the flame… to help them recognize it within themselves, and to harness the fire and help to focus and guide it if I can.

Passions and enthusiasms ebb and flow, but once that fire is lit, it remains constantly within when the other interests fade. It can’t be ignored, but it can be denied. I don’t want them to live with the regrets of not following through and wondering what could have been if they had devoted their lives to developing their talents and fueling their fires. Langston Hughes captures the concept in A Dream Deferred. He suggests that even if the “dream” (or fire) can be disregarded, it will remain in some form as a reminder in its “deferred” state…even to the point of explosion; potentially consuming it’s carrier. No… I’d rather they embrace whatever it is at the moment of recognition and hold on tightly down whatever corridors that path takes them. If God lights the fire, He will light the way.

I love to write. I always have. I am drawn to it… it is my fire. I received some advice once…well, several times through many iterations of the same conversation with various parties. It was sound advice. It was simple. It took me a few years to hear it, but I finally heard it.  The conversation(s) went like this:

Me: “I really want to write. I feel like that is what I should be doing.”

Friend: “So write.”

Me: “No, you don’t understand… it’s complicated. I can’t just write. I don’t have a lot of time, I work too much, there’s no money in it, excuse, excuse, excuse…”

Friend: “But, you feel like you have to write? like you should be writing?”

Me: “Yeah.”

Friend: “Hmm. So write.”

So right. I have to write. I may never make a living writing, but I’ve stopped making excuses for not doing it. I will encourage them to follow whatever their passions describe, and pray they have the courage to stay the course. I am eternally grateful for those conversations and for that message. It is what I will say to my sons when they tell me about their fire. So write. So sing. So cure. So think. So run. So help. So teach. So preach. So heal. So fight. So move… So live.

Thank you for coming along for the ride…

One of the many blessings of having kids in ages from toddler to teenager is having the ever-present reminder that “Dad’s Little Helper”, while a highly prestigious and sought after position early on, quickly becomes the job no one wants to take or hold for very long as the kids grow older. Logan was fantastic as an assistant bicycle mechanic. He was an expert seed thrower and jr. landscape artist. But now… the other day, I asked him to sweep the front walkway because we had people coming over and everyone was tasked with something to help out; he obliged, but I believe the word he used was “exploitation”, or some derivative thereof.

Jaden spent about 20 minutes washing dishes the other day. Both he and Dillon rush to help me pull weeds, hang pictures, fix chairs, and change AC filters. Ethan loves to help empty the dishwasher and help sweep. Dillon and Jaden used to help me make pancakes almost every weekend. Now they just help out every now and then. They’ve passed a lot of the pancake helper opportunities down to Ethan, who is a permanent fixture in the kitchen when I’m making pancakes or when Kendra is baking anything. He is in full blown “Little Helper” mode and is trying to climb that corporate ladder as quickly as his little Pumas will take him. The twins have reached the executive office level and feel like they need to start branching out. They do enjoy being BBQ/Grilling assistants though… I think it’s the lure of the fire. The danger factor plays well with them. They are looking forward to helping me take the Tiger Saw to the Christmas tree.

Yep, these days just fly… I document these things not to brag, but as evidence that these times did indeed exist, because in a few years it may not seem even remotely possible… but also to remind myself not to be impatient or get frustrated by the “help” that I receive, because the help won’t last long. My jr. executives will venture on just as the previous administration did. Ethan will ascend to the high ranks and shortly afterwards, he too will depart. So, it isn’t just the loss of my illustrator, but the eventual vacancies that will exist in all the helper categories that make me want to appreciate every one of the little things they do today.

Thanks for coming along for the ride…

I came downstairs with Jaden and made  him breakfast while I continued to contemplate the new year. I stepped out into the front walkway and stared up into the clear blue sky. The morning sun was warm and a cool thin layer of air breezed around me like a sheer curtain. It felt like music. That seemed like the right type of beginning. I went back inside and watched Jaden finish his breakfast. I figured I would create a few new playlists since music appeared to be the theme of the day. Jaden and Dillon had grown quite fond of a few tracks on some CDs I’d received, so I decided to pull the music together for them on my iPod. I was feeling very good about this musical morning.

The boys were sitting on the couch listening to the tracks and a song they hadn’t heard came on. I was curious about their reaction to it, so I watched them closely as it played. They sat fairly still and just listened… about halfway through, Jaden walked over to the iPod and clicked the wheel. I wasn’t sure if he was going to change the song or if he was just curious about the title. He stood there for a while and listened. When the song ended, I started it over again for him. They both just sat quietly through the song… three more times.

In the afternoon, we loaded up the boys and a CD and and set off to my brother’s (and sister-in-law’s) house. We listened to the boys’ new musical infatuation Wavin’ flag a couple of times back to back, and suddenly I heard a sound from the backseat that tied together the thoughts and sensations of the day. It was Dillon’s voice. He was signing along to the chorus with a passion and conviction that sent my mind down a path. Hearing his voice attached to those lyrics spun me… I got choked up and even veered a bit from my lane.

The song touched him in some way and he found some association with the message. Clearly he has no direct awareness of or experience with the Somali civil war which is at the heart of the song, but he found great enjoyment in singing the lines. Dillon’s voice grew louder from the back seat, and Jaden’s joined in, ”when I get older, I will be stronger, they’ll call me freedom just like a wavin’ flag!” It made me think about the child in an environment  that felt too massive or complicated to control or overcome. I thought about the courage and the will that must burn inside that child and lets him know that the situation is temporary and the environment can be changed, and that the child himself possesses the ability and strength to effect that change. It is amazing, the fruits of change that God can cultivate from the smallest seeds of hope and faith in the darkest and most barren of places.

Now, our children have never known that kind of oppression or fear. The hardships of their days cannot compare to the atrocities that other children witness and are subjected to. But that doesn’t invalidate the obstacles and challenges our children will face along their respective paths. They will be required to be courageous. They will be challenged and tested. They will have to navigate change. All these on a scale that is relative and relevant to them. Hearing them sing the chorus did not make me envision them as children of war. Rather, it reminded me that while the struggles in the song are not their own, they still encounter situations where they need to choose whether or not to demonstrate courage… and I need to be making sure I am modeling that for them.

It reminded me that I have an opportunity and an obligation to be a beacon of strength for them so they can grow their own and head out into the world and make it better for their children. It reminded me that there are too many children that do not have a beacon, and so we need to make the most of what opportunities we have. I am a generation whose parents lived through a significant struggle for civil rights and the extension of basic human decency from one to another. That inferno, while not fully extinguished, burns quietly now, and perhaps with that so cooled the perception that courage was still a necessary part of the American life. Our generation had thrust upon us a different model for courage early in the new century, and so grew our resolve again. I am hoping to find more frequent opportunities to practice the virtue of courage, and ones that rely on smaller lessons. That was the clarity I gained by the time we pulled up next to the house.

There is always a demon to slay. As much as I hope there is no great obstacle facing the next generation, I know there has to be… or else what would they overcome? I feel like 2010 is a year that has a very bright outlook and is filled with limitless possibilities. I feel like paths will be available to be taken. I pray I have the courage to take the right steps. I pray you do too… so when our children get older, they will be stronger… they will have seen the fruits of the courage before them… and they can be the beacons of strength.

Thank you for coming along for the ride… kiss your kids!

Lately, Ethan will appear out of nowhere walking oddly… his chin tucked into his chest with his eyes raised barely high enough to see where he is going. He’ll be hunched over with a slight tilt to one side with his arms crossed or hands folded over a hip. Or, he will come streaking past inexplicably and try to avoid your line of sight. Once, he darted behind the Christmas tree and peeked out with his eyes bright and wide with “nothing to see here!” expression on his face. You know; inconspicuous things like that.

The first incident that stood out to me was with his new art easel. I had opened a box of chalk and placed a single pack in the chalk tub of his easel. Ethan wanted a second pack as well. Only one pack fit at a time, and the packs contained the same color chalk, so I told him no and put the chalk away. I leave for a few minutes and come back to see what Jaden and Dillon are up to, and I see Ethan standing behind the chalkboard side of his easel almost fully doubled over. At first I thought something might be wrong with him, but then it became very obvious that he was trying to keep me from seeing him. I stood still, and after a few seconds he peeked up to see if I was still there. His head rolled back and his big brown eyes appeared from behind the curls. He startled a bit and then flashed a sly smile. He remained bent over a bit and kept his arms folded over his chalk.

“Ethan, what do you have?”

“No daddy!”

“Ethan.”

“No daddy. My chalk!”

My first thought was just to grab the chalk from him and put it away in a higher location but I wasn’t sure that was going to result in any lesson other than “I am stronger than you” which I am pretty sure he had established. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to laugh or raise my voice, but watching his physical response to the situation made me opt for the lighter path. I decided to tell him why I only put one packet of chalk in the tub. I let him know that he could keep that pack of chalk and I would put the other pack back in the box since it was his new gift and I didn’t give him a chance to pick which chalk he wanted to use first. He knew he was doing something that he probably shouldn’t have and his behavior indicated that. I let it go at that. He put the chalk in the bin and I returned the other packet to the box… which was somehow lying in the middle of the pantry… and placed it in a much more secure location.

We’ve had a few more incidents since then… mainly involving candy canes… but each time, we are measured in our reactions. If it is something he didn’t ask for, he needs to ask and he may or may not get whatever it is. If it is something he asked for and was told no, he loses it immediately. So far, he has willingly relinquished whatever he has been found to have and is doing it more as playful gesture now than as an act of deviousness. He is pushing the envelope and exploring his boundaries. The reaction he gets when he does what he is not supposed to is simple correction and redirection. There isn’t a lot of emotion and animation. There is no fun in him trying to elicit that response. He sees that the main reaction he gets from us is laughter when he does those things in a silly manner and praise when he does things well so that is what he likes to recreate. I would rather he become accustomed to my laughter and smile than to the sound of my anger.

I really credit Kendra with us taking this approach… that wasn’t the approach my brother and I experienced, and it wasn’t what I came to the table willing or ready to try right off. I had a hard time when we started doing this type of thing with Jaden and Dillon. I really didn’t feel the need to explain myself to my kids when I told them not to do something. It seemed ridiculous to talk through the rationale behind my actions or decisions. But, when I started to do that, I realized that I really didn’t have any rationalization behind a lot of my “rules” and that I was just enforcing things for the sake of having control over things I didn’t really need to control. They have responded well with the trust we’ve placed in them and I think it has helped me be a better parent. We draw lines where lines need to be drawn, and they don’t have to make judgments about which rules are the really important ones and which ones they can break.

It isn’t easy. I continually struggle with maintaining that focus; especially if I am tired or stressed out. But those are the times when it is probably most important that I stay consistent. I have slipped, but I’ve also apologized when I approached a situation in a way I shouldn’t have. That is never fun… but I know the boys appreciate it. Being a man is not about being perfect, but it is about accountability and growth. I can’t expect them to honor a code or an ideal that I cannot model for them, and I don’t want them to feel like it’s not okay to make mistakes. We celebrate our successes… when we make mistakes, we own them, learn from them, and move along… nothing to see here.

Thanks for coming along for the ride…

I was in one of those hurries the other day… we were heading out for dinner before going into Phoenix to see the Christmas illumination extravaganza known as Zoo Lights. I had a plan, and timing was of the essence. I had figured that we could get to the restaurant and finish before the rush, then arrive at the zoo just after sunset and hopefully beat the mob that would be arriving after dark (I don’t like crowds. At all. It isn’t so much the people, it’s just that there are so many of them… and they get in my way…I digress.) We started out on track… I hustled everyone out of the house right at the desired time. I figured 10-12 minutes to the restaurant door to door and then all the pieces would fall into place. All was well.

Somehow, and I really cannot even recall how this came up, just a few blocks away from the restaurant we discovered that Dillon had forgotten his shoes… Yeah. Frustration began to set in. I could feel my firm grip on the schedule slipping away. I started calculating the time it would take to turn around, drive back home, find his shoes, and then get back to this point of the journey… I figured we’d get stuck at 2/3 of the lights each way. Kendra offered to drop the rest of us off at the restaurant, go back with Dillon to get his shoes, and then return to eat. I declined. It would only add to the slippage of time, too many unknown variables could enter the equation… I made a U-turn.

I sped homeward. The boys were in their respective places: Logan in the 3rd row listening to his iPod and reading; Ethan in the middle of the 2nd row in his car seat chattering; and Jaden and Dillon on either side of him alternately reading and playing with random remains of Happy Meal toys. Dillon extended his stocking-ed toes over the armrest periodically; taunting me with the reminder of the cause of this detour. I maneuvered swiftly through the traffic intent on making up as much time (safely) as I could. I was focused (Now, Kendra might try to argue that I was sulking, but that is just not the case… I was merely reflecting on the recent events and intensely working through a solution in my mind… just for the record).

We arrived home and Kendra hopped out to go find some footwear for Dillon (who was completely unconcerned about having forgotten his shoes). While we sat in the driveway, I kept running through the schedule I had laid out and it began to dawn on me why we were in the car together going out that evening in the first place. Embarrassed, once again, by my behavior, I let go of all my frustration (notice, I did not say, “stop sulking”). I decided to take this as an opportunity to start the trip over again and actually enjoy the time with everyone while we had the night together. Kendra returned with shoes and we were off once again…and that’s when I saw it.

Due North of us, just over the mountains (hills) in our sight line was a descending hot air balloon. It appeared very small at firs and seemed a great distance away. I pointed it out to the boys, and we spent the next several minutes spotting it out of windows as we made our way back toward the restaurant. It was growing larger and clearer in view. It was headed our way. Ethan had never seen one of these in “real life” before. His eyes were open bright and wide as he watched that orb float closer to us. He had an opened mouth grin plastered on his face as he watched in amazement.

The balloon still lied a good distance ahead of us, and it almost appeared that it was going to land in the middle of road we were on. My mind immediately jumped to thoughts of the traffic that would cause, but thankfully those images quickly vanished and were replaced by thoughts of how cool it would be for the boys to be able to get out in that kind of a traffic jam and check out the balloon up close. I was beginning to slow down.

We entered into a largely residential stretch of this boulevard, and trees lined the eastern shoulder. The hot air balloon began to descend quite rapidly and disappeared behind the wall of foliage. “Did it land on someone’s house?” “Did it land in a yard?” We were full of wonder. I slowed my pace as we approached the area the balloon appeared to have landed. Ethan’s eye’s were fixed on Jaden’s window. Jaden and Dillon searched around as we passed by the neighborhood… then a clearing… then, “Balloon! Balloon! Jaden, Balloon! Dillon, Balloon! Logan, Logan… Balloon!” Ethan was awestruck.

This huge checkered balloon had landed in a greenbelt park at the edge of the neighborhood. I slowed down as we passed by. The chase vehicle had already parked and had the trailer ready to load the gondola. We continued on towards dinner; the car full of excitement and conversation. The rest of the night was fantastic. We ate dinner outside in the cool evening air and the boys ran and played on the lawn. We all enjoyed the Zoo Lights, and even ran into some old co-workers there. We saw cool light shows and crazy otters. We saw Komodo Dragons and a talking giraffe… and from what I understand, there was apparently quite a few people there.

Over the next few days Ethan would erupt with a random utterance of“Balloon! High! Balloon!” I would sit and talk him through the entire event again… how we saw it way up high; how it landed in the park outside Jaden’s window; how it was bigger than the houses and the trees. He would stare off as if he was seeing it all over again… nodding slowly as we talked through it. Then he’d look at me and whisper “yeah”.

These are the things that wait for you to take the time to notice them. They are out there to observe everyday. Sometimes we just need the speed bumps in our way to force us to slow down and enjoy what beauty and courage and strength and imagination and whatever else inspires you exists in our everyday walk. I’m beginning to be on the lookout for speed bumps, and in doing so I am slowing myself down enough to notice more of the things I’ve been speeding by. It was an impressive precision landing, and it sparked a lot of great conversation for us about balloons and flying… and it made a lasting impression on Ethan… probably the greatest thrill of his life so far. Which also cemented a trip for us next year to the Balloon Fiesta! All because Dillon forgot his shoes.

I grabbed my toolbox and walked outside to see Jaden sitting on his bike at the end of the driveway. He was staring off down the street. “You ready for me to take off your training wheel?” I asked, beaming with pride that he was willing to take that step. “Yes. But first watch Dillon. Look how good he’s doing!” He was so proud. He watched Dillon make his way toward us from a few driveways down. Jaden had a satisfied smile on his face as he studied his brother’s progress. “Okay.” Jaden slid forward on his bike so I could get to his training wheel. I studied his body language for fear or apprehension and couldn’t detect any. He had made up his mind. He was ready.

Dillon rolled past… stopping and starting, weaving back and forth across the street, pedaling leisurely to and fro.  He was pleased. Kendra and I shouted praises to him as he biked along. He came to a stop to watch Jaden begin. Kendra was the first to guide him out into the street and help him coast a few houses away and back. Then, I walked beside Jaden as he rolled into the street; holding his seat post and handle grip for balance and support. After a few cranks for momentum he was off. I jogged beside him offering encouragement, but my job was already done. He was riding. Dillon pedaled off.

I grabbed my bike and rode around between the boys. I showed them a few tricks about getting started from the curb. Kendra taught them to use the driveway inclines as a means of gaining momentum to start and also as a safe way to slow down when coming from the opposite direction. Bikes were laid down a couple times, but there were no crashes or injuries. They decided they were going to ride that day. And they rode.

I’m always blown away by the way they overcome challenges. I swear they must hold secret meetings in the middle of the night where they just sit back and talk about obstacles and strategize how to overcome them. They have a way of just appearing out of nowhere with a new way of doing something or with a new talent. There never seems to be a lot of trial and error… like when Jaden came running in from the backyard one afternoon to announce that Dillon just completed a back flip on the trampoline. We had talked about how to do one several weeks beforehand, but he never asked for a spot or guidance in getting it done. He started doing little somersaults from his back from time to time in what had to be some type of preparation to familiarize himself with the motion, and then once he had thought it through, he just did it. Jaden was that way with the front flip and with jumping rope. I need to find out about these meetings.

I had no idea they had been working through the bike riding process, but it had clearly been on their minds. As with the diving experience, once one had the breakthrough, the other was soon to follow. Kendra snapped pictures as we rode around the neighborhood. By the end of the evening, the boys and I struck out for our maiden ride. I’ve always been fond of bike rides… they are a great way to just be outside and feel free. Being able to connect my sons to that sensation was amazing. There was a point during our ride where they were really getting confident on their bikes and pushing their comfort zones. We were picking up speed, and the soothing hum of the knobby rubber tires on the asphalt and the steady shoonk… shoonk… shoonk… of the cranks and chains provided the soundtrack to our trek. I was teary eyed.

Like most of these such moments, this one ended all too briefly. I close my eyes and find myself back on that neighborhood stretch with my guys zooming along to the sounds of our rhythmic motion. This time, no cars turn into the community and cause us to pull over and wait. This time, no one is backing out of the driveway or waiting to pull in. This time we are just riding forward together dreaming of obstacles to conquer… I need to find out about those meetings.

Thanks for coming along for the ride!

Papa looked down at his youngest grandson… He had to do something about that dirty face. Ethan’s big bright eyes shone back above his smiling round cheeks covered with the evidence of a few too many sweet snacks. Ethan knew the look. It was time to get changed and cleaned up to go home. He knew… and he knew Papa knew he knew. Papa approached cautiously. Ethan presented his mischievous grin and lowered his head to peer up at his approaching guardian with wide smiling eyes. “No Papa!” Ethan shrieked, laughing and darting away from Papa’s outstretched arms.

Ethan ran, and weaved his way through furniture and in an out of rooms. Papa gave chase dutifully. Both would pause for a moment on either side of a furniture barrier as they caught their breaths and Ethan studied the landscape for a new escape route; giggling furiously the entire time. “No Papa!” He gave a head fake and struck off in another direction to extend the game. Papa obliged for a few more minutes and finally apprehended the child who was, at this point, weak from his own laughter. Papa carried the little guy into the bedroom to change his diaper and wash his face. “I got you”, he smiled to Ethan who laughed and nuzzled into Papa and enjoyed the carry into the other room.

However, Ethan’s compliance was short lived. His cute and cuddly act was just a ruse to allow him to catch his breath and bait Papa into letting down his guard. Ethan gave a few half-hearted efforts to wrestle free from the bed while Papa was getting ready to change him. Each time, he would give less and less resistance and then finally lay still as if to suggest cooperation. No doubt, this was in order to further convince Papa that Ethan was surrendering to the process… his plan was working.

Papa took another look at Ethan’s messy face. It was a virtual menu of the junk food and snacks in the candy dishes and pantry. This was too incriminating… better hurry and wash all that off. He left his suddenly accommodating grandchild on the bed as he walked a few steps away to the bathroom to dampen a washcloth so he could restore Ethan’s innocent appearance. Ethan waited…waited… listened for it… then he was off!

As soon as Ethan heard the sound of the faucet turning on, he sprung from the bed and raced for the bedroom door. In one swift motion, he reached for the handle, spun to his left, and pulled the door shut behind him as he fled the room laughing hysterically. He was sure one barrier would not be enough. His plan called for a much more thorough escape. He continued on to the back door, pulled the latch handle, and pulled the door open. Freedom awaited beyond the threshold.

Ethan ran outside onto the backyard patio and pulled the door closed behind him. He could barely stand from laughing so hard. He was pleased. His plan had worked. His face remained dirty; his diaper, unchanged. “Ethan!” It was Nana. She had been in the backyard and had seen him fly out the door. He was so delighted with himself that he was not at all concerned that he’d been caught. He explained his escape to Nana between fits of giggles. The back door opened. Papa peered out, damp washcloth in hand. Any frustration he may have felt was melted away by the joyful expression on Ethan’s face. Papa looked down at his youngest grandson. There was nothing he would change about that face.

Thanks for coming along for the ride!

October 20th, 2009: Logan turned 14. The plan was for me to meet the family for dinner after work at Logan’s choice of restaurant (as is tradition on birthdays), this time Joe’s Real BBQ, and then he and I were going to go run a few birthday related errands. He had just come back from Lake Havasu with his grandparents and some family friends; we had just returned from South Carolina with the younger kids. I was unsure of what to expect. I wanted to really catch up and have a discussion with him that wasn’t on anything superficial. It just seemed like a while since we had connected. A couple years ago, we made a point of going out for lunch once a month or so, just he and I. Those were good “check-in” opportunities. I didn’t worry about “how” to talk to him back then; I just talked to him. And he talked back.

I think I had been building this 14 year milestone up in my mind for a while…as if some cloud would appear and darken his mood and transform him into some brooding teenage malcontent that I would be unable to reach. Thirteen had come and just about gone without any “teenager” episodes, but as October approached I was dreading the changing of the year… waiting for the shoe to fall. It may have affected my conversations with him. I was probably more direct and pointed in my interactions in anticipation of resistance. And, in anticipating resistance, I received it. This always made the first few moments of any conversation I initiated very awkward. I didn’t want to go through that with him again, and especially not on the night of his birthday dinner. So, I thought carefully about how I would fill those critical first moments.

Dinner that evening went as dinners out usually do… a little bit of excitement and chaos surrounding good company, and a wide variety of splintered conversations. After dinner we all enjoyed a spirited game of tag in the grassy courtyard, and then it was time to tackle our list. Logan and I helped Kendra get the younger boys situated and then we were off to be on our own. I was looking forward to it. I had a plan. I made note of the typical conversational topics that I would lead off with that would ultimately result in either an argument or absolute catastrophe and made certain that I did not lead off with any of those. I realized that I had basically been running status checks with him – “How was school?” “Do your homework?” “How are your grades in X class?” “What did you get on your test?” “Did you take care of X like I asked you to?” – all rules and compliance questions… nothing at all to indicate I was the least bit interested about him. Plus, if the responses weren’t what I was expecting, the conversation would deteriorate. Quickly. (It gets better. Honest.)

The transition from knowing where your kids are all the time and knowing what they are doing and who they are with to having them gone for significantly longer than you have them around happens SO swiftly. There is no warning or trial adaptation period. It just happens to you, and not always when you think it might. The reality of Logan being in Eighth Grade was affecting me. I thought I had been dealing with it fine, but I realize my reaction was to try to focus on what I saw as blind spots or areas I thought he might not see as needing more attention. This was clearly not the best reaction, but it was how I reacted. So, after finally realizing that I exercise more diplomacy in dealing with my employees than my own son, I knew I had to abandon my approach and introduce some flexibility in my communication. It wasn’t that I would avoid those status topics. I just made it a point that I would not lead off with them.

We sat down in the car, and I was ready. I had a list of things in my mind that I had decided I wanted to know by the end of our conversation. Delete. I knew if I tried to structure the conversation, I would end up resorting to my usual questions (see the first sentence of this post). It was silent for a few seconds as we buckled up and I started the car. I wanted to start things off on the right foot but I was drawing blanks. It was excruciating. I looked over at the curious teenaged creature in my passenger seat and suddenly remembered being there. I just talked to him like I would have wanted someone to talk to me back then. I just wanted the approval of my parents, a safe environment to learn and grow, time with my friends, advice when I sought it, and some slack when I made mistakes. I wasn’t complicated. There were no “tricks” to communicating with me, and there weren’t any for Logan either. He’s just a kid. A taller, lankier kid with longer hair and a cracking voice, but a kid nonetheless. And just being 14 didn’t change that. I just needed to approach him

He was holding a CD that he received for his birthday. “Hey, is that the White Album?” “Yeah, Grandma got it for my birthday. You want to listen to it?” “Oh yeah, throw it in.” We drove around and completed our errands to the tunes of the Beatles. We covered everything in conversation from music, to friends, to girls, to sports, to politics (I’ve got some work to do). We even covered the dreaded “status check” items. But, since they came up during the course of the conversation and were not introduced with any hostility or argument, there was no angst. We didn’t fill every second in the car with conversation. There was no need. We spoke when something occurred to one of us and carried the topic through until it was completed or trumped by one tangent or another. It was comfortable. It was informative. It was enjoyable.

I hate that the obvious points are the ones that seem so difficult for me to identify and grasp sometimes. This situation had been building for months, and I was too foolish to see how easily it could have been remedied. Either that, or I was just too lazy to do something to address it. Whatever the case, it seems too common a condition. I observe parents interacting with their children at every opportunity. It is all too easy to see when it is observed in someone else. I only wish I could learn to see my own reflection in those interactions much sooner. But, at least it has been resolved.

I did have to adjust my communication style… just not because of some teenage condition. I allowed that excuse to perpetuate my reaction to him growing up and me choosing to focus on the status items instead of taking the time to have a real conversation. The reality is he wanted to have the talk. He was willing to share information on everything I asked him about, he just needed the opportunity to share it. He is growing up, and it is a fantastic thing. I don’t have to transform into some gregarious raconteur in order to have a discussion with Logan just because he is 14 and heading to high school next year. I do have to give him room to learn and grow, set a good example, tell him what he needs to hear, let him know he is safe to make mistakes, talk to him like I’d expect him to talk to me, and let him know he is always loved. This isn’t a new style; it is just the reintroduction of the old one.

He popped in the second disc on the way home. I didn’t see the CD case so I had no idea what was about to come on. I had to chuckle when I heard the music begin.

They say it’s your birthday, it’s my birthday too yeah

The teenager I spent the evening running errands with bore a strange resemblance to this four-year old I used to know; this was just a taller, lankier version of the same wonderful kid I’ve been blessed to know and love for the past ten years… with a slightly deeper voice.

I’m glad it’s your birthday, happy birthday to you!