Wednesday, the 26th of January marks 9 years that the Captain's mom and I will have been married. I am certain that it must feel like 19 to her. I am not always the easiest person to like, let alone to love. Somehow, she has always managed to remain my loyal friend and stayed by my side through the best and worst of times. She has always been my champion. She is an amazing wife and mother.
I could not ask for more.
Happy Anniversary Melon. I love you always.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Friday, January 21, 2011
An Old Florida Soul
1) Plaid shorts.
2) High Socks.
3) Oversized visor.
4) Animal print t-shirt that doesn't quite fit.
5) Walking stick.
Picking out your own clothes for a walk with Mom and Dad?
PRICELESS.
2) High Socks.
3) Oversized visor.
4) Animal print t-shirt that doesn't quite fit.
5) Walking stick.
Picking out your own clothes for a walk with Mom and Dad?
PRICELESS.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Conferences
The Captain goes to a small Methodist school for Pre-K. Apparently, being Methodist is not a prerequisite for admission. He brought home a notice recently that it was time for a parent-teacher conferences. Oh joy. The Captain's mom and I arrive and are welcomed in by his two teachers. They exchange some pleasantries and ask us to sit across the table from them. The room was designed for five year olds. The table is six inches off of the ground. As are the chairs. My knees don't fit under the table. My body doesn't come close to fitting in the chair. It was reminiscent of a bad cop movie where the suspect is intentionally made uncomfortable in the interrogation room. I struggled to keep my composure.
They start off by telling us that that the Captain is a joy to have in class and that he looks like a little James Bond. I can only hope they don't mean Timothy Dalton. They pull out the Captain's "work portfolio" because obviously, he is applying for a job with Apple. They go through each page and gush over his work. One says, "You will never have any trouble whatsoever with his intelligence." She goes on to talk about percentiles and a few other things that caused my eyes to glaze over. Then she dropped this line: "Academically, he is doing amazing..."
This caused me to sit up a little straighter in the dwarf chair. "Socially, he is having some difficulty." The teachers went on to explain. He is very well behaved, but apparently the Captain doesn't like play with some of the boys in his class. While he is very polite, he declines to hang out with them. She tells us that he prefers to play with the girls and that he "flirts with the girls to get them to do what he wants." She may call this socially lacking, while I call it socially advanced. The Captain's mom and I cannot see how this is an issue.
Let me get this straight.
Academics? Check.
Manners? Check.
Girls dig him? Check.
He digs them? Check.
What else is there at 5?
So that is how the Captain earned a trip to Bush Gardens to celebrate his perfect report at the parent teacher conference.
They start off by telling us that that the Captain is a joy to have in class and that he looks like a little James Bond. I can only hope they don't mean Timothy Dalton. They pull out the Captain's "work portfolio" because obviously, he is applying for a job with Apple. They go through each page and gush over his work. One says, "You will never have any trouble whatsoever with his intelligence." She goes on to talk about percentiles and a few other things that caused my eyes to glaze over. Then she dropped this line: "Academically, he is doing amazing..."
This caused me to sit up a little straighter in the dwarf chair. "Socially, he is having some difficulty." The teachers went on to explain. He is very well behaved, but apparently the Captain doesn't like play with some of the boys in his class. While he is very polite, he declines to hang out with them. She tells us that he prefers to play with the girls and that he "flirts with the girls to get them to do what he wants." She may call this socially lacking, while I call it socially advanced. The Captain's mom and I cannot see how this is an issue.
Let me get this straight.
Academics? Check.
Manners? Check.
Girls dig him? Check.
He digs them? Check.
What else is there at 5?
So that is how the Captain earned a trip to Bush Gardens to celebrate his perfect report at the parent teacher conference.
Friday, January 14, 2011
The Whole Truth?
I had to have a heart to heart with the Captain's mom last week. Actually, I had no intention of having said conversation. Truth be told, I try like hell to avoid these talks at all costs. She really left me no choice. In the middle of the Jersey Shore season premiere (that's right, I said it) she wanted to tell me about her friend's marital issues. I would rather eat glass. And chase it with gasoline.
I tried to politely pass on the subject. She pressed on like a Chilean miner. There was no shaking her. "So she asked me my opinion and I told her to leave his ass." The Captain's mom says. Whoa Trigger. She asked you your opinion on her husband and you gave it to her? Your honest opinion? Trouble loomed. I had to step in now.
Women puzzle me greatly. Every time I think I can plot their path, they go Katrina on me and change their course completely. But one thing I have learned is this: When a woman asks you to give her "your honest opinion," she doesn't really want it. She wants you to listen to her and sympathize with her. Once you master that, you can let your mind wander as long as you keep eye contact. It is a no-win situation to give her your own opinion. I explained this to the Captain's wife. She didn't really get it at first, but she eventually relented.
Now I realize that forever more she is going to wonder if I am giving her my honest opinion or if I am looking lovingly into her eyes while wondering just what Snooki does to get that shade of orange. But it beats her losing a good friend later on down the road. That conversation would go on forever.
Dammit, I missed the rest of JS. Thank God for DVR.
I tried to politely pass on the subject. She pressed on like a Chilean miner. There was no shaking her. "So she asked me my opinion and I told her to leave his ass." The Captain's mom says. Whoa Trigger. She asked you your opinion on her husband and you gave it to her? Your honest opinion? Trouble loomed. I had to step in now.
Women puzzle me greatly. Every time I think I can plot their path, they go Katrina on me and change their course completely. But one thing I have learned is this: When a woman asks you to give her "your honest opinion," she doesn't really want it. She wants you to listen to her and sympathize with her. Once you master that, you can let your mind wander as long as you keep eye contact. It is a no-win situation to give her your own opinion. I explained this to the Captain's wife. She didn't really get it at first, but she eventually relented.
Now I realize that forever more she is going to wonder if I am giving her my honest opinion or if I am looking lovingly into her eyes while wondering just what Snooki does to get that shade of orange. But it beats her losing a good friend later on down the road. That conversation would go on forever.
Dammit, I missed the rest of JS. Thank God for DVR.
Coaching Your Child
I have been coaching the Captain's flag football team for a few weeks now. The team consists of 5-7 year old boys without much experience. Here are a few anecdotes from it.
1) Everyone tuck in your shirts and make sure your flag's are on correctly. Forgetting for a moment that most of these kids need help tucking in their shirts. Sure dude, I can help. Wait a second. This kid has no underwear on...WTF? You are all now on your own. I'm not going to jail. And that creeps me out.
2) Another coach to me during the game, "Do you want to get your son in on this play?" We both look over to the sidelines and the Captain is literally chasing butterflies. No, I think he is good for now.
3) On the first day, one of the kid's parents tells me, "My son has two mommies at home, so he doesn't have someone to teach him football." I don't want to get into nature versus nurture, but this kid is soft as a pillow. Sweet kid, good heart, but soft. The mouthpiece made him gag and he needed to come out. Taking a handoff or a snap hurt his nails (seriously) and he needed to come out. The football coming at his face scared him and he needed to come out. I have a feeling that many more balls will come at his face and all that coming out is simply good practice for him.
4) One of the kid stands at midfield and signals a TD. During the play. The ball carrier was still running. The kid signaling was on defense. Good hustle.
5) Each week there is a snack for the kids after the game. I am convinced that this is the only reason most of them come out. In the middle of a huddle I am often asked, "What is the snack today coach?" Or "How much longer until we can go get our snacks?" (Of course the Captain is usually leading this charge.)
I would say we resemble the Bad News Bears, but they got to play in the League Championship.
1) Everyone tuck in your shirts and make sure your flag's are on correctly. Forgetting for a moment that most of these kids need help tucking in their shirts. Sure dude, I can help. Wait a second. This kid has no underwear on...WTF? You are all now on your own. I'm not going to jail. And that creeps me out.
2) Another coach to me during the game, "Do you want to get your son in on this play?" We both look over to the sidelines and the Captain is literally chasing butterflies. No, I think he is good for now.
3) On the first day, one of the kid's parents tells me, "My son has two mommies at home, so he doesn't have someone to teach him football." I don't want to get into nature versus nurture, but this kid is soft as a pillow. Sweet kid, good heart, but soft. The mouthpiece made him gag and he needed to come out. Taking a handoff or a snap hurt his nails (seriously) and he needed to come out. The football coming at his face scared him and he needed to come out. I have a feeling that many more balls will come at his face and all that coming out is simply good practice for him.
4) One of the kid stands at midfield and signals a TD. During the play. The ball carrier was still running. The kid signaling was on defense. Good hustle.
5) Each week there is a snack for the kids after the game. I am convinced that this is the only reason most of them come out. In the middle of a huddle I am often asked, "What is the snack today coach?" Or "How much longer until we can go get our snacks?" (Of course the Captain is usually leading this charge.)
I would say we resemble the Bad News Bears, but they got to play in the League Championship.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Sick Day
I was in the shower this morning when the Captain's mom came storming into the bathroom. She said that the Captain was not feeling well and she wasn't sure if he should go to school. She wasn't asking my opinion so much as weighing her own thoughts out loud. I would send the Captain to school with a severed arm, but that's just me. "Rub some dirt on it and get in the car." After a few minutes of debate (amongst herself), she decided that he did indeed need to stay home. He only goes for a few hours a day, so I stayed home with him until she was finished with school and we could make the trade.
I came downstairs and the Captain is wrapped up in blankets, on the couch watching Mickey Mouse. He looks up and in a low, deathbed whisper asks me if he can have some tea. Sure buddy, I got you. "With lemon and honey. And a little milk and one sugar." He eeks out. OK I reply. "And a Clementine. Maybe some apricot. Some cookies too?" He now booms from the couch. Sure man, you got it. "Can we watch a movie dad?" Uh, OK. "Want to play dragons?" "Can we build legos?" "Can you get down my art supplies?" No Captain, you need to relax. "Can you make me some scrambled eggs dad? With ham and really cheesy." Did I mention that C has a tape worm? The Captain is now upright and moving like a chihuahua with ADD. All signs of an apparent illness are now a distant memory. Amazing recovery. "Shall we play Wii Dad?" Fire that fucker up Captain. I dominate his ass in Wii Sports. "Can I have some hot chocolate with marshmallows dad? Two of the bigs one please. And use real milk."
After breakfast, cartoons, snacks, a movie, the Wii, and some wrestling, we hear a car pull up. "Is mom home?" the Captain asks. I think so buddy. He then dives back on to the couch, under his blankets, and assumes his sick pose. C's mom opens the door and goes straight to him. "How are you my baby?" she says. "Not berry good ma-ma." He eeks out in his sickly whisper again. His illness is back. "I am soooo sick." "It is OK baby, Mommy is here now and she will take care of you." She tells him.
I watched this transformation occur and had to give it to him. Five years old and both parental units are already wrapped around his chubby little fingers.
"I am hungry ma-ma. Can you make me some breakfast?"
I came downstairs and the Captain is wrapped up in blankets, on the couch watching Mickey Mouse. He looks up and in a low, deathbed whisper asks me if he can have some tea. Sure buddy, I got you. "With lemon and honey. And a little milk and one sugar." He eeks out. OK I reply. "And a Clementine. Maybe some apricot. Some cookies too?" He now booms from the couch. Sure man, you got it. "Can we watch a movie dad?" Uh, OK. "Want to play dragons?" "Can we build legos?" "Can you get down my art supplies?" No Captain, you need to relax. "Can you make me some scrambled eggs dad? With ham and really cheesy." Did I mention that C has a tape worm? The Captain is now upright and moving like a chihuahua with ADD. All signs of an apparent illness are now a distant memory. Amazing recovery. "Shall we play Wii Dad?" Fire that fucker up Captain. I dominate his ass in Wii Sports. "Can I have some hot chocolate with marshmallows dad? Two of the bigs one please. And use real milk."
After breakfast, cartoons, snacks, a movie, the Wii, and some wrestling, we hear a car pull up. "Is mom home?" the Captain asks. I think so buddy. He then dives back on to the couch, under his blankets, and assumes his sick pose. C's mom opens the door and goes straight to him. "How are you my baby?" she says. "Not berry good ma-ma." He eeks out in his sickly whisper again. His illness is back. "I am soooo sick." "It is OK baby, Mommy is here now and she will take care of you." She tells him.
I watched this transformation occur and had to give it to him. Five years old and both parental units are already wrapped around his chubby little fingers.
"I am hungry ma-ma. Can you make me some breakfast?"
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