I Will Be Taking My Talents To...

I will be taking my talents to…

This week is letter of intent week for college football, or national signing day.  It is a way more stressful time than it should be for grown men.  Depending on your perspective, either fortunately or unfortunately this year it is way less stressful than it used to be, but I will admit still too much of my energy is consumed by this.  An adult’s life shouldn’t revolve around sweating the college choices of 17 -18 year olds…that aren’t yours.  But technically it does have an effect on the outcome of most of the Saturdays in the fall each year, even though it doesn’t really change the world...completely.  I used to think it did, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t any longer.  Still, my friends from all schools are absolutely going nuts and glued to their recruiting pages and twitter.  Yes grown men are following the twitter feeds of teenagers, but not in a way that could get you arrested (mostly).

This is daddy-daughter dance weekend. I am taking my sweet five year old daughter Josephine to her very first dance.  I asked on Facebook if I should get her a corsage or not and 100 responses later there was: a limo, diamonds, bouquets, dinner, dessert, and every other wish-list fantasy all the neighborhood mom’s wanted to relive being suggested.  It was awesome…and Josie will reap the benefits for sure (but not the entire list, that is crazy).  I have to tell you there is a LOT of passion about a girl’s first daddy-daughter dance experience.  I had no idea, how passionate.  Sure, I still get excited over stupid stuff like that jerky linebacker who flipped commitments or hitting the gut shot straight on the river, but otherwise I’m pretty even keeled…now.  Josie is beside herself excited.  I told her about the dance on Tuesday morning and she almost did a somersault. She is now trying to decide which of her “fancy” dresses she’ll wear and of course Nita is taking her to get new shoes. 

I love this excitement the kids are showing to spend time with me.  It certainly makes me miss my father, but it helps me cherish these times with my kids.  Sunday, Nita took Josie to a birthday party that Connor was not invited to attend.  We decided we’d have a daddy-son day. He ran off and made a list of things we were going to do, and we did almost all of them.  We went to Academy to buy new gear for the upcoming baseball season, went to an arcade, to lunch, to a jumpy place, to a baseball clinic, the aquarium, then back home for ice cream.  All in seven hours.  (This is what I mean when I say I tend to overdo it when I’m having a good day). Nita was amazed and Connor was all grins.  “You went to Catch Air (jumpy place) for 30 minutes?” She asked.  “Hell yes we did, it was on the list!” I responded with an added wink and a smile.

Speaking of excitement...my son just came up to me and admitted he was throwing rocks at the church preschool security lights…and he broke one.  I’m proud of him for two reasons and disappointed for two reasons.  First the disappointment: 1. He followed someone else doing something wrong. 2. He knew it was wrong but didn’t stop until an adult stopped him. Why I’m proud: 1. He admitted without lying or blaming anyone else that he was guilty, had broken a bulb, and knew it was wrong. 2. He hit the bulb.  Now some of you might be shaking your head like Nita was when I asked if he actually hit the bulb.  Connor and I have been working on throwing the baseball for years.  And because of his Sensory issues and ADHD, he sometimes throws a semi-accurate ball and other times looks like he just landed from mars and has never seen a ball before…or worse that Volvo or Volkswagen commercial with the dad who throws like he’s having a seizure.  Anyway, yes, Connor hit his target and I was proud.  Of course we gave him a punishment and he’s going to have to do chores to work off the price of the bulb…but he HIT the TARGET.  This could be a breakout year for us. 

From what I have heard seven is the first age of defiance.  Not that toddlers don’t waddle around saying “no,” or five year olds seeking new boundaries by seeing where the line is, but rather defiance in the face of acknowledged authority.  That is happening a little of course, but what I’m still proud of is the honesty.  Connor does not lie about his actions.  He still commits the act which we obviously need to work on, but he doesn’t lie about it.  He owns up to his mistakes and acknowledges them as mistakes.  Further, he doesn’t play the “I don’t know card.”  Regarding the rock throwing, when asked why he did it he stated, “I saw XXXXXX doing it and it looked interesting to me, so I did it too.”  Did I mention he hit his target?  I wish I had his courage at his age.  I have always said that character is baked in not bolted on after the fact.  So we are doing something right.  Oh and the other kid denied he was even involved.  Even more proud of Connor now.  I even stopped by his school to have lunch with him on Wednesday.

Side effect wise, this hasn’t been too bad of a week.  Someone asked me about the “good” days.  I told them that I don’t actually remember what it was like to feel great, so I don’t know if my good days are relatively good, or actually good.  I know they are way better than chemo week, so for now that is enough.  The hair has had it.  It’s got one more weekend for daddy-daughter dance (I don’t want Josie’s very first picture for a dance to look like a telethon commercial).   So we’re going to take the clippers outside and make it a family affair the following weekend. Then, as promised, the kids can have at my dome with the washable markers.  And yes Kirby, I’ll show my “war face.”  TeamMarco@austin.rr.com