Dad and his four girls…..clothes shopping

I hate shopping for clothes. I have no fashion sense and usually have no idea what would look good. Many times I have to ask my wife if what I am wearing matches and usually depend on her to pick out the clothes on the rare occasion I buy them. I am so fashion inept that back in high school three of my female friends basically laid out rules on what to wear for me, what colors go with what and such. I remember checking that list many mornings before dressing for school. I went to a Catholic school mind you so my dress options were limited, but still too diverse for my fashion limitations.

But recently something has come to my attention, mostly due to Facebook. When seeing the “On this Day” posts I noticed no matter how far back it went I basically was wearing the same things I wear now. In fact, I still have the shirt that I wore in my and Cathy’s engagement photo in my rotation; that photo was taken in 2001. Throw in the fact that I was anywhere between 30 to 50 pounds heavier over the last 15 plus years and I needed a wardrobe update.

I decided to take action and buy one new shirt each pay period. That way 10 to 15 years from now I will be able to see these new clothes on Facebook’s “On this Day” posts and repeat the cycle. Last weekend we went to Kohl’s to get Julia and Mia new outfits for their National Honor Society inductions (subtle brag). It was a perfect opportunity to buy my new shirt for the pay period.

In theory the plan was impeccable, or at least so I thought. The flawed part of my plan? I had to go shopping with four other women. In fairness to my wife she did not do any shopping, it was the three little ones. Olivia didn’t have to get a new outfit for an induction but if you are getting the other two new outfits, well you’re getting the third one something.

I looked around and had two shirts found in under 10 minutes. I was able to get two $50 shirts for a total of $30, that is a savings of $70 (not so subtle brag). I was done, happy and after wondering around a bit to look at some other things, I met up the girls. At this point we had been there for twenty minutes. Olivia had found something and Mia was just wrapping up finding something, I figured we were in the home stretch, boy was I wrong.

I should have known going in the teenager would be the problem and boy was she. What she liked, Cathy nixed (as would I, most were things I don’t want my daughter wearing), what Cathy liked, Julia balked at. The whole experience was soul crushing, I had to fight the urge to just lie down in the middle of the store. I found a kindred spirit in Olivia who also found the whole shopping process just as excruciating.

I know things aren’t going to get better, I have many more devastating shopping experiences ahead of me. The hope is, at least for me, that I will be able to get out of most of these affairs. I cringe at the thought of when Mia hits the teenage years. She is already a diva, combine that with teenagerness (copyright pending) and God help us all. The positive? I will have four girls now advising me how to dress, which will be useful to a guy wearing clothes from 15 years ago.

I am the parent of a teenager

I have joined the ranks of a distinguished group, I now have a teenage child, more specifically, a teenage daughter. Last weekend Julia celebrated her 13th birthday, and although she has been displaying teenage traits for a while, it is now official. This coincided with having my suspicion confirmed that Julia knew there was no Santa Claus. Yes, overall it has been a traumatizing week.

Cathy told me that Julia had asked her how much Christmas cost. Cathy, using some quick thinking, responded that she didn’t know since Santa bought the presents. Julia’s response? “Come on Mom, how much did it cost?” Later in the week I asked her how long she knew and she told me about three years.

I have mixed emotions about her knowing “the truth.” Part of me is relieved because let’s be honest, a child can believe in Santa for too long. I’m all for the magic of Christmas and children being naïve but there is a limit to these things. Also, it is nice to have someone else in on the secret. I say put her to work, have her wrap presents, have her think of places to put the damn Elf on the Shelf.

There is sadness in the knowledge that Christmas will never be as good again for her. I like Christmas, even before I had kids, which renews the magic, I still loved the holiday. But let’s be honest, Christmas is never as good after you find out a fat guy breaks into your house in the middle of the night, leaves presents and steals some of your food. The same guy who for the other 364 days watched you while you were awake and slept.

Finding out about Santa Claus, or more specifically finally acknowledging she knew, is a small part of dealing with a teenager. She looks more like a woman and is almost has tall as my wife. Julia always thought she knew everything and it has only gotten worse with age. I think as a teenager her “know-it-allness is going to be excruciating.

For her birthday Cathy got her tickets to go see Twenty One Pilots,images

it will be her first concert.

I was 14 when I saw my first concert, Paul McCartney at Veteran Stadium. My little girl is now going to concerts. She is going with Cathy but soon, much like I did, she will be going with friends. Getting through that experience is something I am not relishing.

I know I have sleepless nights ahead of me. Every year Julia gets older I remember walking into her room when she was about eight months old. I asked her to promise me she wouldn’t get bigger because she is perfect. She kept half the deal, even though she got bigger she still is perfect. A huge pain in the ass, but still perfect.

India and Thanksgiving

First I have to thank my wife Cathy for guest blogging while I was in India on business. I had long wanted her to guest blog and the trip provide a great opportunity, and she did a fantastic job. Trust me when I say that will not be the last time Cathy takes over the blog and I hope one day to get the girls do some guest blogging. For now, though you are once again stuck with me and my ramblings.

My trip for India ironically coincided with the Thanksgiving holiday and it was very apropos (get ready for the sappy). Being away from my girls made me realize how thankful I am for them and how much I missed them. My boss, Nick, who has two girls of his own and I were talking how we couldn’t have a job that required constant travel because we couldn’t be away from our family that often. Almost the moment I left for the airport I was looking forward and imagining what coming home to them would be like.

Prior to the five full days I didn’t see them at all for this trip the most days I had ever been away from them was two full days. That happened twice, the first was a canoe trip I did with my friends, and the second was a business trip to Ohio. I also spent a day away from them when I had surgery on a bulging disc. Needless to say I don’t spend a lot of time away from my girls and I am grateful for that.

A week after being away from them was Thanksgiving and that trip was a reminder of what I am thankful for. What amazing feeling it was when I came home to see the happiness and joy on my girls faces. It was about ten minutes of pure joy and elation that made me feel great. Of course after that my girls were once again on the couch with their faces buried in their electronics. Kids are very resilient and IPhones and IPods are very attention grabbing.

Pushed to the sidelines

968925_10201143646931036_71760859_nIn 2009 I began coaching my daughter Julia in soccer. I started out as her recreation coach and eventually became her travel coach. Along the way I also became Mia’s rec coach when she got old enough to begin playing soccer. When Mia moved to travel I became her assistant coach. Since 2013 I was Julia’s head coach and Mia’s assistant coach.

With such a heavy coaching load when Olivia started playing soccer Cathy jumped in and coached her in rec. Recently US Soccer announced changes to how they structured the age requirements and I suddenly found myself without a team. So, for the first time in seven years I would have no team to coach. Olivia moved up to Travel this season and since I had already been coaching two teams another coach stepped up and took over her team.

Right now my daughter’s play soccer for three different soccer clubs in three different townships. With the conflicting game and practice schedules I wouldn’t have been able to coach even if I wanted to. The season started over a month ago but I wanted to wait before I made this post to give me some time to adjust and see what it was like. I had time to get used to it because in the summer I didn’t have any practices to run, just practices to run my girls to.

When the first week of soccer came I took Julia to her game. Julia, the girl who I had been coaching since she was five. The biggest difference came at the end of the game, which Julia’s team won 1-0. The feeling of victory was different; I don’t know how to describe it but it didn’t feel as complete as they did when I was coach. I didn’t feel I was a part of it like I did when I coached. It didn’t feel like we won, it felt like they won.

But like in all things you adjust, that feeling lasted only that one weekend and I quickly learned how to enjoy my daughter’s victories just as a parent and not a coach. Now more than a month into the season I am enjoying life on the sidelines. It is nice not to have to plan out practices, make sure I have all the paperwork before games and lug around a bag of balls (insert your own joke here). Best of all Julia’s new coach is 1000 times better than me.

I do miss my former soccer family and especially miss the girls I use to coach. I had been coaching the same travel team since 2011 and always felt I had more than three daughters. As tough as it was to not see my former players all the time I know change is inevitable. I always took pride in being identified as “Coach” and of course being able to teach something to my girls. However, they outgrew what I could teach them, I guess that is another inevitability I will have to get used to.cucnkzeuaaast1d

I am a hypocrite

Nobody wants to be called or thought of as a hypocrite. When people describe themselves you won’t hear them say “I have a good sense of humor and am a hypocrite.” It is also not a trait you look for in a friend or mate. I have never met anyone who considers it a desirable quality and you try your best not to be hypocritical.

However, the one great thing about being a parent is not only can you get away with being hypocritical, you wouldn’t be doing your job if you were not. I think I have made it clear that I wasn’t the best student growing up and didn’t get good grades. The parental hypocrite in me makes it unacceptable for my girls not to get good grades. They have to study hard and make sure they get their homework done, all things I never did.

My room was always a mess, clothes thrown everywhere with comic books and toys strewn on the floor. Yet I scream, yell and give my girls a hard time for not keeping their rooms cleaned. I require Julia to do her own laundry even though I know I was much older before I did my own laundry. In my defense this has more to do with the fact is I refuse to do her laundry since now she wears bras, I am really having trouble with that.

As my girls get older my hypocriticalness (yes I know it isn’t a word) will increase. Underage drinking? They better not. Smoking weed, Hell no….underage sex…..I don’t even want to think about it. Honestly I wish I had a lot more underage sex when I was younger but there just weren’t that many willing participants. All those things I will preach to my girls about avoiding and being responsible about, even though perhaps I was not.

My oldest brother David who has no kids likes to tell on me to my girls. That of course is what people without children like to do and say things like “when you were younger you didn’t keep your room clean” and telling me I am being hypocritical. He doesn’t realize that as a parent it is my right, nay, my duty to be a hypocrite when it comes to my daughters.

I have to amend my first statement; nobody wants to be a hypocrite unless you are a parent. Hypocriticalness (I am trying to make it a thing, like Fetch) is a powerful, effective and necessary tool in the parental toolbox. We don’t want our children to make the same mistakes we did and want to use our experience to help them make better choices and be better people. We want to set an example for them, we just don’t want that example to be of us when we were their age.

Five Angry People

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Twelve Angry men is a classic movie about a jury. While it dealt with several themes one of them was how people are when kept in a small enclosed places, which helps create tension among the 12 men (hence the angry part). Why do I bring this up? Well for one thing I think you should watch it (the original version) because it is a great movie.  But I actually have an ulterior motive to bringing it up; the theme of the movie is also a theme in my life.

We live in a ranch house with one bathroom. I’m not sure of the square footage and I should probably look it up for the sake of this post but I just really don’t feel like it. My point is the house is pretty small and there aren’t many places to be alone. What that means is we tend to get on each other’s nerves and there really isn’t anywhere to go to separate yourself.

Julia is the only person in the whole house who has her own room and she surely spends a lot of time there.  She at least has a bit of a refuge. Listen, we are a family and we love and support one another. We also however really get on each other’s nerves. The people you love the most are also the ones that are able to drive you the craziest.

When we got this house it was only three of us, Cathy, Julia and me. I have to include my dog at the time, Krypto, but he didn’t take up much room. Since that time we added two daughters, Mia and Oliva, a cat, Krypto passed on and Shadow joined the family (he takes up a little more room). This house has seen the completion of our family, albeit in a tight space.

We are running out of space, and with the Christmas tree being up we have even less. This house was ok when we were a growing family but now we have grown up and need more room. Have I mention we have one bathroom? Yes I live in a house with four women and only one bathroom. Three of those women haven’t even hit the teen years but Julia is one year and five days away. What I’m trying to say is we can’t go on like this, especially from a toilet perspective.

Our hope is we don’t have to be Five Angry People for too long. Our hope is we make it our last Christmas in this house and move into a bigger one. Until then let’s hope we don’t kill one another and there is always a chance to get into the bathroom.

Dad Fail

“Nobody is perfect…except God and the Easter Bunny” Mia Jane Floyd 2014.

The Easter Bunny is a poor man’s Santa Claus. He has a similar M.O. but not the pizzazz. Both are unseen and in the middle of the night leaves gifts for children. The Easter Bunny doesn’t have the hype or build up Santa has.

Every year the coming of Santa gets kids excited more than a month before Christmas. The coming of the Easter Bunny is usually only heralded a couple of weeks in advanced and my kids didn’t get too excited for him until a couple of days before Easter. Easter is the bigger religious holiday but Christmas is the bigger kid holiday.

Olivia seemed the most excited for the Easter Bunny, she wrote him a note 2015-04-07 21.47.09 and even decorated an egg for him. This left my wife and me with a dilemma, what do we do with the egg? It was late so I wasn’t going to eat it and an egg isn’t something you just stuff somewhere, imagine if we forgot about it? Sure we would be eventually be able to find it…by smell.

I decided that I would write a note from the Easter Bunny to Olivia telling her that he thought she should keep the egg. My wife suggested that I make sure I disguise my handwriting. I’m not sure why, a six year old isn’t going to be able to distinguish handwriting and besides when has she really ever been exposed to it. Who writes anymore? I mean really?

I carefully constructed the note; I made sure I did indeed disguise my handwriting. Instead of starting the “O” in Olivia from the top I started it from the bottom. I took great pains to make my A’s different; I carefully crafted every letter to not look like my handwriting. There was no way my six year old was going to tell that her Dad wrote the note, no she would truly believe the Easter Bunny did.

We fast forward to the next day, Easter, at Nana and Pop Pop’s house. Olivia is telling Nana all about her note from the Easter Bunny. She is telling her how nice the Easter Bunny’s penmanship was. I swelled with pride, never in my 39 years has anyone ever complimented my penmanship. It is legitimately horrible.

Then my pride and happiness was quickly dashed when Olivia said “he did spell my name wrong, he forgot to put the I before the A.” I quickly responded with how the Easter Bunny is gigantic bunny and probably did not study a traditional or proper curriculum. It was a pretty good reason; you probably aren’t going to have too many well-schooled humongous, freakish, mutant bunnies. IF the note was written by a bunny and NOT the girl’s father.

Yea I misspelled my daughter’s name. Let me repeat, I misspelled my daughter’s name, a name I had a hand in giving her. I can try to justify it in my head with the fact I was so hyper focused on disguising my handwriting that I missed a letter. But there really is no justifying spelling your daughter’s name wrong, it was a huge fail.

Well at least I’m a better father than this guy.