Thirsty Thursday: Ode to COFFEE!

I almost feel guilty every morning.  It feels like I'm enjoying something I know I shouldn't be doing.  It's like taking some candy from the open bins in the grocery store as a kid; It might be stealing, but the candy is just so good.  It's like making out with your girlfriend in her parents house.  It's the first drink of coffee in the morning, and it's like having a chance to taste a lightning bolt from Zeus' hand.

If you are not a friend of mine on Facebook, then you may not know about how much coffee I enjoy on a regular basis.  The amount I drink is not consistent; some days I may have a cup or two, and other days I measure by the number of pots.  One may think I have an addiction, but there may be a day or two where I won't drink any, and I won't notice.  I wouldn't say that I can't make it through the day without coffee, I would say that I want those comforting, jolting, warming, and social benefits that coffee provides. There is, however, something majestic about the first taste of this divine elixir on a cool morning, which we have a LOT of in Washington.

Everything I need in the morning

 My Routine: 
I put about 2tablespoons of my favorite creamer, then I will add about 2-thirds of a pint of milk to a microwave-safe mug and heat for one and a half minutes.  The warmed milk and cream goes into my travel mug, and as I walk to the staff lounge to get my coffee, I will shake my mug so my milk and cream are foamy, and frothy.  Once I get my coffee, and take a sip, I wait and let that first rush of heat warm me up all the way to my stomach.  I have then, been taken to my happy place!




There is something beautiful in the smell, the taste, and the look of a properly brewed pot of coffee.  Since I'm up late at night and up early in the morning, coffee is my aide to help me be a functioning narcoleptic.  It is my guilty pleasure I do not feel guilty about! 

The State of Manhood: A Soap Box Moment

As I take a moment to switch my focus from the Dadhood to Manhood, I have to be sure to make my search engine filter is strict so someone's MANHOOD doesn't pop up (pun intended) on my screen.  As I did twitter searches and Google searches for manhood, I found what I expected to see.   We have shrunk the concept of manhood from an ideal to strive for, to nothing more than a throbbing member with hormones raging through it.  The American rite of passage of manhood is not a test of character, but a test to solve for the volume of a cylinder ()!  We have more men who want to live like boys than we have boys wanting to be men.  What is the consequence of living in the past?  Well, you may wake up one day and find you're married with children trying to relive your one glorious day at Polk High, with a woman you despise and children you hardly know.


Anyways, the problem is not what you find when you search for manhood, but what it has come to mean.  Manhood, like many other terms, has become distorted and perverted in its meaning and usage.  If you do not believe in the power of a word, consider the N-word.  This is a word that so oppressed a race of people, that they took on the task of using it to continue to oppress themselves.  Manhood used to mean something of substance, and even though it only kind of does now, it has become slang for a man's Johnson, Wang, Rasputin, or whoever he wants to call his Peter.

Manhood is defined as the state of being a man.  It is a state of being, not the dingle on your dangle.  There is the saying to make sure you do  not "drop the soap" in prison, or your manhood will be taken.  This too is the wrong idea of manhood.  If you apply this thinking to the gay community, then you are saying that they are not men.  Is that true?  To be honest, I would much rather have a devoted, self-aware compassionate individual on my team than a tiger-blooded Adonis  warlock who loves and hates violently.

We reach manhood not through the knocking of boots, or slapping of skins, but through perseverance, and proving we have an unshakable determination.  We learn to survive by our wits against the elements (camping), and bend them to our will (camp fires).  We discover that we are good at some things, but not at others, and we do not cry to our mommies to force the schools or organizations to make us participate so we feel good about ourselves by having no winners or losers.  We are prepared for the harsh realities of life is the safe and loving environment of our home by the man we strive to become one day... our fathers. 

[Climbing down off my soap box]

Thank you for indulging me for a bit.

Evening Dance Party

Since The Wife and I have managed to make it this far into parenthood without needing to pay for childcare, I feel very fortunate.  We live close to our folks and her parents and grand parents watch the kids often.  My brother and sister-in-law [pictured on the right] have also been able to watch the kids and let them play with their cousins.  Since The Wife works most evenings so we don't need childcare, I am home with the kiddos at night for 5 nights a week.  We have lots of fun!

For Wordless Wednesday, I am adding a pair of videos from one of the many dance parties the kids have to the Yo-Gabba-Gabba playlist on Last.fm.  Enjoy!

Back Again

           I am doing my best to want to set a time to meet with my mother.  I should want the opportunity to rebuild a new relationship with her on my own terms, but I’m not.  Is it because the hurts are too deep?  No.  Is it because the betrayal is unforgivable?  No.  Is it because I’m waiting for an apology or for her to know how much she hurt me?  No.  Then why?  The answer to this is easy: I’m happy.  I’m happy, and it took removing her from my life to achieve it.  So, then the question becomes, “Why would I risk letting her back into my life?” 

            I found an old journal entry from the week after my 23^rd birthday, when I was only one month into not speaking to my mom. 

            Journal Entry from 7 years ago:

I received a card from my mother saying exactly what is wrong in our relationship.  She said simply, “We’ll never let go.”  To me, that is the problem.  They are not allowing me to do what all men are supposed to do; leave his mother and his father, and cleave to his wife.  They do not realize that love doesn’t hold tight, love lets go.  Love is not selfish, love lets us go and learn who we are.  Love doesn’t dictate to us who we are or should be.  Love isn’t boastful, but they chose to take all the responsibility for the good in my life.  They want to tell me what my struggles are and are not.  They want me to be their little boy forever.  I get no credit for growing to where I am.  The people who should see my growth don’t. 

The call me childish and they call me immature.  If I am immature and not a man, then define maturity and what it means to be a man! […] If we want to hold the past over someone, theirs is the marked past that needs to be confronted, dealt with, and accepted.  Their disrespect for my future wife is their way of choosing not to be a part of our lives.  I won’t be around someone, or ask my future wife to be around someone who will not respect us. 

            It reminded me of what I was feeling and thinking at the time.  Seven years and one month since that entry and I’ve only seen my mother twice in person.  However, we’ve been exchanging texts for the last month about meeting up again. 

            I wish this was some kind of accomplishment, but the person texting me sounds like the same person I removed from my life sever years ago.  Do I really want to open Pandora’s Box hoping that the world doesn’t end this time?  A main hesitation is that I don’t want to meet with her without a plan for what I want to say.  However, the more I think about it, the more I realize that I have nothing to say to her.  So where does that leave me. 

There IS No HOW-TO

A common trend I see among the Dad-Blogosphere are the how-to tips for being a "great dad" or a "better husband".  As helpful as these tips are, they reflect on the way men see the world... Here's a problem that needs fixing... here;s the steps needed to fix it.  

What we forget, is how people do not follow formulas.  What may work with someone, for example our own kids, today, may not work for them in a similar situation tomorrow.  I WISH relationships were like cars, or something with an owners manual where I could refer to the FAQs or the troubleshooting section and call and talk to someone if needed. 

This is one of the reasons I dove into the Dad-Blogosphere.  Not so much for some weekend-warrior quick-fix tips, but for the ability to connect and share trials and triumphs.   I have enjoyed it, and I enjoy the people I have met, and look forward to meeting more! 

A History Redefined

            As a history major in college, it was stressed to me that history is not something that we read about that happened a long time ago.  We discussed the idea that history is, in fact, a conversation between time and space… between the past and the present.  The lessons we were taught at a young age didn’t make sense until we were older.  New archeological discoveries lead to new revelations about the past and our origins.  When we finally see our parents as humans and not omnipotent creatures in charge of our fate, it gives us a new perspective on how life really was, and how it really can be.  As children become parents themselves, there is a constant internal dialogue between the lessons we were taught, what we actually learned, and how we plan to teach our children.  Our own children either help us to understand our parents and how hard they worked on our behalf, or it leaves us perplexed by the choices they made. 

            Sadly, I fall into the category of the latter.  My parents were the BEST when I was young.  My family was likened to the Cosby’s by my friends, and other families came to my parents for advice and support.  However, this pedestal I placed my family on was shattered, and everything I thought my parents were and stood for was undermined by the time I was 23. 

           

One single example:

My parents were successful Black entrepreneurial business people.  Or so I thought they were.  They did have a company for more than ten years, and I worked with their employees for two summers.  I got to know these people and enjoy working with them.  They took me in, and showed me the ropes and I had a good time even though it was hard work.  I assumed that the company was doing well because we had a house, and we had enough food to feed several teens, and we had a sailboat that we would enjoy on the Puget Sound.  I learned the value of hard work, and a job well done, and to work with integrity because we did not have a supervisor checking in on us all the time.  I learned these things from people who, as it turns out, do not have these values.  I do not believe that a business owner acts with integrity when they have an expensive recreational vehicle like a 34-foot Catalina sailboat and their employees may or may not have received a valid paycheck for all their work.  A sailboat provided me with great memories that are now tarnished to reflect on now, because I can only think of other people who were trying to provide for themselves and their families while we were out on the water.  I would have gladly grown up without a sailboat if that meant hard work was properly compensated, and families were provided for. 

           

My parents… were not the Cosbys.  The people who raised me until I was 18, was not a true representation of who they truly were.  The people who raised me were people of integrity, strong and determined to persevere through the trials and obstacles that got in their way.  The people who raised me did not tolerate dishonesty and were the quintessential American Dream realized.  They taught me how to work hard and play hard.  They taught me to value all people from the most to the least.  They taught me how to love God, and how to be my own person.  They taught me that no one will hand me anything, and that I have to go get it.  They made sure I had the tools and values to be successful in life. 

HOWEVER…

Their ideas of success, and what they taught me success meant were two different things.  The people who raised me was not who they really were, and they could not keep up the charade forever.  When their veil was pulled from over my eyes they tried to say, “Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.”  

Lasting Effects:

What does this mean for my kids?  How have the failings of my parents effected how I parent my children?  PROFOUNDLY!!!  My wife tells me that I am a good father.  I don’t think I can put into words what that little statement means to me.  Being blessed to have both a daughter and a son I am living vicariously through them.  Not in the way that I am try get them to succeed where I failed in life, or where I came up short.  I AM experiencing what it feels like to have loving, honest, parents of integrity, and character.  I am doing my best to replace the tainted memories of my childhood with the memories of their childhood. 

Maybe this is how it’s supposed to be.  We are not supposed to be the kind of people who use our children to get something, or to work the system.  Our children are not accessories, or trophies.  Our children are not charged with the birthright of continuing on our lowly ambitions.  As parents, it is US that is charged to help them reach a level we did not know was possible. 

For my kids, I’m starting by being the person worthy to be called their dad.

Profiled

I got profiled on Dad of Divas' blog in his Dads in the Limelight Series.  Check it out!