People, Silence, Pizza and Apologies

I had to apologize to my daughter the other day.

I was dropping her off at Driver's Ed class (which is a whole other scary subject that I could spend time writing about...not that she's going to be a bad driver, but that I'm old enough to have a daughter that drives.) where was I....

I was dropping her off at Driver's Ed class and we were talking about how there are a handful of kids in the class she sort of knows, but none of her close friends are in the class.  She told me how they all sit silently on the floor in the hallway before class and nobody talks to each other.  I told her that was silly, that she should say "Hi" to somebody and get the conversation started.  She told me she would try to at least smile at somebody, but she wasn't sure she could break the silence.

At the time, I did not understand. Why didn't she want to talk to people.  She's a very friendly person. Gets along with everybody.  Has lots of friends.  Seemed weird to me that she wouldn't talk to them.

I think there were two or three days where I playfully (at least it was playful in my head, hopefully she did not take it as me commanding her to do something) encouraged her to talk to the others in the hallway.  But every day when I picked her up, the silence had gone unbroken.


On Wednesday nights, we have confirmation class at our church.  Our kids are in class, and my wife and I are volunteer parent table guides.  Before class, everybody gathers for pizza.

On one particular recent Wednesday night, I found myself standing with my plate of pizza in a corner of the room.  I wasn't sitting with people at a table...just standing there by myself.  Not wanting to talk to anyone.  I just wasn't in the mood to be social.  I just wanted to stand there, by myself, and not talk to anyone.  Even though I was in a room of people I knew, and I'm a friendly guy.  Just leave me alone with my pizza.

That night when we got home, I apologized to my daughter for pushing her earlier in the week.

And now I'm trying to figure out why I gave that advice in the first place.
I'm not one that strikes up conversations with people.
I am comfortable with silence.
Why couldn't I let her be the same way?
Why was it so important for me that she not sit with people and not talk to them?
I still haven't figured it out.

My kids are very awesome young people...
Sometimes I just need to get out of the way and let them be themselves.

Identity (again)

Long time readers (Hi, Becky!) know I've written a lot over the years about how I define myself.  And recently, how this blog really should have a new name, because I rarely "stay-at-home-dad" much anymore.  But with all the marketing we've done with that brand....the t-shirts, key chains and billboards....I guess we'll just leave it.  We certainly do still have our everyday adventures!

10 years ago,  when asked what I do, I would say meekly, "I stay home with my kids."  Followed quickly and more assertively with, "but I used to be a computer programmer.  That's what I went to school for and that's what I did for the past 12 years!"

But recently when asked the dreaded "what do you do?" question, my response was quite the opposite.   "I work at a bank."  I said quickly to get it out of the way.   "But I used to stay home with my kids!"   It came out proudly...Almost trying to cover up the fact that I had any other job too.  That I would ever think of leaving my kids home alone to head to work.

So, what do I do?
Ask me again in 10 years....

Fourteen

Fourteen is an interesting age. Getting more independent and mature every day, but still a growing and learning child.  Some days, like yesterday, are an amazing combination of everything.

On the one hand, my mature independent daughter will be traveling to New York City with the High School band next year.  (New York City!!!). We got an information packet in the mail yesterday.  To an overprotective (see Marlin from 'Finding Nemo') dad like me, this is a very scary thing.  And to make matters worse, she was not overly excited that my wife expressed interest in joining the trip as a chaperone.  A little too independent and mature.

On the other hand, my little girl curled up on the bed after school yesterday and spent hours watching episodes of 'Arthur' on Netflix. That was our daily routine when she came home from kindergarten many years ago....grab a snack and turn on PBS kids.

So here we are....stuck somewhere in the middle of growing up and staying young.  If we're lucky, she'll keep doing both.

Just yesterday was forever ago.

One of the things I have a hard time with is that things that happened "just the other day" for me, were in fact, a lifetime ago for my kids.  Nowhere is this more apparent than with my kids' friends.

"Hey, there's your friend Sally."  I say while shopping with my daughter at the grocery store.
"Who?" She'll ask not really interested.
"Over there....you went to her birthday party in kindergarten....remember?"
"Oh...she looks kind of familiar, I guess."

So I've spent eight years thinking my daughter and Sally are best friends, and they really don't know each other at all.  That afternoon at the birthday party is a vivid memory for me, but not even a vague recollection for her.

My son plays trombone in the 7th grade band.   There is one other boy trombone player in 7th grade.  That boy came to our house at least twice back when they were both in 1st grade.  And now, my son does not even know his name.  After their last concert, I quizzed him on it...and he failed.

I'm not sure if this makes me feel old, overly sentimental, or just confused.  How do I know what they will remember and what gets lost with the passing years?  And at what age do the years start passing at the same rate for kids and parents?

Identity

This may turn into one long ramble...but stay with me and we'll see where we end up...and I'm sorry if I get too churchy...

This has nothing to do with kids, or stay-at-home parenting, but I've written before about how I've had a hard time with how to define myself since I quit my "real" job.  And how I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up.

While I have a decent job now, bank teller is not my final destination.  A couple of weeks ago, a job opportunity came up that seemed like a great fit for me.  I applied, talked to some people, and let myself think it was going to happen.  But then came the "thanks but no thanks" email...which led to self doubt...and me on Saturday morning praying....and saying things like "I don't even know who I am."

I don't go to church every Sunday.  Mostly because I am lazy.  It is hard enough to get the family up and going during the week, sometimes we let that go on Sunday mornings.  For the most part, I am comfortable with my faith...even though I would have trouble expressing exactly what I believe. Last Sunday, we all got up and went.  On the surface it was so the kids could check one more sermon note off the confirmation requirement list....but now I think it was for me.

During the sermon, the pastor talked about identity....and he asked if we ever question who we are or let ourselves be defined by our jobs.  He was talking to me. ( I mean really...was he in my bathroom the day before listening to my whiny prayer?) He explained that our identity comes from our relationship with God....a relationship that is very one-sided....nothing we do can change that relationship.  It all comes from Him.

So here I am today...still working at a bank....still looking for somewhere else to be the next stop on my career journey....but not asking who I am.