So, this A to Z Challenge really kicked my butt. It happened in the home stretch of soccer season. It fell during a time we stressed over Elise’s college status (she got in!) and lots of work workload. Spring’s a time of renewal, too. Although it’s mostly pollen.
If my guest post list were a troubling of goldfish, they’d mostly be belly up.
As readers might remember, when I have a guest-post Wednesday without any guest posts, I turn to my phone. I pick 11 random pics and share them here. Let me know what you think. I promise to have something from an awesome guest next week.
I tried to write a succinct topper to this sucker. Twice.
First, I wanted to tell you about the Warby Parker frames I tried on, and the adventures (and misadventures) they led to. It got long, and I didn’t want it to detract from the Go Ask Daddy portion. So I shelved it.
Then, I got into soccer.
So many great things happening in the beautiful game for me right now. They even overshadow the bad things going on. The tough stuff. By far. From one kid getting a yellow card and an acceptance letter, to another getting a hat trick on a special day for her sister.
My name and I made one bettor some green one Super Bowl Sunday.
I worked at the Hilton for Super Bowl XLII, between the yet unbeaten New England Patriots and New York Giants in 2008. A boisterous man, upon check-in, clapped his meaty hands together – Gator style, although I don’t know where he matriculated – when he saw my nametag.
“I’ve been wanting to bet on the Giants all day!” he broke his happy white-boy clapping to say. “Your name is Eli? This is a sign! I’m betting on the G-men!”
Hours later, the Giants, a 12-point underdog, pulled of a classic upset.
I should have invented a slide rule for this sort of thing.
At what age should you leave your kids alone at home? This slide rule could have a side for age, one for maturity quotient. One for boy craziness, probably, couldn’t be discounted. What of that kid in your brood who fosters a healthy obsession with setting things aflame?
(Is that just us?)
There’s serious stuff to consider, outside of the kids destroying my stash of graham crackers and provolone (Not together. That’d be gross.) There’s opening the door to strangers, unsanctioned living-room MMA, or setting a Betty Crocker cookbook on a hot stove (okay, that one was me.)
With white conservatives and Denver Broncos fans, teenagers rank among the ranks it’s still okay to belittle. They’re moody, they say. They’re unpredictable, they say. They’re a bubbling, volatile cocktail of angst and hormones and turpentine.
Okay, I made that last one up.
Natasha at OMG Parenting wrote of five parenting truths for the OMG teen years. Just this week, Andrea Mowery of About 100% posted the Most Important Lessons for Teens. “The most important thing a teen will learn,” Andrea writes, “is love.”
I’d found a grocery bag in the bottom shelf of a shopping cart. That cart sat in the cart corral of a Harris-Teeter store, after dusk, with no one around. No one, that is, except for my baby. Elise sat in the front of our cart. It was just us two on a quick grocery run.
I scanned the lot, half hoping someone would step up to claim the groceries, half hoping no one would.
Fatherhood – parenthood – changes us. From within.
I’ve documented much of the less-than-stellar moments that pocked my college days.
Know what, though? It wasn’t all bad. Sure, I spent lots of time waiting for closing time at the campus Pizza Hut for free personal pan pizzas while I whiled away deadlines at the student newspaper. I slept more hours on Cone Center couches than attended labs.
And I missed out on the homecoming court because I was academically ineligible.
Academically ineligible! Not to run up and down the basketball court, but to stand on it, during halftime. There were also good moments in my nearly six years of collegiate life, not counting the time I got two Twixes out of a vending machine for 50 cents.
My friend Rob, so anti-Chevy, anti-Yankees, and anti-smoking that he would describe his own personal kryptonites (we fellows have many) would be a cute girl driving a Chevy, smoking, in a Yankees cap. So goes the ironies of life.
Cars have faces, both in front and back – and Grace will show us where else faces reside in a future (and possible recurring) guest post.
I’ll notice and acknowledge any other drivers of white Pontiac Grand-Ams, especially any dirtier than mine. I’ll still see on the road makes and models of loves had and lost. There’s so many of them. Why is that? Are there more, or are we conditioned to see them?
Man the kids on the Internet. One of my girls got thrown for a loop when, on an innocent Google search, she discovered photos of Britney Spears and Madonna – about to kiss. I know you have stories in your house, when the World Wide Web and your not-so-worldly kids collided.
Add in the clickbait factor, and, well, you’re in for a bucket and a half of trouble.
The teenagers asked for and got new devices for Christmas. Blue screens often light up their faces. They have that slack-jaw look about them, as they swipe and scroll through what I hope is just Instagram and I Funny. Maybe even a little Coach Daddy.