Sympathy Pain

Turning 36. What does that buy me? Let’s see…at 15 got my permit, 16 my license, 18 could vote and smoke, 21 alchol, 25 rent a car…um…what other milestones are their except getting older? AARP? Social Security?Depends?

Anyway, today was great. I had lunch with my awesome wife. We then closed on our house. What a great b-day memory. I’m very excited and am glad I have mastered telekinesis so the move will be effortless. Sarah got me the Wii fit and Jack a Wii “rayman raving rabbit” game. Now we just have to get the game console unpacked and set back up. The “rabbit” game looks right down my alley…stupid humor. And the Wii fit will help me reach 37. Thanks to my sis-in-law for the Amazon card. I’m sure something Wii related will come to me UPS ground next week.

Dinner was a trip to Chuck E Cheese, My choice. The pizza is much better than it once was. I remember it as being just better than ketchup on a cracker. Now it’s pretty tasty. Jack and I played many a game while Sarah and Tony watch all the action. The flashing lights and whirling games wore Tony out…and Sarah too. Now, on the couch with my bride…Dell lap top on my lap…Mac on her’s.

This has been quite a year. I am very blessed. Thanks for all the b-day greetings. I’m sure that there is some milestone I broke today. If nothing else I’m in my late thirties now. Hot damn!

I fell in love with Steven Curtis Chapman’s music in College. He’s a contemporary Christian artist, who straddles rock and country. I used some of his music in church dramas will helping at Eagle’s Landing FBC in Atlanta. I’ve always had his cd on my ipod and still enjoy listening. The company I work for does the lighting for his tour and I have been backstage a couple times at his concerts.

I was extremely saddened to get this news at our sales meeting Thursday morning:

At approximately 5pm on the afternoon of Wednesday May 21st, Maria Sue Chapman, 5 years old and the youngest daughter to Steven and Mary Beth Chapman was struck in the driveway of the Chapman home in Franklin, TN. Maria was rushed to Vanderbilt Childrens Hospital in Nashville, transported by LifeFlight, but died of her injuries there. Maria is one of the close knit family’s six children and one of their three adopted daughters.

More than five years ago, Chapman and his wife MaryBeth founded The Shaohannah’s Hope Ministry after bringing their first adopted daughter, Shaohannah, home from China. The ministry’s goal is to help families reduce the financial barrier of adoption, and has provided grants to over 1700 families wishing to adopt orphans from around the world. Chapman is a five-time GRAMMY ® winner and 54-time Dove Award winning artist who has sold over 10 million albums and garnered 44 No. 1 singles.

Jack is going into the third grade. We have survived the year with the teacher of doom. His class had the fewest honor roll students of all the 2^nd grade classes at his school. During awards day, his class didn’t cheer and yell when their teacher was announced. You would hope the principal was watching.

But it’s done. He’s now reading on a 4.5 grade reading level. Sarah and I have both recently read the first book in the “Spiderwick Chronicles” which falls into that level. I’m very excited about sharing this series with him, as we all continue to read them. Most of the Dahl books are higher in range, as are the Narnia book, but those are just around the corner. I’m very proud of his reading accomplishments.

As for next year’s teacher, bio mom filled out the “Learning Environment ” request the school sent out. They are trying to get feedback from the parents on what type of teacher would be best to assist the student in learning. Let me share these observations:

• Nurturing
  
• Gentle
  
• Someone who likes, appreciates, and enjoys boys.
  
• A younger teacher for a change of pace and a different vibe. I think a completely different environment will be most beneficial to Jack in creating the most successful year possible.
  
• Someone who is “tuned-in” to students and notices when they are “off their game” and tries to figure out the cause and resolve the situation.
  
• A creative environment. A teacher who will attempt more than one method of teaching material if students are not grasping the concept by the initial lesson. No attitude of “this is the way I do it, and if you don’t get it, then too bad.”
  
• More of a fluid, “go with the flow” because we can still get it done, attitude.
  
• High expectations. His reading level is up to a 4.5.
  
• Flexibility that can also be taught by example.
  
• A happy, supportive environment that incorporates positive reinforcement. Someone that will help him rebuild his confidence.
  
• A teacher that is organized (in reality, not just by claim) and is on top of STI entries.
  
• A teacher that can maintain the order and discipline of her classroom without stripping the dignity of her students. Someone who can have a firm hand without breaking self esteem.
  
• Someone who welcomes parental involvement.
  
• A teacher with school spirit (someone we might run into at a football or basketball game).

   

   

I think she’s a little fired up about this year’s teacher debacle. I’m looking forward to what comes from this evaluation and if it helps with the year ahead.

Jack has been on the same baseball team as D. for the last few years. To begin with, D was one of those kids that you hoped your child wouldn’t set beside, because you knew there would be trouble. D’s parents are older…in their late 50’s early 60’s. D is adopted. He was uncoordinated and borderline mean at the beginning of last season. Then, as the season progressed, the rest of the time and coaches helped D find his rhythm and place. It was a little “village” that helped him become more socially adept and also befriend some of the boys on the team.

So this weekend was his birthday party. Jack and I arrived a couple minutes late, with present in hand and swimsuit ready.

“There are no balloons,” Jack observed, “and we are the first ones here.”

I thought that was strange, and when we walked up and saw D, I knew plans had changed.

“Because it was raining here an hour ago, we postponed the party until Wednesday.” His mom told us. “We tried to call Jack’s mom, but couldn’t get through.” Her home phone hasn’t worked in months…but I digress.

I could tell D was bummed…as was Jack. So we decided to stay. It wasn’t raining so the day wasn’t completely a bust.

Then, JW showed up. He is in the same boat D was in at the beginning of last season…without the mean. D’s mom and I talked with JW’s mom for a long time. She is worried about her son’s social development. We told her where D was last year and how much of a change he had gone through because of little league. Hopefully, next year, I can update on JW and say he has grown exponentially the way D has.

I still believe very firmly that positive involvement is extremely important for social growth. You can’t raise a child in a bubble. Sometimes peer pressure is positive pressure.

So what did I do for Mother’s day? After I gave a disposable camera to some asshole person in extreme need of a photographic device, I had to think of something else. My wife has wanted a third dog for a while. I decided that I would make the offer that after we moved into the new house, which has a bigger yard, we could get a dog. That would be her mother’s day gift. Jack picked out a watch for her, so she would have a gift in hand for mother’s day. All seemed good.

However, my wife began immediately searching through the local animal shelter’s web sites. I got a couple links the Monday before mother’s day. Then I got the following message.

“OMFG…That is the dog, Bryan! That’s the one.”

So I followed the link.

Hello, my name is Willie. I have a really sad story but I am happy here at The Ark. I am a very pretty Terrier mix. My hair is short and I am what they call a tri- color. I weigh about 20 lbs. I was found injured by a County Animal Control Officer. He took me to The Ark’s doggy’s doctor. Dr. Connelly and Ms. Alice felt so sorry for me. My right eye had been severely injured to the point that it had to be removed. The Ark took me in and made me feel welcome. I am happy here. I do just fine with one eye. Do not feel sorry for me. Just remember I will do just fine in your loving home. Do you think you would consider me for your family dog? When you come to The Ark, ask to see Willie. That’s me.

So I knew I had to go meet him. Without her knowing it, I went to the shelter and met Willie. He’s Now laying on a pet bed in our living room. He’s extremely skidish, especially of me, but he is coming around with the other pets and the family. He’s going to be a good fit, and now he has a good home.

Happy Mother’s Day.

My wife forwarded a blog to me today. I have been reading it off and on since then. It breaks my heart…every word. It was one of my biggest fears that something would happen to Sarah during childbirth. I think it’s a fear most fathers share but rarely talk about. I can’t imagine the strength this father has to carry on and be the man he has to be for that little girl. His words are so tragically beautiful. Here’s a sample. You might want to read this before going to the page. It will knock the breath out of you.

5 weeks of bedrest.

(2 at home, 3 in the hospital).

liz had low amniotic fluid.

baby had her cord around her neck.

baby’s heart rate dropped

(multiple times).

liz almost delivered

(multiple times).

the day finally came

(3/24).

madeline was born via c-section.

everyone was happy

and healthy.

liz was told

to hang out in bed

for another 24 hours

and then she was going to

see madeline.

she waited patiently

hearing stories

and seeing photos

of me

feeding and changing

madeline’s diapers.

(she was soooo jealous and i teased her mercilessly that i was 1, 2, 3 diapers ahead of her and that she had to catch up).

24 hours came

and she got ready

to lay her hands

on madeline

for the very

first

time.

she got up from bed

(with the help of some nurses and me).

we joked about her new-found independence.

i told her that she

had to start waiting on me

because i’d been waiting on her

for 5 weeks.

she laughed,

and said,

“of course.”

she walked to the mirror

and said,

“my hair looks like shit.”

we all laughed

(because her hair looked great, especially for someone who’d been on bed rest for 5 weeks).

the nurse said,

“are you ready to go?”

she said,

“yes.”

her excitement

was overflowing.

she turned around

to sit in her wheelchair

for her ride to see

madeline.

she said,

“i feel lightheaded”

and then she passed out.

we got her in to

her hospital bed.

doctors and nurses

rushed to help her.

but nothing could be done

to bring her

back.

no one to blame.

shitty luck

and

a pulmonary embolism

are what led us to

the saddest,

most horrific moment

of my life.

(and many other people’s lives).

You may know I am not a fan of homeschooling your children, so you may be surprised to learn that I helped a mom that home schools today.

She called me at work. She had found my name on the school web site that I which I taught. She has 2 daughters and wants to get them involved in Theatre. So I took about 15 minutes to walk her though all the programs the city has to offer. I gave her contact names and numbers, along with opinions of each organization. I also gave her the name and number of someone who was homeschooled and does tons of theatre in the area as a good contact person. I didn’t have to do this. I was at work, got the message, and called her back. I could have just given her a single name, or not called her back at all…I mean after all, I am evil in the eyes of homeschooling moms all over the blog world. But I really don’t have anything against them, just mainly the “your wrong, I’m right” attitude, the unwillingness to believe that homeschooling is not always the right answer, and the hatred for the public school system. Not all homeschoolers have these beliefs, but the vocal ones usually do. I hope I helped this lady out and I hope I get to work with her kids. She didn’t sound like a militaristic homeschooler so we will probably get along fine.

It takes a village…and I’m trying.

Let me tell you about 2 mother’s in my life. First, my mom. My mom is a baby boomer. Her dad was in World War II in the Philippines. She is the oldest of 3, the other 2 twins. They were raised in “the mill village, in Jasper Alabama. This was a group of homes built for the workers of the local mill. They didn’t have much, but they had family. My mother never completed high school, but got her GED with me on her hip in the mid seventies. My mom has worked in the same factory for 25 years. Nothing flashy, but she helped pay the bills and feed us. I grew up beside my mom at the church piano. She played for our tiny Baptist church and sang specials every 2 or 3 weeks. She never missed a Sunday, unless my sister or I were sick. I learned my “The show must go on” attitude from her. I also learned my love of music and singing from her. She came alive at the piano and while playing and singing. My mom is a very loving and gentle soul. She has a problem with expressing herself through words, but I always knew that she love my sister and I with all she had. I love my mom.

Now for the mom who has my heart. Sarah is an amazing woman and mother. I remember when we started dating she was very positive about not wanting children. Because of that, I didn’t know how she would react to my son. They work together amazingly. I couldn’t imagine him without her influence. I am so blessed to have her in his life. Then one night, about a year and a half ago, she ask me…”why don’t you want to have a child with me?” I reminded her that she was staunchly set against it from the get go, and I would love to have a child with her. Now I have another son and she is every bit of the amazing mother that I knew she would be. She has a very loving nature with children. She understands them and knows how to have fun and be the parent at the same time. I also love to watch her interact with Jack and Tony. She’s simply…amazing. I love her with all my heart.

I am the middle of the night feeding pro in the house. Sarah gets up early, so she takes care of the butt crack of dawn feeding. But if you read this you know that already.

Last night Tony was a little…well…awake. He talks to himself when he wakes up, or grunts. So by the time the 3: oo am feeding came up, I had already been up and down a few times. So I was slightly sleepy.

Tony ate like he hadn’t in days, and then was wide awake. We played some. I held him and sang to him. He was in a very good mood. It made me less sleepy, but still, sleepy none the less.

Then I heard it. As I reclined on the couch and he lay on my chest, I heard it. It was this cross between a cough and a burp. A noise made in the back of the throat which means…”MOVE!!!”. I was no longer sleepy at all.

Wow! I knew I had only feed him 6 ounces, but a gallon of formula and bile came out of that sweet little mouth that, only moments earlier, had been laughing and cooing. It hit my chest and soaked every part of my torso. I laid him down, after the explosion, and tried to take the shirt off without getting the stuff all over my head and hair. It didn’t happen. I grabbed the “Wet Ones” and gave myself an unsatisfying sponge bath, while standing in the kitchen.

The whole time, I heard this cute little voice giggling in the back ground. He knows funny.

I remember the feeling I had after the divorce. My give a damn was very low if not nonexistent. I felt like I was walking through Jello most days. The only time I felt anything was with Jack, and even that was forced at time. Life wasn’t that bad. I had a nice job. I had begun dating again. I was doing theatre again. I felt like I was going through the paces of the life I thought I deserved…but didn’t feel much.

My ex-wife had said I needed therapy before the divorce. Said I had “anger issues”. I had a short fuse about small things…never really at anyone, most at myself. But she saw those little explosions and didn’t like that person. I started realizing those explosions where something I saw in my father…but he directed them at those around him. Instead of getting mad the last suitcase just wouldn’t fit in the trunk, he’d get mad at mom for moving the remote. I felt myself getting that way with my son as an infant. I would get really overwhelmed with him…and realized that was my father’s MO. Get to the point of no return and blow up. I didn’t want to continue that legacy.

Those two things are what sent me to a shrink. I remember thinking I was weak for wanting help. Maybe a little crazy. I expected her to tell me to grow a pair and get over it. Man up and control you issues. But that wasn’t it at all. I talked over tons of memories and thoughts with her. I analyzed myself and my reactions for the first time from an objective level. She put me on Lexapro…and anti anxiety/depression drug. A low dose but enough to help.

I’m a better person now. I still take Lexapro. It evens me out. It helps me think more clearly and process information faster. I don’t feel overwhelmed with Tony…almost ever. I feel more deeply than I ever allowed myself before. I like who I am now. I’m very proud of my decision to get help.

Just an honest look…from me to you.

I’ve been the drop off man for tony for as long as he’s gone to daycare. Sarah has done it a couple times, but for the most part it’s my job. I actually enjoy doing it. It’s a good 15 minutes to his day care, which we sing and laugh through most mornings, then another 5 to 10 minutes relaying info to the staff. They have a chart to fill out last feeding and last diaper…and what was in it. We then chat about how he’s doing and what happened the day before. It’s a good start to the day.

I have noticed a few things about other parents that drop off the children that I’d like to share and comment on:

Cell phone use…hang up your phone long enough to relay information, talk about your child, and say goodbye to them. You’re not dropping off your cleaning.

Separation anxiety… Don’t feed it. It’s best to stay just long enough to talk to the teacher, get the child distracted onto something shiny, and then leave. Don’t keep saying good bye. You’re just making it worse. Also your child is not going to be permanently damaged if you don’t say goodbye a dozen times.

Cigarettes…just a pet peeve. Why on earth do you have to smoke while your infant is strapped into the back seat? AND I really hate those smoking while on the cell phone as they set in line to drop off. Argh!

Those are the few for today. I found that drop off is a great time to spend with the people who take care of your child. Take the opportunity and turn off the rest of your day.