“Is this Halloween music?” my inquisitive five year old asks yesterday while on our way to yet another kids party. This one had a piñata Dave, you would have loved it. The impact of that question immediately struck me – it was sheer brilliance. My son was actually listening and making associations with music, making this musician father very proud. It could have been Halloween music, similar to “This is Halloween”, “Ten Gobbling Goblins” or whatever they are singing to kindergartners these days. We were listening to The Doors. Specifically, we were listening to Alabama Song (The Whisky Bar), indeed one of the spookier Doors singles. Instead of “…this is Halloween, this is Halloween”, Morrision was wailing “…ow don’t ask why, ow don’t ask why.” Manzerek plays some real cryptic lines; Densmore plays a simple, yet haunting oompah rhythm while Krieger lays down some spookiness. Morrison sounds like Frankenstein, no really, while wailing, “If I tell you we must die.” This is some real scary shit. Naturally, I replied “yes”, just thrilled that my 5 year old was interested in my music and that the moment may mark a weaning off of Raffi, The Wiggles and that ridiculous Gummy Bear song. We motored on bopping our heads to other possessed Doors tracks.
It’s moments like these that have marked my almost six years of fatherhood. Never knowing quite what to expect from developing young minds, but knowing somehow it’s your influence, guidance and encouragement that is driving such curiosity. I am 37 years old. I have two children ages 4 and 5 with my wife of six years. We lucked out with a boy and girl, as two was always the choice number for us. Like most fathers, I wonder if I am performing the duties of fatherhood correctly. Am I saying the right things, disciplining appropriately, or feeding them the right foods? It’s not easy to find the answers to these questions in a textbook, class or by Googling it.
I have relied on just throwing darts, if it sticks go with it. My most recent dart came when my daughter refused to eat her dinner. This has been going on for way to long. We have tried everything – from keeping her at the dinner table until her food was eaten or bribing her with dessert with very limited success. On this particular day, perhaps given the time of year, this dart just came flying out of my mouth and it stuck alright. “If you don’t eat your food, Santa will know and not bring you presents.” The look on my daughter’s face was one of utter disbelief that she may be left out of one of life’s greatest moments. Her fork began moving faster than Santa’s sleigh and her food was completely gone within seconds. Since then, I have used the Santa card numerous times and it really works. I know it’s not a new strategy, but I think you have a very small window in a child’s life where it actually works and I’m mining this one until the gold is all gone. There will be a time where it will backfire on me and I will hear the dreaded words that no parent enjoys hearing, indicating a time where all innocence and believing disappear, making way for curse words and kissing. I’m sure I’ll come up with a good one to curtail both of those when the time comes. Until then, I am sticking with make believe.
I am around kids all day. I have been teaching in public schools for twelve years now. I am currently working with middle school kids. Yes, that’s where all the grey comes from. My students always try to guess my age, even though I’ve told them I am 37 a million times, they insist on guessing every now and then. Don’t ask, it’s middle school. I get all ages between 42 and 60 (yes 60!) like that should be the age of teachers, not in their 30’s, and they insist on telling me I look old. I combat these comments from these little snots by working out a few days a week, playing soccer and remaining excessively active. It’s not working, but I feel better. My students do, however, proudly state that their teacher is the buffest in school. The point of bringing up teaching is that my own kids don’t stand a chance in pulling the wool over this father’s eyes. I have seen and heard it all with my students. It kind of makes me feel bad that my kids won’t be able to pull off such pranks as sneaking out of the house, faking an illness to stay home from school, insisting they don’t have homework to play outside instead or sneaking one of dad’s beers. I’m ready for it and I can tell a whopper coming from a mile away. My hope is that I will raise my kids to be honest and open with their parents. Encouraging them to communicate, not being afraid to speak up, while making sure they always tell their teachers they look younger than they really are. It will help their grades.
I will conclude this rambling with another dart that has seemed to stick. I coach both of my kids’ soccer teams. I know, I am glutton for punishment, but I truly have the time and desire to mold the future Mia Hamm’s and David Beckham’s of the world. You can hardly call it soccer at this age, swarm ball is the preferred name and it involves a lot of dust. I have resorted to wearing goggles and a mask over my mouth on the field. It looks a little weird, but my health is thanking me. There are two types of players at this age – players and lookers. Both of my kids are lookers. By no means are they the only ones, there’s really only 3-4 kids that actually play the game. The rest are pre-occupied with planes, their moms and what’s stuck up their noses. After each goal all the kids come running back toward me for the ritual of high fiving me. The first ones back are the lookers. The expression on their faces scream, “I am the best, I did it!” In actuality, they did nothing to contribute to that goal, but the reward of their coach praising them is too great to pass on. The dart I am speaking of is praising your kids, even if they didn’t necessarily do something correctly or they have failed at a task, keeping things positive and maintaining your encouragement will, hopefully, pay off with big dividends and keep your kids from growing up and feeling like failures. I want my children to be able to grow up and know that their father was around, interested, encouraging and didn’t spend all his free time asking where the nearest whisky bar was.