Snow Days and Sick Days

For the month of January I only worked 7 full work days. Part of this lack of work (beyond the fact that I am government worker) was due to snow and another part was due a very unfortunate bout with the stomach flu.

First, the snow days. My wife is from Cincinnati and will often say she is from the North. On a side note, I do point out to her that Cinci is below the Mason-Dixon line and therefore technically in the South. Anyway, Georgia has a very difficult time handling snow and she hasn't got used to idea of road being covered in snow and ice for 4 days. My theory on this is two part. 1) Georgia gets so little snow, there is no reason to go through the expense of buying snow plows and spreaders. 2) Atlanta is full of northern transplants that a) don't understand that pulling over for a funeral procession is a sign of respect (I am sure I will have another blog on this subject later) and b) think they can drive on snow and ice. Now they may very well can drive in snow and ice back where they are from, but the roads have more than likely been plowed, salted, sanded, etc. So yes, they could drive on the roads. I could drive on those roads having never lived anywhere than Atlanta.

So when Atlanta gets more than a 1/4 inch of snow, schools are out, bread, beer, and milk disappear from the grocery store and people hunker down, to quote one of best sportscasters in history, Larry Munson. As a child I looked forward to snow days. We usually had 2 or 3 a year. The snow would fall, kids would run out, go sledding, build snowmen, and have snowball fights. The next morning we would go to school with just a few white patches covering the greening grass. As we rode to school we would see dozens of muddy snowmen standing vigil in front yards. My most memorable snowfall was the infamous "Blizzard of 1993."

During the blizzard, Atlanta received 4 to 5 inches snow. It was light and fluffy, some snow drifts were up to six feet deep. My brothers and I had never seen so much snow at our disposal. We had concocted a plan to build a ginormous snowman. We rolled the base, and it was about 6 feet in diameter. We rolled the second ball for the body and quickly realized we couldn't lift it to place it upon the base. So on to plan B. We decided to build a snow tower, more like a snow spire. This was going to be our monument to show we could conquer and wield snow to our will. As the spire grew and grew we noticed our neighbor across the street was watching us build this beacon of snowdom.

My family had a strained relationship with this neighbor. She hated children and three boys across street did little to change her mind. She was prone to calling the police whenever we did something she didn't like. The first real incident was when my brother and I were 6 and she called the police because my brother and one of his friends were hitting crabapples with tennis racquets. She believed they were aiming for her house. Whether they were or not is still up for debate. But there is no 6 year-old on this planet that could hit a crabapple well over 100 yards to hit her house. As the years went on, my brothers and I would often egg her hatred on (sometimes with eggs).

As this neighbor watched, we felt we needed to brighten her day. After all, she was trapped in her house due to snow and could only watch us have fun. We decided to put an arm on our spire waving to the neighbor. Given, our foresight was a little ill-conceived. We added a large stick for an arm at about the 8ft level and then placed a miniature snowman at the end of the arm. Then we continued with our creation. When it reached the 12ft mark, we decided to stop. Mainly because we only had 6ft ladder. We stood back and admired out creation.

A few hours later, my dad had returned from a mission of rescuing stranded drivers in our neighborhood. He looked at us asked "What is that thing in the front yard and why is it flipping off the neighbor?" We looked out the window and laughed. To this day, whenever it snows, my dad warns my brothers and I not build anymore 12ft phalluses flipping people off.

Needless to say, snow days have always been a fond memory of mine. Even when I hear the prospect of snow on the news, I can't help getting excited like a child. I don't think about the hassle of clearing the driveway, or playing chicken with people who believe snow is just white rain and they can drive the same way in it.

This year I was able to share my excitement with my son. Atlanta received 5 1/2 inches of snow. We got close to 6 inches at our house. The problem with this year was that it was covered with 1/4 inch sheet of ice. It wasn't fun snow. Not knowing this, I took Cole outside to play. He fell down 3 times in the first 5 minutes and was pretty much done with it. I took him inside and then decided to walk to a park that was nearby.

The park had quite a few people sledding. The snow was perfect for sleds. And in the south, where hardware stores don't stock snow shovels and sleds, people improvise. As kids, we used cardboard, or put Hefty garbage bags on and just slid. At the park I saw people with cardboard boxes, trashcan lids, pool floats. One person even had a small slide from an old playground set. I slid down on a few abandoned cardboard boxes. Next year I hope we enough snow to where Cole wants to play.

On to sick days. Up until my seventh grade year school I had perfect attendance. I was suspended in seventh grade and ruined the streak (another story for another time). I was rarely sick. When I did get sick as a kid, my mom would take care of me. She would bring me soup, crackers, and juice; take my temperature and give me medication. Now that I am an adult I am lucky enough to have a wonderful wife to do that (while it does have its limits). As most people know, men are complete wimps when comes to being sick. We can be biggest toughest man in the world, but as soon as we get sick, its all over. We are kids again wanting our mother or some other motherly figure to take care of us.

I recently had a bad case of the stomach flu. There is no need to give you details. It was bad, really bad. I was basically out of commission for 3 days. So I reverted back to my childhood. Wanting my wife, who is 7 months pregnant, to take care of me. She did an excellent job in conjunction with taking care of slightly cranky 18 month old as well.

I bring sick days up because I spent the majority of January feeling like a kid. 5 snow days, 3 sick days, and new perspective on my son. As he grows, I need to remember the experiences I had and the lessons I learned. While I will want him the make his own mistakes and learn from them, I will still protect him from making some of same ones I did. I won't stop him and his brother from building a 12ft phallus in the front yard. I just won't give him the idea. I will take care of him when gets sick. I will always let him know how much I and his mother love him. And I will remind him to have fun as a kid because its hard to get that back.

Moral: No matter how bad you think your childhood was, it's always great to be kid.

The days have been long, but the year was short

Usually, at the beginning of a new year, people start reflecting on what has happened that past year. I guess it's part of human nature to look back--hindsight is 20/20. I have decided that I don't need to look back on this past year. It was a good one and if I really wanted to look back I can read my sporadic blog. But wait, aren't those who don't learn from history destined to repeat it? Yes, they are. And I 'm sure I will repeat some of my mistakes I failed to learn from and hopefully learn from them the second time around. This is the reason for resolutions.

People look back on their year and the things that happened and resolve to make sure they don't happen again or (for those who actually take personal responsibility for their actions) they quit doing the things that made them happen. This is when people vow to quit smoking, start working out, eating healthy, stop dating/attracting the wrong person, or a myriad of odd and asinine things people hope to do to make themselves better.

The real reason I will not look back is a bit cliche but I like it. You can't see where you are going by looking at where you were.  There are a lot of things I am looking forward to this year and probably many more things I have no idea about (including some mistakes I will not learn from). So to start the New Year I will give you my top 5 list of things I am looking forward to in 2011.

1) Another year with my wife
2) Cole getting a brother in May
3) Watching Cole and his new brother grow
4) Getting my Masters degree
5) Knowing I have friends and family around that love and support me

It's a start and will more than likely grow as the year rumbles on.

Have a very happy new year all!!

Moral: Your eyes face forward for a reason, use them for that purpose.

To share and share alike

I recently celebrated by 33rd birthday and I thought about the concept of sharing. I don't know if it was the letter I received from the IRS the day before my birthday informing me that I had not shared enough of my hard earned cash with the government. Or if the news I received on birthday that my place of employment would not help share the cost of a graduate degree I am seeking, even though I work for the University System of GA. (I guess the ineptitude of government is playing a theme here.) Or the fact that my son came down with a case of pink eye thanks to two kids from his preschool class sharing it with him. Never-the-less, I thought about sharing.

We are taught at a very young age to share and that sharing is good. We later find out that sharing is not always the best thing to do but it is often the more moral and ethical thing to do. I was recently at the park with my 15 month old son, Cole. He had befriended a 20 month old boy who was holding a pretty nice rock. Cole held his hand out and made a noise to mean "Can I play?". The other boy looked at his rock and reluctantly gave it over. Shortly after the exchange, the other boy looked at Cole and said "Share" in a pretty demanding tone. I thought it was pretty funny. This kid had skipped over "mine" and went to "share," but some how they meant the same thing. Cole offered the rock back to the boy, but pulled the rock away at the last minute as if to say "sike" and ran off. I was able to get the rock from Cole and give it back to the little boy.

My wife and I were discussing this episode and she was telling me about a seminar she went to for her job where the keynote speaker was talking about we need to stop teaching our children to share; we need to teach them to take turns. That little boy could not share the rock with Cole unless he was able to split it and give half to Cole. But if that had happened, the rock would have been broken and neither one would have had "real" rock or the joy of having it. There are things that can be shared: food, time, a bed. But when you share, you often both lose something.

I have always had to share a birthday because I have a twin brother. But, to me, that was never a bad thing. It was quite often a very good thing for both of us. My brother and I, since we were little, had different groups of friends. I can thank my parents for insisting we were never in the same class during elementary and middle school for this. These different groups of friends became very fruitful during birthday time. Whenever we had a party, I would invite my friends and my brother would invite his friends. The parents of our friends knew we were twins and, out of fairness, would require their child to bring two presents, one for each of us. This meant double presents. During elementary school, we would often receive the same toy, except different colors. As we got older, buying gifts got harder and cash became the norm. This is where the twin thing really paid off (no pun intended). The last real birthday party I remember having with my brother was our 13th. From what I can remember we did very well money wise that year. After that year, no formal birthday parties were given for both of us together. Later, in high school, my friends threw a party and his friends threw him a party. Of course I was invited to his and he was invited to mine, but since I went to a different high school, my brother no longer knew any of my friends. I still knew most of his, but it wasn't the same. We still shared a birthday, but it didn't seem as much fun as used it to be when we celebrated together.

Later, during college, I visited my brother at UGA for our 21st. I really don't remember that weekend. Our birthday had been earlier that week, so he had a head start on me since I still lived at home. Getting trashed and then coming home to mom and dad never really appealed to me. So, the weekend after the actual birthdate, I partied with my brother. But I didn't know any of his friends then. So again, it wasn't the same. I just happened to be guest at his birthday party.

I really do enjoy having someone with which to share a birthday. I have known people who have wanted to lament my plight of not having a day to my self. I say to them "When was the last time you could tell someone Happy Birthday and they reply thanks, you too."

I feel when I share my birthday with my brother, I don't lose anything. I actually gain a much more fulfilling day.

Moral: Most sharing is not good, but sometimes it's really worth it.

A year of firsts

Today is my son Cole's first birthday. Happy Birthday Little Buddy!!!!! It a has a been a crazy year that has gone by all too quickly. And since it is his first birthday and many firsts were experienced, I am posting my first top ten list.

Top Ten Things I Have Learned From Being a Father

10. Baby formula smells like rotting fish when made with hot water.

9. Hand-me-downs are the greatest (a HUGE special thanks to Jackson, Felix, Warner, and George-Henry).

8. Prior to Cole, I knew all about the 4 C's: Color, Cut, Clarity, Carat. I now know about Color, Consistency, Frequency, and Amount.

7. I never knew how much I would be talking about poo.

6. When you lose something of yours, more often than not, your kid will find it. When your kid loses something of yours, nobody will ever find it.

5. Don't wish your kid to grow-up faster, it will happen a lot faster than you had ever wished for

4. Never twist the strap of a car seat when fastening it to your car. If you do, do not plan on adjusting it without the help of an engineer.

3. The makers of kids' toy packaging are evil and sadistic. Between the "clam-shell" packaging and the myriad of plastic coated metal twist ties, you'd figure they never wanted a kid to play with the toy.

2. All kids love electronic stuff they are not supposed to have, especially remotes and cell phones. Concerning remotes and cell phones see #6.

1. Kids are EXPENSIVE...but without Cole we may have more money, but we wouldn't be as rich

Moral: Cherish all the little moments and the firsts.

Illegal purchases and illegal activity

I have an affinity for fireworks. If you talked to my closest friends they would say it is more of obsession. If you talked to my family, I am a pyromaniac. What ever it is, I like fireworks. The problem is the good stuff (anything that goes over 20ft in the air and could do some real explosive damage) isn't sold in my home state of Georgia. Four states that border Georgia do-- Alabama, Tennessee, South Carolina and Florida. This leads to my 4th of July purchase. I wanted to buy some bottle rockets, some mortars, and any other thing that struck my fancy.

So on the way home from a recent FL vacation the fam and I stop by "Last Chance Fireworks" that was advertised on the side of the highway. The sign should have told me something. It was a hand-painted piece of plywood attached to a stake in stuck in the ground. Once I got off the exit, I saw a circus tent set-up in the parking lot of a seemingly abandoned hotel. There was a myriad of pyrotechnics spread across about 15 collapsible tables. The guy working the place seemed like he snorted gunpowder and cocaine mixed with meth to flavor for breakfast. While he was weird and a little unsettling, he did provide excellent customer service. I purchased about $40 worth of fireworks and traveled on my merry way home.

On the 3rd of July I set off my purchases. On the 4th of July I receive a phone call from Fraud Prevention Department at my Credit Union. It seems I was also in Italy late the night before buying $1 and $2 trinkets and then a $27 train ticket. After discussing with the Fraud Prevention people, I figured out that the the nice twitchy man that had sold me my parking lot fireworks had also sold my debit card # to some one overseas. So now I am without my debit/atm card for 7-10 business days.

Moral: Meth is a helluva drug and always bring cash when buying anything that is illegal.

The first post

So I have attempted some blogs through my limited stint in social media. I have a few post on MySpace (do people still use that?) some on Live Journal and probably some elsewhere in the ether. My writing is not perfect, is not always funny (even though I try to be), but will be from me. I plan just telling stories of my life my, my son, and my wife (if she gives the okay).

I have often envied others' blogs. Most often they are funny. Funny like I try and want to be but seem to constantly fail. So this will be attempt to do that. Please enjoy