DJ

                                                                   4/25/13 - "DJ"

     Blogger's Note:  I had decided last week that I needed to explain in my blog a bit about my oldest son and how he fits into our lives.  I have been carefully considering my words since then, and I have discovered the process to be quite a challenge if I am to be honest and responsible at the same time.  I do not wish to write anything of a vindictive nature, but I will simply state that the relationship between myself and my ex-wife is civil at best.  We have been divorced for 16 years and, legally speaking, we have joint custody of our son.

     Harold Duane Edwards III, or "Duane Junior", or DJ, is a Junior at Marshall County High School.  He lives with his mother in Hardin, KY.  He is a very smart teenager, and he is a very good kid.  He spends way too much time on his computer, and, while he is very intelligent at anything electronic, computer-use is usually the subject of our conflicts as I'd like to see him spend more time exploring other avenues.  He had an absolutely fantastic ACT score and has a very candid interest in going to the University of Kentucky; but, as he lives near Murray State, that option seems viable as well.  He is musically gifted as well.  He plays guitar very well, and he picked up everything I ever taught him about playing the piano right out of the gate.  He has a YouTube channel where he posts videos of his gaming exploits, and some of his original music (both freestyle and dubstep).
     I have an "open door" policy with DJ which basically means he is welcome to come here anytime and stay for as long as he wants.  This usually translates into a couple of Friday's a month.  I feel like I have always been financially responsible for him, but my parental controls, simply-put, are non-existent.  I learned a long time ago that these are basilisk appropriations that cannot be enforced.  I have never woke on Christmas morning with DJ in my house; I have never spent one of his actual birthday's with him; nor a 4th of July; I plan our Thanksgiving's on a different day than the actual Thanksgiving day; and, I have had him on one Halloween as he was growing up.. oh, and no Easter's.
     I was 22 when DJ was born, and I had a lot of growing up to do.  There were times when I could have gotten DJ and didn't, and there were times when I wanted to get him but was being punished, so I couldn't.  It was all one, big ugly mess; and when I sought a legal resolution, the response was I needed a witness to three different altercations and more legal fees than I could possibly afford.  By the time he was 8, I had gotten my life straightened up and was determined to put the past behind me.  But the respect I was afforded was miniscule.
     These days, we've all sort of reached an understanding.  DJ and I are more like friends than father/son.  We are very similar in interests:  movies, music, and video games.  He has some self-confidence issues which I try to encourage him to relinquish.  He is GREAT with Roman; when he's here he helps me watch him.  Roman really likes him.

     On a personal level, I have a lot of pride in DJ.  I see myself in him.  He has that same level of anxiety.  He sees the world and matters of the spirit the way that I do.  He embraces honesty, and he can't stand injustices.  I am hoping he will keep that tunnel vision about going to college and not consider anything less.  He is smart enough to go very far.  He wants to be a cellular biologist (I mean, what kind of kid says that kind of thing).  He doesn't carry my name; he carries my father's name.  And I know my father would be very proud of him.  He is a teenager - with all the contempt and certainty and energy and vigor that goes with his age.
     I remember DJ as that little boy that would climb on my back while I was playing video games and watch me play and scream at every exciting turn.  And while I may not have the parenting privileges that I do with Roman, I still try to guide him (a bit like a speed limit sign - one doesn't have to follow the speed limit just because they see the sign, but one does consider the repercussions).  I can't wait to see how far he goes (which I know is as far as he wants to go).  I am always just a phone call/text message/chat/email away.  He knows that if he ever needs me, I will be there before he finishes the sentence.  I love him in a way that is very difficult to put into words, but that I hope he understands.
     I wrote this song for him when he was 5.  When I wrote it, the lyrics and the music tumbled out of me quicker than I could even get it on paper.  Here's "Goodnight Son":

Happy Birthday, Roman

                                                 4/18/13 - "Happy Birthday, Roman"
   
     *Blogger's Note:  I've decided to move my weekly blog updates from Wednesday's to Thursday's.  In true learn-as-I-go fashion, I've come to discover that my weeks' events tend to figuratively crest on Thursday's, and this will give me a better start-and-stop point for my blog updates.  I've also discovered a weekly blog really works for me.  I've tried various forms of personal journals in the past, but thanks to a serious deficiency in my self-discipline department, I've never followed through.  Lately, I've been thinking like a blogger.  Trying to mentally note our daily events that are worth my cognitive catalogue and then defining them into electronic rhetoric has become enjoyable to me.  Now, on with the show...

     One week later and we're all back to normal health, thank goodness.  That virus was one of the worst I have seen in my lifetime, and from what I understand, it's still going around in our area.  Top that with one of the worst allergy seasons ever, and you have yourself a recipe for disaster.  But life around here is definitely looking up.

          Roman's birthday is today, but due to my work schedule, we threw his Micky Mouse Clubhouse-themed birthday party yesterday.  With a little help from our friends (I can almost hear the Wonder Years Joe Cocker theme in my head), it was a huge success.  Despite chances for rain, Mother Nature spared my backyard (and all the helium-filled balloons and ribbons and decorations) , and after an exhausting day of yard work, last-minute shopping, and decorating, Roman's third birthday lifted off on time.

     We invited some of the neighbor kids, some co-workers, family, and friends and I think everyone (especially Roman) had a great time.  We started at 4pm which was just a little muggy, but by 5 the weather had cooled off and was perfect.  This party will make the third time that we've thrown a backyard party for Roman, and I must say we really enjoy it.  Mid-April is a perfect time of the year for an outside party like this, and thusfar, the weather has cooperated every time.

     Roman got so much stuff.  He was elated and giddy with all of the stuff he got.  Mickey Mouse themed toys, bubbles, water guns, clothes, and a backyard filled with playmates and love.  A special thanks goes out to Craig Hodge who has made the cake for Roman every year thus far.  Last year was a Blue's Clues cake, and this year was (Roman's current infatuation) Toodles (from Mickey Mouse Clubhouse).  They are always a hit as they taste amazing and look so good that it's difficult to cut into (Roman was especially hesitant.. he loves Toodles just too much).

     On a quick tangent, do you remember a couple of posts ago when I offered a brownie point to anyone that could tell me what Roman was saying.  In the video I posted you could hear him saying something like, "Caillou, Saishu."  Well, I've figured out what it is.  I saw him saying it along with Mickey.  During an episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, Mickey regularly proclaims, "if you got ears, say cheers!"  Well, that mystery's finally solved!  

          And, finally, of all the fantastic gifts that Roman received, what's the one thing he wouldn't part with?  What's the one thing that infatuated him so much that he forgot about everything else around him?  He carried it around with him for the rest of the night shouting, "if you get ears, say cheers!" (or something similar to that) and "What do you say?  Oh, Toodles??"  Amanda Hodge got Roman a great gift when she bought him a stuffed Mickey Mouse.  As soon as I saw it in the gift bag, I knew that it was going to be the star.  But it wasn't.  Nope.  It was the tag that was attached to it.  Roman begged for me to cut the tag loose as it was in the shape of Mickey's head and reminded him of Toodles.  He couldn't have gotten a better gift!  Who would thunk??  A tag....

     Well, that's all for now...  

     If you've got ears, say CHEERS!

Forecast: Baby Showers (...and sick toddlers)

                                               4/11/13 - "Forecast:  Baby Showers (...and sick toddlers)"

     Well, lesson #1 for a noob blogger (especially one that only posts once a week):  never advertise next week's topic; a lot can happen in a week.  This week's blog is a case of good news/bad news, and I'm going to break from tradition and start with the good news... as that's the order of events.
     The good news is the baby shower was a huge success.  Amelia got so much stuff that we probably won't have to buy her anything during her first year of life.  Many people contributed to this celebration, and I wouldn't even know where to start with the credits.  But one person that definitely deserves mentioning is Marlana Swafford.  She was absolutely diligent and relentless in making this so fun, stress-free, and successful.
     Baby showers, as Joanna and I have learned, don't just happen.  For Joanna, they're particularly stressful.  She doesn't like accepting gifts.  Roman had two baby showers; and, while we received more stuff than we could ever hope both times, the events themselves were rather stressful.  No one showed up to one; they dropped off presents and left.  And the other one was a family ordeal, and Joanna just wasn't comfortable around so many people she didn't know.  I suppose Poland doesn't do the baby shower thing like we do.
     Now, I know I'm a man and usually that doesn't give me a license to discuss baby showers; but, I think I've learned a thing or two about them.  Here's some things I've learned.  1)  Accept the gifts.  For someone like Joanna, this can be difficult.  She feels like she's mooching.  But, these aren't gifts.  They're statements from friends and family that they want to be a part of this new life.  It's a sentiment, not a gift.  2)  Surround yourself with people you're comfortable around.  Invite as many people as you want, but MAKE SURE that the people that you can be really silly with are there.  They are your default social escape.  3)  Have a plan, but don't worry about sticking to it.  Don't be so OCD that you can't make changes on the fly.  The objective is for everyone to have fun.  If time doesn't allow for all the games and events to happen, then skip some.  If everyone is having fun anyway, then who cares.  4)  It's the 21st century.  Bring your husband, and invite some guys.   I didn't realize that men went to baby showers; I didn't go to either of Roman's.  But, I was at Amelia's.  And I had a blast.  I discovered that the more diversity the better.
     I'm sure there's a lot more than I'll ever know about successful baby showers, but these pointers are the extent of my knowledge on the subject.  In summary, THANK YOU to everyone.  It was fun :)
     Now, to the bad news.  On being sick.  I dropped Roman off at mom's on the way to work on Sunday, and I noticed that he was hanging his head.  I thought he was just doing a "kid thing."  I left him with mom and went on to work thinking nothing about it.  A couple of hours later, mom calls me to tell me that he's throwing up... and badly.  Joanna and I work at the same place; and, in an event like this, it's usually a coin toss on who leaves to pick him up.  I suppose we could leave him at mom's; lord knows she would take good care of him.  But, we all know that he's just more comfortable in his own bed.  On this particular day, I chose to leave, because I had a head cold anyway (I had been debating on leaving anyway -- which is something I very rarely do).
     So, I picked him up and took him home.  And he threw up so much.  He's never been that sick in his life. We thought it was a 24 hour thing.  But 24 hours later, no improvement.  So I read online that it could be a 48 hour thing.  But 48 hours later, no improvement.  He never ran a fever, and most of the time he played somewhat normally.  But we couldn't get him to eat, and he rarely drank.  And we were worried.  So the next morning we made a doctor's appointment.
     He slept with a large, plastic bowl that he used to throw up in.  One night, I woke up to the sound of the toilet flushing.  Without waking me, my two-year old son had gone to the toilet and flushed his own vomit.  I can't tell you how much that pained me.  I was at the same time heart-broken and proud in a way that only a parent could fathom.  I went to the bathroom with him and cleaned him up (now, I won't lie, most of the time Joanna did this -- but this particular time I did).  I put him into bed next to me, and he just lay there with his eyes wide open.  I understood, I think, at that moment how the parent of a child with cancer must feel.  That utter feeling of helplessness.  I realized that I would gladly have my hands tied behind my back while someone knocked the shit out of me if that would have taken away my child's pain.  And that was just a handful of nights.  My heart goes out to those of you with children that have chronic illnesses.  It really does.
     After a visit to the doctor, we found out that it was some kind of intestinal virus that usually lasts 48 hours, but can last up to 7 days.  It's prevalent in the area right now; so prevalent, in fact, that the medicine that was prescribed for his nausea was so in demand that not a single pharmacy in Paducah carried it.  We had to wait until the next day and after calling nearly every pharmacy, we finally found it at CVS.
     And then... Joanna starts vomiting.  My pregnant wife now has it.  After seeing all the problems Roman had, the last thing that we could possibly want to happen happened.  She, too, made a doctor's appointment; and, as with Roman, there's nothing that can be done for a virus except to ride it out and try to keep hydrated.
     Well, that's where we are.  It's been nearly 24 hours since Roman threw up last (he's still not eating right, but at least he's holding down the little that he's eating).   He has visibly lost some weight.  Joanna seems to be in better spirits; I don't think she had it as bad as Roman (THANK GOODNESS!)  And, my head cold/allergies (whatever the hell it was) is much better today (if that's even worth mentioning after this past hell week).  This morning is figuratively much brighter than it's been thus far this week.  I hope this trend continues, because we have a birthday party to plan coming next week for one brave, little Mickey Mouse-loving boy.  And I want him not to worry about a thing...

American Heroes

                                          4/3/13 - American Heroes

     I know I said that this week's blog would be called "Forecast:  Baby Showers", but I've got something else on my mind this week.  And being as the shower isn't until this afternoon, I think I'll delay "Forecast:  Baby Showers" until next week.  So...

     Thursday, March 28, 2013, two Calloway County boys, Ben and Cameron Davis (ages 7 and 5 respectively), went missing from 4pm that afternoon until the following morning around 9am.  Apparently, they were exploring the woods and got lost and had to spend the night in the rain.  During the time they were missing, many of us were holding our breath, perhaps praying, and imagining the possibilities.  I admit that I was biting my nails wondering what I would do if that were my children.  I considered that they were lost, or kidnapped, or fallen down a well.  Being a parent, nobody warned me that the toughest part is the worry.
     Roman will be three this month.  During his three years of life, I have heard the words "abandoned child" twice and had it implied once.  Joanna and I decided, perhaps even before Roman was born, that we wanted our children to be very independent, very free.  With all the precautions and knowledge possible in place, we want our children to be able to live in this world respecting its dangers, but not fearing them.  Why?  Because I feel that so many of the dangers that people are afraid of are improbable and rooted in Hollywood.
     I hear so many times "there's crazy people out there" and "I don't want my child picked up by some creep".  And I am absolutely sure that there are just such people.  But when we look at kidnapping statistics, a great majority of these are from family members:  ex-spouses that want to take their children, grandparents pulling children from dangerous situations, perhaps older boyfriends taking their minor girlfriends away.  Very few, I feel, are actual "ice-cream-truck or stranger-in-a-van kidnappings."  If you disagree, that's fine.  I'll respect your opinion, so long as you respect mine.
     I want Roman to be able to play outside (out of the street) or at the park (with other children) without worrying that he will be that one-out-of-a-million child that gets kidnapped.  I don't want to sacrifice his freedoms as a human being based on fear of an improbability.  Of course, I want to deploy these "freedoms" at plateaus relative to his age and his maturity level.
     Roman, for his age, is very independent.  He doesn't possess that fear of getting lost or being separated from his parents (unlike DJ who, at his age, didn't want to lose sight of you).  I'm not sure that that's a good thing.  When we're at the mall, he wants to run ahead.  When we're at the park, he wants to run to play off by himself.  My rule is basically to keep him on a string of eye contact (and of course out of the paths of cars lol).  I want him to be able to explore, feeling like he is going where he wants.
     Do you know the gas pumps in front of Walmart (the one by the mall)?  The pay window is outside.  I wait for the pump closest to the pay window.  I take the keys and leave Roman in his car seat and walk twenty feet to pay for the gas.  My eye contact pretty much never breaks.  It makes more sense to me than getting him into the cold.  Once, as I was paying for gas, a lady walks up to my car looking in the window.  I knew what she was doing before she did it.  I stopped what I was doing and intercepted her before she got to the window.  "How's it going?" I asked with direct eye contact and a smile.  "I was just going to see if he was all right..."  I didn't reply; I got Roman out of the car and went back and paid.  Not because I was afraid he was in the danger that she thought he was in, but because I perceived her as the danger.  If I can respond to my child, and be there before he is "approached", then he is NOT abandoned.
     Example #2, I always choose the check-out line closest to the arcade at Walmart, it (once again) is about twenty feet away.  Once I get to the cashier, I let Roman run and push the flashing buttons while I'm settling the payment.  Once, an employee did the same thing.  She walks up to Roman (before she got there I, once again, intercept her).  "Oh, I thought he was alone..." she says.  "I'm right here," I respond politely.  She looks at me cautiously and walks away looking over shoulder just waiting for the opportunity to be a 6 o'clock news hero.  I watch her walk away with a smile.
    Example #3, I was bike riding, pulling him along in his trailer on a cold day (covered in a blanket in the contained ride), and I was geo-cache-ing downtown Paducah.  I was at a little corner park and had my bike locked up walking not twenty feet away (again) when a lady walking by sees him.  "Oh, I thought he was abandoned..."  Seriously?  Seriously?? I'm standing right here.  I think I threw up in my mouth a little.
     EVERYBODY wants be a hero.  Even at someone else's expense.  If any one of those people had even attempted to even touch Roman, I could have been on them like white on rice before the thought in their brains finished.  I'm SICK of American Heroes (or idiots as I think of them).
     In Poland, the marketplace of the large city of Krakow, young children run freely, chasing pigeons or each other.  You know those water fountains (like the one by the Paducah library) that look like they would be so much fun to play in?  Well, they do.  Toddlers splash naked through the water.  Parents grab a beer at the stand right next to it and watch.  It's just fun.  It's just beautiful.  It's just relaxing.  There's no other way to put it.  It's refreshing.  Nobody gets drunk; they just have one or two.  Nobody's trying to be a hero.
     So, my point is, I fear the American Heroes more than I do these perceived bad guys.  Use sensibility before actions.  Watch other kids to help out, not to admonish.  And don't intervene unless there is a DIRECT concern.  They're not your children, and I'd bet they're going to be just fine.