Tag: Kids

  • Start the Clock Until the Next Shooting

    I was thinking that someone should just write a list-article on all the nations that solved their gun problems, specifically, how they did it.

    Maybe if the piece had some cutesy click-bait name like “You Won’t Believe How These Five Nations Solved Their Mass Shooting Problem.”

    I wish I had a better point to make rather than throwing weak-ass jokes and snide comments at a serious problem.

    But the fact of the matter is that the gun debate was lost when no one did anything after Sandy Hook. No laws were passed, and not a single politician suffered for voting against doing anything. Collectively, we all admitted that this is a problem that we don’t want to solve. We prefer to have guns and dead children. We would rather see people walking around with AR-15’s that do anything about stopping all of suicides that happen though the use of guns. We prefer to have open carry than protect people from domestic violence.

    I do feel hopeless.

    I worry every day when I drop my kid off at school.

    I worry about my family members who are teachers.

    Maybe we should just give in to Republicans and allow everyone to have a gun, especially teachers. I mean, we don’t trust teachers with books, but we can trust them with a gun. Build walls around schools, and make them little forts of learning. Give people access to mental health support, which might be a form of health care, but I am sure we could come up with a good conservative label for it, like FREEDOM ROBUSTNESS!!! All of this would cost money, and I am sure that Republicans will come up with some way to expand the government without raising taxes. We should call their bluff, and say yes to everything they propose.

    I mean, let’s see what will happen. Clearly, it’s okay if a few more kids are killed as we wait.

    There’s no rush…

  • ODDS and ENDS: Nearly Perfect Bracket, Talkin’ Football, and Kids n’ St. Patrick

    (We are sports heavy this week…)

    I wrote the other day about how my bracket predictions are pretty much shit as they are all guesses and I pick way too many underdogs. Well, yesterday, I called every game, save one. I got Furman v. Virginia wrong. And I blame Princeton for it. That’s right. I had selected Princeton over Arizona, as I have a weakness for the Ivy-League schools. So, because of that pick, I told myself I needed to be a bit realistic with the rest of my selections. Hence why I took Virginia. Besides Princeton, the rest of my underdog picks really weren’t that impressive; Auburn, and Penn State. This is why you should go with your gut. As of this moment, my bracket is ranked 659 out of 14million. I know that will change by the end of today. But right now, in this moment, I am nearly perfect.

    I have a Tottenham Hotspur scarf that I put on when it is cold out. To most people it just looks like a white and navy scarf, but yesterday a guy stopped me, asking if I was a Tottenham fan. I talked to someone on the street about football. Mainly the Champions League, as the guy’s club was Barcelona, but still. This is the first time I have actually talked football with someone when the World Cup wasn’t going on. It made me feel like my fandom was validated.

    Today is St. Patrick’s Day. All week, leading up to this, the kid couldn’t have given two shits about it. In fact, she asked me lots of questions of why the day is celebrated, and if it’s really only a grown-up holiday. I tried to give her a little history lesson on all the Irish who immigrated to this country, and how they have influenced and made our country a better place. You know, because immigrants do make our country better. She got it, but still didn’t think St. Patrick’s Day was that big of a deal. And then this morning, she was all about putting on green, and finding leprechauns, and pots o’ gold. I think this proves, that for kids, you never let a holiday go to waste.

  • Inevitable Being

    Walking the kid to school this morning, she told me that she didn’t want to get married when she grew up. What she wanted was two dogs, a cat, a rabbit, and that she would be a doctor. I told that sounded like a good idea; there are a lot of people out there who don’t get married, and are very happy.

    She asked me if I always wanted to get married.

    I said no, but when I met her mother, I changed my mind. That’s what happens when you meet important people, they make you think differently about things.

    Then the kid asked me if I had a girlfriend before mom.

    I did.

    Does mom know you had a girlfriend before her?

    She does.

    Did you kiss this girlfriend?

    I did.

    DOES MOM KNOW THAT!

    She does.

    Then the kid thought about this for a while, and then concluded, I’m glad you married mom because it’s weird to think I would have had a different mom.

    And I remember thinking the same thing when I was a kid talking to my parents about how they started dating. That if things didn’t work out between my parents, I would still have been born, but just to a different mother, or by chance a different father. But whatever the pairing, I would have come into existence.

    I kind’a assumed that this childish thought that I had about my birth was due to my catholic upbringing. Having been taught that my soul was eternal, and that I would always exist, it was just a matter of God grabbing me and throwing me down to Earth to be born. That God had a plan for me, and that my birth and parents were just a necessary step in the process of my existence.

    But for my daughter, we aren’t raising her with religion. (That is a blog for a different day.) We don’t shy away from conversations about God and religion, but she hasn’t been giving the stories of how God made her soul, and sent her down to mom’s womb. She’s been told the truth, that she is a creation of a little bit of mom, and a little bit of dad, and when it’s put together, it creates an original her, unlike anyone else in the world. Yet, she still believes that her existence is inevitable. That there was nothing that would stop her coming into being.

    This isn’t a surprising revelation, now that I think about it. Can anyone really think of a world where they weren’t in it?

    Just a sweet philosophical morning with the kid.

  • It Snowed

    It snowed last night. That was cool. We haven’t received any snow this year in NYC, and it feels really weird. I am aware that this might become the new normal for the region. Warmer than average temperatures, then a bomb blizzard, then back to above normal temps. When do we get to the point that this is now normal? I think you get there when all of the people who remember what it was like before have died off.

    Yikes! There’s your dark take on a Tuesday.

    The nice thing about our three inches of snow was that it made walking the kid to school an exercise of fun and excitement. She got to put on her snow shoes, which, obviously, she hasn’t had a chance to wear. And the best part was her walking in all the spots of fresh snow no one had touched yet. She was giddy, and I am sure it has made sitting in class today very difficult.

    For me, I feel like I have been granted the first season of the year. It really isn’t Winter around here until there is snow. You know. You need flowers in the Spring, heat in the Summer, and leaves changing in the Fall. It’s part of the deal. And the older I get, the more I need it to happen. The cliché is for old people to move South or West, get out of the cold and live in the heat. But I find myself running in the opposite direction. I want to see the passage of time, the cycle continue and renew.

    Let’s face it, as some people get older, they want to be as comfortable as possible, which makes complete sense. You have worked hard, now you want to relax and enjoy the final years, and be as predictably comfortable as possible. Not knocking it, and I may want that someday.

    But what I want now is to see the changes come. To count my Winters and Summers, and experience the seasons. Has being comfortable ever spurned growth? Maybe I’m not ready to stop the wheel of time in life. Maybe I need to see the passage of time to know that I have a place in it. (I’m putting a lot on these three inches of snow, I know that.) Maybe seasons remind me that there is something bigger than me out there.

    (Psst! If you enjoyed, pleas take a moment and give this post a “like.” I, ahh…, I need the algorithm to kick me up a notch. Thanks.)

  • The Kid has Learned Well

    Last week, I mentioned that the kid was off from school for her “Mid-Winter Break.” I do not know of a single parent in the City that finds this “break” enjoyable. It is a week of scrambling to find things for the kid to do, so she doesn’t sit in front of a screen the whole time. I think I did an okay job last week. She surely didn’t have less screen time, but she didn’t have more.

    I mean, I’m not an idiot here. I do understand that I am receiving a wonderful gift, which is getting to spend time with my kid, at an age where she still likes and respects me. (The clock is ticking until that goes away…) She is forming her own opinions on music, and movies, and books she wants to read. She is just now taking the first steps in trying to figure out the world around her, and where she fits in. Being a witness to that is a great fringe benefit of being a parent.

    The kid did pepper me with lots of questions last week about growing up in Texas during the 90’s, in the suburbs, where it was warm or hot all the time. Describing growing up outside of Dallas is a fascinating and odd tale that my daughter, with her urban New York City upbringing, has a hard time wrapping her head around. Of all the things I have told her, she finds it amazing that the D/FW area will totally shut down at the first sight of snow; Not a blizzard, or sub-freezing temperatures, but just the tiniest of snowflakes falling would wreck North Texas.

    I think my story telling had an effect on her, as this morning, when getting ready for school, she told me she wanted to dress like a “90’s kid.” I was puzzled, so I asked her what a “90’s kid” looks like? I was told “90’s kids” wear; light blue jeans, All-Star shoes, baggy long sleeve tee-shirts, and listen to cd’s.

    She wasn’t wrong.

    And I also find it rather amazing that my daughter so succinctly summed up a very formative decade of my life. The only way she could have been more on the money is if she wanted a pack of clove cigarettes and a beat-up paperback copy of Naked Lunch to read.