Just Relax

Buckle up your seatbelts, folks. The Scasta Family Vacation will kick off about lunchtime Friday afternoon. And I will probably be calling for help sometime about one o’clock or so.
My wife came up with the idea of going camping for a couple of days, to celebrate Father’s Day. Here’s the problem- I don’t like camping. I’m not an outdoor, woodsmen, campfire kind of guy. My idea of the perfect Father’s Day would be to actually sit down on the couch for a few minutes, maybe grill something on the pit, and spend all day opening presents.
We bought a travel-trailer about a year ago, and her and the kids want to take it out this weekend. I’ve never hauled one around or set it up before, so this should be quite the adventure.
Let’s compare the two ideal days, shall we?
Open a present, walk to the kitchen for something to eat, come back to the couch, open another present, walk back to the kitchen, come back to the couch, open another present, change the channel on the t.v., open another present, etc. See how enjoyable that sounds?
Now let’s compare that to what’s really going to happen.
Go hook up trailer to Tahoe, break out in a sweat because it a gazillion degrees outside. Catch a finger in the trailer hook, scream like a girl. Start heading for the lake, blow a tire fifteen miles into the trip. Narrowly avoid a huge wreck because trailer is flailing around in the wind. Call roadside assistance, sign away next three years of income to help pay for that.
Arrive at the campsite, spend three hours setting up trailer. Start sweating again, because it’s still a gazillion degrees outside. Find out that something- hot water heater, air conditioner, water- doesn’t work. Spend the rest of the evening mad.
Wake up way too early, take kids fishing. Spend thirty bucks at the bait shop on silly stuff you don’t need. Walk a mile to the good fishing spot, break out in a sweat from walking because it’s already a gazillion degrees outside.
Fish for three hours without a single bite, and watch my son pull in fish after fish the whole time. Catch hook in finger trying to take a fish off of my daughter’s line. Explain for the 100th time why we are throwing the fish back instead of keeping and cleaning them.
Spend half the next day packing everything back up, and start driving back home. Fifteen miles into the return trip, call roadside assistance because the Tahoe is overheating from pulling the trailer. Sign away three more years of income.
Wake up Monday morning tired as Hell from the “relaxing Father’s Day weekend”.

The business of raising kids



I’m not sure how it works around your house, but we kind of run ours like a business. My wife and I are owners in the company and- as cruel as it may sound- our kids are kind of the employees. I don’t believe that my wife looks at it that way, but I do.

Just like most businesses, one partner does most of the real work, the planning, the buying and selling, etc. In our house, she pretty much runs the show. She takes care of the books, buys the groceries, pays the bills, decides when and where we go on vacations, and so on.

I’m pretty much only consulted on the really big decisions or when there is a major crisis- like buying a new car, dealing with a kid who’s crossed the I’m-gonna-tell-your-father! line, or putting up the pool for the summer. Every now and then I’ll take a peek at the books and inquire about the bottom line.

Now, in theory, I’d like to believe that I own 51% stock in the Scasta household. My wife owns the other 49%. As our children get older and contribute to the business they can start to buy stock themselves, and as stockholders can have a small say in some of the decisions.

Right now they are entry-level employees with no stock options. They perform certain jobs around the house, and in turn we pay them with food, shelter, clothes, and all kinds of other junk. Hopefully a few of the lessons that we teach will pay off for them later in life, which I guess is our version of a 401K program, if you will.

I’ve noticed lately that all three employees are getting the same pay, but don’t seem to be putting out the same effort. Every evening I watch my wife and mother-in-law do laundry and dishes for hours. And every evening I think to myself, “Don’t we have two daughters that should be doing that?” But these girls… Well, these girls wouldn’t know how to fold a towel if it had dotted lines and instructions.

My son is different. I could drop my ten year old son off in downtown Houston and within an hour and a half he’d have a full-time job, a part-time job, and an apartment.

I take the blame for that, because I’ve had a more hands-on approach in teaching my son these things. I’ve been way too easy on my girls for way too long.

But like any good CEO of a company would do I identified the problem, rolled up my sleeves, and came up with a solution- I’ve got to teach my daughters the same work ethics and responsible behavior that I’ve taught my son. So I came up with some chores.

There will be many chores. Lots of them. The grimy, slimy, back breaking type of chores that will take two hands to perform. That way, my 12 year old will actually have to stop texting and put down her phone long enough to do them.

A company meeting was called in the conference room (the kitchen) where my partner and I handed out the new job descriptions. It went over about as well as we expected (Ever tell a young girl that she has to scrub toilets?).

My wife seems to think the girls will go about their work quietly, but I expect a little pushback. I just hope that if they go on strike, it’s a hunger strike. This summer vacation food bill is hurting the bottom line.