What to do?

I could come up with five different things to write about. I could talk about my son not being able to swallow his pill. I could talk about getting ran over by my kids' pigs when I tried to weigh them the other day. Or I could come up with some cute little Christmas poem or something. But why? We all know what is on our minds the last few days. And frankly, the more a problem gets talked about, the higher chance that something will get done about it. So let's talk about the mass shootings that seem to be in the news every other week. I remember watching the news the day after the latest shooting, at Sandy Hook Elementary, and some expert said "In fairness, we have to realize that these shootings are still rare." What? Rare? Rare for whom, Iraq? This is America, we should expect more from ourselves. If twice a year you walk outside and find that someone has egged your vehicle, that's pretty rare. I mean, it's only twice a year, right? Every six months. But it's twice a year too much. That expert should go talk to one of the parents of the victims. I'll bet "rare" doesn't matter to them. Okay, now for the 800 pound elephant in the room- gun control. Any person with a decent IQ knows that something has to be done. The question is what? First let me address the argument that more gun owners need to carry their guns in public. Um, we've had that. It was called the Old West, and there was still violence. Besides, I know plenty of people that have their license to carry firearms. For instance, my sister has a license to carry a pistol. I love my sister dearly, but I can't think of one instance where I'd be comfortable with her carrying a gun. And in no way, shape or form would I ever want her engaging in a gun battle with innocent people standing around. "But Shannon, if the principal would've had a gun none of this may have happened." Oh shut up, you're beig stupid. Tell you what- the next time you see a cop (And I mean a real cop in a real city, not some local redneck that is too lazy for a real job) stop them and ask them if they would be comfortable with one shooter on a scene, or several shooters shooting at each other on a scene. More guns and more flying bullets are not the answer, I promise. Very few people in this world can calmly and accurately shoot a gun while being shot at. And chances are, you aren't one of them. With all of that beig said, I've got guns in my house. I enjoy shooting them, and enjoy letting my son shoot. I wouldn't for a second think about getting rid of my guns. But for the life of me, I can't come up with one single reason why anyone other than law enforcement and military personel should have an assault rifle. Now Connecticut, the state where the last mass shooting occured, already has an assault rifle ban. So we know that banning assault rifles won't solve the problem 100%. And anyway, more than three million Americans already own the AR-15, the rifle that was used at Sandy Hook, the theatre in Colorado, and the mall shooting in Oregon a week or two ago. You are never going to get everyone to turn over guns that they already have. But you can stop making the gun itself. And you can make stores like Academy, Dick's Sporting Goods and Gander Mountain stop selling them. Oh, you'll still be able to buy one, but it will be on the black market and it'll cost you twice as much as it does now. You'll still have people owning them, but it will be a far less number of people. I've heard the argument that people who want to hurt a bunch of people at one time can still do it with bombs, fire, etc. And yes, that's true. But building a bomb takes a process. You have time to think about what you are doing, to calm down, to get caught or talked down by a loved one. It takes the temporarily insane offender out of play for the most part. Speaking of being talked down by a loved one- I think this is where things will have to change mostly. We as a nation are going to have to understand something. It has never been harder to be a teenager, a father, a provider, a leader, etc. in this country. We all struggled to fit in as a teenager, but not like these kids today struggle. If you aren't rich, physically fit, have great hair, the latest phone, damn good looking and sexually active in today's world, you are an outcast. You are behind the times. As a father, if your kids aren't wearing the latest styles, if your wife isn't driving a nice vehicle, if your family doesn't live in the nicest house on the block, you aren't doing enough. You aren't considered successful. You can put yourself up on a pedastal and act like you don't care about some of these things if you want to, but you'd be lying to yourself. And whether or not it's right to care about these things isn't the point. The point is, this kind of peer pressure is only going to keep getting worse and worse. Which means depression, drug abuse, and people just plain snapping from frustration is going to keep escalating. We have to start taking mental health seriously, understand that depression is a real thing and that it doesn't mean we are weak minded, and start noticing the signs in loved ones who are going through a tough time. We have to stop talking to each other on Facebook and pick up the damn phone. Slow down, have a conversation with someone, drink a beer with them, whatever. There is a saying that will apply more and more to us, especially men, from here on out- Be strong enough to stand alone, smart enough to know when you need help, and brave enough to ask for it.

Spring breaks my wallet

Okay, it's Tuesday morning of Spring Break and I'm ready for it to be over. Get these kids back in school, and I vote that they go year around like they do in China. Who's with me?
First of all, we had to go shopping just for this week. I mean, we always have to go shopping for groceries, but this week we had to buy $100 more than usual because they were going to be home all week. $100 more? Are we raising cattle?
Then we had to talk the 13 year old off the ledge because she found out we weren't "going anywhere" for Spring Break. "What? We aren't going anywhere?" she asked. "What are we going to do all week? We're just going to stay home over Spring Break? All week? No vacation?"
I told her why don't I send her to China, let her get a job with Nike, and she can pay for her own damn vacation. Or maybe she can give up her phone, half the clothes in her closet that she never wears, her cheerleading uniform that cost more than some vehicles... I'm not sure, but I think that after all the eye rolling and gasping, she finally got the picture.
I knew it was going to be bad when I couldn't watch t.v. Sunday night. You see, Sunday night is when I catch up on some t.v. shows that I DVR all week. Some of them aren't for kids. In fact, most of them aren't. But as I sat down to watch them, these kids started showing up like those little flying bugs around the lights lately.
Plus, they want to share the couch with you. I'm not their momma, I don't want to share a couch. I don't want to snuggle, or be close, or any of that. I want to stretch out, have my own space, and be comfortable. But you can't do that with these little kids all over the place.
Monday while I'm at work my wife calls me. The girls are fighting. They are texting my wife telling on each other, blackmailing each other with pictures of eating in the living room, etc. Holy... One of them even told the other one that she was going to tear her face off. Tear her face off? Who says stuff like that? What girl says stuff like that?
So I get home from work, put one foot in the door, and get bombarded with "I want to"s and "Let's do"s from everywhere. My son, who I haven't seen in a couple of days because he's been hunting with my brother-in-law, is walking around in 80 degree weather with his camoflauge hunting gear like he's Elmer Fudd. He wants to make burgers on the pit, but first I have to mow the yard, weed eat, go for a run, take a shower, do some paper work, write this column... You get the picture.
Well, needless to say, the column got put off until this morning. And now I'm late for work.
You see? That's why I don't have time for this, or the nerves. That's why I say send them to school all year around.
I used to beg my wife when we were dating that we should just keep pets- no kids. You think my dog Chuy rolls his eyes when we can't go on vacation? No, he's perfectly fine laying around all day doing nothing and watching t.v.
And his food doesn't cost $100.

Judge carefully

The big news of the week is about the New Orlean Saints and their former defensive coordinator Gregg Williams. Williams allegedely led a bounty system for his players while coaching in New Orleans, where they were paid extra when opposing players were knocked out, carted off the field. or didn't come back into the game.
Nobody knows how bad this is going to get yet, but every expert I've read expects the National Football League to come down hard on Williams, the Saints, and even head coach Sean Payton. And of course, they should.
Not so much for the bounty stuff- a defensive lineman is going to hit the quarterback as hard as he can every time, no matter whether he's getting paid extra or not. No, the NFL should come down hard on the Saints because they are trying to run one of the biggest businesses in the country. And you know what can bring down a big business? Lawsuits.
If some quarterback takes a helmet to helmet hit while playing against the Saints and struggles to put kid puzzles together for the next thirty years, can you imagine the lawsuit that his wife and children would have againt the league? Especially if the league found out about this bounty system and chose to do nothing about it? It would be a big enough lawsuit to maybe cripple the league. And if you don't think a little lawsuit can cripple a big business, just ask the big tobacco companies, the big gun companies, the big petroleum companies, etc.
One part of this story actually makes me laugh, though. I love how every single time there is a scandal in sports, in politics, or in Hollywood, people act like the sky is falling. They just can't believe that people would go outside of the rules like this. They want celebrities to be better people and role models, especially athletes. And of course, they themselves would never act that way if they had the opportunity that these guys do.
Um, hello? Do you know how much money is at stake here? We are talking about multi-million dollar contracts in this sport, from coaches and players. And if you can't get the job done, there are five other guys right there on the roster that are ready to take your spot- and salary.
I've never been a moralist when it comes to things like this. I think once you start judging other people, you open yourself up for people to judge you. You can judge Tiger Woods and Bill Clinton and all these other guys all you want, but the fact is that you don't know what happens in their houses and bedrooms (and more importantly, what doesn't).
You can judge Roger Clemens, Barry Bonds and Mark McGwire all you want. But the fact is, you don't have the chance to earn millions of dollars for producing like they did. Let me tell you something- If I thought for one second that poking a needle in my butt a few times a week would help me earn a salary that would set my kids and grandkids up for life, my backside would have more holes than a screen door. And whether you want to admit it or not, 90% of you reading this feel the same way.
And for all the 10% of you that are judging my morals right now, remember that this is tax season. I'll bet I could go to the person doing your taxes and he could tell me a thing or two about your morals...

It's gotta be the shoes

Can you tell me the most important issue that seems to be gripping our country today? Is it the economy? Unemployment rates? The upcoming election? No, it's the latest Nike shoe release.
I've been reading on the internet where a bunch of morons have stood in line for hours and even rioted in a few places just to get a new pair of these shoes that just came out. Let me just state right now that unless you live in some war-torn third world country, if you've ever stood in line for more than a couple of minuts to buy anything, you're an idiot.
I'll tell you what I'd like to see happen. First of all, I'd love it if they went to one of these stores and gave everyone an IQ test. The scores can't be that high. Next, they should take down all the names of people standing in line for these $220 shoes and fine them heavily or throw them in jail if they ever have children. People like this should never procreate. Ever.
When you watch the videos, half of these people can't run right because they are holding up their pants. That right there tells you they can't be that bright. You have to know when you leave the house whether or not you need a belt.
Honestly though, these people need to be studied. As a country, we have to find out what makes people like this tick. What makes one stand in line for hours for a pair of shoes that, let's be honest, they probably can't afford? What makes people buy houses and cars that puts them in debt for years and years? What makes people treat Ranch dressing and sugar like it's oxygen? A low IQ plus a lack of self control is a dangerous thing. We need to get to the bottom of it.
I'm going out on a limb here and say that if you went to one of these stores and talked to these kids, you'd see that their parents act the same way. The kid that is payig $220 for sneakers probably has the parent that spends $100 a week on lottery tickets and beer, or the parent that buys a $200,000 house when they can only afford a $100,000 house.
As parents, we have to understand that our kids watch the way we act, what we say, how we deal with problems, how we spend our money, etc. Even if they don't realize they copy us, they do. They can't help it, it's all they know.
Recently I saw a video on YouTube of two Hearne students fighting behind a fence. That's disturbing, but not unusual. I saw plenty of fights in school, even participated in a few myself. The disturbing part came when the girl holding the camera said "Mom, move! I can't see!" This is the kind of parent I'm talking about here. Her daughter doesn't have a chance, if her mother is the kind who stands aside watching two young girls roll around on the ground beating each other senseless.
Too many parents are showing their kids how to act without self control instead of showing them how to stay calm, think things through, get what they want through hard work, and spend their money wisely.
After all- you ever see a riot over work boots?

A bet is a bet...

Ahh, it's good to be back. After not writing a column for a couple of weeks, it occurred to me how much I missed not having anywhere to vent. My wife must have went to the paper and begged for my column slot back because she was tired of listening to me rant. Let's catch up, shall we?
I heard somewhere that when you are trying to lose weight, it takes about four weeks before you can really tell the difference in yourself. They said it takes about eight weeks before your signigicant other realizes, and about twelve weeks before the general public sees something. Well, some of you people better start noticing pretty quick, or I'm going to be depressed.
So far, I've lost between 23 and 25 pounds (it fluctuates daily) since the day after Thanksgiving. I've still got about fifteen more to go. The worst problem I've had with losing weight is the eating- or lack thereof. I'm an eater, I've always been an eater, and I'll always be an eater. I enjoy food like most people enjoy family time, or good company. When I'm eating a big plate of enchiladas or cutting into a chicken fried steak covered in cream gravy, it gives me a homey, comfortable feeling.
When I eat chicken, rice cakes and salad I feel like what my wife's friends must feel like when they come to the house and I happen to be home- kind of cold, lonely, and pretty much unwanted.
The running has been going pretty good, too. I'm in week eight of the nine week program that will train me to run a 5K (3.1 miles). Right now I' up to 2.8 miles when I run, and I think I'll keep going until I can run four miles comfortably. I've got to admit, though, that there is an asterisk by that statement. I've seen tax returns come back faster than I run that 2.8 miles.
In fact, a couple of weeks ago I was bragging about my jogging program at the poker table. One of my buddies kind of chuckled and said that he could outrun me in a mile, easily. At first I ignored him because the fact is, he was one Hell of an athlete back in the day. And I... well, I wasn't. Let's just leave it at that.
But as the night wore on, I got to thinking about the bet. "You know," I told myself, "he does smoke about a pack a day. He hasn't done any real running in years, and the guy outweighs you by at least thirty pounds." I'm not joking there, either. Anytime he wears a red t-shirt little kids chase him down on the street, trying to get the Kool-Aid man's autograph.
So finally, my pride got the best of me. I told him I'd accept the bet, we settled on an amount (because I'm not running a mile free for anyone), and decided to meet at the track at 9:30 the next morning.
Thirty minutes before we were supposed to meet at the track, my phone rang. "Let's do it for half the amount we said," my buddy told me.
"Nope," I said. "A bet is a bet."
He said it was half, or it was nothing. "Nope, a bet is a bet."
Let's just forget about it then, he said. We both get to keep our pride. "Huh uh, you owe me at least half," I told him. "Or you can meet me at the track and at least have a chance at winning. But a bet is a bet."
So my son and I met him at the track when we were supposed to, and my buddy proceeded to outrun me by a pretty huge margin. I still don't know how he did it. I kept the same pace for all four laps, and he stayed right there with me. At one point, he even got thirty yards ahead of me and walked until I caught up. The dude had time to stop and walk while he caught his breath! In the end, he finished about twenty seconds ahead of me. By the time I crossed the finish line, he was on his back well into his second heart attack.
Still not sure what sucks more- eating all this dry chicken every day, or the memory of having to pay Professor Klump his cash right in front of my own son. Oh, and hearing him painfully wheeze out the words "A...bet...is...a...bet."

Give'em the finger

I'm learning how to use the social media for column ideas. Lately, I'll keep an eye on Twitter to see what's trending. Also, I'll put something on Facebook and see if I get a reaction or two. I think of it like I think of my column- I could care less whether someone agrees with me or not. I just want to be interesting. If I can make someone so happy or so mad that they want to read my column again next week, then I've done my job. It's that simple.
Last week, I posted something on Facebook about Arizona Governor Jan Brewer pointing her finger in the face of President Barack Obama. I'm sure you've all seen it by now, if you haven't you can Google it. The President stepped off of Air Force 1, the Arizona Governor was there to meet him, and sparks flew.
All I said was no matter if you are Republican or Democrat, male or female, white or black- if you put your finger in the President's face, you deserve to have it broken. And boy, did I get just the reaction I was looking for.
Some people agreed with me, others made it clear that if Mr. Obama was burning they wouldn't take the time to put him out. And one girl who is ten times smarter than me wrote something so long and so over my head that I finally just stopped reading because it was making me feel dumber.
I'm not a huge Barack Obama fan. I'm not in favor of his health care program, and every time he extends the unemployment benefits I want to scream. I think if you haven't found a job in almost three years, you're being a little picky on what you're looking for.
But I'll tell you this- the way that people disrespect the man and the office in which he holds is almost enough to make me back him. No other president- and I promise you, there have been worse- has been this disrespected so many times. Right from the beginning, during his first State of the Union address, someone yelled out "You lie" while he was talking. Right there, in front of millions of t.v. viewers. Can you imagine if someone had yelled like that while George Bush Sr. were addressing the nation?
He's had his Christianity questioned. I'd be willing to bet that not one of the 43 previous presidents had it rumored that they were Muslim. First of all, not all Muslim fly airplanes in to buildings and are bad people. That's like saying all Catholic priests molest little boys, or all Baptist preachers pay homosexual men in drugs to massage them. Secondly, one day people were in an uproar over what Obama's preacher had said in church one Sunday. The next day, they were calling him a Muslim. Make up your minds, is he a Muslim or does he go to church?
Then there was a movement led by Donald Trump of all people to make Obama prove he was even American. Say it out loud with me, folks. Donald Trump, a reality t.v. star who has gone bankrupt more than once, had the gall and the backing to convince the President of the United States to produce his birth certificate. How embarrassing and disgusting. And the worst part is, Trump had the whole Republican party on his side.
And now he's got some crazy lady in a terrible pant suit shaking her finger in his face in public. It just so happens, she was also promoting a book in which she mentions an earlier meeting with him at the White House. Minutes after the meeting she said he had been cordial and attentive. In the book she wrote he was rude and arrogant. You decide for yourself it that was a coincidence or not.
And for those who defend Governor Brewer or still think I'm overreacting to this, I want you to think back on when the Dixie Chicks were at a concert overseas and spoke out against the war and George W. Bush. Oh my God, people went crazy. They couldn't believe how those girls spoke out against America. They hated soldiers. Other rednecks were blasting them on award shows. People were smashing their CDs in the streets. It was chaos. And all they did was speak their minds, not wag fingers in faces.
Now look, I know most politicians are slimy. I've never met a politician that didn't feel just a little greasy to me, Republican or Democrat. And I know that both sides of Congress is a joke and a waste of taxpayer money. But the office of the President- whether it is filled with Bill Clinton and his many mistresses, George W. and his goofy faces and remedial reading skills, or Barack Obama and all his problems- I still feel should be respected. If you have a problem with his politics, that's fine. Just don't make everything so personal.
And don't shake your damn finger in his face.

Strong fences

When former Penn State head coach Joe Paterno died Sunday, ESPN and all the other networks spent most of the morning talking to friends, former colleagues and players. One former player who went on to play in the NFL got my attention with something he said about Paterno. I'm paraphrasing here, but pretty much what he said was JoPa acted as an extension of your father when you left home. And for those players who came from a home with no father, he became their father figure. He taught them so much more than how to play football. He taught them how to tuck their shirt in, how to say "yes, sir and no, sir", how to treat a lady, etc. The player said that Paterno had just as much impact on his life at that critical age of 18-22 years old as his own father did.
That hit home to me because I had someone just like that in my life. At about the age of 17 or so I started working for the newspaper, putting on address labels the night before we shipped them out. The man who owned the paper at that time also owned a ranch, and before long I started going out there and helping him build fences, work cows, and all that fun country boy stuff. I also did newspaper routes for him at night, and pretty much whatever else he needed me to do.
My father and mother divorced when I was so young that I can't even remember him at all from my childhood, and my mom went on to marry someone else. They also divorced when I was pretty young, so this man that I worked for became the closest thing to a father figure that I had ever known. Or maybe it was a big brother type of relationship, I don't know.
Whatever it was, he was the one to teach me about so many things. He taught me to never put all my eggs into one basket. If you make your living from two or three different places, then one place will never have a complete hold on you. He taught me how to provide for a family, to put your wife and kids' needs first- way above yours.
He showed me how to work hard, how to take pride in whatever I was doing at the time. I remember carrying a very heavy cedar corner post through a dry creek bed one day, and I was tripping on brush and sliding down the bank over and over. Finally I got mad and asked him why we had to use such heavy posts to make a stupid fence, anyway.
"Because," he told me, "the corner posts are constantly getting pressure from all sides. The other parts of the fence- the t-posts, the gates, even the wire, are all getting their strength from the corner posts. That's why we sink them in the ground so deep, pour in concrete, and stomp dirt all around them. No, if you want to build a good fence, a fence that will last, you have to have good, strong corner posts."
I don't get to talk to him very much any more- once or twice a year, at best. He's got family and work, I've got family and work... But I still feel exactly the same about him today as I did twenty years ago. It's kind of like what that football player said about Paterno- even though he didn't see him much anymore, or even talk to him, he always knew he was there. And that was enough. He could always draw strength from that.
Kind of like a corner post.

In the news...

A lot of folks have asked me about the whole workout regimen. It's going pretty good so far. I've lost a few pounds (not enough), I've been running three times a week, and my heartburn has pretty much gone away. But now it will start getting tougher.
The weather will start getting colder and nastier. I have to start adding more minutes to my run. But the worst thing about trying to be healthy right now is trying to avoid the Girl Scout Cookies. I can only have 1,875 calories a day, which isn't near as much as it sounds. And I'm telling you, I can eat that much in Girl Scout Cookies by lunch time. So the next couple of weeks will be a test.
Let's see, what else is in the news?
I see the GOP debates are going pretty strong now. My guess is that Mitt Romney will be the one to go against President Obama when it's all said and done. But we'll have to see how these Super Packs shake things up. For those that don't know, Super Packs are groups of very, very rich people that can raise all the money they want, in some cases up to $350 million, and use it to back a certain candidate. If they are backing Candidate A, they can say whatever they want to about Candidate B and C, true or not. And Candidate A doesn't have to take responsibility for anything they say, because they aren't really affiliated with them. It's going to make things even dirtier than they usually are, and that's saying something.
This cruise ship running aground off the coast of Italy bothers me a little. My wife and I have been wanting to take a cruise at some point, but now I don't know. I mean, I know it's a freak accident and it will probably never happen again, but still. I'm not a strong swimmer, in fact I can barely swim at all. If things were to go haywire, I know I'd let women and children grab the lifeboats first. But then what? I'd be stuck with one of those silly little orange vests, and an upside down coffee table or something. I've seen Titanic, I know how that situation usually ends up.
And finally, I don't know about you but I'm glad Tim Tebow and the Denver Broncos are out of the playoffs. Well actually, I do know about you. Or 40% of you, anyway. ESPN did a poll of Tebow fans, and 40% of them said they believed tthey divine intervention played a role in a few of his wins. Come on, folks.
Despite my wife begging me not to, I poked fun at a few Tebow fans on Facebook. Couldn't help myself. To me there is nothing more fun that jabbing people that are on the far, far right. And that's where most Tebow fans reside.
One lady told me that I had a problem with his religion. I promise, that isn't it. But let me ask you this- what if that were it? Would that be so bad? I am 100% sure that more than a few of his fans like him just because of his religious views, so why can't someone not like him for the same reason? I like sandwiches on wheat bread, my wife likes white bread. That doesn't mean that one of us is a bad person, or we are going to Hell, or anything like that. It just means we are different, that's all. The same should apply to political views, religious views, and Tebow fans.
Half the players in the NFL are religious, two of my three friends are religious, my wife and kids are religious, etc. Religious people don't bother me at all. I'm not a Tebow fan because he isn't very accurate with the football. And as crazy as it sounds, I like my quarterbacks to be accurate.
I'm sure he's a great guy and everything, but I wish people wouldn't build him up so much in that regard. Everytime fans or the public build someone up too high, there is only one way they can go. And then through no fault of their own, they look like hypocrites when the fact is, they are just human. Nobody can live up to the standards that folks have put on some of these celebrities. Everyone has their own Girl Scout Cookie craving that they submit to from time to time.

Letter to my oldest

This is going to sound like a corny cliche, but it's the truth. It seems like just yesterday that your mom went in to labor with you. I remember everything about that day. It was a Sunday. Your mom and I had lunch at your aunt's house earlier, like we always did on Sundays. Now we were home, watching The Sopranos on t.v., like we always did on Sundays. And we were both inhaling Mint Girl Scout cookies, like we always did on Sundays during The Sopranos. Other than it being your mom's birthday, it was just like every other Sunday of the year.
Then, every other Sunday turned into the best Sunday of my life. Your mom told me she thought "it was time", and we loaded up the bags and headed to the hospital. The next day the most gorgeous little girl in the world was born, and my life would never be the same.
And now you are turning the big thirteen. It's crazy to me how time slowed down and even seemed to stop on the day you were born, but it has gone by so fast in the last thirteen years. I'm so mad at myself because even now when I'm trying my hardest, I can't remember the first step you took, or the first word you uttered, or how old you were when you gave up the bottle and pacifier.
Anyway, let me get to the point of the letter. Some of what I'm going to tell you, I've already told you a hundred times. Some of it will be new to you. And I know that as a teenager, you aren't going to be happy being a part of my column anymore. So I'll make you a deal- if you promise to cut this one out and save it, I'll make this the last one that is solely about you.
Okay, first of all I want you to know that over the next few years you will have tons of firsts- first time driving, first time going to a teenager party, first love, etc.
And at times, it will all seem like a roller coaster for you. You will have the time of your life one day, and be lower than low the next. Unfortutnately, the lows are just as much a part of life as the highs. You will get your heart broken, but it will only make you appreciate real love when you find it. You will lose a friend or family member along the way, but it will only make you appreciate the friends or family members that you still have. If you remember anything from this letter, remember this- almost nothing in life is ever as bad, or as good, as it seems to be at the time. There will always be a way to get out of a jam, or to get something done. The level-headed will always be more likely to find it. So learn the difference between being passionate about something, and being emotional.
Remember that you carry our last name with you wherever you go. Your mother and I have worked hard to earn a good reputation, so don't screw it up. I'm not saying that you shouldn't have fun, because you should. But always conduct yourself as if you are being watched at all times (knowing your mother like I do, you probably are).
And finally, know that some people will let you down from time to time. Everyone makes mistakes, even those that you put on a pedestal. Hold them accountable, but try not to judge them too harshly.
I wish I could promise you that your teenage years will be all butterflies and hearts, but I can't. Here's a few things that I can promise you, though.
I promise that your mother and I will always have high expecations for you, butt into your business, read your text messages, and just overall get on your very last nerve from time to time. I promise you that we aren't just being mean or nosey. From the first day that your mom knew you existed, every single decision that we've made has been to help you succeed in life. Every single one. No matter what, that won't change.
And finally, I promise that you will get a job as soon as it's legal for you to work. Someone has to pay for all these birthday parties.

And now my holiday begins...

Shhshsh. Do y'all hear that? That, my friends, is the sound of piece and quiet. The holidays are finally over, and my kids are mercively on their way back to school. I swear, I don't see how you home-school parents do it.
Look, save the hate mail and phone calls. Nobody is saying that I don't love my kids. It's just that, well, I love them even more when they are in school.
Now that I'm pretty much only working one job, I've got a lot of free time on my hands. My schedule now is seven on, seven off. And I love my seven off. When I tell people my schedule, they usually say "Wow, it's like having having a vacation every other week." And that's true, that's about how I feel about it, also.
But you know what ruins vacations more than anything? Kids.
Usually on my days off I'll sleep til about 7 or 7:30 a.m., get up and eat a little breakfast, then if I have any errands to run I run them. If not, I sit and watch a little t.v. The bottom line is this- when I'm off, I usually do what I want to do, when I want to do it. During the holidays, however, all that goes to Hell.
When they are home I have to worry about what they are going to eat. There are empty soda cans on the counter, the trash is always full, and someone will without a doubt leave their plate on the table for me to pick up.
If I try to go watch a little t.v., I have to wrestle the remote away from some little person that is watching Drake and Josh, or Phineas and Ferb, or some other silly little show like that.
And if I do manage to steal the remote, I've got about 30 minutes before my son starts yelling at me. "Hey Dad, what are we gonna do today? Let's go do something, Dad. What can we go do? Let's go do something."
The only time I really have to myself is if I happen to wake up really early, because they usually stay up late. Too late.
I, like any other red-blooded American male, enjoy a good old fashioned Rated-R show every now and then. Nothing too bad, get your mind out of the gutter. I'm talking about movies that use cuss words, like regular people. And ones with a lot of blood. And, if there is a sex scene or two, well, that's just the price you have to pay to watch. Who am I to complain? Because I married who I did, the only time I get to watch good movies like that is at night, when everyone else is asleep.
But not over the holidays when the kids are awake. Hell, when they are in the room I can't even watch re-runs of Two and a Half Men. You ever tried to watch a good action movie with all the blood and guts and cussing taken out? It sucks. Someone with a bazooka blowing things up should never utter the phrase, "Ah, shucks!"
But all that is over now. My wife is back to work, my kids are back in school, and it's just me and the dog here in charge of the remote. And now, if you will excuse me, I believe Pulp Fiction is on the tube.