Part of the Team

In my previous post, I talked about feeling "outnumbered" racially.

Well after some reflection, I feel that I should balance that post out with this one.

Though I do feel outnumbered quite often, I have moments where I feel warmly welcomed.

One neighbor brought us cookies when we moved in and gave us some firewood. That was very, very kind. They have always been very friendly towards us since we've moved into the neighborhood.

On the soccer field yesterday, my daughter played in her first scrimmage game. She got to play as much time as anybody else. She was treated just the same as any other child, in my view.

That's all I can ask for.

And when the game was over, the parents form two lines that face each other. We then reach out and touch our raised hands together. Then, our kids run between the two lines that we've made as though they are running through a tunnel.

They loved it!

And at that moment, I didn't feel outnumbered. I felt just as my daughter did. I felt like I was part of the team.

That was a great feeling.

And to top it off, our little girls won their scrimmage game 4-0.

Outnumbered

I generally try to remain anonymous. I've tried not to reveal too much about myself as far as demographics are concerned.

In this post, I will break away from that trend a bit. Otherwise, I cannot write about my true feelings on this subject matter.

I've been living in a new city, neighborhood, and house for about two years as of the date of this post. Same state, mind you. Just a smaller suburb outside of the capital city. Overall, I enjoy living here compared to the capital from which I've moved. But, I feel quite outnumbered where I live because . . . well . . . I'm a minority.

I guess that goes without saying; if you're outnumbered, you're in the minority.

But, I'm a demographic minority; A racial minority.

In that regard, my family is unique on my street.

That's not a big deal.

But when I go to the park with my family, we are often unique "demographically" speaking in that situation, too.

When I take my kids to soccer practice, I look across field and scan the seven or eight other teams practicing various sports only to find myself and my son or daughter as the only dark skinned people around.

When my kids stand at the bus stop . . . it's all the same story.

Sure, this shouldn't be a big deal.

And usually, it's not.

But sometimes, I feel like people look down on me and my family. I feel sometimes that people wish I wasn't present-- as though I've ruined their day. My presence rubs in the fact that the town is not exclusive to only one kind any longer . . . whatever that's supposed to mean.

Some days, I feel like a mangy dog that someone finds to be pesky and bothersome; perhaps even repugnant.

I feel sometimes as though people see me as the bringer of blight to the community-- as though my visit to the park heralds the commencement of the perfect neighborhood's downfall.

No . . . no one has been cruel to me. No one has been offensive or mean to me. The few neighbors I've talked with have mostly been cordial.

But most people ignore us. And then, there are those who deeply frown at us when we pass by.

See . . . in the South, people smile and wave all the time to most people who pass by. People say "hello" and "good-morning" to total strangers constantly. As a matter of fact-- in Southern culture, to not greet someone with a "hi" or a slight wave is considered insulting to most people who or products of Southern culture. You don't have to wave to everyone, but you are expected to wave back if someone speaks to you . . . within reason, of course.

So, to "not speak" or snub someone who greets you can be considered quite insulting in the South. At the very least, ignoring someone is often perceived as snobbery or coldness. This behavior can possibly draw comments out of other Southerners such as "ya damn Yankee".

This is said under the breath or behind the Yankee's back, of course.

We ain't known for our hospitality for nothin'.

But when snubbing happens between races, the words Yankee, snob, or cold, aren't used. Especially if the one doing the snubbing is a Southerner.

The word most often used in that case just mentioned above is: racist.

So, what am I to think when my neighbor of two years from across the street never acknowledges my existence even as we pass by on the street?

When out at the park, what am I think when my greetings are returned with a snub or a sour grunt and a furrowed brow from other parents?

And what should I think when someone dons a Rebel flag on their hat, T-shirt, or F-450 pickup truck? How about when they draped it in their window like a curtain or fly it high with a really tall flag pole in their front yard?

I don't know what I'm supposed to think.

But I do remind myself that I mustn't be hypersensitive. I remind myself that not everyone feels comfortable "speaking" as we say and not every frown is wish that we'd pack our things a leave town.

I think these things, then I just take a deep breath and carry on.

I carry on and hope that one day we all get past our ancient evolutionary circuitry and finally see all people as simply people.

Tacos

At bedtime, my wife told our five-year-old daughter to pick out a "good-night" shirt for bed.

She crawls off into her closet and emerges moments later with a shirt.

She proceeds to put in on, but then pauses.

A furrow forms in her brow and with much gesticulation she says, "Momma, this shirt smells like tacos!"

We haven't had any tacos that week.

As nasty as little kids can sometimes be, she was sophisticated enough to put that shirt into her hamper and pick out another.

Out of the Mouth of Babes

Kids really know how to cut you down.

I had lost some weight, but I still have a long way to go. I have a hefty gut and I really need to trim it down for my health. And well . . . I haven't been working out like I'm supposed to be lately.

Enter my five year old daughter, who lovingly pats me on my tummy and asks, "Daddy, are you having a baby?"

What can I say? That's what I get for getting off track and eating that hamburger tonight.

Humpville

So, my wife asks my mom if she'd keep our kids for a few hours so we can have some time together.

My mom quips, "So, where are you two going tonight . . . Humpville?"

Moms know how to make you cringe, huh?

Back to School -- Again.

School has already started for the little kiddies. But, only now have the implications dawned on me that my wife has decided to go back to school, too.

Among her first assignments, she has to write a short essay on the challenges of the adult college student.

I helped her proof the essay. While helping her, all the challenges she mentions have now become apparent in our personal lives:

Hefty student loans.

She's nervous as hell and constantly doubting herself.

No personal time for herself.

No time with family (meaning, me and the kids).

That last one translates into me having to handle the kids a whole lot more on my own. Cooking and cleaning is something I always try to help with, but now I will practically become a single dad for a few months while my wife studies for school.

The kids hate it when I cook. Hardly have I seen my kids scowl so hard. Especially my son.

Despite all of this, my wife's endeavors are completely worthwhile if she sees them through to completion. She's got what it takes.

Now, if she would only recognize that herself and embrace that, she'd realize that everything will be fine on her first day back to school.

Even if I do have to find something to cook tonight.

Under the Weather

I've been battling my own personal sever cold, upset stomach, a vomiting kindergartner, a sullen fourth grader, and my wife's depression.

I just don't feel so good lately.

I've been keeping up with other blogs a lot and writing more stuff on my other one rather than here, lately. I took a partial sick day. And even with that, I still feels like shit.

This half of my life has sort of run out of steam lately.

Man, I can't wait for the weekend.

Hell, I can't wait to finally come out from up under the weather!

Whatever the hell that means.

Uptight

Seems like everyone around me is really up tight and wound up.

My son gets very, very angry if I beat him in a game of chess. But then, he gets upset if he gets the sense that I let him win or went easy on him.

My daughter wants me to let her play chess, but she really just likes to randomly move pieces around. That nice. I think that's cool that she has a great interest in chess for her age-- except when I'm trying to play a real game against her brother.

And my dear wife . . . she worries about many things herself.

Everyone is complaining to me or whining about something. I just take it all in.

*Sigh*

If it wasn't so late already, I think I'd have myself a beer and go to bed. I think I'll skip the beer and just head on to bed since I've got work.

I wonder why everyone around me stays so uptight.

Gettin' It Together

Sometimes I feel like I'm sinking in quicksand when I try to keep up with everything in my life. Work gets hectic sometimes; my projects seem like one continuous steam of never-ending tasks that can never get done.

My wife and kids are a bit needy of my attention. I love 'em and they deserve all I've got. But, they sure do take all I've got without much hesitation!

I do get back in return, though.

Anyhow . . .

Lately, I've come across a few applications that have really helped me out quite a bit.

GNUCash

Money management to the rescue! This program helps me keep up with our family's spending. I've been poor with my money management lately. Now that I don't have daycare costs any longer, it's time to do some financial healing with that extra cash.

GNUCash is a free, opensource program that comes with Linux, but also can run on Windows and Mac.

It's a little tricky to use at first. I think sometimes powerful programs give you so many choices that you really don't know where to start. Read though the help files. Understanding how this program ticks is well worth the effort--especially if you're serious about taking those first steps towards a better financial life.

GoogleCalendar

I've gotten so busy that I need to start putting important dates on a calendar. GoogleCalendar works great for me. It's free and handy to use. GoogleCalendar will also give SMS, e-mail, and pop-up reminders for all your calendar dates and appointments.

And I just like Google stuff in general. So pretty and colorful. Oooohhhh . . .

Producteev

Sometimes, having a smart calendar just isn't enough. You day sucks when your boss asks you if you made "those changes yet" and you clearly forgot. But the e-mail is clearly in your inbox.

Enter, Producteev.

You can forward important e-mails to your Producteev account to build a task list so that your important reminders (be they personal or work related) won't get burried in your inbox.

You can use your smart phone to also manage Producteev.

And Producteev can sync with GoogleCalendar-- thus, marking dates on your calendar without you ever having to stop and log into your Google account separably.

Producteev has both free and pay levels of service.

Since I've started using GNUCash, GoogleCalendar, and Producteev, I finally see light at the end of the tunnel concerning my finances, my hectic schedule, and the constant onslaught of projects at work.

Now, if I could only come up with a popular application of my own that generated a huge user base. Then someone like Google could come along and buy me out and send me on a permanent vacation.

Then, I could forget about all those utilities that I just mentioned.

Emotions Pt. 2 -- Trigger Happy

I've also learned from reading Ekman's book Emotions Revealed that the events of your past can determine how easily various emotions are triggered within a person.

Such a notion may sound like a no-brainer, but the implications can be quite powerful.

Consider this idea: when a person's emotional triggers have become sensitive due to exposure to certain situations or traumas, anything remotely similar to those events can cause very strong emotions.

For instance, a person who was bullied constantly may hold constant restrained anger at those who impose themselves. When an adult, that same person can become just as angry at some being mildly pushy or bossy. This anger often comes across as an overreaction to others. Whereas the person who has become emotional feels justified.

Here's perhaps the most important information found in Ekman's book.

An abused person will have very sensitive emotions for anything that brings back memories related to abuse. So, if the abused still harbors fear, anger, or guilt, those emotions will surface very quickly and strongly.

Learning this, I have found it easier to diffuse tense situations with people that I see from day to day. Now, I don't look at my wife as a hysterical, overreacting female pumping too much estrogen. Now, I see that she simply has a very sensitive trigger over certain issues because of events from her past. She is overreacting. But not because she's unreasonable or has too much estrogen. She's overreacting because she was injured by some similar event.

Same thing happens with me. I have my sensitive triggers, too. Perhaps not as many since I've had a happier childhood than my wife.

Be that as it may . . . now it's time that we take this knowledge and use it for our advantage.

Learn where your sensitive triggers are. Count to ten or 20 before you speak if you've noticed that you're getting emotional. Especially if the emotion is anger. Anger can be justified and is many times quite necessary. But unchecked anger can cause another sour feeling-- regret.

Learn your loved ones' sensitive triggers-- but, not to exploit them. Rather, learn this so that you'll know when to back down and give them a minute to vent. You'll know that it's a moment when you shouldn't take their emotions too personal if you know a sensitive trigger has been set off. Still take them seriously, but don't take things so personal. An emotion usually fades from a few seconds to a few minutes in most cases, unless you or someone else adds fuel to the flame.

Learning the expressions on people's faces is very helpful, but again, isn't the ultimate goal of the book. This book will not turn you into some covert FBI agent so that you can tell when people are lying by the way they dart their eyes.

But it can help you better understand what people are going through. And this understanding can help you know when to console, encourage, or get ready to move out the fucking way!

Back to School

Time for the little kiddies to start going back to school.

Time to become a slave to the daily grind.

Around here, traffic amplifies and you have to get up much, much earlier to get anywhere on time when school starts. The daily schedule simply becomes far more complicated when school starts.

Sigh.

My little girl starts kindergarten this year. She'll be riding the bus with big brother. That's a cute sentiment, but I wish I could enjoy it without knowing it time to start the drudgery all over again.

I should have went to bed an hour and a half ago.

Between Two Worlds

As I sit here, my wife's grandmother is slowly passing away. She's "stable" but her death seems imminent. She's been to the emergency room about five times this week. The last two times were in the same 24 hour period. She keeps losing consciousness. She's over 90 years old, bedridden, and blind. She loses oxygen and passes out upon any level of exertion-- like say, during a bowel movement attempt. The family keeps reviving her regardless of how tired she looks.

On the other end of the spectrum, we have a young niece who is about to bring life into this world any day now. Her parents are cruel people who never deserved children. Funny . . . those are the kinds of parents who keep having as many children as they can.

So, we have a young woman who isn't ready to be a mother in any sense. She lives with her parents who constantly threaten to kick her out of the house. She has no job (Duh! She's about to drop a baby any moment now!), no money, and no idea what life with a new child will bring.

My wife and I sit here between these two worlds, wondering what we can do to help.

But we only find ourselves watching helplessly as we hope for the best while bracing for the worst.

Cookie Cutter U.S.A

Now, I'm not well traveled. I've been a few places across the Southeast United States. I've been just barely out towards the Southwest and I've been up north a little around Chicago and Michigan. I've also had the pleasure of visiting our nation's Capitol for a week many, many years ago.

But other than that, I really haven't been anywhere.

So maybe my comments are a bit unfair and off base.

With the exception of Washington D.C., some parts of Chicago, and Louisville, KY, all of the parts of the United States that I've been to seem like they were produced out of a cookie cutter.

I've flown over to a different time zone, but I can't find anything different to eat than what I can find back at home. At least, not yet. And I haven't seen anything different or captivating so far when compared to the current city in which I live.

I'm sure something interesting is out there somewhere, but where is it???

In the training class I'm attending, our instructor is a native of Cuba. He came back from lunch and complained that the so called Cuban restaurant where he visited wasn't authentic enough.

I'm in Tampa, Florida as I write this. I wasn't too familiar with Tampa before I got here. But from what I've noticed in just staying here one day is that there ought to be some really good Cuban food around here somewhere. I mean . . . I've seen Spanish billboards here that have no English translation. If you don't speak Spanish, that advertisement just wasn't for you.

Not to say that everyone who is Hispanic in Tampa is from Cuba. But, I bet a lot of Cubans come here to Florida. So . . . there ought to be some Cuban food that a native Cuban would call "authentic".

If he is having trouble finding some authentic and unique, how can I find something new and different in a town that is just a mirror image of where I already live?

Maybe that isn't a fair question. Perhaps I've made a false correlation. But, I feel like all hope is lost when it comes to doing something that's unique in Tampa-- something that I can't do back home. Because so far, everywhere I've been in Tampa looks the same to me.

The sweltering heat is the same.

The afternoon thunderstorms are the same.

OK, no palm trees where I live. But, I see plenty of other trees back home.

"Variety is the spice of life", I hear. I think that saying has some merit.

Ah well . . . I can't complain too much. Our hotel is really, really nice and familiarity is also comforting. But still, I'd like to see something a little different from back home. Just a little.

And on a side note: although I miss my kids, I've got a really, really, really, really, really nice break from them. They stayed back home with other family members while my wife and I traveled together. And by the way, they are doing just fine.

They May Love to Fly, but I don't.

My job is sending me to a training class. I'm headed out of town.

My wife will tag along. The company is OK with this as long as I understand that I'm responsible for taking care of her expenses. The company will only take care of my plane ticket, hotel, and car rental.

The hotel will accommodate us both, but I have to take care of the my wife's air fare.

I'll be in a training class from 9 to 4:30. My wife will get a nice little vacation while I'm in class.

Family and good friends will watch our kids while we're gone for a week.

Cross your fingers; I'll be in the air early Sunday morning.

I've got blogs queued up on MDLS (my other blog). However, if this post on this blog ends up being my last, you'll know what happened.

But hey, let's try to be positive, huh?

You can probably tell that I don't like flying much. I like it, but then again I don't.

I love when the plane lifts off the ground. I stare down with wonder when looking out of the window.

But, I become very nervous when I wonder if our pilot is drunk, sleepy, angry, suicidal, or incompetent. I get worried wondering if the airline has cut corners on safety and my plane might burst into flames on the run way, or we go careening towards the ground because of some malfunction that was ignored to save some money.

I don't even think about terrorists. I just have to ignore that idea . . .

And that's when I realize that I don't like to fly in the long run. But, I can't let my fears show.

Even though my wife has flown a few times, she is a little scared, too. So, I gotta be strong for her.

Anyhow-- hopefully, I'll live to update this blog another day.

All in all, I think I will.

On Being Dad

Today is probably the nicest Father's Day I've experienced. It was simple, but everyone made it a point to tell me why they think I'm a good father.

It's not that I'm perfect. It's that I try and stay committed. I get the important things taken care of, even though I could do better with a lot of things.

My family really came across looking like a wonderful gift today.

Some days . . . well, I just hang in there.

But, today (and yesterday) made all that hanging in there so worth it.

I want to do better now. I want to try and become the best Dad that I can be. They deserve at least that much.

Vital Records

Why can't you find your child's birth certificate when you need it?

It's like that sock that vanishes forever after you do laundry.

Just fuckin' gone. No trace.

Why do I even need to show someone my child's birth certificate? Just look at him! Look at her!!

They have been born, see? And my son looks just like me. My daughter looks just like her momma.

You can just look and tell that they're our kids!

So, why else do you need my child's birth certificate?

Arts & Crafts

My wife is quite creative. She is an artist and has command over the elements of design.

No, she did not help me with the look and feel of this blog.

Thus the shoddy look.

She helped me just a hair with MDLS. So, don't judge her abilities based on that blog, either.

Anyway . . . I digress.

She got the idea from a friend to take some heavy duty cardboard boxes and use them as toy chests. The kids can just dump their shi . . er, toys in the box after they play, therefore making clean up time less of a chore.

Well, my wife isn't going to just get cardboard boxes and throw them in their bedrooms like I would do.

She sat the kids down, made them plan out what they will draw on each panel of the box. She had them sketch it out on paper first. Then, she had them color their sketches.

Then she went and got supplies based on their ideas. She bought cut out rockets, robots, butterflies, glue, glitter, paint, sponge brushes, beads-- the works!

Then she had them painting their boxes, painting their cut-outs, and decorating the panels of their boxes.

She reminds me of an arts & crafts kindergarten teacher.

And the kids love it!

Yes, even my 8 year old know-it-all cynic.

And I love my wife for it, too.

And I can also tell that my wife wants to make her own box, too.