Little Saint Nick

Earlier this week, after a not-so-fun day at work, I drug my weary ass into Casa Tinsley and did the usual status update thing with My Lovely Bride as I stowed all my shit. At some point the Little Warrior tore ass into the room to tell me about his fun filled school's out for summer (for him at least) day. A day that included swimming and some hot tub action at his Mimi and Papa's pad. Somewhere in the middle of his story, he stopped, and with a serious look said, "Dad."

"Yeah, Bub?" I replied.

"You need to get a hot tub." he said.

"I know. I'd love a hot tub like Papa's...but they are expensive." I explained.

Sweet Mother of all that is good. Where was the camera? It was a Kodak moment if ever there were. The Boy looked at me in stunned silence as if I were daft. Or nuts.

Finally Wy said, "Dad."

"Yeah, Bub?" I replied.

"Just ask Santa." he said.

Laughing I said, "Ok Wy. I'll do it. That's a good idea."

"I know." he said.

"Thanks." I replied.

"You're welcome." he said.

And then, as an afterthought and right before he tore ass out of the room he said, "Just put it on your list. Ok Dad?"

Until I BLOG again...Christmas comes this time each year.

Swallowed in the Sea

We have friends who, even though Roman Catholic, send their children, a boy and girl, to the day school at our church . A United Methodist Church. That's not unusual. Many of the families that send their children to the day school do not belong to the church in which it resides.

What is unusual though is this. Their boy thought our senior pastor was God.

Not a god. Capital G God.

His parents missed this at first, because the boy said things like, "We talked to God today in the sanctuary." Or, "God visited my class today." You can see how they'd miss it, since the day school is inside an actual church. They thought their devout Roman Catholic son was being spiritual within the context of his United Methodist Day School education.

One day, as the story goes, the mom was walking the boy to class when the senior pastor, Pastor Jack, approached them in the hallway.

Right about the time that Jack was passing them both, the boy pointed at him and said, loudly, "Look Mom! It's God!"

This made everyone freeze.

As you can imagine, the mom was speechless, confused and embarrassed. Realizing that her boy thought that the Pastor was God.

The boy's comment had made Jack stop as well, and he stood there looking at them both.

The boy. He was a deer in headlights, standing next to God, who was staring at him and his Mom, as he shook his head slowly from side to side.

After what must have seemed an eternity, Jack finally said, "No," shaking his head, "No. No. I'm not God."

Then smiling he said, "I'm God's friend." and walked on down the hall.

This is why, after a bitter verbal attack, followed by my censure, Ethan suggested that we talk to Pastor Jack about the Ralph situation.

Which is why on a Wednesday afternoon before lunch, Judy x5 led Ethan and I into Jack's office for the meeting.

I wish I could share the conversation in rich detail, because it was amazing to see Jack relate to Ethan, but to be honest, I was distracted. Bad. Jack's office has to be one of the coolest spaces I've ever been inside. It's like a cave. I could live in there. Full of books, photos, and mementos from his years of being a Pastor. The walls are nothing more than floor to ceiling book shelves with all that stuff. Stuff I couldn't take my eyes of the entire meeting. On the one wall that isn't a book shelf, Jack has a salt water aquarium which is a nod to his love of scuba diving. That tank is filled with all sorts of coral reef type sea creatures. In fact, our friend Judyx5 and Ethan were pointing out a fish in that tank when Jack came into his office from another room and started our meeting.

After Jack had exhausted the subject of how Ethan's anger and resentment regarding the Ralph situation was hurting him a lot more than Ralph. And had offered up a few techniques to deal with the situation it was time for us to take our leave. Apropos of Jack's fish tank, and the little fish swimming around the reef I told Jack that Ethan and I were going to go eat sushi for lunch. I knew, from many of his sermons, that Jack loved sushi as much as E, and this gave the two of them a chance to talk of their love of raw fish, as well as the live ones that swam around the tank in that wonderful office.

Ethan was a different kid when we left Jack's office. He was lighter. It was amazing. Jack's counsel. Suggestions. It wiped away his worry and anxiety regarding Ralph. In fact, Ethan was so taken with the advice, that he practiced some of the techniques Jack had told him to do on the ride to lunch. Then at lunch. Eventually he got me to pose different Ralph scenarios that he could practice Jack's techniques which involved setting boundaries with Ralph, but in a loving and/or kind way. We practiced for days, until finally Monday Monday rolled around and it was go time for the Elder Boy.

Only. It didn't work.

Ethan had a hard time replicating what he practiced in a real time situation at school. Ralph also seems to be oblivious to the loving and or kind boundaries, which I can see, having seen Ralph in action.

We were back to square one the next morning as Ethan and I walked to school with Ruby the dog. For some reason, when we walk to school, Ethan is more open at discussing things like the Ralph situation. By now, I knew that Jack's advice, although good, wasn't going to work for Ethan.

Since I needed something else, and since I'm a dipship, I decided to do the best I could with finding a solution to the Ralph problem.

My solution.

Star Wars.

"E," I said, "You like Star Wars...right?"

"Yeah."

"Who are the main guys in Star Wars. Not your favorite, Boba Fett, but the other main guys?"

"I don't know?"

"Yes you do. Think about it. Who are the main guys, that do all the cool stuff?"

"Oh! Jedi!!!"

"Exactly. And what do they do?"

"Fight!"

"Yes they do, but only when they have to fight. As a last resort, against the bad guys."

"Yeah."

"What about Anakin. What happens to him?"

"He gets burned up?"

"He does, and becomes Darth Vadar. But what causes all of that?"

"Obi-Wan beats him on that volcano planet."

"Yes, but why does Obi-Wan have to fight him?"

"Because he's a bad guy?"

"Yes. But why did he become a bad guy?"

"Oh. The Emperor made him one."

"Yes, the Emperor does play a big part in Anakin becoming Darth Vadar, but the thing that he uses is Anakin's fear and anger. His resentment. He uses all of this to get Anakin to come over to the dark side of the force."

"Yeah. But he becomes a good guy again at the end, on that planet with the furry things."

"Ewoks. Yes, he does. He saves his son, Luke, which in turn saves him."

"Yeah."

"But the thing is Boy, this is kind of like what Pastor Jack talked to us about last week, how anger and resentment hurts you more than the person you are angry or mad at...I know that's hard to understand, but when you feel anger at Ralph, it is hurting you a lot more than him. Does that make sense?"

"It doesn't hurt me! I'll hurt Ralph!!! I'll punch his teeth out! I hate him!!!!!!!"

"Ok. What does Obi-Wan do with Annakin when he's younger and then with Luke? And what does Yoda do with Luke on the swamp planet in The Empire Strikes Back?"

"I don't know?"

"Yes you do."

"Shows them stuff?"

"Yes. He trains them. A lot of that training is using their mind. Jedi mind trick. Did you know you can do that to fight Ralph?"

"I can?"

"Yes you can. You should try it. The next time Ralph makes you really mad I want you to stop thinking about Ralph and what he's doing that is making you so angry and think about something that makes you happy. Something you love. Like sushi. Or Ruby."

"I don't get it."

"The next time you feel yourself getting mad at Ralph, stop thinking about him and think about something you love like Ruby. That's like a Jedi mind trick. If you think about something you love, it is hard to be mad. It makes it hard for Ralph to bother you. Because you're happy. You can do it. You should try it today at school."

"Oh."

"In fact, Ruby is sort of like a Jedi. Did you know that?"

"Really?!?!"

"Yes. What does Ruby do when we walk by Molly's yard? (Molly is a dog. A white german shepherd. Molly's yard backs up against the school. Molly is sweet with children and adults, but hates it when a dog walks past her yard. She seems to especially hate Ruby. Probably as much, if not more, than Ethan hates Ralph.) When Molly comes charging out to the fence and barks at her, growls, shows her teeth. Does all that stuff. What does Ruby do?"

"Nothing."

"Exactly. Ruby just moves to the other side of the sidewalk, away from Molly growling and barking, and ignores her."

"Yeah."

"We can learn a lot from Ruby. She doesn't let Molly upset her, or ruin her walk to school. Molly is the one that is all upset. Making the fuss. Mad. Ruby is fine. Enjoying walking to school with you and me. That's what you should do when Ralph is bugging you. Ignore him. Jedi mind trick."

"Daddy, what does Ruby think about?"

"I don't know? Probably you, or sleeping with you every night."

"Yeah..."

"Or eating Buster's (Buster is a neighbor's cat) shit!"

We were laughing about Ruby eating Buster's shit, which she loves, as we rounded the corner and approached Molly's yard. As usual, Molly came charging up to the fence, snarling, growling, barking and making a huge commotion at Ruby.

Ruby simply moved to the other side of the sidewalk, on the parkway, and continued to enjoy her walk to school. She didn't even look a Molly.

"See, Ruby's a Jedi." I said.

"Yeah. Ruby's a Jedi." Ethan said.

"If Ruby can do it, you can do it too, son. If you try."

"Do you want me to walk you to the door, or stop here?" I said, since we had walked to the drop off point at school.

"Here." Ethan said looking past me, nervously, as if he was embarrassed by my walking him to school. He's getting to the age where he is embarrassed by his parents. Especially me. Go figure!?!?

"Ok. Bye Boy. I love you. Have a good day." I said, not wanting to antagonize him before school.

"Ok. Bye. Dad." he said darting for the door. So fast, in fact, that he didn't say good bye to the dog which I thought was curious until I heard someone shout, "HI MR. TINSLEY!"

It was Ralph.

He had just climbed out of his car. Ethan had seen Ralph as we stood there saying good bye and had wisely made his escape so as to not have to deal with him first thing in the morning.

"Hi Ralph." I said, "What's shaking?"

Nothing. He was standing on the sidewalk, in the way, with a shit eating grin on his face, wrestling with his coat. His backpack and lunch box were strewn about his feet.

"Dude," I said. "Your sleeves are inside out, you're not going to get your coat on like that."

Nothing. That same shit eating grin as he put his coat on backwards, like you would a hospital gown and started walking, backwards, toward the front door of the school.

"Dude," I yelled. "You're forgetting your backpack and lunch on the sidewalk."

Ralph stopped, then started walking forward, to where his backpack and lunch box were at on the sidewalk. He picked them both up, but still kept his coat on backwards.

"Be cool Ralph." I said.

He just laughed, this crazy, yet sweet laugh, as he started walking, albeit backwards, to the front door of the school.

Ruby and I made our way, slowly back toward the house. Slowly because Ruby is famous at the school and pretty much every kid who sees her, wants to come over and say hello. After she had received her fans, and tried to eat an acorn (Ruby likes to eat nuts. Seriously,) I drug her away from the school and back past Molly's yard. Only this time, Molly wasn't waiting in ambush, as usual, for Ruby.

She was at the far end of her yard, wagging her tail, as a boy and mom on their way to school, stopped to give her a treat. We walked right by Molly, and she did nothing but wag her big white tail. Happy and content, for the attention and the treat. Ruby as usual was oblivious. It didn't matter if Molly was happy or mad, Ruby simply doesn't let Molly's mood affect her walk.

Walking home, I thought to myself, maybe Ruby really is a jedi. Or a saint. If a dog can be a saint. I'm not sure. I'm a dipshit. All I could think about was the fact that dog is god backwards. And that I had recently read, "Life's metaphors are God's instructions." Which is when it hit me. Hard.

A week before, in Jack's super bad (in the good way) office with Ethan. Looking at all of his kick-ass stuff. And his tank. The fish in the tank. The one that Judyx5 and Ethan had pointed out to me as Jack walked into the office. The same fish that had made me think about sushi.

That fish.

Was a clown fish.

That fish, Dear Reader, was Marlin.

Until I BLOG again...That's where I belong, and you belong with me.

The devil went down to Georgia

Until I BLOG again...But if you'll sit down in that chair, right there, and let me show you how its done.

You are here with me

Last Mother's Day, my first sans Mother, was a motherfucker. Bad.

This year, fast approaching my second Motherless Mother's Day, not so much. I don't feel the same pain. Or hurt. It's there of course, whenever I think about my Mom, and what I consider her untimely death. But this year, my thoughts of her through that filter of anger and pain, quickly segue into something else, and that something else the past three weeks has been shoes. Really. Shoes.

You see Dear Reader, it took me a long time to learn how to tie my shoes. So long, that Mom and Dad joked that I was developmentally delayed. Only they didn't say that in the Oklahoma of my youth.

They said retarded. Seriously. My parents made retard jokes about me, their only son. Nice.

That might, depending on how politically correct you are, seem funny. But consider this. They didn't make shoes with velcro straps in place of shoe laces back in my day. You either had shoes with laces or slip on shoes. Thus, if couldn't tie your shoes, you were pretty much double screwed. You could admit that you were a dipshit who needed Mommy to tie your shoes, and suffer the ridicule of your friends. Or. You could wear slip on shoes and replace the scorn of being unable to tie your shoes, to that of a dork who wore goofy ass slip on shoes. Or. Dirty hippy sandal type shoes. Oh, how I miss Oklahoma, circa the early 1970s.

That is why I think Mom and Dad's humor, the retard joke amongst themselves, I overheard, were nothing more than them masking their fear and concern about my not being able to learn how to tie my shoes. I think most of us, joke about the things that bother us. You can either laugh or you can cry.

Eventually Dad figured out the problem. It wasn't so much me, as it was the way in which there were trying to teach me. My parents are right handed. I'm left. They had been trying to teach me how to tie my shoes with the emphasis of the right hand. That was something my young brain and questionable motor skills simply could not mimic. After Dad realized their error, he showed me how to tie my shoes with the emphasis on my dominant hand, the left. I nailed it the first time.

That happened on Mother's Day weekend.

On Mother's Day we played golf as a family at Sand Springs Golf Course. Number 11. This memory is why I can recall all of the above so well. We were near the green, with the Tulsa skyline as our backdrop. Blue sky. It was a chamber of commerce type beautiful late spring day in Oklahoma.

At some point, for reasons I can't recall, Mom told me that the best Mother's Day present I ever gave her, or could give her, was learning how to tie my shoes.

Then she laughed. Cackled really. She was laughing at herself. At Dad. At me. At the whole silly situation and drama that we'd been through over me learning to tie my shoes. She was 32 or 33 years old at that point in our story.

So, again, as I approach Mother's Day this year, it is not with the same motherfucker feeling of last. A better description would be how amputees describe the phantom limb phenomenon.

I'll hear a mention of Mother's Day. Usually in an ad. An ad that is trying to whip us all into a shopping frenzy to find that perfect gift that honors our Moms. Then, for the briefest of moments, I'll get sucked into it. I'll think, fuck me, I better get off my country ass and figure out what I should get Mom for Mother's Day. What $XX or under gift will personify everything that Mom means to me.

Then, in a flash, I'll remember, she's dead. I don't have to worry about buying a $4 card. Or flowers. Or worry whether or not we should try and carve out a few days so we can visit her. Or where we should eat dinner. Those options, or choices for me are gone. Like my Mom.

It's funny, in a very sick sort of a way, that one benefit of Mom's death is my being able to say fuck Hallmark. I've never been a fan of Hallmark created holidays. I don't think Mother's Day should be about retail relief for businesses.

But there lies the rub. You see, I only get that, because my Mom died. I got sucked into it before, and I'd be first in line to buy a $25 card if I could get her back.

Alas, I can't.

Which is why I end up thinking about shoes. I can't even begin to tell you what kind of shoes they were. What brand. The shoes are just stuff. And stuff goes away. Your body included. What's left, for the living, are the memories.

Until I BLOG again...You have been here and you are everything.

Story of my life

Wy Wy brought a friend home from school yesterday, and boys being boys, ended up in the backyard on the rope swing. At some point, probably showing off for said friend, Wy scraped his right knee. It wasn't that bad of a scrape, and it certainly didn't slow him down, that is until rub-a-dub dub time.

As soon as the water hit the wound, the Boy cried. Not bad at first, but then the Elder Boy, living up to his mean Big Brother status, raked a stiff bristled brush over the wound.

That's why Wy lost it. Hard.

"I...I...I...I...I...I..." he cried. Sobbing. Snot streaming. Blood in the water. The Boy was gone Daddy, gone!

"Slow down son," I said. "Slow down."

"I...I...I...I...I...I..." he blubbered.

"Wy's a baby." Ethan said.

"Boy!" I said, pointing at him, as I'm wont to do lately, "You are NOT helping."

Ethan submerged himself in the tub to get away from my pointing finger of disapproval as Wy Wy shrieked, "I"M NOT A BABY!!!!!!!!!! I HATE YOU ETHAN!!!!!!!!"

"SLOW DOWN WY." I said, as I grabbed him just before he started pounding on Ethan's submerged head.

"I...I...I...I...I..." Wy sobbed. "I...I...I...I...I"

"Slow down son. Tell Daddy what you need." I said.

"I...I...I...I...I can't!" Wy said, falling even deeper into sob city.

"Wy. Please settle down. I can't help you if you don't tell me what you want me to do. Use your words." I said.

"I...I...I...I...need a band-aid." he sobbed.

"Son, I can't give you a band-aid in the bath, it won't stick. Let me finish washing you and then I'll get you out and get you all fixed up with a band-aid." I said.

If only.

You see Dear Reader, unbeknownst to me, the Elder Boy had ran out of art stickers and had the great idea of using kid friendly Madagascar (the movie) character band-aids as a substitute. This meant, that the box of band-aids I held in my hand were empty. All we had was liquid band-aid. "Fuck me." I'm afraid to say, I said.

"What?" Wy asked.

"Ethan did you use all the band-aids?!?!?!?!?!?!" I asked.

Nothing, but a shit eating grin, as he submerged like an alligator into the bath.

"There's no...no...no...no...band-aids?" Wy asked.

"No. I'm afraid they're gone." I said.

Wy lost it. Again. Hard.

They say necessity is the mother of invention, which must be true, since an idea struck me hard, as I frantically searched through the drawer for a stray band-aid.

"Wy Wy. I got an idea. Quit wailing. Sit right there. On top of the vanity. Don't move. I'll be right back." I said as I took off toward the kitchen for a pair of scissors and a roll of red painters tape.

"What's that?" Wy asked, upon my return, looking at the red tape in my hand.

"Boy," I said, "I'm going to make you an extra special band-aid.

"Really?" he asked.

"Really," I replied, "MacGyver ain't got shit on your Dad."

The Boy was ecstatic with the finished bandage. And more importantly, his hurt no longer hurt. He was so happy and I so proud of my MacGyver-ized band-aid, that we decided to take a picture (so it would in fact last longer.)

So I ask you this, Dear Reader, does it matter what I used to fashion my kick ass home made special bandage for Wy Wy?

I think not.

As long as we don't tell the Boy I used a Carefree Maxi-Pad.

Until I BLOG again...Life goes by so fast.

Update: I'm not big in revising, or adding to a BLOG entry once I commit it to the BLOG. This however, deserves an update.

Wy Wy, was so pleased with his special band-aid, that the next morning he would not let my Lovely Bride remove it. He wanted to wear it to school. Which meant, that My Lovely Bride had to tell the teacher why Wy was wearing a Carefree Maxi-Pad taped to his leg. Classic. My Lovely Bride deserves danger pay for putting up with me.