Finally, the final recapitulation ---- 2009 style. Click hard for the recaps of these years: 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007 and 2008.
This whole omphaloskepsis exercise has been interesting. The early years were relatively easy to recap. I think because more time has passed, which lends itself to more perspective. Then we have 2009, which was hard to recap, mainly because I'm still too close to most of what I wrote, which is a bit sad, because I think in many ways, 2009 is the strongest year on this here BLOG. Cumulative. I found a rhythm. A sense of style. Which I like. Which is ironic considering I'm about to shut it all down. Actually. I'm going to continue to BLOG once I finish here. But it won't be the family friendly Team Tinsley kind of a blog (which is somewhat frightening considering how un-family friendly this here BLOG can be at times, with my bad language, and dark subject matter.) But that comes later. For now, we got one final recap to recap.
2009
Let There Be Love
January 07, 2009
You never really get over the death of a loved one, best I can tell. It's always there. That wound. Or sense of what you lost and all the things you wish you would have said, or done. The platitude that it gets easier with the passage of time, is true, but the thing they fail to tell you is that you'll trade the acute pain for a dull ache that you'll often feel at the big moments of life. And for me, often the smallest ones.
I wonder what's gonna happen to you
January 15, 2009
This is a companion piece to Let There Be Love in a lot of ways. The flip side. Where I out myself about being creeped out by the thought of a departed loved one watching over me from beyond.
I was made for lovin' you
February 27, 2009
This is one for the Team Tinsley record book. The first documented case of my bad sense of humor biting me in the ass at the hands of The Little Warrior. Truly classic.
The ruins to the right of me
March 17, 2009
A powerfully honest POST. So honest in fact, that I sort of cringe when I re-read it. There is also some serious subtext going on, since it was here that I made the decision I was going to pull the plug on this here BLOG soon.
Stand Up Comedy
April 08, 2009
Another entry that I heart, hard. It is even funnier to me now, considering My Lovely Bride and the Boy(s) have been awol from church for most of the year. Perhaps this is when it all began.
Horseshoes and Handgrenades
May 27, 2009
Sweet Mother of all that is good. A crazy ass wheels off post that involves Me, The Elder Boy, two seed ticks, and a pocket knife in a campground shitter in Oklahoma. Another classic.
Mirror in the Bathroom
June 20, 2009
Another post where I out myself re: my fathering skills and how I innocently messed the Boy(s) up (one of them shit in the hallway they were so afraid to go into the bathroom!) by telling them how Bloody Mary worked.
Yakety Yak
August 13, 2009
Funny post about cleaning out the Elder Boy's room. Does a good job of capturing (for posterity) our personalities and household dynamics circa 2009.
42
August 27, 2009
The best example ever, of how bad I suck in real time. Some heavy shit in this post as I realize some startling truths. One, from September 12, 2009 is a half ass epilogue to 42.
The Emperor's New Clothes
September 02, 2009
A funny yet simple, day in the life kind of entry that chronicles Wy's curious tendencies in regard to clothing, and his hate for hard pants (a.k.a jeans.)
Until I BLOG again...So listen...
Monday, December 28, 2009
Monday, December 21, 2009
And the train conductor says
To recap the recaps: 2004, 2005, 2006 and 2007.
2008
I'm in the sky tonight
January 18, 2008
A historical (from a family point of view) entry that brings up the question of what those that remain behind should do with the remains of thier loved ones.
Barracuda
March 15, 2008
Another favorite of this here BLOG that I forgot even existed (that's what happens when you have 269 entries.) Brings back all the issues E had with kindergarten, as well me realizing that even though I want to be Crush the Turtle (from Finding Nemo.) I'm Marlin. It wasn't my intent at the time, but this post ended up being the first entry in what I'll dub my 'Sea Triology.' Swallowed in the Sea - May 13 is part 2. Such Great Heights - June 17 is the epilogue. Sadly, Molly the Dog who played a small part in these stories was put to sleep in late November 2009.
Story of my Life
May 01, 2008
Necessity is the mother of all invention, or so it seems with this Mr. Mom meets MacGyver smash-up where i fashion a band-aid out of a maxi-pad for the Younger Boy.
Boulder to Birmingham
June 21, 2008
Often for me, an entire entry will spring forth from a random sentence that comes to mind when I'm thinking about something that has happened recently. This entry came from this: Grief is funny. And apparently has no statue of limitations. Which is true. So true.
Roll with the changes
September 17, 2008
A simple story of how quickly kids grow up, and the beauty of this here BLOG in capturing those little moments.
20th Century Boy(s)
October 08, 2008
Mr. Mom + Tushka, Oklahoma mingo store + Rubber Machines + Diarrhea = 20th Century Boy(s).
I'm not running anymore - Part 1 and Part 2
October 27, 2008 & November 7, 2008
Another wheels off Mr. Mom adventure where we ask the question: Can you lose a lost dog?
I can't change the world
November 17, 2008
Brotherly love story that warms my heart more than a year later. It does a great job of capturing the Boy(s) complicated (or are all brothers like this? As an only child it is all voodoo to me) relationship.
Money Changes Everything
December 16, 2008
I like the comment this entry got so I'll sum it up with it: "The tooth fairy is feelin' the recession? OMg that is so funny! (you know you might be going to hell, right?)"
Until I BLOG again..."Take a break drive 8, driver 8 take a break, we've been on this shift too long."
2008
I'm in the sky tonight
January 18, 2008
A historical (from a family point of view) entry that brings up the question of what those that remain behind should do with the remains of thier loved ones.
Barracuda
March 15, 2008
Another favorite of this here BLOG that I forgot even existed (that's what happens when you have 269 entries.) Brings back all the issues E had with kindergarten, as well me realizing that even though I want to be Crush the Turtle (from Finding Nemo.) I'm Marlin. It wasn't my intent at the time, but this post ended up being the first entry in what I'll dub my 'Sea Triology.' Swallowed in the Sea - May 13 is part 2. Such Great Heights - June 17 is the epilogue. Sadly, Molly the Dog who played a small part in these stories was put to sleep in late November 2009.
Story of my Life
May 01, 2008
Necessity is the mother of all invention, or so it seems with this Mr. Mom meets MacGyver smash-up where i fashion a band-aid out of a maxi-pad for the Younger Boy.
Boulder to Birmingham
June 21, 2008
Often for me, an entire entry will spring forth from a random sentence that comes to mind when I'm thinking about something that has happened recently. This entry came from this: Grief is funny. And apparently has no statue of limitations. Which is true. So true.
Roll with the changes
September 17, 2008
A simple story of how quickly kids grow up, and the beauty of this here BLOG in capturing those little moments.
20th Century Boy(s)
October 08, 2008
Mr. Mom + Tushka, Oklahoma mingo store + Rubber Machines + Diarrhea = 20th Century Boy(s).
I'm not running anymore - Part 1 and Part 2
October 27, 2008 & November 7, 2008
Another wheels off Mr. Mom adventure where we ask the question: Can you lose a lost dog?
I can't change the world
November 17, 2008
Brotherly love story that warms my heart more than a year later. It does a great job of capturing the Boy(s) complicated (or are all brothers like this? As an only child it is all voodoo to me) relationship.
Money Changes Everything
December 16, 2008
I like the comment this entry got so I'll sum it up with it: "The tooth fairy is feelin' the recession? OMg that is so funny! (you know you might be going to hell, right?)"
Until I BLOG again..."Take a break drive 8, driver 8 take a break, we've been on this shift too long."
Friday, December 11, 2009
Lost in the Milky Way
Sweet mother of all that is good, there is nothing more fascinating to me as a breeder, than the difference in the Boy(s) personalities. And the way certain personality traits mirror My Lovely Bride or my own.
Take the Younger Boy. He's a chopped down version of me. Both in appearance and personality. But the thing is Dear Reader, when I was his age, I was more like the Elder Boy. Quiet. Sensitive. Bashful. I'd rather blend into a crowd or be a wall flower than be the center of attention.
For reasons I'm not exactly sure of, that changed in the 5th or 6th grade. I got over the bashful thing and became much the way I am today (which is very much like Wyatt.) Mind you I didn't really change in the way I thought about stuff. What I found funny. Or how I felt about things. All that remained the same. The difference was how I acted to the greater world about it all.
My Dad often talks about the fact that his twin was very gregarious and ornery as a kid, while he was shy and quiet. At some point their roles reversed. Much the way my personality shifted. Which is my heavy-handed set-up for this BLOG entry about my first storytime with Wyatt's kindergarten class.
One of my favorite posts on this here BLOG (It made my 2007 recap) is the story of reading to Ethan's kindergarten class. If you have the time and inclination, read it, as it illustrates better than I could ever describe, how different these Tinsley Boy(s) truly are.
Before we get started I got to make one more point, to give you context.
I'm Mr. Mom a lot these days. My Lovely Bride, back to working full-time, at the very school were storytime goes down, cannot read to Wyatt's class this year. This was not the case for Ethan's kindergarten and 1st grade year. Both My Lovely Bride and myself read often. Not Wy. He doesn't have that luxury. He only gets me. And he had to wait until December to get me because of a mix-up in my schedule and storytime back in October. This upset the Boy. For the past month or more, he'd ask when I was going to read to his class. After I'd tell him, he'd tell me how some kids had already had four parents read to the class. I would then tell him that those were children of divorce and although it might sound good, divorce sucks, the same way it sucked that I hadn't got the chance to read to his class yet. But soon.
Soon happened on Thursday, December 3, 2009 which found me in the library talking to the librarian when Wy's class filed into the room.
As soon as Wy saw me, he beamed. So excited. Priceless.
The librarian stopped the class and asked Wy to come to the front of the line. Then she took me and him to the chair at the front of the area, while the rest of his class came in and sat on the floor in front of us.
"Class let's welcome Mr. Tinsley back to storytime." The librarian said.
"Mrs. Nowacki," I said to the librarian. "This is my first time with Wyatt's class. I've done storytime this year, but it was for Ethan's class."
"Oh," she said. "Well Wyatt, can you introduce your Dad then?"
"Yes." Wyatt said, and then he walked around in front of me, in front of his class, like a mini-emcee and shouted, "This is Mr. Tinsley! My Dad!!!"
On cue his class shouted back, "Hi Mr. Tinsley!!!"
I couldn't help but laugh, not only at the class' in unison shouted greeting but because in all the times Ethan has introduced me at storytime, he hid behind me when he introduced me. In fact, you could barely hear his mumbled intro which he would say and then promptly go and sit down with his class. Usually in the back row. As far from me as possible.
Not Wyatt.
After his introduction, he spun around and grabbed the books from my hand, climbed upon my lap, got settled, and then said, "Let's go, Dad."
"Ok, then." I said to Wyatt when I noticed a little girl in the second row had her hand raised.
"Yes." I said.
"Are you Wyatt's special dad?"
"Special?" I said confused at what she meant.
Wyatt wasted no time in answering her, "No!" he shouted in that loud, husky voice of his, "He's Captain Inappropriate. It's awesome."
Then he laughed. Actually cackled, at his own bad joke which made the class bust out in laughter.
It was while the librarian was trying to get the wheels back on, and the kids quiet that I figured out what the girl meant by special.
"You mean his Grandpa?" I asked her.
The little girl, looking sheepish, nodded her head, and then said, "Yes."
"Really," I said incredulously, "I look that old?"
"YEAH!!!!" screamed the entire class.
Fuck me, thankfully I thought.
"My Grandpa is dead." Wyatt said.
Sweet mother of all that is good, Wy turned uncomfortable up to 11 with that statement.
You could feel the tension rolling off the librarian and teachers in the back of the room.
"That's not true." I said to Wyatt.
"Oh yeah," Wyatt said.
I could see the adults in back relax, until Wy shouted, again in that husky over loud voice of his, "My Granny is dead!"
"That is true." I said to the class. "Wyatt's Granny is dead."
"She was his Mom." Wyatt told the class.
"That's true." I told the class. "She was my Mom."
You got to love kids. While the adults in back were stressing, the kids sat there watching the Captain Inappropriate and his trusty sidekick, The Little Warrior show, unfazed.
"Ok." I said finally. "Let's get started. But first I have to ask you all something. Something important."
They all looked at me. Intently.
"Really?!? I look like his Grandpa?"
They all nodded their heads, slowly, and said, "Yes."
"Awesome!"
Until I BLOG again...For the Life of Riley.
Take the Younger Boy. He's a chopped down version of me. Both in appearance and personality. But the thing is Dear Reader, when I was his age, I was more like the Elder Boy. Quiet. Sensitive. Bashful. I'd rather blend into a crowd or be a wall flower than be the center of attention.
For reasons I'm not exactly sure of, that changed in the 5th or 6th grade. I got over the bashful thing and became much the way I am today (which is very much like Wyatt.) Mind you I didn't really change in the way I thought about stuff. What I found funny. Or how I felt about things. All that remained the same. The difference was how I acted to the greater world about it all.
My Dad often talks about the fact that his twin was very gregarious and ornery as a kid, while he was shy and quiet. At some point their roles reversed. Much the way my personality shifted. Which is my heavy-handed set-up for this BLOG entry about my first storytime with Wyatt's kindergarten class.
One of my favorite posts on this here BLOG (It made my 2007 recap) is the story of reading to Ethan's kindergarten class. If you have the time and inclination, read it, as it illustrates better than I could ever describe, how different these Tinsley Boy(s) truly are.
Before we get started I got to make one more point, to give you context.
I'm Mr. Mom a lot these days. My Lovely Bride, back to working full-time, at the very school were storytime goes down, cannot read to Wyatt's class this year. This was not the case for Ethan's kindergarten and 1st grade year. Both My Lovely Bride and myself read often. Not Wy. He doesn't have that luxury. He only gets me. And he had to wait until December to get me because of a mix-up in my schedule and storytime back in October. This upset the Boy. For the past month or more, he'd ask when I was going to read to his class. After I'd tell him, he'd tell me how some kids had already had four parents read to the class. I would then tell him that those were children of divorce and although it might sound good, divorce sucks, the same way it sucked that I hadn't got the chance to read to his class yet. But soon.
Soon happened on Thursday, December 3, 2009 which found me in the library talking to the librarian when Wy's class filed into the room.
As soon as Wy saw me, he beamed. So excited. Priceless.
The librarian stopped the class and asked Wy to come to the front of the line. Then she took me and him to the chair at the front of the area, while the rest of his class came in and sat on the floor in front of us.
"Class let's welcome Mr. Tinsley back to storytime." The librarian said.
"Mrs. Nowacki," I said to the librarian. "This is my first time with Wyatt's class. I've done storytime this year, but it was for Ethan's class."
"Oh," she said. "Well Wyatt, can you introduce your Dad then?"
"Yes." Wyatt said, and then he walked around in front of me, in front of his class, like a mini-emcee and shouted, "This is Mr. Tinsley! My Dad!!!"
On cue his class shouted back, "Hi Mr. Tinsley!!!"
I couldn't help but laugh, not only at the class' in unison shouted greeting but because in all the times Ethan has introduced me at storytime, he hid behind me when he introduced me. In fact, you could barely hear his mumbled intro which he would say and then promptly go and sit down with his class. Usually in the back row. As far from me as possible.
Not Wyatt.
After his introduction, he spun around and grabbed the books from my hand, climbed upon my lap, got settled, and then said, "Let's go, Dad."
"Ok, then." I said to Wyatt when I noticed a little girl in the second row had her hand raised.
"Yes." I said.
"Are you Wyatt's special dad?"
"Special?" I said confused at what she meant.
Wyatt wasted no time in answering her, "No!" he shouted in that loud, husky voice of his, "He's Captain Inappropriate. It's awesome."
Then he laughed. Actually cackled, at his own bad joke which made the class bust out in laughter.
It was while the librarian was trying to get the wheels back on, and the kids quiet that I figured out what the girl meant by special.
"You mean his Grandpa?" I asked her.
The little girl, looking sheepish, nodded her head, and then said, "Yes."
"Really," I said incredulously, "I look that old?"
"YEAH!!!!" screamed the entire class.
Fuck me, thankfully I thought.
"My Grandpa is dead." Wyatt said.
Sweet mother of all that is good, Wy turned uncomfortable up to 11 with that statement.
You could feel the tension rolling off the librarian and teachers in the back of the room.
"That's not true." I said to Wyatt.
"Oh yeah," Wyatt said.
I could see the adults in back relax, until Wy shouted, again in that husky over loud voice of his, "My Granny is dead!"
"That is true." I said to the class. "Wyatt's Granny is dead."
"She was his Mom." Wyatt told the class.
"That's true." I told the class. "She was my Mom."
You got to love kids. While the adults in back were stressing, the kids sat there watching the Captain Inappropriate and his trusty sidekick, The Little Warrior show, unfazed.
"Ok." I said finally. "Let's get started. But first I have to ask you all something. Something important."
They all looked at me. Intently.
"Really?!? I look like his Grandpa?"
They all nodded their heads, slowly, and said, "Yes."
"Awesome!"
Until I BLOG again...For the Life of Riley.
Wednesday, December 09, 2009
Mad World
"I wrote a story." The Elder Boy said, apropos of nothing, as he was getting ready for school a week or so in the rearview.
"Really? What about?" I asked.
Nothing. Just an ornery smile.
"What about?" I asked again. With his shit-eating grin I knew there had to be more to the story about his story.
"About Rudolph." He said. "We had to draw a Christmas picture and then write a story to go with it."
Then he laughed.
"Is there something about your story that is funny?" I asked.
"Yeah..."
"What?"
"Well, you know the story of Rudolph, right?"
Fuck me. Patronized by a 7 year old.
"Yes." I answered. "I know the story of Rudolph."
"Well you know how the other reindeer are mean to Rudolph...well in my story Rudolph goes into Santa's shop in the middle of the night and makes a gun and then..." He paused for dramatic effect. "...and kills the other reindeer."
"Excuse me?!?" I said.
"Because they make fun of him he sneaks into Santa's workshop..."
"I get it Boy. Rudolph goes postal." I said cutting him off.
"Postal?" He asked.
I cut him off again and said, "You didn't turn it in yet, did you?"
"No." He said with a puzzled look on his face.
"Thank God."
"Why?" He asked, confused.
"Dude, they'll think something is wrong with you if you turn that in...it would freak people out, bad."
"Really?"
"Really." I said. "They'll think you're crazy."
"It's just a story." He said defensively. "The other reindeer are mean to Rudolph..."
He started to explain the story again but I wasn't really listening at that point. I was busy wondering what I should do. I know my Boy. I know he's not crazy. Or at least not that kind of crazy. That he thinks too hard and has a dark sense of humor, which he more than likely gets from my demented ass.
After he was done explaining his story and drawing to me I said, "I get it son. I do. You have what they call a dark sense of humor. You get it from me. The more disturbing something is, the funnier I find it. But the thing is, in our world today, you can't do stuff like that."
"Why?" He asked.
How do you explain political correctness to a 2nd grader? And the horrible things he's never heard of that cause a certain amount of it, like the Columbine High School massacre? If I told him about that he'd never want to back to school, he'd worry so much.
"Why...it's just a story?" He said again looking for an answer.
"Son. I understand. I get it. But most people won't."
"Why?"
"Why." I said.
My go to move. Ever the dipshit. Answer a question with a question to buy time.
"Ok." I finally said. "I'm going to try and explain it to you but you need to let me get all my words out before you start asking me questions. OK?"
"Ok."
"I get that you are a sweet kid who has a dark sense of humor. I know you would never hurt anyone. You are tender hearted. Very tender hearted. You don't mean anything by the story. Well actually you do. You get the fact that the Rudolph story is sort of messed up...that the other reindeer basically drive him from his home and family because he's different. Which is disturbing. Rudolph should be pissed."
"Yeah," Ethan said. "He goes and lives with that elf and all those toys..."
"Yes," I said cutting him off. "I appreciate the fact that you look at the Rudolph story and see it for what it really is, a messed up story. I mean seriously, the other reindeer drive him away because he's different. And they only accept him when the thing they made fun of him about can help them get their job done. That's messed up. But the thing is Boy...most people don't look that deeply. They don't really think about it. Not like that. Not like you."
"Like that song about the muslins?" He said.
Fuck me. It's like I'm talking to a 7 year old version of me.
We have to back up a few days for the song about the muslims. It was a typical Mr. Mom on our way to school morn when Do They Know It's Christmas came on the radio.
"Dad." Ethan said.
"Yeah?"
"Why don't they know it's Christmas?" He asked.
"Probably because they are muslims." I said. "They lived in Ethiopia which is in Africa and many people over there are Islamic which is the same as muslims. They don't celebrate Christmas because they aren't Christians."
"Why." He asked seriously.
Not wanting to get into a full on comparative religion study on the extremely short drive to school I said, "I'll explain that later. Listen to the words of the song instead. Its a pretty song with nice voices and all, but listen to what they are saying..the words, 'There's a world outside your window, and it's a world of dread and fear, where the only water flowing is the bitter sting of tears, and the Christmas bells that ring there are the clanging chimes of doom, well tonight thank God it's them instead of you.' Pretty messed up, huh?"
"Yeah." He said. "Why?"
"Most people don't listen to it that closely." I said. "They just hear the melody and the basic message and know it's about Christmas so they don't really think about it."
"No. I meant why are they sad and it doom?" He asked.
"That song is from when I was in high school. Olden times. The 1980s. There was a famine, which means they didn't have any food, and water was hard to find in Ethiopia, which is in Africa. All these English guys formed this band and did this song and the money went to try and help the people in Ethiopia. Which is a good thing."
Fast forward to what was then, now, and I said, "Yeah, like that song about the muslims. It's the same with the story of Rudolph. Most people don't think about it that hard. At least not as hard as you."
"Why?"
"Just the way people are, Boy. Everyone is different. What makes the world go around. But the thing is if you turn your story in, more than likely you'll end up in the counselor's office having to talk about why you drew it. They might think you see yourself as Rudolph in the story. That you are going to do something violent. Or you are being picked on at school."
"Really?" He asked, completely shocked.
"Yeah. And you'd hate that wouldn't you?" I asked. "The last thing you want to do is to have to go and talk to them about a picture you drew cause you thought it was a funny twist in the Rudolph story. Violent. Yes. And bad. But funny. I'd laugh if you turned it into me, and knew you didn't really mean it. That your over-the-top violence was to draw attention to how messed up the story is..."
"What?" He asked, confused.
"That's just a fancy way of saying that you have Rudolph doing something extreme because you are commenting on, or wanting people to see certain things about the story that they might not have thought about."
"Huh?" He asked, again confused.
"You are a lot like me Boy, we think alike, and that's what I think you are doing, I'm just putting it in grown-up words," I explained. "But I think it's what is going on with your drawing and story."
At least I hope so. I thought.
"I don't think your teacher would feel the same way." I added. "Probably freak her out, bad."
"Yeah." He said.
"I have a way I think you can fix it though, if you want?"
"How?"
"Just change the gun to something not so violent. Or something that is silly violent, like they do in cartoons." I said. "I imagine reindeer would be proud of their antlers. Maybe Rudolph sneaks into the shop and gets a saw and cuts their antlers down short so they look funny. They'd all have antler envy."
"Yeah." He said laughing.
"Or he gets some paint from Santa's shop and paints the antlers funny colors so they look silly. Maybe pink. Since they are boy reindeer."
"That would be funny." He laughed.
"Or you can leave it the way you have it, I don't want to censor you, which means stop you from doing something creative, but as your Dad, I have to warn you, if you turn that in, I think it's going to have consequences you won't like. You'll get attention from it you don't want. And you'll hate that. I know you."
"But I already drew the picture." He said.
"I'm sure you can make the gun into a saw easily enough." I offered.
"Or I could start over." He said.
"Yeah. You could start over. If you want to start over. It's ultimately up to you Boy."
We were both quiet for awhile after that. I had expended more words in this one conversation than I'd probably said in the past week. Plus I couldn't help but wonder if I had handled the situation correctly.
Should I have said nothing and let him hand it in and face the consequences? To see the reaction. Maybe I was overreacting? All young boys, to some degree, go through a violent death fixated sort of stage. The again, maybe I wasn't reacting enough and should be worried about the Boy?
In the end Dear Reader, I simply don't know. I did what I thought was correct. And I hope, even pray, that time proves me right.
A day later while watching Santa Claus is Comin' to Town I asked the Boy what he ended up doing. I figured he'd censored himself to some degree since I hadn't been summoned to school for a parent teacher conference. But I wasn't sure what he actually did so I asked, "What did you end up doing. About Rudolph?"
"I did the saw." He said which sort of made me feel bad if I'm honest. I hate censoring anyone, especially my child.
"Where's Rudolph." He asked watching the part in Santa Claus is Comin' to Town when it explains why reindeer can fly.
"Keep watching." I said.
And sure enough a few moments later the show answered for me.
"Oh," he said. "Dad?"
"Yeah."
"I had another idea for a story. If I didn't do Rudolph. You know the elf guy in Rudolph? Who is different too."
"I think his name is Hermey." I said. "He wants to be a dentist instead of make toys."
"Yeah. Well I was going to have him break into Santa's shop in the middle of the night, get a tool and..."
"Dude." I said interrupting him.
"...pull out all the elves teeth."
"Nice." I said. "You and your Yuletide revenge stories."
"Yuletide?" He asked.
"That means Christmas." I answered. "But seriously Ethan. Should I be worried about you?"
"Dad." He said smiling that ornery smile.
"It's just a story."
Until I BLOG again...And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad.
"Really? What about?" I asked.
Nothing. Just an ornery smile.
"What about?" I asked again. With his shit-eating grin I knew there had to be more to the story about his story.
"About Rudolph." He said. "We had to draw a Christmas picture and then write a story to go with it."
Then he laughed.
"Is there something about your story that is funny?" I asked.
"Yeah..."
"What?"
"Well, you know the story of Rudolph, right?"
Fuck me. Patronized by a 7 year old.
"Yes." I answered. "I know the story of Rudolph."
"Well you know how the other reindeer are mean to Rudolph...well in my story Rudolph goes into Santa's shop in the middle of the night and makes a gun and then..." He paused for dramatic effect. "...and kills the other reindeer."
"Excuse me?!?" I said.
"Because they make fun of him he sneaks into Santa's workshop..."
"I get it Boy. Rudolph goes postal." I said cutting him off.
"Postal?" He asked.
I cut him off again and said, "You didn't turn it in yet, did you?"
"No." He said with a puzzled look on his face.
"Thank God."
"Why?" He asked, confused.
"Dude, they'll think something is wrong with you if you turn that in...it would freak people out, bad."
"Really?"
"Really." I said. "They'll think you're crazy."
"It's just a story." He said defensively. "The other reindeer are mean to Rudolph..."
He started to explain the story again but I wasn't really listening at that point. I was busy wondering what I should do. I know my Boy. I know he's not crazy. Or at least not that kind of crazy. That he thinks too hard and has a dark sense of humor, which he more than likely gets from my demented ass.
After he was done explaining his story and drawing to me I said, "I get it son. I do. You have what they call a dark sense of humor. You get it from me. The more disturbing something is, the funnier I find it. But the thing is, in our world today, you can't do stuff like that."
"Why?" He asked.
How do you explain political correctness to a 2nd grader? And the horrible things he's never heard of that cause a certain amount of it, like the Columbine High School massacre? If I told him about that he'd never want to back to school, he'd worry so much.
"Why...it's just a story?" He said again looking for an answer.
"Son. I understand. I get it. But most people won't."
"Why?"
"Why." I said.
My go to move. Ever the dipshit. Answer a question with a question to buy time.
"Ok." I finally said. "I'm going to try and explain it to you but you need to let me get all my words out before you start asking me questions. OK?"
"Ok."
"I get that you are a sweet kid who has a dark sense of humor. I know you would never hurt anyone. You are tender hearted. Very tender hearted. You don't mean anything by the story. Well actually you do. You get the fact that the Rudolph story is sort of messed up...that the other reindeer basically drive him from his home and family because he's different. Which is disturbing. Rudolph should be pissed."
"Yeah," Ethan said. "He goes and lives with that elf and all those toys..."
"Yes," I said cutting him off. "I appreciate the fact that you look at the Rudolph story and see it for what it really is, a messed up story. I mean seriously, the other reindeer drive him away because he's different. And they only accept him when the thing they made fun of him about can help them get their job done. That's messed up. But the thing is Boy...most people don't look that deeply. They don't really think about it. Not like that. Not like you."
"Like that song about the muslins?" He said.
Fuck me. It's like I'm talking to a 7 year old version of me.
We have to back up a few days for the song about the muslims. It was a typical Mr. Mom on our way to school morn when Do They Know It's Christmas came on the radio.
"Dad." Ethan said.
"Yeah?"
"Why don't they know it's Christmas?" He asked.
"Probably because they are muslims." I said. "They lived in Ethiopia which is in Africa and many people over there are Islamic which is the same as muslims. They don't celebrate Christmas because they aren't Christians."
"Why." He asked seriously.
Not wanting to get into a full on comparative religion study on the extremely short drive to school I said, "I'll explain that later. Listen to the words of the song instead. Its a pretty song with nice voices and all, but listen to what they are saying..the words, 'There's a world outside your window, and it's a world of dread and fear, where the only water flowing is the bitter sting of tears, and the Christmas bells that ring there are the clanging chimes of doom, well tonight thank God it's them instead of you.' Pretty messed up, huh?"
"Yeah." He said. "Why?"
"Most people don't listen to it that closely." I said. "They just hear the melody and the basic message and know it's about Christmas so they don't really think about it."
"No. I meant why are they sad and it doom?" He asked.
"That song is from when I was in high school. Olden times. The 1980s. There was a famine, which means they didn't have any food, and water was hard to find in Ethiopia, which is in Africa. All these English guys formed this band and did this song and the money went to try and help the people in Ethiopia. Which is a good thing."
Fast forward to what was then, now, and I said, "Yeah, like that song about the muslims. It's the same with the story of Rudolph. Most people don't think about it that hard. At least not as hard as you."
"Why?"
"Just the way people are, Boy. Everyone is different. What makes the world go around. But the thing is if you turn your story in, more than likely you'll end up in the counselor's office having to talk about why you drew it. They might think you see yourself as Rudolph in the story. That you are going to do something violent. Or you are being picked on at school."
"Really?" He asked, completely shocked.
"Yeah. And you'd hate that wouldn't you?" I asked. "The last thing you want to do is to have to go and talk to them about a picture you drew cause you thought it was a funny twist in the Rudolph story. Violent. Yes. And bad. But funny. I'd laugh if you turned it into me, and knew you didn't really mean it. That your over-the-top violence was to draw attention to how messed up the story is..."
"What?" He asked, confused.
"That's just a fancy way of saying that you have Rudolph doing something extreme because you are commenting on, or wanting people to see certain things about the story that they might not have thought about."
"Huh?" He asked, again confused.
"You are a lot like me Boy, we think alike, and that's what I think you are doing, I'm just putting it in grown-up words," I explained. "But I think it's what is going on with your drawing and story."
At least I hope so. I thought.
"I don't think your teacher would feel the same way." I added. "Probably freak her out, bad."
"Yeah." He said.
"I have a way I think you can fix it though, if you want?"
"How?"
"Just change the gun to something not so violent. Or something that is silly violent, like they do in cartoons." I said. "I imagine reindeer would be proud of their antlers. Maybe Rudolph sneaks into the shop and gets a saw and cuts their antlers down short so they look funny. They'd all have antler envy."
"Yeah." He said laughing.
"Or he gets some paint from Santa's shop and paints the antlers funny colors so they look silly. Maybe pink. Since they are boy reindeer."
"That would be funny." He laughed.
"Or you can leave it the way you have it, I don't want to censor you, which means stop you from doing something creative, but as your Dad, I have to warn you, if you turn that in, I think it's going to have consequences you won't like. You'll get attention from it you don't want. And you'll hate that. I know you."
"But I already drew the picture." He said.
"I'm sure you can make the gun into a saw easily enough." I offered.
"Or I could start over." He said.
"Yeah. You could start over. If you want to start over. It's ultimately up to you Boy."
We were both quiet for awhile after that. I had expended more words in this one conversation than I'd probably said in the past week. Plus I couldn't help but wonder if I had handled the situation correctly.
Should I have said nothing and let him hand it in and face the consequences? To see the reaction. Maybe I was overreacting? All young boys, to some degree, go through a violent death fixated sort of stage. The again, maybe I wasn't reacting enough and should be worried about the Boy?
In the end Dear Reader, I simply don't know. I did what I thought was correct. And I hope, even pray, that time proves me right.
A day later while watching Santa Claus is Comin' to Town I asked the Boy what he ended up doing. I figured he'd censored himself to some degree since I hadn't been summoned to school for a parent teacher conference. But I wasn't sure what he actually did so I asked, "What did you end up doing. About Rudolph?"
"I did the saw." He said which sort of made me feel bad if I'm honest. I hate censoring anyone, especially my child.
"Where's Rudolph." He asked watching the part in Santa Claus is Comin' to Town when it explains why reindeer can fly.
"Keep watching." I said.
And sure enough a few moments later the show answered for me.
"Oh," he said. "Dad?"
"Yeah."
"I had another idea for a story. If I didn't do Rudolph. You know the elf guy in Rudolph? Who is different too."
"I think his name is Hermey." I said. "He wants to be a dentist instead of make toys."
"Yeah. Well I was going to have him break into Santa's shop in the middle of the night, get a tool and..."
"Dude." I said interrupting him.
"...pull out all the elves teeth."
"Nice." I said. "You and your Yuletide revenge stories."
"Yuletide?" He asked.
"That means Christmas." I answered. "But seriously Ethan. Should I be worried about you?"
"Dad." He said smiling that ornery smile.
"It's just a story."
Until I BLOG again...And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad.
Sunday, December 06, 2009
I wonder
Another recap post, 2007 style (Click hard for the 2004 recap & 2005 recap & 2006 recap.)
The only way to explain 2007 is to lift some words someone wrote about me on their blog: "...and had my heart break as I read about the death of his mother and the waves of aftershocks he continues to feel."
Indeed.
2007
Save you from yourself
January 16, 2007
A 'kids eat free' rant morphs into a somber tale of how the Elder Boy thinks too hard. Wonder who he gets that from?
And liberty she pirouette
February 15, 2007
The story of how an un-wanted rescue dog named, Gretchen, became Ruby the Dog. Unexpected twist at the end as I realize, probably for the first time since I'm a dipshit, the true ramifications regarding the finality of death.
I have no more than I did before
March 20, 2007
Another wheels off Mr. Mom visit to Oklahoma resulting in the Younger Boy choking in law room conference room. Crazy. Funny. And a little sad. To this day if you offer the Younger Boy a Life Saver, he'll ask if it is spicy and then recount this story.
Time knows your done
April 05, 2007
This entry about my Mom telling me her cancer was terminal is painful for me to read. Even the one about watching her die doesn't hurt as much. I think it is because I have regret. On this, I'd like a do over please. If only.
Shambala
May 04, 2007
Mr. Mom trip = wheels off moment(s) followed by more post-Mom-death funk.
It's just a moment - Part 1 and Part 2
July 17, 2007 & September 19, 2007
A two-parter! Has the great opening quote from my Lovely Bride: "Wow. It looks like we actually had a good time." I also curse the Teenage Ninja Turtles in a rainy parking lot, frightening a fellow vacationer.
Walk On
October 05, 2007
The story behind my necklace. It is wonderfully trippy and synchronistic and hard to believe (even for me) that I didn't embellish it for dramatic effect.
The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonite
October 24, 2007
Classic Team Tinsley story about me reading to E's kindergarten class and his fear of my material.
Splish Splash
November 12, 2007
This post is timely (Wy just lost his first tooth on December 4, 2009.) We had been teasing him all week about letting E have the honors based on this very anti-Ozzie and Harriet moment.
This is what I do
December 07, 2007
This is a companion entry to the The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonite, and proof that My Lovely Bride deserves danger pay for putting up with my goofy ass.
Until I BLOG again...I keep on hoping for a new day, will I ever feel the same?
The only way to explain 2007 is to lift some words someone wrote about me on their blog: "...and had my heart break as I read about the death of his mother and the waves of aftershocks he continues to feel."
Indeed.
2007
Save you from yourself
January 16, 2007
A 'kids eat free' rant morphs into a somber tale of how the Elder Boy thinks too hard. Wonder who he gets that from?
And liberty she pirouette
February 15, 2007
The story of how an un-wanted rescue dog named, Gretchen, became Ruby the Dog. Unexpected twist at the end as I realize, probably for the first time since I'm a dipshit, the true ramifications regarding the finality of death.
I have no more than I did before
March 20, 2007
Another wheels off Mr. Mom visit to Oklahoma resulting in the Younger Boy choking in law room conference room. Crazy. Funny. And a little sad. To this day if you offer the Younger Boy a Life Saver, he'll ask if it is spicy and then recount this story.
Time knows your done
April 05, 2007
This entry about my Mom telling me her cancer was terminal is painful for me to read. Even the one about watching her die doesn't hurt as much. I think it is because I have regret. On this, I'd like a do over please. If only.
Shambala
May 04, 2007
Mr. Mom trip = wheels off moment(s) followed by more post-Mom-death funk.
It's just a moment - Part 1 and Part 2
July 17, 2007 & September 19, 2007
A two-parter! Has the great opening quote from my Lovely Bride: "Wow. It looks like we actually had a good time." I also curse the Teenage Ninja Turtles in a rainy parking lot, frightening a fellow vacationer.
Walk On
October 05, 2007
The story behind my necklace. It is wonderfully trippy and synchronistic and hard to believe (even for me) that I didn't embellish it for dramatic effect.
The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonite
October 24, 2007
Classic Team Tinsley story about me reading to E's kindergarten class and his fear of my material.
Splish Splash
November 12, 2007
This post is timely (Wy just lost his first tooth on December 4, 2009.) We had been teasing him all week about letting E have the honors based on this very anti-Ozzie and Harriet moment.
This is what I do
December 07, 2007
This is a companion entry to the The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonite, and proof that My Lovely Bride deserves danger pay for putting up with my goofy ass.
Until I BLOG again...I keep on hoping for a new day, will I ever feel the same?
Tuesday, December 01, 2009
At the altar of the dark star
As promised in that end is nigh BLOG, these recap posts are self serving, and really nothing more than my dumb ass trying to make some sort of sense out of 265 entries on this here BLOG (Click hard for the 2004 recap & 2005 recap.) Which brings us to 2006.
If two words can define a year, my two words would be this: Fuck Me. 2006 sucked. Hard.
Looking back from the vantage of now, it is interesting to see how many of these posts deal with Mom dying of cancer. Even in the ones that never mention her or it specifically. It is there. Casting a powerful dark shadow over damn near anything and everything I touched.
If I learned anything from 2006, Dear Reader, it is this (lifted from The Little Prince, which you should read, if you haven't:) "It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."
Our culture isn't one that prepares us to deal with death. We like to stay away from it. Hide it. Not talk about it. Which is well and good until that inevitable day you are forced to deal with it, head on. That was 2006. Fuck me, indeed.
2006
Pop!
January 09, 2006
The first time I trotted out my Fuck cancer mantra, and one of the first posts that deals specifically with Mom's illness, albeit in a very elliptical sort of way.
Dino-Mite!
January 16, 2006
I heart this post. Truly. It is quintessential Elder Boy. Perfectly capturing his cautiousness while still showing his inherent sweetness. It also does a good job of capturing my goofy ass, what with my bad stock jokes and healthy fear of germs.
Those are some great names
February 06, 2006
Another post chronicling my bad sense of humor. I mean really, who else but me, thinks about porn while shopping for Rescue Heroes at Toys 'R Us.
The truth is the truth
July 17, 2006
Without a doubt, and to date, the most upset I've ever been with The Elder Boy.
When you said to me
August 06, 2006
At first glance, this entry might seem a bit mundane until you consider this. It is the first time I explain myself in regard to typing Dear Reader. It is also the first time I provide an actual out link to the video of the song I'm referencing in the title of the post.
Who's to say where the wind will take you?
August 29, 2006
Of all the posts dealing with Mom's demise, this and this are the most painful for me to read.
Am I too late?
October 18, 2006
One of my favorite Little Warrior stories. A brief ray of light in an otherwise dark time for this Team of Tinsleys.
I have got to leave to find my way
October 20, 2006
Since this is omphaloskepsis, let me state my love of the opening line: "Anger is easy. If anyone knows that, it is me." The balance of the BLOG however tells the very real story of how doing the right thing can feel wrong.
Filled with imperfect thought
October 30, 2006
This entry, about watching my Mom die, along with The Revenge of Matt Pogue bring the most people to the Team Tinsley BLOG via search engines. God only knows what they must think when they read my thoughts on Gone From My Sight, The Dying Experience by Barbara Karnes (which as I wrote is a truncated inverse version of What to Expect When You are Expecting.)
Filled with imperfect thought
November 10, 2006
A Boy named Stu versus the five stages of grief. Grief wins of course, adding insult to injury with me breaking down to The Living Years. Which is kind of funny. What is not, is me sharing more details of Mom's final days and the fact that her mortal remains were carried away (as it rained) in the back of a Dodge Caravan. Fuck me.
Post hoc ergo propter hoc
December 29, 2006
Man, oh, man. How prescient my title was for the final post of 2006. After this, therefore because of this. I also got to love my lead, "Where's her head." Truth really is stranger than fiction.
Until I BLOG again...Counting down ’til the pain would stop.
If two words can define a year, my two words would be this: Fuck Me. 2006 sucked. Hard.
Looking back from the vantage of now, it is interesting to see how many of these posts deal with Mom dying of cancer. Even in the ones that never mention her or it specifically. It is there. Casting a powerful dark shadow over damn near anything and everything I touched.
If I learned anything from 2006, Dear Reader, it is this (lifted from The Little Prince, which you should read, if you haven't:) "It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."
Our culture isn't one that prepares us to deal with death. We like to stay away from it. Hide it. Not talk about it. Which is well and good until that inevitable day you are forced to deal with it, head on. That was 2006. Fuck me, indeed.
2006
Pop!
January 09, 2006
The first time I trotted out my Fuck cancer mantra, and one of the first posts that deals specifically with Mom's illness, albeit in a very elliptical sort of way.
Dino-Mite!
January 16, 2006
I heart this post. Truly. It is quintessential Elder Boy. Perfectly capturing his cautiousness while still showing his inherent sweetness. It also does a good job of capturing my goofy ass, what with my bad stock jokes and healthy fear of germs.
Those are some great names
February 06, 2006
Another post chronicling my bad sense of humor. I mean really, who else but me, thinks about porn while shopping for Rescue Heroes at Toys 'R Us.
The truth is the truth
July 17, 2006
Without a doubt, and to date, the most upset I've ever been with The Elder Boy.
When you said to me
August 06, 2006
At first glance, this entry might seem a bit mundane until you consider this. It is the first time I explain myself in regard to typing Dear Reader. It is also the first time I provide an actual out link to the video of the song I'm referencing in the title of the post.
Who's to say where the wind will take you?
August 29, 2006
Of all the posts dealing with Mom's demise, this and this are the most painful for me to read.
Am I too late?
October 18, 2006
One of my favorite Little Warrior stories. A brief ray of light in an otherwise dark time for this Team of Tinsleys.
I have got to leave to find my way
October 20, 2006
Since this is omphaloskepsis, let me state my love of the opening line: "Anger is easy. If anyone knows that, it is me." The balance of the BLOG however tells the very real story of how doing the right thing can feel wrong.
Filled with imperfect thought
October 30, 2006
This entry, about watching my Mom die, along with The Revenge of Matt Pogue bring the most people to the Team Tinsley BLOG via search engines. God only knows what they must think when they read my thoughts on Gone From My Sight, The Dying Experience by Barbara Karnes (which as I wrote is a truncated inverse version of What to Expect When You are Expecting.)
Filled with imperfect thought
November 10, 2006
A Boy named Stu versus the five stages of grief. Grief wins of course, adding insult to injury with me breaking down to The Living Years. Which is kind of funny. What is not, is me sharing more details of Mom's final days and the fact that her mortal remains were carried away (as it rained) in the back of a Dodge Caravan. Fuck me.
Post hoc ergo propter hoc
December 29, 2006
Man, oh, man. How prescient my title was for the final post of 2006. After this, therefore because of this. I also got to love my lead, "Where's her head." Truth really is stranger than fiction.
Until I BLOG again...Counting down ’til the pain would stop.
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