Tagged: parenting

How An Old Eagle Scout Gives A New Eagle Scout A Knife

I don’t really have a relationship with my nephew who is a graduating HS senior. Without directly asking my sister why she got him involved in Boy Scouts, I imagined the answer to be fairly obvious and plain: she saw how it helped me in life, both with enjoyment as a kid and professionally in acceptance into USAF Pilot Training and ability to complete it successfully.

Her son is riding fairly high right now, with several notable achievements under his belt, including Eagle Scout and acceptance into a unique college program. When I visited recently for his birthday, I directed the concept with him to knives, just for fun. I was surprised that he knew a bit about metals being used these days. He also surprised me by an earnest delivery of how he was super practical in being content with cheap knives that got the job done. Being the uncle who was consistently tardy or absent on birthdays and Christmas his whole life, I figured I would take a moment and a rare handful of cash and get him a knife he would never buy for himself—and likely never use. I also wanted it to be one that he would forever associate positively with Uncle Pete.

To my shock and dismay, when he finished opening the gift, my sister and mom took turns nastily cautioning him about the dangers of bringing it to school. Essentially they warned him that he would lose many opportunities that are available to him today over such a thoughtless mistake. They both then looked at me with apprehension, bordering on respect, a kind of, “I hope you know what you’re doing” attitude. I credit them for not “disagreeing” or “revoking” the gift.

Keep in mind, this was only a week or two before the black kid murdered the white kid with a knife.

How did I, the Eagle Scout uncle, caution the newly armed man?

Later, and one-on-one, I homilized, “I had no idea that your mom and grandma would react like that.” This opening keeps me credible and trustworthy. “On the topic, I just want to say this.” This establishes that the sermon is brief and likely worthy. “I got you the knife partly because of all these recent achievements of yours.” This is a compliment; hard to not like a compliment. “But please know that if you were to do something stupid like ignore reality and bring it to school, besides the consequences, by my thinking, it would mean that all the achievements were counterfeit.” This was the respectful and powerful punchline.

He blushed hard and seemed hurt.

Then he shed any maturity he had just revealed unintentionally, if winsomely, and smiled and nervously giggled in what I supposed must be counted as a teenager’s acknowledgment of unsolicited guidance.

Dishonesty Is Without Use

I just began reading Ben Franklin’s Autobiography. As with all books I read, it is great.

Of note in his early years, he recounts a time when after trying to persuade his dad otherwise, Ben’s dad taught him, “Nothing is useful which is not honest.”

Just thought you might be able to put this to work with your own children.

Why I Want the Department of Education Gone

I want the government to dismantle the Department of Education because I love debating “happiness” or “flourishing” or “eudaimonia”.

There is a thing called “learning”. There is a status called “educated”. Most of the literate people (and some illiterate people) of the planet believe learning and education promote this happiness in the fullness of the word.

But the question remains.

Does education lead to happiness?

So dismantle the Department of Education. I’d even go so far as to support the end of formal schooling for a year or two.

What would “we” do? No school? Ahhh! How would life go on? Our precious daycares! Who would watch the kids screw around all day? Who would not teach them? Where would they eat? What would they wear?

Big questions, folks. And I don’t think for a second that any of them are anywhere near settled. So, Federal Government, proceed, sir!

Feels Like I’m Just Losing When It Comes To Cars

Financing used cars is the only way to go right now. But when any mechanical issues appear, the monthly payment skyrockets. Add Colorado insurance prices—and the raison d’etre—and driving a car at all becomes obscenely expensive.

I’m just coming off a false alarm “you need a new engine” on one vehicle, and a totaled-out second vehicle. This wreck was fortunate in a way because it was a high-mileage rust bucket. We got more from the kid’s insurance than we ever would have even as a trade. Yet, the plan was to keep it until the step-son needed wheels, at which point he gets the old car and, well you know the story. Now who knows when he’ll start driving.

Now this newer (still a 2017) used car seems to have a leak. Maybe it’s a fluke. I’ll find out soon enough. But it puts me in a foul mood.

I just want to read, you know? The toddlers are in bed. I just want some reading time.

Too tired for Hawking’s “A Brief History of Time.” Not even in the mood for an early X-Men comic. There’s always a Jack London freezing Alaska tale, but not tonight.

Anyhow, I have my stupid rule about reading at least a chapter from the Bible before anything else. Hmm. I’m in Two Chronicles (ha). It’s actually not terrible because of its summarizing. It is kinda nice to breeze through the history so quickly, from such a high-level, AND know that it’s still the Word of God.

I feel better already. Probably gonna hit the next chapter on that and then see about Hawking.

Oh well. Going snowshoeing with the toddlers tomorrow.

One day at a time.

On the Obvious

I want to start with, “Well, I’ve officially learned…” But the information is so patently obvious that it is more like, “Well, I have to admit you were right.”

Two cultures just cannot mix.

Don’t hear me say that a man and woman can’t fall in love and decide to marry etc. But don’t for a second let that man already have a child and that woman already have a child. Or, more pointedly, don’t let the non-dominant culture’s representative bring in a child. Does this sound mean? Or even tough? It’s not. Or maybe it is. But that assessment puts it squarely in the realm of truth. Truth, it seems, by popular definition is painful.

Truth is painful. Just look at what people don’t want to say. Just list a few things people don’t want to believe. Here’s maybe the deepest, darkest secret we keep in our land of self-delusion: “My kid is a moron.”

Nobody wants to concede this one. And when it becomes known to the parent(s), they do some magic act of retreating socially and investing their time otherwise. “My hands are clean.” “What can I do?”

But when the kids turn out to be contributing members of society, it’s all rainbows and unicorns. Everyone wants to know all about it in as precise detail as possible and the parents beam, “This was all Bobby (or Susie). At most we pointed them in the right direction. Ha. We. It was their mother, I was hardly around truth be told. We are truly blessed.”

So what are my demands? What do I want out of this life?

Agreement from the adult population of earth that lying is wrong. Notice I am not asking for everyone to stop lying. I couldn’t even comply with that demand. I just want everyone of age to agree that lying is wrong.

All my life I have thought it was obvious. (Thanks, mom and dad.) It is not.

An anecdote for your consideration.

I was in line at the grocery store in the small town where I work. Long story, short, I informed my bro-looking adult male line-mate that I had a wife who did not instinctively believe lying was wrong*. In a perfect display of active listening he stopped in his tracks and paused until responding, “How would you even communicate?” I said, “That is exactly the point. Thank you.”

How would you even communicate?

****

*How can someone believe lying is not wrong? It’s shockingly simple. They insert some other moral good which trumps it. Like “I just want peace.” But it could be many other ideas. That’s just the one I hear and see on the regular.

(Please keep in mind that even this peace is not defined as the only real peace that comes with virtue and morality. What these people really mean is obvious. “I just want to remain a neglected child.”)

“A Plan For What?” She Said.

“You need to tell A- that the next time he calls his dad, they need to make a plan!”

“A plan? A plan for what?”

I calmly, though unable to hide irritation, say, “My wife. His dad wants to talk to him. Well, the boy is 14, not 8. So A- can tell his dad all about how he is in school and then has basketball, and then dinner, except on days when basketball is later, and then A- and his dad can figure out when a good time to schedule phone conversations would be. This is not complicated.”

“My husband. You know all about this. Don’t you want to talk to H- and she won’t talk to you?”

“What? This is nothing like that at all. We don’t care and have never stopped or tried to stop A- from talking to his dad. And no one is trying to stop them from talking now. Again, you and I have no business being involved anymore at all. The boy is 14! Tell him to explain his schedule to his dad so they can come up with a plan. Why do you and I need to go back-and-forth about this? There is nothing complicated about it.”

****

Dear reader, can you guess what is at issue here? Can you imagine the underlying rub?

You got it. The dad, and apparently every physical and spiritual force—nearly power itself—wants my step-son to have his own phone. The dad wants to be able to text him and have him respond right away. The dad wants to be able to call him as he pleases with his son answering promptly.

It makes no difference that the dad is in a foreign land. It makes no difference that the dad has taken zero interest in the boy for pretty much his entire life, even though he had him to himself for the first eight years of that life. Nope, none of these things matter. When you’re dealing with humans, you are dealing with children or children-grown-older.

I need to be clear—mostly to my maker—the smart phone does not solve any problems!! And the smart phone creates innumerable problems for all it touches!! I would honestly rather give kids hard drug samples rather than smart phones on the off chance the kid just doesn’t like the effects. I don’t think I could be persuaded that, for example, crack hooks every human that has sampled it. But the smart phone? 100% addiction rate. No one can resist. We’re junkies one and all. It’s astounding.

Well, when it comes to kids in my “sphere of influence”, they have to wait before their first high. Step-children from the dark continent as well.

At face value the situation is so laughable it isn’t funny. It’s almost a joke with a punchline.

So, ha ha ha, here’s one. There’s this 14 yr old boy and his dad—impeded by no one—who can’t figure out how to call each other in 2024. The dad says, “Ring ring.” And the boy doesn’t answer because he’s at school. The boy says, “Ring ring.” And the dad doesn’t answer because he’s at work.”

Here’s the punchline I like best: “I guess ‘colored people time’ transcends time-zones!”

****

“A plan? A plan for what?” she said.

One last note. While hanging out at an airport the other day, a few of the super rich came strolling through, just off their private jet. The dad—keep on mind we are talking very wealthy people flying on private jets for leisure trips—the dad, I overhear, is complaining that his teenager won’t answer texts. He goes on to say it is easier to get a response if he posts in snapchat or instagram or whatever other app the kid is known to be absorbed in day-in-and-day-out.

So, no, this has nothing to do with anything but morons being morons. The international factor is irrelevant. The family history and dynamics are irrelevant. If people want to talk to each other, they can. If people aren’t talking to each other, it is because they don’t prioritize it.

Case closed.

Kamala Is Not A Grandma

The politically incorrect trolls are having a field day with Kamala’s “as a parent” response. People or bots are correctly pointing out that she is not a parent, but their implied reason is invalid.

Kamala Harris has no children of her own, and she met her step-children when they were 15 & 19 (or thereabouts). But CNN’s question was about the last 4 years, which means while the step-children were 21-25 and 26-30 years old. And Kamala was 56-60.

There’s more. The whole “make mistakes while parenting” is relatable when you and your children are young. If Donald Trump, while 70 and Barron 10, delivered the quip, it may produce laughs, but it still wouldn’t accomplish the purpose Kamala sought the other night.

But all of this is missing the bigger point.

This woman is 60 yrs old. That makes her twenty plus years into being capable of being a grandma and she is suggesting she is a mom making mistakes. The lie she told is her age, not her family status.

Donald Trump, the most misogynistic presidential candidate in recent history, is going to beat the first two women candidates, and why? Because Kamala lied about her age. Why? Because she’s a woman and lives in reality after all.

Sleep, Sleeper

If I could change one aspect of modernity, it would be to un-invent the clock. I know, I know, it wouldn’t work. Modernity needs the clock like fish need water. But living by a clock has always felt unnatural to me. Most unnatural is the idea of waking up because of “what time” it is. Sleep, I say.

Running right alongside my fantasy is that I hate waking people up, no matter what time the clock says it is. I feel that I have done my small part in increasing happiness for my fellow man if I help keep people asleep. Specifically, I do everything in my power to keep babies, toddlers, and children asleep. This sleep benevolence of mine extends also to spouses and family members and house guests in general. If I am at work and someone is sleeping, I tip-toe away and do whatever is in my power to not wake them.

I cannot recall the last time I caused or allowed (or let pass without strong rebuke, for that matter) a sharp noise to be sounded while someone was sleeping.

I do confess there are moments where my posture towards sleep is more difficult, perhaps impossible, to maintain. When H- was small, we went to the symphony together and she would fall asleep despite the racket. At the end, I couldn’t just close the place down as she slept. So I woke her.

On Sundays, the black baptists run long as a rule. J- often finds the padded pew similar enough to a bed. I cannot just allow him to sleep as they come to the conclusion of the whole matter. Life must go on.

But I ask you, dear reader, what about when I show up to H-’s orchestra concert only to be carefully ignored by her? What if H- plans a trip to visit my parents and siblings (her grandparents and aunts and uncles) and is sure to confirm that I do not have a coordinated surprise visit in mind before boarding?

What then? Should I let H- sleep? Should my family let H- sleep?

H- is told the worst kind of lies by her mom, her mom’s parents, her step-dad, and his parents, and my parents, my siblings, and—unless I miss my mark—the entire fucking population of this great country have decided to let her sleep.

H- is living a lie.

She doesn’t know it, but she has been kidnapped.

She doesn’t know it, but her dad is robbed monthly and has been for 12+ years.

She doesn’t know it, but she would not have a roof over her head, food in her belly, or a pot to piss in, if it wasn’t for me.

She doesn’t know it, because she sleeps.

Should I wake her?

Nahhh. Let her sleep.

Sleep, Sleeper.

On Musk’s Hype, On Authoritylessness, and On Homeschool; Or Marriage Advice from Pete

This gets old for me, but I am happy to do it. Here goes: Don’t believe the hype! Even when the world’s richest man is behind the hype, it is still hype. Do not believe it.

The world isn’t at some precarious moment. Democracy/America isn’t at a precipice. Do not believe the hype.

****

A friend and I who were in college (super small liberal arts college) together and had the pleasure of seeing Clarence Thomas speak were discussing the smear campaign the other day. Today my friend sent some WSJ op/ed about it. Let me be clear: there is no “authority” anymore. There is no news organization who can clear a name, nor one who can condemn a name. They have all lost all respect, and consequently lost all authority. You’re all suckers if you believe any of them or believe in any of them.

****

I have wanted to homeschool my children for around a decade now. First, my 14 yr old, H-. And now my two toddlers, A- and J-. Divorce ended the first marriage. And this second marriage is to an Ethiopian who quite literally cannot imagine homeschool. I didn’t quite think through the profound ignorance regarding the field of education which Ethiopians have when I married her, but even had I laid out the entire plan, I am certain she would have been agreeable until she changed her mind—like every other woman.

The charter school my step-son just enrolled in (pretty sure affirmative action on some level got him in) is actually one of the good ones—ie has a “classics” education. And so while I still believe homeschool—by me, for my kids—would best set them up for success in life, I can also see that in some twist of fate, the two toddlers will be able to easily bypass all normal gate guards into the desirable charter school since their “black” (not really, but whites can’t tell the difference) brother already attends.

When I mentioned this somewhat change of heart to my wife she was ecstatic. She was most ecstatic, I was most sad.

I bring things the kids into the world and all anyone wants to do is take them from me. I lose my first daughter to the first, worst person I have ever met. And now, even when I have met a regular woman and married her and made babies with her, she cannot wait to give them away to strangers. It’s fucking messed up. And makes me sad. I have this goofy schedule where I am home every other week for the entire week. In other words, I am gone half the year for work. The flip-side is I am home, no work, half the year. If the kids are in school full-time, the amazing schedule I have is of no value. And it actually is a shitty schedule because now I am gone half the year and additionally miss my kids while I am home.

I didn’t have kids to be alone. I had kids to raise kids. Fuck. It is not that complicated. Why else would anyone have kids?

With everything we are watching in the news, with every event from the bullshit pandemic (can’t be worldwide if most of the world is too stupid to know it is sick with a new disease), to the wars, to the election, to the faggots, to those who want to let children cut off their dicks, to the childless cat ladies who think they should have a say regarding someone else’s kids’ education, to the women who want to kill their children, I just wouldn’t have guessed there was anyone still around who thinks, “less time with our children” is the answer. I just wouldn’t have guessed the selfishness (get the kids away from me so I can shop!) and belief in groupthink had spread to all corners of the globe.

So here’s the lesson, for any young readers. Selfishness is everywhere because selfishness is childish. It is immature. Don’t be selfish. And don’t marry selfish people.

Groupthink is everywhere because groupthink is childish. It is immature. Think for yourself. And don’t marry people who can’t think for themselves.

Brief Excerpt from Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables from which to Compare Personal Experience with Children

“That Cosette continue to love him! That God would not prevent the heart of his child from turning to him, and remaining his! Loved by Cosette, he felt healed, refreshed, soothed, satisfied, rewarded, crowned. Loved by Cosette, he was content! He asked nothing more. Had anybody said to him, “Do you wish for anything better?” he would have answered, “No.” Had God said to him, “Do you want heaven?” he would have answered, “I would be the loser.”

****

Before H- was born, we chose not to know the sex of the baby. As a military man, I feared a son, because he would naturally want to follow in his dad’s footsteps and leave home for war. So when H- came into the world, I said, “Good! She can live with us forever!”

Then divorce; essentially weekends only; moving away for work, which was sold to H- by her vindictive mother (and gee-ma and gee-pa??) as her father abandoning her (to full applause of society, including professional counseling sessions for problem of “abandoned by father”); moving back, only to be ghosted by H- since last December.

It may seem that one could reasonably conclude that my “she can live with us forever” was uttered in the same manner as Jean Valjean’s sentiment.

It was not.

As I explained above, my sentiment was about being frustrated with the result of my war-seeking and not wanting it to define the rest of my time on earth, ie, I didn’t want to pass on military service to my son as if it was a genetic disease. The better option seemed to have a girl, since obviously war is for boys.

To conclude, unlike Jean Valjean, noble hero that he is, I am not made content or discontent by one of my child’s feelings toward me—especially while they are a child. There’s really no one on earth who affects my “contentment”, let alone is sufficient for it. I regard the idea as a character flaw. But in a romantic novel of novels, it is perfect and Jean Valjean is perfect.