The Jerry Seinfeld Blog Post

Yesterday morning I sat next to my son at the orientation for middle school and tried not to get into trouble for heckling the administrators. Yeah, I know, dad is supposed to set a good example for the kids so heckling the people who were boring us to sleep wasn’t really a good thing to do.

The good news is that said heckling was imaginary. It only took place in my head, but had I actually shared what I was thinking I am sure I would have gotten a lot of laughs.

In the interest of full disclosure there were two reasons why I didn’t heckle these fine folks:

  1. I didn’t want my son to be stuck with the consequences of my actions. I am prepared to live with what I do, but that is my choice.
  2. I wanted the damn thing to end sooner than later. Heckling wasn’t going to help.

The teenage boy who lives inside my body wants to know when he turned into an old man. He has fond memories of the days when we were a class clown and I suppose that the old man does too.

But my son is not me and I am good with that.

I never had a problem being the center of attention. I never had a problem raising my hand and answering questions. Sonny boy (that sounds kind of silly) would prefer not to be called upon…ever.

He doesn’t want the attention, but it is not because he doesn’t know the answers. During school conferences his teachers have always said that he is an excellent student who follows along and provides the correct answer when called upon. They also said they would like to see him participate more.

Great Googly Moogly

Great Googly Moogly, I have a kid going into middle school. I am not nearly old enough for this to be the case. My driver’s license says that I am 43 but I swear I am around 19. Ok, maybe not. All I have to do is look in the mirror and I can see I am not.

Curse you 19 year-old metabolism for running away. If I ever catch you I am going to kick your ass…twice.

While I sat there listening to the school administrators discuss policy and procedures two things came to mind:

  1. I like the school and feel good. I think my son will do well there.
  2. Some policies were written by rabid monkeys who were high on crack. WTF were they thinking.

I won’t lie and say I am not nervous about middle school because I am. I won’t say anything to my son about this because I know he is nervous and I want him to be confident. I am confident about his ability to adapt and am sure he will be fine, but sometimes dads worry.

First Impressions

It was a big day here today. Fans of Being A Mom linked to A Letter To My Children-2011 and as a result this joint got a significant bump in traffic. I am grateful for that, but I admit that it reminded me a bit of the old days when I would get unexpected visitors at my apartment.

I am not a slob, but people only showed up on the days when the apartment looked like it belonged to a single twenty something year old man who used paper plates, had a refrigerator filled with cold pizza and beer and a bed that never seemed to get made.

The difference between then and now is that I am far more cognizant of the impact that first impressions can have. Back then I would have laughed it off and said that people can like me or dislike me. It really doesn’t matter.

In many ways I am still that guy but the difference is that I am working towards something now that will have a significant impact upon my life and my children.

My goal is to use this blog to help me become a writer who supports his family through the words he publishes. The goal is to publish novels and to take the stories that are being written over here that can be used for something more.

So when the traffic spike hit I was excited but part of me was frustrated that I couldn’t pop in and tidy up so that I could make the sort of first impression I wanted to.

Middle School Then And Now

After orientation ended we took some time to wander around the school and get a feel for it. It is not the school I went to but it looks just like it. My son asked me what I remembered about my time in middle school and I told him about how back then I wanted to play centerfield for the Dodgers. I was sure it would happen, but sadly it didn’t.

I asked him if he knew what he wanted to do when he grew up and he said no. I said that it was ok and told him that sometimes it takes a bit longer to figure out what we really want to do, but I left out the part about ow it took me 30 years. If he asks I’ll tell him, but I don’t think he’ll be hurt by not knowing that.

Am I really old enough to have a kid in middle school, damn.