Archives for June 2010

The video for Grandpa Gaga made me smile. It made me think of my children and their love for music and dancing. Music has always been a huge part of our family’s life and something that my children have taken on as well.

It is always there in the background, throughout the happy, sad or angry moments it flows throughout the house. If you watch us you will see that even when we are focused on a project it is not unusual to see our lips moving as we silently sing along to the music of the moment.

In the good old days before school their exposure to music was limited to whatever mom or dad liked. Though our tastes are fairly diverse you didn’t hear Lady Gaga or Miley Cyrus playing. There weren’t any boy bands or sugar coated pop music.

But some of that has changed. My daughter wanders around singing or dancing to Party In The USA and Bad Romance. So now I find myself paying attention to their music and listening to the lyrics. I ask the dark haired beauty if she has seen the videos for these songs and she says no, but I am not convinced. She tells me that she has heard some of these songs at school or on play dates.

So I sit down and think about it, wonder how I feel. I am not the over protective father and I am not the guy who jumps up and down screaming for everyone to wear a sweater because I am cold. I watch the dark haired beauty sing and dance and I smile.

She is cute, this girl of mine. She likes it when I dance with her, hasn’t realized that dad doesn’t have rhythm for anything other than slow dancing and two stepping. The girl doesn’t understand all of the lyrics- she enjoys the music and the beat. But as I watch her I see a girl who floats between dancing like a six year old and someone who is older.

I wonder if it is just my imagination or is she trying to move her hips a bit. It makes me a little bit uncomfortable. I am a 41 year old man who has always had a very healthy appreciation for girls and I can’t help but think that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

And though it is a double standard I worry more about my daughter than my son. I know how single minded of purpose boys can be and how easy it is to say what someone wants to hear. And then I shake my head and say that she is going to be six in a few weeks, this is ridiculous talk.

She dresses appropriately for her age. She acts like a little girl because she is one. With a sigh and a shrug I decide to take it day by day- not going to freak out about it. If I find out that she is actually watching inappropriate videos than someone will hear from me, but no reason to do that now. She sings God Bless the USA as often as she sings anything else so we’ll watch and see what happens.

There is nothing better than being a father, but damn if it is not one concern it is another.

Reality- it is the gift that you are given at the end of a vacation. Ten days on the East Coast have come and gone faster than they should have. New memories have been formed thoughts and ideas for future trips and funny stories are now logged inside the old melon.

Reality required me to return earlier than the family. There is work to be done so I flew home alone and walked into an empty house. Devoid of dog and people it it is deathly quiet. Were it not a house I might have said that it was crypt like, but even though the missing members are gone I still hear the echoes of their footsteps.

When I arrived late last night I followed my usual custom of patrolling the house. I walked into each room and checked to see that all was in its proper place. Stopped and stared at a few items because I couldn’t remember them being there when I left.

Heard a strange noise coming from the back of the house and stopped in my tracks. Standing still I strained to identify the sound. I was tired and cranky from a long plane ride. The guy in front of me invaded my space with six hours of horrific gas, it was unpleasant. So when I heard that noise in my home I was disturbed.

With no one else around it was a particularly bad time for an intruder to show up. Inside my mind I heard a little boy ask me to kill bad guys dead. I think that he was about four when my son said that to me- a lifetime ago.

Break into my home and all bets are off. But like I said this time I had no one to worry about other than myself. Alone in the dark I prepared to creep over to the location that the noise was coming from. In a moment I was going to confront someone or something.

I stopped and glanced at the time, 12:35 A.M.- well past the witching hour. Slowly I moved through the house. Armed with a baseball bat a bottle of hairspray I was ready to do battle. In just a moment someone was going to be very sorry that they walked where angels fear to tread.

And then it happened….I stepped on a toy and screamed. Legos are particularly good at finding the soft, tender places in your foot. In seconds I morphed from Ninja dad to “you could be the idiot on hopping around on one foot dad” who was filmed for America’s Funniest Home Videos.

In the midst of cursing all that is holy I turned on the lights and discovered that the source of the noise was a child’s toy. A E%%#^&%^#&%$# doll whose battery apparently holds enough power to keep the sun burning for a thousand years.

Later I would lie in bed and laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Oy, life is just something else.

And now, during the morning hours it is clear that I was exceptionally tired. And so it goes. So I sit here sharing these notes with you. In another moment I will sign off and go throw the laundry in the dryer and take a shower.

Afterwards when I feel a bit more awake I’ll tackle the mail. Vacation is over and reality has set in.