Am I becoming "that" person

One of the pitfalls of stay at home parenting is that most of your daily interactions are with children. This can be wonderful and rewarding in its own way. It can also leave one craving some adult interaction/conversation. This is on top of the rewarding conversations with your spouse, which mostly revolve around the children and your day with the children. Unfortunately, this can lead to overreaching to find a conversation. I think I am a naturally friendly person, years of working in retail have made me comfortable talking to people I don't know. My dad gets a kick out of it, like when I would talk to and make friends with the people in the lines at Disneyland. He took to calling me "Mojo Matt" whenever I would talk to people. What I worry is that I am talking too much, being too friendly, perhaps even giving too much information. In my lust for conversing, I will talk to just about anyone, teachers, other parents at school, grocery store clerks, receptionists, waiters, random people shopping, just about anyone. In my haste to do this, I wonder the impression I am making. I wonder if I am coming off extremely needy and a bit too forward. Sometimes in my head as it's happening, I will worry I am talking to much, dominating the conversation, but I can't stop myself. One problem with these encounters, is their fleeting nature, they are but a temporary fix. It's like the drug addict getting a score, sure he's high for a while, but that only lasts for so long, and then needs to score again. They are a vapid passing, unsatiating once the moment has passed. I guess it could be worse, I could go around talking to myself.

Is it depressing in here or is it just me?

After writing the blog about my grandfather, my mother in law asked me to write one about her mom. I happily obliged and started writing a blog about the woman I affectionately referred to as the Helenator. Before I could finish it, the Helenator passed away. I finished it, but didn't publish it, because I wanted my mother in law to read it first. I was also worried that my blog was becoming a "death blog", if only I had known what this year had in store for me. That was in January the Helenator passed, but other happy things were happening, a quick getaway to Phoenix with just my wife, and a niece to be born in March. February came and went well, an amazing trip to Phoenix which included reconnecting with an old friend. Then March came in like a lion and exited like a rhino stampede. It started with the call that my sister who was planning an at home natural child birth had to rush to the hospital. The updates were sparse, her platelet levels were dangerously low, her organs were in danger of shutting down and the baby would have to be taken by c-section immediately. She was suffering from HELP, which I had to look up, but it's like severe pre-eclamsia. The hardest part was being hundreds of miles away with no knowledge of the situation and no way of finding out. After the fact we found out the dire nature of things, basically my sister almost died. Once she had recovered one of her nurses told her she thought for sure she was going to die. Fortunately, both she and the baby came out the other side healthy.

Editor's note:
This was written after my father in law had passed away in March, and I saw the old friend in Phoenix in April a second time, only to have him die 2 weeks later. It was before we found out about J needing surgery again.

Snap! Crackle! Pop!

For a few months now, I've been having some discomfort with my shoulder and with my knee when I run. I know the knee issue is a tight IT band, and I've gone to a running clinic to learn to run correctly to fix it. At my annual physical I asked my gp about my shoulder, he tested my range of motion and told me it's arthritis in my AC joint. I tend to disagree with his diagnosis, but he's the one with the MD, it's just my body. I figured before I go and have another doctor want to scope me, I would try an alternative. So today I went to see a chiropractor, or if you prefer, a back quack. My sister-in-law, swears by the guy and how he has helped her and her family. I went in without preconceptions, it is worth a try. I had to fill out the usual patient info sheet. I thought about not mentioning what my problems were, I figured if he's good he should know without me telling. Decided it might be more helpful in fixing the problems if I mentioned them.

Editor's note:
Turns out, all it took was a new mattress and a gel foam mattress topper (on the chiropractors advice) for my shoulders to feel better. Some good stretching made my knee feel better.

Sexism in the pre-school

I knew the day would come, but I thought I had another year. We just signed Q up for full day kindergarten for the fall, and now I am faced with what to do with myself when the boys are both in school all day. I thought he'd go half-day, but his teacher recommended full day, and now I've got a lot more time on my hands come August. I have put some thought into what to do, but not much. I've thought about doing some volunteering, but I'd have to find a good cause. I figured I would maybe join a gym, and finally get back into really good shape, but that wouldn't take up that much time. I figure I'll keep the house more clean, but that's easier with the boys at school not messing it up. I could catch up on all the movies I haven't watched (now that would be productive!), or become a soap opera/talk show fanatic, eating bonbons on the couch. I could blog more, of course with the boys in school all day there would be less to write about.
I could get a job, although not sure what I would/could do and it would have to fit into a specific schedule. I thought about possibly teaching pre-school at O and Q's school, I love little kids (and they love me), and it would work schedule wise. That idea intrigued me, so I asked the principal what that might entail. It would start with a resume and essay on my "view of America" to the corporate offices, then an interview and Wunderlich test. Easy enough, although the school owner and I don't see eye to eye politically, so I would have to word my essay carefully. From there, they would decide my qualities/qualifications and place me in the school and grade they determined (based also on where and what grade they need teachers in). I told her that wouldn't work because I only wanted to teach pre-school at that campus. What she said next has gnawed at me all day, she told me it was VERY unlikely I would get to teach pre-school because I am male, and they rarely have male pre-school teachers. She said that parents are more comfortable with female teachers, even through the early elementary years. I am offended by this, I wouldn't care if my child had a male teacher, but maybe I'm the exception. I am curious what other people think, are they really uncomfortable with a male teaching their young kids? Is the worry that a guy must be a pedophile because he wants to teach young children? It probably just goes back to sexist societal views, like the gym teacher is supposed to be a man, or women should should stay home birthing babies. As a stay at home dad, I thought we were getting past a lot of those bias's. It reminds me of when I worked retail, and a woman shopper would ask for one of the women to gift wrap, because I was a guy and wouldn't do it well. Sometimes I'd let it go, but mostly I would say "sure, but I'm the one who taught everyone else to wrap, and am better at it. But if you want, someone else can wrap for you". I don't like sexism, or being told what I can/can't do, but I guess the point is moot, since I don't want to go through the process if I can't teach at the campus and grade I want. It's okay, I probably don't fit their ideal in many ways, other than I would do a great job, I love kids, and kids love me, but I'm not what they're looking for.
I guess it's back to the drawing board for what to do, I'm willing to take suggestions and ideas if anyone has any. I'm sure to keep me from becoming a serial blogger, people will come up with lots of ideas. In the mean time, I'll imagine how little I can get accomplished with all that extra time alone this fall.

The Helenator!

In a first, I am writing a blog based on a request. After the blog about my grandfather, my mother in law (MIL) asked me to write one about her mom, my wife's grandmother. Due to my love and devotion for my MIL, I am gladly typing away.


The Helenator (as my wife's grandmother will henceforth be referred to) is quite the force of nature, and can be summed up with one term......spitfire! She may not always leave the best impression, but she definitely leaves one. The first time I met her she left one on me, literally. I was at my MIL's store she owned to see my future wife, but we had only been dating a few weeks. I was standing at the counter, when I received a swift kick in the ass. Wheeling around, I was surprised to see my attacker, a short stout woman in her sixties, who looked like she was ready to give it another go. I wasn't sure how to respond, luckily my wife intervened to introduce us. The Helenator can be very playful, but beware of entering into any gamesmanship, because she is a ruthless competitor, especially at cards. You have to be a strong person to play cards with her, because she plays for blood, and is a poor winner and an even worse loser. She's like a child, who will pick up their toys and go home if they're not winning. That does not happen often, one because she is good, but also unbelievably lucky. She always seems to win when she gambles, but will never reveal how much she wins. She takes her winnings, puts them in her purse, and then is elusive when answering how she did, "ohhh, I did all right, I think I'm a little ahead".


The Helenator is kind of like a magnet, she can quickly change her polarization, and she can alternately repel and attract. An example, she knows what she wants which is good, the bad, is that she is going to get it one way or another. Her behavior at restaurants is legendary. A well off woman since I have known her, I was shocked the first time at a restaurant when she started loading up her purse with sweetener packets and creamer and then rolled up the leftover roll in napkins and stuck them in there too. It wouldn't have been a normal meal out with the Helenator if she didn't return or complain about some part of her order. One time on a trip in Europe with my wife, her parents, and her grandparents, we stopped in a place to grab a drink. The Helenator wanted coffee, and the giant dispenser was empty, she would not be denied and started berating the employees to make her some (this was late in the afternoon and the place was closing soon). At this point her husband turns and quietly walked out the door shaking his head, he had been to this rodeo before and didn't want to watch.



In a sad twist to this tale, the Helenator passed away before I could finish it. Her spirit and spunk will be greatly missed, and I'm sure she's stirring up trouble wherever she is.



Just a few last memories to share. I remember going to the horse races with her. She wouldn't ever tell us what horse she was betting, but she always seemed to win more than any of us, of course she never would tell us how much she won. One time J and I were roped into helping at party the Helenator and her husband were having for friends. Up until that point (it was early in our dating) I had really only seen a prim and proper side of J's grandparents. That party showed a whole other side, there is nothing like a couple in their early 20's trying to lead a group of inebriated, hard of hearing group of sixty-somethings in a game of pictionary that they don't understand how to play.

Ode to a stubborn Dutchman

Had an interesting time today, I took my grandfather to the VA hospital to see a cardiologist. Seems his daughters (my mother and two aunts) wanted someone there to corroborate what the doctor said. My grandfather took it to mean they thought he was getting senile and couldn't be trusted to go to the doctor alone. Offended, he didn't want any of them to come. I offered to go instead, figuring someone should be there and he would be okay since I didn't question his mental fitness. I was okay to go, since I hadn't insinuated anything about his mental fitness. I love my grandfather, I aspire to be the kind of man he was and is, honest, kind, strong, helpful, giving, loving, tough, and stubborn. At 86, he is still all of those things, although in a frail physical shell of what he once was. His legs bow, and his back bends, but he is a mightily proud man still, and it saddens me to see him physically towards his end. The blessing is that his mind is still sharp, although his hearing has been suspect for years (I have a sneaking suspicion that oftentimes it's just selective listening). To be able to talk and remember with him is priceless, especially after witnessing dementia in friends and family.

My grandfather still lives in the same house that my mother lived in as a child, taking care of my grandmother who can no longer walk and himself. You will not see a more devoted husband, and this is to my grandmother, who can be a cranky, bitter, nagging old hag a lot of the time (even still, she is my grandmother, and I love her dearly). He cooks, he cleans, he does laundry, he is the caretaker. I hope to be such a wonderful husband for as long. He still drives...... like a bat out of hell, just call him lead foot. He still tends to his huge garden as he has always done. I still remember eating carrots, cucumbers, and peas, straight from the yard washed off with the hose. He still wants to live, but with his pride, if those things were taken from him he might not be around long after. My grandmother on the other hand likes to say she wants to die, I just ask her not to say it in front of my boys. I love that my boys have had the opportunity to know them, many people don't get the chance to know their grandparents, let alone their great-grandparents. I was lucky enough to grow up next door to my great grandmother, and still harbor many fond memories of her. I hope my boys will do the same.

Mine is a special relationship with my grandfather. My parents divorced when I was six weeks, and up until my mother remarried when I was five, he was the father figure in my life. Even after that, he played a close role in my life. Since both my parents worked, many of my after school days were spent at their house. His whole life he was in amazing physical shape despite bad knees and the nightly bowl of ice cream before bed which I loved to have with him. Then there were the fishing trips, and the rock hounding expeditions. I'm not exactly sure what rock hounding is, or what we were doing hiking around the mountains with hammers and heavy duty canvas bags, but I know it was always fun to go with him. I think he longed to be a prospector and discover gold. They were always educational trips too, my grandfather is a font of knowledge. Which was impressive, because he was mostly self taught through sheer will and determination in the desire to learn and gain knowledge. He had joined the Merchant Marines before he was eighteen, and never went to college, I think he would have really enjoyed it. He was a also tireless worker, trying to provide for his family. There were no breaks when doing things with my grandfather, you worked until the job was done, and he would never get tired. I don't think he let any one do anything for him until he hit his eighties. He is also the toughest man I have ever known. He was always crushing his thumb, or opening a cut, blood would be gushing everywhere, but he would act like it was nothing. He was like the Black Knight from Monty Python, "merely a flesh wound". He'd hold a towel on it, then maybe put some super glue on it to stop the bleeding. The worst he'd ever say was "well that will frost you!" or "oh for hell's sake!". Often times the second phrase would be followed by my grandmothers name, because of something she had said. I remember times in the kitchen with him baking bread, making candles, and his holiday favorite "oly bolies" (oliebol or oily balls). They were a Dutch pastry which he loved to make. I couldn't stand them, but I'd always eat one with a smile and tell him how good they were. Grandpa was great telling stories, but my favorite didn't come till I was grown and married. My wife and I had come to visit, and got to hear the story of how as a young married man he had lost my grandparents savings playing pinball. I almost fell over in laughter, I thought my grandmother might strangle him. I love that he often laughs, and can laugh at himself. If something was particularly funny you would get "oh my heart, my heart" as he would laugh and clutch his chest. One thing has always been steadfast with my grandfather, the fact that he is a stubborn Dutchman (witness above and his doctor appointment). Once his mind is set, there is no turning back. He makes a decision and it's full steam ahead, and come hell or high water he's sticking to it. You always know what you are going to get from my grandpa, he's the same no matter what, and he'll tell you straight. You really see how wise he is, because he knows when to keep quiet and stay out of things, probably to make up for my grandmother who often lacks a filter on her mouth. And that pretty much sums up the greatness that is my grandfather.

Reading this back, it almost sounds like a eulogy, and maybe that's what I'm doing, trying to prepare myself for that sad day. There's a song by Harvey Danger called "Jack the Lion", and every time I listen, it reminds me of my grandfather and the sad day of him "roaring his last". Happily the doctor said that shouldn't be any time soon, his heart looks good, although it's got some extra beats, nothing a stubborn Dutchman can't deal with.

Dr Frankenstein at your service

It seems I may have created a monster. Those close to me know my affinity (or obsession if you ask my wife) for sports and their fantasy counterparts. My dad always used to say that if someone was sweating on tv I would watch it. As I have grown up I've refined that a bit to basketball and football, with some golf thrown in. O has foregone interest for the most part, but Q has shown some interest, but was too small to understand much. That all changed this past fall, as a four year old, he is now old enough to understand a lot of what's going on. I was excited to have him want to use his season ticket to U football games. That was only the beginning, the NBA season started and his interest exploded. He knew the Jazz players from a poster he had and a few of the other superstars, but now he is like a walking basketball almanac. He can tell you teams and who plays for them and what number they are. I was shocked by how he knew all the players numbers, but then we realized it's because he's just starting to read and could only tell numbers, not names.

Q is a bit of a front runner, his favorite team is Miami, mostly because his favorite player is LeBron (he even used his own money from his birthday to buy a half off Cleveland jersey). I figure it could be worse, it could be Kobe and the Lakers, then I'd have to disown him. Actually, the only team he is forbidden to EVER root for is byu. A couple of months ago, the Jazz played in Miami against the Heat. It turned into an epic game where the Jazz came back from a huge deficit to force overtime. Q consistently cheered positive Miami plays, never wavering in his support. Ultimately the Jazz prevailed in OT to my cheering. At this point Q, who was in front of me watching, turns around with tears streaming down his face. I ask why? "Because Miami lost", trying to stifle a laugh, I took him in my arms and comforted him. At that moment I knew I had created a bit of a sports fanatic monster.
Things have only grown since then. O asks to see my iPhone to play Angry Birds and Plant Vs Zombies, Q asks for it so he can see who is playing that day or who is winning. We watch tv and he asks what game is on he can watch. In the morning he no longer wants to watch Curious George, he wants NBA Gametime or Sportscenter. I finally, after much nagging from him, got him his own fantasy basketball team (he's very upset football season is over and he didn't get his own team). He can tell you all about the players on his team, who they play for, and what they are good at. He is especially taken by Blake Griffin and Kevin Love on his team, but doesn't understand why I can't trade for LeBron for him. He can also tell you about the recent Orlando and Phoenix trade. He can name all the Jazz players and their numbers, including who the rookies are. He can tell you where former Jazz players are now. For Christmas he got basketball and football trading cards which he constantly peruses and tells you about. Ask him what he got for Christmas, and he will tell you he got NBA Jam for the Wii (and basketball shoes). It is now his favorite activity and all he wants to play, even over the Kinect we got. If we watch NFL games he can tell you the teams, and some players, he even knows Drew Brees is QB for New Orleans and was mommies fantasy league QB. He always picks who he wants to win and has his favorite teams, the Bengals, the Cowboys, and the Arizona Cardinals, although he calls them the Arizona Birdies. He also faithfully roots against the Broncos, much to his Charger fan daddy's delight. Sometimes I just have to sit back and laugh at him, but it is pretty fun having a partner for the games. I think my wife dreads having two of us in the house.