Saturday, June 26, 2010

Time Sure Flies When Your Kids Are Growing Up

As appeared in the Albuquerque Journal Rio Rancho section 6/26/10

I have a friend who just had her second baby. She now has two little ones and she has stepped down from her high profile job in journalism ready to embark on what she calls a “slower paced” life at home.

I remember those early days when my two daughters were very small. I worked part time from my home office after they went to bed at night. I was never so tired in my life. Oh, sure at first I was bored to death; the laundry was always folded, the floors were always scrubbed and the meals were always on the table on time. And then they began to have birthdays.

First birthday parties are usually small with immediate family in attendance. I ironed my light blue smocked dress with the itchy crinoline petticoat that tied in the back that my mother had saved all those years. Here I was thirty-three year later putting it on my own daughter on her first birthday. Time sure flies.

By the second or third birthday kids are brave enough to walk into a Chuck E. Cheese and not jump out of their skin when the big stuffed animals walk up to them and try to give them a hug. By the time they are 5 and 6, the only goal is to win 25,000 game tickets so they can buy the red yo yo and a Chinese finger trap, eat a piece of pizza and go home slung over dad’s shoulder. Time sure flies.

As parents we work so hard to make the birthday parties perfect and something our kids will treasure in their hearts forever. Like the time when my mother made a special coconut elephant shaped cake for my brother’s fourth birthday because his favorite animal was elephants. She slaved over a hot oven all day making the masterpiece from scratch; mind you this was 1963, plus she had two younger children at her hip. She spread the white whipped frosting all over the elephant, carefully placing a maraschino cherry for the eye. Upon presenting the birthday boy his cake at the table, he took one look at it and proclaimed, “I don’t like coconut.” He didn’t eat one bite.

The moon bounces and water slides are a big hit for the summer birthdays. By the time the kids are old enough for these, parents are still young enough to partake of the recreation as well. “Do it again, Mom. Please? C’mon, one more time” Time sure flies.

But soon they outgrow the pony rides and jumpies and it’s on to bigger and better activities. My youngest turns twelve this week and I surprised her with a bowling party with four of her closest girlfriends. I thought this would be a new and exciting way to celebrate a birthday, besides girls this age love being together just about anywhere.

What do twelve year old girls do at a bowling birthday party? Well, they don’t bowl. After an hour they were still on frame number four. They don’t eat the pizza either. They don’t talk to their mothers. What they do is stand in a tight group as if they haven’t seen each other in years, giggle, look at each other’s cell phones and talk about boys. Time sure flies.

Quote of the Week: “May you live to be 100 and may the last voice you hear be mine.” -Frank Sinatra.

Saturday, June 19, 2010

Readers Let Us Know Why Dad Was Special

As appeared in the Albuquerque Journal Rio Rancho section 6/19/10

We pay tribute to our fathers tomorrow, and for those of us who are grown up, a good way to do that is to recall our dads in special moments and milestones that have cemented in our memories to cherish forever.

Many of you wrote to me with your own tales of your fathers, and I wish I could include all of them today. You told me stories that brought tears to my eyes, as well as joy. What better way to pay tribute to dads everywhere than to keep the love alive with stories of their love for us. I thank you all for sharing.

"I was a freshman at Drake University and had never been away from home. Dad drove me to Des Moines, Iowa, from Minneapolis, Minn. We brought all my clothes up to the third floor (no elevators) and finally it was time for Dad to leave. I was crying so hard and hugging him so tight, that the poor guy had to unwrap my arms from his shoulders. Later that week, I received a handwritten letter from my dad, explaining how tough it was to leave me, but if I was to continue on the course God had for me, I would have to stand tall. And then he said, 'Good Morning for all the mornings and Good Night for all the nights and remember your Dad loves you.' I've carried that message with me all my life, and thank you for letting me share it on Father's Day. My father passed 20 years ago and this warms my heart." — Marion D.

"When I was learning to drive, I had the experience of driving the family car — with the entire family of six in it — into a 'Keep Right' sign at the entry ramp of an interstate. This episode earned me an immediate trip to the back seat, not to mention the embarrassment of having to surrender the keys to my brother. The very next day when my dad came home from work, I was outside and came over to tell him something. He just nodded and then spoke softly, 'Look, about yesterday.' He folded his arms and continued, 'I know you feel bad about everything. But you got to realize, too, that all of us have done things we wish we hadn't. Last year, I remember steering Ken (my brother) out of an accident. You just got to put this behind you and get back at it.' " — Ray W.

"When my dad was mad at me, I could make him laugh so he would forget to be angry. He rarely got very angry with me. However, there was this one time. My older brother took a two-year break between high school and college, and my dad wasn't happy about it. I was a consistently good student and got a college scholarship. But I really wanted a break, too. Just before high school graduation, I told my dad that I didn't want to go to college yet, that I wanted a year break. He got this look on his face that I hadn't seen before. He started advancing on me and shaking his finger at me. He said in a dead calm voice, 'Young lady, you are going to college and I don't want to hear another word about it.' As he was advancing, I was backing up and saying, 'I'm going, Daddy, I'm going.' I never mentioned a break again, and I went to college as I was supposed to." — Gloria S.

"I am a very lucky 'son' because I have had the opportunity to be special in so many people's lives, and it doesn't matter if they sired me, adopted me, provided for me, coached me, or even guided or bossed me ... but it is because of them, I am who I am." — Steve G.

Quote of the Week: "It doesn't matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was." — Anne Sexton, poet.

Monday, June 14, 2010

Remember When Dad Saved the Day? I Do

As appeared in the Albuquerque Journal Rio Rancho section June 12, 2010


With Father's Day a week away, we all think of our dads and the memories we hold of them. As we age, negative memories tend to fade somewhat, leaving mostly happier ones to ruminate over.

Some people have memories of their fathers they wish they could forget. For others, their dads can do no wrong. Either way, the stories that have been told about the family patriarchs in our lives could fill volumes.

My father owned a bakery in Columbus, Ohio, in the early '80s, where I worked when I was home from college. One Saturday after the cake decorator had gone home, my dad discovered a cake order for that evening that had not been filled.

"Jennifer, go decorate a white cake in the shape of a truck, red icing, black wheels, and write on it, 'Happy Birthday, Timmy,'" he said.

Now I had become rather crafty at writing the names on the cakes, but decorating a special shape for a party was intimidating, to say the least.

My dad was pretty good at decorating cakes, even making the roses, but he was too busy to do this one. I have to admit I was excited to try my hand at sculpting a red Peterbilt out of a vanilla half-sheet cake.

I remember taking too long on my slightly slanted, Picasso-esque masterpiece. The party was starting, and we promised to deliver the cake. I finished up with the fluted piping around the edge and away we went.

I stayed in the car as my dad walked the cake up to the front door. Timmy's mom opened the door with a smile, appreciating the special delivery. I watched as my dad opened the box for her inspection, but instead of approval, her face sank in disappointment. She shook her head in rejection at my masterpiece.

With cake in hand, my father turned and walked back to our car.

"What happened?" I asked.

"She doesn't like it," he said. "I have to go make another one."

My heart sank with failure as we drove back to the bakery, where my dad whipped up a perfect red Mack truck cake with yellow wheels.

We drove back to deliver the second cake, and this time when Timmy's mother opened the door and lifted the lid on the cake box, her face lit up with excitement. It was perfect.

My dad got back in the car and we looked at each other and he gave me a simple, "Glad that's over." Traumatic and embarrassing at the time, but funny and endearing now.

So, for all the young dads and dads-to-be out there, remember this: It isn't the paid memberships to the country clubs. It isn't the summer camp away from home to teach independence and maturity. What's important to your kids is making good memories together — memories they can keep deep in their hearts their whole lives.

Send me your stories about your dads or granddads. I'd love to share more fun on Father's Day weekend in my column for next week.

Quote of the Week: "Nothing I've ever done has given me more joys and rewards than being a father to my children." — Bill Cosby