Bad Day

Today was a bad day.

I barely woke up this morning, clawing for consciousness against what felt like a smothering cloud of sleep. I stumbled to the bathroom to wash my face and got an eyelash stuck in my eye. The kids woke up just as hard as I did and it is raining again.

My daughter took ages to get out of bed and started the day off in a complaining whine that I’m not sure ever stopped. She glowered, huffed, and protested about anything and everything. When I explained to her that we would do the homework she had been avoiding when she got home, she loudly attempted to shift blame to me for “misunderstanding” something. I say, “something” because she was rather vague about what and how it affected her homework.

When I finally had them loaded in the car the trip went smoothly until it was time for drop off. She forgot her backpack. School is about 40 minutes away, and my car is having significant mechanical issues, running rough, and eating gas like the tank had a hole in it.

I took a breath and avoided starting her morning out by fussing or complaining.

The car did have issues most of the second trip to the school and back. When I got home, I was spent. I looked at the dishes that needed to be done and the usual bit of tidying that needs doing and shook my head.

“No.”

I metaphorically threw in the towel, took a seat in my chair, and played a video game I have been enjoying called No Man’s Sky. The hours between drop off and pick up flew by like minutes. With time fast approaching I went to save and quit the game I had been working on and it froze up and force-closed before I could.

The car continued to struggle to run on my third trip to school today and my daughter picked up her complaining and grumping as soon as homework came up.

I sat her at the table and in a calm, flat, voice explained that I would not be listening to her complaining. If she wanted to have a bad attitude, she would be doing her work alone because I did not deserve to be fussed at for trying to help her. I told her it was her choice.

She grumpily, but quietly, did her work quickly and when I mentioned how fast she got through it she started to gripe while glaring at me. Once again, adopting a calm flat voice, I told her that if she wanted to be grumpy and have a bad attitude she could do so alone.

“Today is our last day together this week, I don’t want to spend it like this”, I said.

She immediately sat up, smiled, and began calming down.

We all have bad days sometimes. We all get up on the wrong side of the bed occasionally. For my daughter, clear and firm communication about her options and what I wanted was enough for her to think about what she was doing and change her choices.

Sometimes I wonder if we would all benefit from having someone to sit us down and talk clearly, firmly, and evenly about our behavior and choices for the day. Especially when we are having a bad day. I wonder if I would respond as appropriately as she did. I wonder if I would be equally capable of turning my day around.

All told, nothing major went wrong, just a series of minor issues on a day when our patient resilience was diminished. I thank God for the equilibrium to calmly address the issues. At the very least I hope it serves as an example of our ability to choose and control our reaction to things for my kiddos. Who knows, maybe today wasn’t such a bad day after all.

Trout

Sunlight sparkled off the stream as it bubbled over rocks and spun through pools. Old trees with fat branches and thick canopies lined either side of the mountain brook. Even through the thick rubber of waders the water was cold.

My brother and I traipsed after our dad through swift waters that ranged from ankle to knee high in the span of a step or two. We carried ultralight fishing poles and wore olive green vests packed with tackle, though all we used were nightcrawlers.

We had pulled over at a small bridge, suited up, and were walking upstream. We tried a few casts as we went with little luck, but it was a beautiful day, and I was excited to be out.

As we walked, sometimes in and sometimes out of the water, my brother and I chatted while my dad scanned the area. Finally, we stopped. Up ahead I could see the stream rushing around several rocks, slamming into the back of a massive boulder, and swirling around its side into an eddy of the current.

My dad told us, in hushed tones, to crouch as we approached the pool. The water could cause the fish to see at an odd angle and we didn’t want to scare them off. He then pointed at a similar feature in the stream a few yards up and said he would try that pool while we fished the lower one.

Sticking to the cover of larger boulders and trees we slipped up on the pool, baited our hooks, and cast our lines.

I wish I could tell you that we caught fish like master anglers that day. The truth is that my brother and I caught far more Redeye and Suckerfish than anything else. Though, we did catch a few mountain trout as well.

Mostly, I remember the peaceful and perfect beauty surrounding us and the thrill of adventure as we explored somewhere new and stalked our prey. For a preteen boy, it was a perfect day.

I seldom have the opportunity to hunt mountain streams for treasure pools full of trout anymore. Yet, I still feel a yearning inside to recapture those moments.

I do love fishing, the mountains, and stalking up on pools in a stream but one of the main reasons this memory holds such a powerful place in my heart is because it was an adventure with dad.

Like other memories with my dad, this one included him teaching us. There is something special about a father imparting wisdom to his children. There is something powerful about a dad including his children in something he loves and teaching them about it as they go.

Centuries ago, this would have been considered normal. Fathers taught their sons the family trade, and they would work and train together. The bonding and building of relationships and individuals alike were incredible.

Today, we count on schools to teach and train while parents go off to work on their own. While this opens a world of opportunities for our children to pursue whatever field they wish, it removes one of the primary methods fathers bonded with their children.

What used to happen as a matter of course, we must now be intentional about. Find something you love, something important to you, and share it with your children. Spend time including them and teaching them. Celebrate their achievements and tell stories about your own struggles when you started. Invest knowledge, time, and passion into them. They may never become master anglers, photographic geniuses, or craftsmen extraordinaire, but they will always remember.

They will remember your passion, your love, your expertise, and the time you chose to spend with them. They will remember that you found them important enough to include and chose to share what you loved with them.

Those are some powerful memories.

At the end of that trip as we walked through the stream back to the small bridge, a truck stopped on the bridge. A panel on the back of the truck slid open and hundreds of trout fell into the stream as the bed of the truck began to tilt.

We laughed about that being the reason we didn’t catch many and as we took another step to leave my foot slipped. I went down, my waders filled with water, and I began to slip downstream. My dad caught me almost immediately and helped me up.

I didn’t get a lecture or admonition and wasn’t told it wouldn’t have happened if I had been paying attention. We laughed and we went home.

Things won’t go perfectly when you plan these times with your kids. That shouldn’t be a surprise, be ready to breathe through it and stay positive. Together you will build memories worth keeping.

Learning

Math, I hate math.

I am not talking calculus, trigonometry, or some other ridiculous abomination dreamt up by some sadistic madman bent on torturing students. I mean all of the math.

I remember leaning over pages of homework stacked full of sets of problems. The teachers would give me the “formula” for the equations. I didn’t understand the formula. The teachers said that I didn’t need to understand it, just to apply it. I would apply the formula and get the wrong answer. The teachers would tell me that because the problem was different the formula needed to be adjusted.

How was I supposed to know that, or know how to do that, if I didn’t understand what I was doing?

I spent hours desperately trying to figure out why I couldn’t get it right. I cried. My parents cried. My teachers ground their teeth. This started before I ever reached algebra.

I hate math.

Math did not start to make sense to me until college. My program did not require any advanced mathematics but requested I take a semi-remedial math class to ensure I tested above math competency levels.

I do not know what the professor did that was any different from any previous teacher, but he made math make sense. Once I understood the equations, the math work, while still unpleasant, was more tedious than difficult. It was healing and cathartic to work through the problems with relative ease.

Up until that moment, a small part of me had believed what that teacher told me all those years before; I was stupid.

Not mentally challenged, or broadly ignorant. I always performed well in every other academic realm and excelled in some. None of it, however, was enough to erase that seed of doubt deep inside that perhaps I really was stupid because, after all, I could not do the math.

I can do it now; I just hate it.

Last night during my video call with the kids my daughter was having to study her spelling words. She had several words she was struggling with, and her mother was having her write the words. It is a solid strategy. It worked for me and worked for my son, but my daughter was not happy.

I heard her start to cry and ask why. When her mother told her she knew why my daughter responded with a wail that it wouldn’t help and that she just couldn’t do it.

It broke my heart.

I know what that feeling is like, and I know how persistent it can be. My life was changed by my mother’s willingness to homeschool. I went from hating school to excelling in it. It has made all the difference.

I desperately want my kids to enjoy learning. I don’t want them to grow up hating school and all the formulaic, stressful, and, often useless, bull crap that goes with public school. This is one of the big reasons I look forward to being back in town with my children. I may not be able to homeschool them, but I seem to be able to help them with their schoolwork in a less stressful and unpleasant manner.

Taking the time to instill a love of learning in your children is an incredibly important investment. If your children are taught to enjoy learning they will spend the rest of their lives enriching themselves. There are many ways to instill a love for learning, but there are a few foundational ways.

1. Teach them about things they are interested in.

Find something they are already in love with, fascinated by, or curious about, and find engaging ways to teach them about those subjects. Keep it light and keep it fun. Don’t just drop facts on them, or give them homework, but tell stories, play games, go to museums, or do projects together that deal with those subjects. Listen to their stories and talk to them about those things.                                                                                   

2. Learn with them.

Watch a national geographic special, read an article, or look up some facts and learn about something they will find cool. Then share that information with them. Be excited about it. Use the phrase, “Hey, did you know…” and tell them how cool you think it is that moose can dive twenty feet and have two layers of hair. If they see you enjoying learning, they will catch the enthusiasm.

3. Teach them how to learn.

People do not automatically know how to learn. Unfortunately, our school systems do not do a good job of teaching children how to learn. Children can have all the desire to learn but if they do not know how to do it correctly, they will likely only retain bits of trivia.

When I taught my son his spelling words, I would verbally quiz him to establish a baseline of what he knew already. I would then have him write each word several times and we would pick back up with verbal quizzing. When he asked me why he had to write them down I explained that our brain has several ways it learns and that the more of those we can engage the better chance it has of remembering things.

When I helped him understand why and he saw the results of his efforts, he stopped pushing back. Kids need to be taught how to study, how to take notes, how to look things up, and how to think critically. We must teach them how to learn.

And then we need to…

4. Celebrate their success.

As I said, one of my son’s biggest turning points in his own struggles with spelling words was when he saw the good grades start rolling in. I did not give him a simple good job or a, “See, I told you.” I hugged him close, told him I was proud of him, hung the test on the fridge, and praised how hard he worked writing those words down so that he could remember them. I did my best to make him feel like a superhero for owning that test and not just the first one. For every test he passed and felt proud of I offered praise. Eventually, he moved on from being impressed by his good grades and took them for granted. I counted that a success.

Make sure you celebrate your kids’ achievements in learning. If they read a book, ask them to tell you all about it or read it to you. Hug them and tell them you are proud of them. If they pass a test, remember some facts, learn a new subject matter, or get a good grade then celebrate it.

Do not celebrate with a simple or off-hand reward. Don’t just offer extra video game time or give them a toy or snack. This isn’t a reward it is a chance for you to engage with them, bond with them, celebrate with them, and invest in them a sense of accomplishment and confidence that they can do it and it is valuable and worth doing.

Learning is far too valuable and important a skill for us to avoid taking every opportunity possible to invest in and teach it to our children. I am thankful every day that my mother understood this, and I strive to do my best to live up to that example in my own kids’ lives.

Regardless of your own history with education and learning, this is something you can do. You’ve got this. It takes time and being intentional. Sometimes it requires self-sacrifice and giving up things you would rather be doing, but it is invaluable.

Bingo

I wanted to get my kiddos away from the various screens in the house. Hours on end of Youtube videos and video games start to drive me crazy. It was too hot and muggy to play outside, family members were all otherwise occupied, and bowling has gotten expensive.

I decided to print off a travel bingo card and load us up in the car. The grid of pictures had items like, “yield sign”, “green car”, and “bird”. I told the kids that I needed to go a couple of places and that they would work together to get as many Bingos as they could while we were out.

They eagerly scanned through the items on the card and began talking over each other asking if they had seen one item or another. Before long they had a system down and were locating items left and right. In the meantime, I stopped by a couple of stores, and we did a little back-to-school shopping.

No one asked for a Chromebook, video game, or audiobook.

They had decided in the first few minutes of the task that they would get a prize if they got a Bingo. I said it depended on how many they got. Really, the plan had been to go get them some ice cream anyway.

During our drive around town, they found everything on the list except for a jogger, ambulance, police car, and fire truck. We were headed back home, and my son had all but given up on finding these last items. My daughter had another plan.

“I am going to ask God”, she said.

“You can’t pray about that” my son scoffed.

Too late. Her head was bowed for a few moments before she looked up, “I asked God.”

“No. God isn’t some galactic prize machine that you just get whatever you want. You can’t just ask Him for things like that.”

At this point, I was hesitating on how to break into the conversation. God is not a cosmic vending machine where you put in the right prayer or work, and He spits out the prize you want. However, God loves to talk to His children, tells us to ask Him for what we want, and loves to give us gifts.

How do you teach children the complexity of prayer, when so many adults fail to grasp it? Just because we ask, doesn’t mean that God’s answer will be immediate or a “yes” at all. He knows what is best for us and provides for us according to His wisdom and grace. The importance of prayer is the process of trusting God, talking to Him, and relying on Him. Prayer is both the product of and the method by which we develop an intimate relationship with God.

My brain poses these questions and struggles with how to teach the kids about prayer in the time it took my son to say, “No…” As he went on to say, “God isn’t some…” the car in front of me moved to the side and a man came jogging towards us on the side of the road.

I smiled and marveled at the humor of God, and His ready and eager ear for His little ones.

A little girl in a random car in Kentucky prayed they would find another item on their list, specifically a jogger, and He heard. The same God who created the universe eagerly took the opportunity to bless one of His children and teach a lesson.

My son looked up, he and his sister saw the jogger, and he burst out laughing.

“I say you can’t pray for that and BAM there is a jogger appearing out of nowhere. It is like someone just spawned him in.”

I took the opportunity to tell them both that God wants us to pray about things big and little. He loves to hear from us and wants us to tell Him about what is important to us. We also must understand that just because we ask for something doesn’t mean we will get it. Sometimes we will, and sometimes we won’t, what is important is that there is nothing that we cannot pray about.

At the same time, the Holy Spirit taught me a lesson. How long has it been since I had the simple faith of a child? When was the last time I wanted something or something was bothering me and I replied with a simple, “I’m going to ask God”?

When did I stop actually expecting a response?

In that moment, God, in His gentleness, smiled at me and said, “You didn’t expect me to answer either.”

That was all He needed to say. He used that one statement to open my heart and lay before me brokenness, bitterness, and callousness. There was no condemnation, just a gentle reminder that “to such (children) belongs the kingdom of God.” (Luke 18:16 ESV)

Bingo!

Magic Glasses

I am part of a Facebook group of dads who play Dungeons and Dragons. Most posts are requests for help thinking up ideas for plot lines, traps, monsters, or character builds. Many parents ask how to get their children involved in the hobby and do so in an engaging and age-appropriate way.

I do not often post on Facebook in general, yet a post came across the group today that caught my attention.

Dads, please help.

I’m making a horny bard BBEG for the first arc of my campaign (should cover levels 2-5). What are some good abilities/actions I can give him?

Also, a good magic item they can loot

As I glanced through the comments, I found the obligatory innuendos and sex jokes one might expect to find. I also found a string of comments about the cringeworthy nature of the post and the fear of its ability to have a “rape vibe”.

My mind, like it is prone to do looked for a deeper answer.

I said that he should give this BBEG (big bad evil guy) a pair of flashy glasses that allows him to read and comprehend any language. My explanation was that this man’s natural charisma and talent with his instrument was so great that he never applied himself towards an education. As a result, he is practically illiterate.

The glasses became the first commissioned piece he had done because he is very self-conscious about his deficiencies. In fact, his very demanding father/mentor/teacher once told him that he was an “idiot and will never succeed at anything important”.

The BBEG “chooses” to use these words as “motivation” to become successful, but they are his point of brokenness and obsession. He is obsessed with proving himself “successful” in any and every pursuit and the obsession has train wrecked his life. Most of his persona is an act to cover this crippling lack of self-confidence and obsessive need to prove himself.

I argued that this would explore the concept that our words have a lasting impact on people and offer the players a possible vulnerability to exploit. If the players were able to best the BBEG in any significant challenge it would seriously shake his mentality.

It could also offer a non-combat option for dealing with the BBEG. Exploring the use of compassion and diplomacy to change the world around the players.

I realize this is a much heavier storyline than what the original poster was probably intending so allow me to explain. I like to think about my son when I consider a storyline and by that, I mean, what am I teaching with this?

Lighthearted and silly characterizations and plot lines can be a lot of fun, and I have used them as interludes in my campaigns before, but ultimately, I want to know what I am communicating or teaching. Stories are a powerful teaching tool. I believe writers and storytellers have a duty to tell responsible narratives.  

If we can teach an important lesson in a stirring, fun, and impactful way why miss that opportunity? Just as importantly, how do we justify “accidentally” teaching immoral, unjust, or dangerous lessons?

I have said it before; living life with intentionality is hard. Thinking through everything we say and do can be exhausting sometimes, but it is so important. Our world is full of people who do not fully consider the impact of their words and what they do. We cannot, in good conscience, add to that negligence.

Your life, your words, the jokes you tell, and the conversations you engage in tell a story to those around you. What lessons are you teaching? If you enjoy storytelling, Dungeons and Dragons, writing, filming, or anything similar I would like to challenge you to think through the stories you tell; are these the lessons you would want to teach your own children? Are these the lessons and behaviors you want to see more of in the world today?

Story is so impactful because it teaches people through lived experience gained vicariously and safely. It is perceived as harmless entertainment yet creeps into the thought patterns, worldviews, and behaviors of those who consume them. What are you teaching? What are you consuming?

The “Big Bad” that I described above was a broken and hurting little boy trying his best to prove he was a man and hiding the “truth” he saw in the mirror. How many careless words spoken in moments of frustration by fathers have built this narrative in their own children’s world? How many times have we heard the advice to tell someone (insert expletive here) and “use it as motivation” to be successful or better in some way?

Is that what you really want to communicate? If you had to teach your child to deal with a similar situation, how would you do it?

These are powerful plotlines because they are close to the heart. They are lessons many of us want to learn and want to see done well. We all carry around our own pair of magic glasses that help us hide the “deficiencies” we see in ourselves. What would it look like to take those off and address the issue?