Raising kids

Who teaches us how to raise kids? Don't we take the best stuff we were taught from our parents and try to leave the crappy stuff behind, in hopes we are a bit better at it than the people who raised us? 

Some read books, take parenting courses, and go to self help seminars. Ultimately we try to raise our kids the best way we know how. Anyone who has more than one child will know that each is very different. The same strategies that worked on one will probably not work on the other.

I asked my parents how they graded themselves as parents. They said that all they wanted for us was to get an education, stay out of trouble, and to be happy. They were very proud of their children, which meant they felt they did a good job as parents. Who can argue with that?

I didn't have the perfect childhood. I wasn't the greatest son. But the skills my parents instilled in me have come through as an adult.

Now I'm the parent. There's always crisis management in my house, an inability to get along, an argument over a toy, the TV or the computer. Sometimes I feel our house is a jungle. Yet, I talk to other parents and it seems that every house is in chaos. We go out in public, we put on the brave face and hope our kids act more like angels than the devils they are at home.  

Funny enough, they usually behave exceptionally well in public. There were a couple of temper tantrums at Walmart that will remain with me forever. Walking out of a store in front of a couple of hundred people with one kid towed by the hand and the other screaming in a cart is an unforgettable memory.  Yet, we leave them with a babysitter or a grandparent for a few hours and we're always shocked to hear that they acted like angels while we were gone. There's always doubt that the babysitter may be lying to us. Do our children have dual personalities?

Kids know how to push the right buttons at the worst time. Yesterday, I watched a parent in a situation with her child at the gas station. The public demonstration was upsetting. The child obviously did something she wasn't supposed to. We've all been there. But the public berating of a 3 year old was too much. The mother screamed at her child for more than two minutes in front of all the patrons of the store. You could bust the tension with a needle.  I felt bad for the child as tears rolled down her face. She was too young to understand that she had been publicly humiliated by her own mother. Who am I to judge? We do the best we can with what we know.

Every day presents a new set of challenges in the child rearing department. One night my mom said, "I brought you into this world, and I can take you out of it". 

It's amazing more parents don't go crazy raising these monsters. The buggers can be the greatest source of joy and the best destructors of it within a few minutes. I think the key is to stay one step ahead of them. They think we're stupid. That's our competitive advantage...

A love affair

I was 13 years old. My mom was gone to bingo. My dad was watching TV and he asked me to get him a beer out of the fridge. Not feeling any pain, he asked me if I wanted one. I had never had a whole one to myself before. I've stolen a swig from my parents when they weren't watching. This was going to be different. A whole beer for myself. My dad was nudging me into manhood.

The first taste was terrible. It kinda stung and fizzled like pop. But it wasn't as sweet as pop. Manly as I felt, I went to the bathroom. Thought I was gonna be sick. Instead I pretended to be sick and poured the girl dressed in Labatt Blue down the bathroom sink.

It was three years before I met this fine lady again. She was dancing with five other girls. This time her dress said Moosehead Premium Dry. Me and a friend went on a double date with these six women. Again the taste was terrible. I had to plug my nose while I downed it. Even though I only kissed three girls, I felt great. It was a feeling never experienced before.

These dates went on for a few months. Thinking too much of a good thing doesn't exist, I cheating on my girls and went on a date with their cousin. She was a doctor. Her name was Peach Schnapps. That was just a shit show. First and last time I ever spent any time with that bitch. She had a friend that was just as nasty, Mo Whiskey. That woman got me in so much trouble, I refuse to even look her way when she stares at me.

So back to the dancing girls I went. After a while I didn't want to share my 6 girlfriends with my buddy. He had to get his own gals. With more experience, 6 girls couldn't keep up. I started flying closer to the sun, and asked the girls to bring 6 more friends. Again reaching a new milestone in my manhood, I could stand up to 12 menacing monsters, each one getting meaner as their other friends joined the party in my belly.

Nevertheless, as I got older there was less space in my fridge for them, so I left the girls a few years ago. They weren't good for me. I still like to dance, but I only mess around with military and royalty. One's a Captain. You probably know her, last name Morgan.

What is love?

In the critically acclaimed movie, Love Story, there is a line that states, "Love means never having to say you're sorry." Anyone who's been in a loving relationship knows that's a load of crap. It's exactly this type of line that gets the girl inside all of us to well up with tears and gets us emotionally on board with the sappy Hollywood train. The reality is that apologizing for a wrong doing demonstrates that you care enough for another person to ask for forgiveness.

One could change the line completely 180 degrees and say, "Love means always having to say you're sorry". That might be a bit closer to the truth. If you're not asking for forgiveness, you're either a saint or you don't care enough about the person you've hurt.

I like a different variation of the definition of love that was popularized by a hit song in the movie, "Night at the Roxbury". Haddaway's song "What is love?" makes me smile as I see the two main characters foolishly bop their heads to the beat of the technotronic bass.

Let's look of the lyrics to the chorus.

What is love
Baby, don't hurt me
Don't hurt me no more
What is love?
Baby, don't hurt me
Don't hurt me no more

Not very deep as is the case with most dance music. The definition of love is much closer to the truth than the sappy one previously mentioned.

If you love me, don't hurt me. If you do hurt me, I understand we all make mistakes. It's the ability to recover from those mistakes, apologizing, and moving forward that defines the love we have for one another.

Love isn't perfect. It's in the absence if it that we feel hurt. If you love someone, when they screw up, the ability to lash back does not solve the problem. It will make one person feel better in the short term. Ultimately it puts the relationship in trouble. A hurt cannot be fixed with an opposing hurt. Hurt only gets healed with love.

The ability to help someone heal from an emotional pain is the closest definition to love. Think about the last time you helped someone who was hurting. I'll bet you have love for them.

Professional sport or entertainment

There was a time when there was uncertainty to the fakeness of professional wrestling. There's nothing fake about a 300 pound man falling 10 feet on his back. That's skill. The fakeness I'm referring to are the staged outcomes. Somewhere in adolescence we realize that the storylines are not believable. That's where the magic ends and the entertainment begins.

The World Wrestling Federation, in using WWF as their short name, changed their name in the face of a lawsuit from the World Wildlife Fund, also WWF. Their new name became World Wrestling Entertainment, or WWE. In using the word entertainment, it was now clear that the matches were not sporting events. They were for show.

The show is spectacular. Athletic ability is unquestioned. It's like watching a movie. Like any good movie, you don't know how it will end. There will be ups and downs to the plotline. And you can suspend your belief for a couple of hours as you get entranced into the stories.

In the eighties, a friend told me he thought all professional sports should be considered entertainment. He suggested the games were pre-determined. The plotlines were established in advance so that fans would come back for more. This person surmised that professional sport served only entertainment purposes.

Is hockey, basketball, football and baseball like wrestling?

In the 1980's and 1990's, many called the Superbowl, the Superbore. With good reason, the average difference of score in those two decades was 18.6 and 18 pts respectively. In the following decade, the average point difference dropped to 10. Up until this year's event, the difference dropped even further to 6.

In the NBA, from 1970 to 2009, if you looked at any decade, the average number of games played in the finals ranged from 5.2 games to 5.8 games. The last four years has averaged 6.25 games.

The NHL is the most blatant. From 1970 to 1999, again looking at each decade, the average number of games played in the Stanley Cup Finals ranged from 4.9 games to 5.4 games. Then from 2000-2009, something changed. The finals averaged 6.33 games. The last four years, the NHL plays an average 6.25 games in the finals.

One could argue that parity in the leagues have made the differences between teams so small that there is only a slight difference between the best and the second best.

I watched a special on two of the most eccentric owners that used to own NHL franchises: Charles O. Finley of the California Golden Seals and Harold Ballard of the Toronto Maple Leafs. Finley forced his players to wear white skates. His team was brutal, but he saw the entertainment value in the franchise. Ballard notoriously fired his coach, then rehired him as his players threatened not to play. He asked the rehired coach to stand behind the bench with a paper bag over his head, until the end of the national anthem. Roger Nielson refused to follow along with Ballard's request. So to compromise, he waited in the tunnel and emerged in great fanfare.

These two characters demonstrate that there may have always been a bit of Vince McMahon in professional sports.

With NBA final games generating in excess of $20 million per game, the question today should be to what extent are the showmen influencing the games???

The Wolf of Wall Street

The latest by Martin Scorcese, "The Wolf of Wall Street" is an instant classic. It's got a great leading actor in Leo DiCaprio. Everything he touches seemingly turns to gold. It's got a blue blood director. It's got all of the big three: money, drugs, and sex. Most importantly it's a got a title character that you want to hate but you idolize and sympathize him at the same time.

The story is based on true life events of Jordan Belfort. Belfort a stock broker, who takes from everyone to line his own pockets reinforces my own opinions of financial advisors. A wolf looking to get paid on the backs of the innocent chickens.

The movie shows a lot of good, motivational material too. There's a scene where the lead character does a soliloquy in which he shows his complete focus, non compromising attitude, in which everyone gets engulfed by his passion, his magnetism and his energy. His sales meetings looked more like a cult than a business function.

Belfort is a wolf salesman. Unlike Robin Hood, he robbed from everyone and gave to himself. He sells people stocks that only benefits himself.

My favourite part in the movie is when he demonstrates the art of the sale. He simply asks people to sell him a pen. Everyone describes the pen. Everyone focuses on the features and benefits of the pen and not the application. One smart guy then asks Belfort to write his name on a piece of paper. Not having a pen, Belfort says he can't. The salesman asks why, knowing that he's holding Belfort's personal pen. The point was don't sell the buyer a product. Let the buyer sell themselves.

Despite the gratuitous scenes of sex, drugs and money, the movie is full of inspiring material.

You don't have to be a wolf to good at sales. Know why your customers buy, then show them that you have what they need.

This movie has many similarities to one of Scorcese's other classics, Goodfellas.

Hatred of apathy

Isn't it great being around passionate, energetic, hopeful people? There's something magical about these people. They have so much life inside of them. They are magnetic. They attract awesome results. They make things happen for themselves and those around them. These people are on a quest. You can smell it on them.

Then there's the alternative. The apathetic individual who goes bumbling through life wishing for something good to happen, but not really caring about making anything happen. You can smell them too, but it's not as fresh.

Every time I hear the words "I don't care", I get a huge shiver up my spine. It disgusts me and scares me at the same time. Not caring says a lot about an individual.

These words have made it into modern lexicon as a way of acting cool. Probably around 13, coolness became an important character trait for some odd reason. To be cool meant conformity and hopeful procreation. Putting coolness aside, not caring is the opposite of love.

My kids have started using those dreaded words. Yesterday I scolded them for saying them. They were confused. My daughter asked me if they were bad words. Although individually they are not bad words, I responded that the words were more about an attitude that was unacceptable.

I don't care is like whining. It's a stink filled attitude that brings down both the speaker and the listener.

I care! If you don't, stay away from me. I WILL give you a timeout for saying these words. Ask my daughter. I'm serious.

Winners never quit, quitters never win

Many believe to build good character in our children, we shouldn't let them lose. My kids started playing soccer two years ago. Rightfully, no one but the kids keep score. There are no standings. Most importantly, there isn't a championship game.  Everyone gets a medal and all the kids feel great.

At school, winning isn't promoted either. It's all about participation.

The best character is developed is through losing. Learning to lose with dignity is way more important than simple participation.

Last Fall, I was playing ball hockey with my son. He was losing. Then he proceeded to whine and mope.  Seeing an opportunity to teach, I refused to let him win. It would have built his self confidence, but it would also give him a false sense of accomplishment.

Over the Winter, he's been practicing in the basement. His net is smaller but his stick handling, his shooting and his defence has improved tremendously. I'm proud of him. He's legitimately beating me. When I hear him bragging to his mom, I feel good for him.

Today, on his request, we brought the basketball net in the basement. At only six feet, the shots are really easy for an adult, and tough for a child. His competitive spirit wanted to keep score. So we agreed the first person to make 10 shots would win.

After 5 shots, my son was losing 4 to 1. He started complaining. He sat on the floor, whining and sobbing. He responded that the game wasn't fair.

As another parenting moment emerged, I philosophized to him, "You only lose when you quit. If you don't quit, you can never lose." To prove my point, I tried a little less. He came back and won the game. He ran upstairs and proudly confirmed his accomplishment to his mother.

He felt great. I feel great. This is a life lesson I hope he remembers.