. . . to blog about being a father of eight, and neglect his kids in the process? Or to blog about his great marriage, which suffers because he spends so much time blogging?
(*sigh*)
Sorry, friends, but I've got to go.
My behavior vis-a-vis blogging has gotten to be too much like addictive - too compulsive, taking too much time from real, important things in my life. And so, I've got to go, to attend to the real demands of my real life. . .
I want to stress that this is my problem; nobody offended me, or upset me - you've all been wonderful. It's just that the Real World trumps Blogworld, and I was starting to lose track of that. . .
It's way more emotionally difficult for me to walk away from this than it ought to be; and that's probably a measure of things having gotten a bit out-of-whack.
"To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under Heaven." (Ecclesiastes 3:1) (Those of you more in tune with the pop culture might identify it with a song by the Byrds; OK, those of you Old Farts like me who were listening to pop tunes in the '60s)
". . . La, la, how the life goes on. . ."
(7 comments)
Saturday, July 8, 2006
Thursday, July 6, 2006
Being Pregnant
Molly and I have been married for almost 26 years, and we've had eight children together. That means that she's spent six years of her life being pregnant. Throw in roughly a year apiece that she's nursed them, and that's 14 years of her life that someone besides herself has been drawing on the resources of her body. That's amazing.
I have always been in awe of the female body, and not just because of its obvious sensual and aesthetic features. The capacity of the female body to nurture within itself a complete, distinct PERSON, touches on the holy. I mean, think of it - every one of us here today came into being in the exact same way, within our mother's womb. And while I'm thinking of it, every human being who has ever lived corresponds to an act of sexual intercourse between his/her parents (OK, with the one very high-profile exception . . .)
I have often told Molly that reproducing ourselves together is the coolest, most amazing thing we could ever do. In a way, it is the biblical 'one flesh' in its most concrete form (or, if you will, in our case, eight fleshes). I mean - think of it - we're making another PERSON out of the substance of the two of us, and our love for each other. Completely awesome. . .
(5/1 comments)
I have always been in awe of the female body, and not just because of its obvious sensual and aesthetic features. The capacity of the female body to nurture within itself a complete, distinct PERSON, touches on the holy. I mean, think of it - every one of us here today came into being in the exact same way, within our mother's womb. And while I'm thinking of it, every human being who has ever lived corresponds to an act of sexual intercourse between his/her parents (OK, with the one very high-profile exception . . .)
I have often told Molly that reproducing ourselves together is the coolest, most amazing thing we could ever do. In a way, it is the biblical 'one flesh' in its most concrete form (or, if you will, in our case, eight fleshes). I mean - think of it - we're making another PERSON out of the substance of the two of us, and our love for each other. Completely awesome. . .
(5/1 comments)
Wednesday, July 5, 2006
The Pause That Refreshes
Just got back from five days Up North, as we say in Michigan. We had a great time - good relaxation, good fun, good family time. We really needed some good family time.
Molly and I and five of our kids (4M on down) shared a lodge with a friend-couple of ours, R (the husband) and M (the wife), and seven of their nine kids; sixteen of us, all cozy together under one roof. Our lodge was 'rustic', which meant no electricity, and pit toilets (altho we were near the campsites, which had showers and flush toilets; much to the relief of 6F)
We were walking distance from a beautiful, sandy Lake Michigan beach, and the weather was beautiful. The kids spent hours and hours playing in the lake, skipping stones, jumping over whitecaps, whatever there was to do at the lake, they did it.
One day we drove a short distance to an out-of-the-way little waterfall hidden away in the middle of nowhere. The falls were maybe about 4-5 feet high, with a little pool at the bottom. Folks were just sort of lounging in the pool, and the kids were jumping into the pool from the top of the falls. 4M and 5M and the teenage boys spent the better part of an hour trying to climb up the falls against the falling water. All very 'unsafe' and (therefore?) tons of fun. . .
We even went to a concert by a Beatles tribute band.
So, all-in-all, we had a great time. We really needed some family-recouping time, with no pressure, just to be able to relax and have fun together, and we got that. God is good.
Molly and I and five of our kids (4M on down) shared a lodge with a friend-couple of ours, R (the husband) and M (the wife), and seven of their nine kids; sixteen of us, all cozy together under one roof. Our lodge was 'rustic', which meant no electricity, and pit toilets (altho we were near the campsites, which had showers and flush toilets; much to the relief of 6F)
We were walking distance from a beautiful, sandy Lake Michigan beach, and the weather was beautiful. The kids spent hours and hours playing in the lake, skipping stones, jumping over whitecaps, whatever there was to do at the lake, they did it.
One day we drove a short distance to an out-of-the-way little waterfall hidden away in the middle of nowhere. The falls were maybe about 4-5 feet high, with a little pool at the bottom. Folks were just sort of lounging in the pool, and the kids were jumping into the pool from the top of the falls. 4M and 5M and the teenage boys spent the better part of an hour trying to climb up the falls against the falling water. All very 'unsafe' and (therefore?) tons of fun. . .
We even went to a concert by a Beatles tribute band.
So, all-in-all, we had a great time. We really needed some family-recouping time, with no pressure, just to be able to relax and have fun together, and we got that. God is good.
Monday, June 26, 2006
Don't Tread on Me
Here's another story from the Jones family archives, which fits with the recent theme of 'Miracles', and also, in its own way, with another prominent theme of this blog (at least so far), 'The Trials of Desmond and Molly Jones and Their Children'.
Seven years ago, I was sitting in my office at work, deeply dialed-in to whatever was on my computer screen at the time, when the phone rang. It was a friend of ours. "7M has had an accident," was all she said. My mind raced as she explained that he was in intensive care; I don't remember the rest of what she said. I left work and drove to the hospital, a 45-minute drive, during which I could only wonder what I'd find when I got there, or if my son was even alive.
7M was a year-and-a-half old at the time. He and some neighbor kids were playing in our front yard that afternoon. At one point 7M was standing behind the neighbor's minivan; the neighbor came out, got into his car and backed out - right over my toddler son. The neighbor across the street saw it happen and called the ambulance immediately. 5M, who was seven at the time, might have saved 7M's life by getting the driver's attention and getting him to stop. Molly was inside the house talking with a friend who had dropped in, when one of the kids ran in and told her what had happened. At first, she didn't believe them, but her friend said, um, why don't you go out and see what's going on. The ambulance arrived within a minute or two, and then things were a blur.
By the time I arrived at the hospital, his situation was diagnosed - he had a bunch of cuts and bruises (including a detailed tire-tread-pattern bruise that ran from his thigh, all the way up his torso, and across his cheek), a broken collarbone, three non-displaced skull fractures (non-displaced is good, if you have to have a broken skull), and bruised lungs. The bruised lungs were actually the biggest concern of the ER docs (I guess if you have trouble breathing, things get bad very quickly). They had him hooked up to a machine that monitored his breathing. At that point, every minute that passes with him breathing well is a good minute, but they wanted to monitor him for 24-48 hours. So we just waited for the 'good minutes' to keep accumulating. After 24 hours, they moved him to a less-intensive section of the ICU, and the next day, they released him, because all they were doing was chasing him around the ICU. Our boy had a clean bill of health 48 hours after being run over by a minivan (well, except for the broken bones and bruises thing).
When we tried to figure out how this could have happened, the doctor said that his young age actually was in his favor, because kids that age are very flexible - their bones aren't brittle, so they've got more 'give' to them, and they don't break as severely as older folks' do. Also, the fact that the vehicle was a minivan (comparatively little weight over the rear axle), and only the rear axle ran over him, was probably fortunate, as well as the gravel driveway (the gravel had some 'give' to it that a concrete driveway wouldn't have). Even so - the back tire of the minivan ran directly OVER HIS HEAD. I couldn't have imagined that that would be survivable, much less survivable with no discernable effects. And yet, today, we have a completely normal eight-year-old. If anything, he's notably brighter than most of his peers (not that I'd want my other kids to get their heads run over, to make them smarter, or anything).
I try to be slow about making claims of miracles, but 7M being run over by a car without any lasting effect, is about the most amazing thing I've seen in my life. We've told 7M that he'd better be good, because God did something amazing for him to be alive today.
(3 comments)
Seven years ago, I was sitting in my office at work, deeply dialed-in to whatever was on my computer screen at the time, when the phone rang. It was a friend of ours. "7M has had an accident," was all she said. My mind raced as she explained that he was in intensive care; I don't remember the rest of what she said. I left work and drove to the hospital, a 45-minute drive, during which I could only wonder what I'd find when I got there, or if my son was even alive.
7M was a year-and-a-half old at the time. He and some neighbor kids were playing in our front yard that afternoon. At one point 7M was standing behind the neighbor's minivan; the neighbor came out, got into his car and backed out - right over my toddler son. The neighbor across the street saw it happen and called the ambulance immediately. 5M, who was seven at the time, might have saved 7M's life by getting the driver's attention and getting him to stop. Molly was inside the house talking with a friend who had dropped in, when one of the kids ran in and told her what had happened. At first, she didn't believe them, but her friend said, um, why don't you go out and see what's going on. The ambulance arrived within a minute or two, and then things were a blur.
By the time I arrived at the hospital, his situation was diagnosed - he had a bunch of cuts and bruises (including a detailed tire-tread-pattern bruise that ran from his thigh, all the way up his torso, and across his cheek), a broken collarbone, three non-displaced skull fractures (non-displaced is good, if you have to have a broken skull), and bruised lungs. The bruised lungs were actually the biggest concern of the ER docs (I guess if you have trouble breathing, things get bad very quickly). They had him hooked up to a machine that monitored his breathing. At that point, every minute that passes with him breathing well is a good minute, but they wanted to monitor him for 24-48 hours. So we just waited for the 'good minutes' to keep accumulating. After 24 hours, they moved him to a less-intensive section of the ICU, and the next day, they released him, because all they were doing was chasing him around the ICU. Our boy had a clean bill of health 48 hours after being run over by a minivan (well, except for the broken bones and bruises thing).
When we tried to figure out how this could have happened, the doctor said that his young age actually was in his favor, because kids that age are very flexible - their bones aren't brittle, so they've got more 'give' to them, and they don't break as severely as older folks' do. Also, the fact that the vehicle was a minivan (comparatively little weight over the rear axle), and only the rear axle ran over him, was probably fortunate, as well as the gravel driveway (the gravel had some 'give' to it that a concrete driveway wouldn't have). Even so - the back tire of the minivan ran directly OVER HIS HEAD. I couldn't have imagined that that would be survivable, much less survivable with no discernable effects. And yet, today, we have a completely normal eight-year-old. If anything, he's notably brighter than most of his peers (not that I'd want my other kids to get their heads run over, to make them smarter, or anything).
I try to be slow about making claims of miracles, but 7M being run over by a car without any lasting effect, is about the most amazing thing I've seen in my life. We've told 7M that he'd better be good, because God did something amazing for him to be alive today.
(3 comments)
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
I'm Not Half the Man I Used to Be
I've been promising to post something 'lighter', so here it is -
In the past five months, I've lost 75 pounds.
I've been overweight my whole adult life, and I had pretty much given up hope of ever getting to a healthy weight. Nothing I did ever worked - I mean, I would practically starve myself ('embrace the hunger pangs. . . Ommmmm'), and lose five or ten pounds, but I could never sustain anything. After a certain amount of time, you just can't keep talking yourself into enjoying the feeling of hunger. So I was pretty much resigned to life as a Fat Boy.
I refused to 'go on a diet' - take on some drastic program for a while, then once I'd lost the weight go back to what I'd always done, thus undoing all the weight loss. No, I knew that I needed to change my lifestyle - I just didn't know how.
Then, last winter, my birth-mother came for a visit (to be here when 1F had her baby), and brought a diet book with her (very subtle, my birth-mother), saying that this seemed like a really good program, aiming at lifestyle change more than simply weight loss. Just what I needed. Molly read the book, taking a week or two to absorb the ideas, and then she went to work, following the book's recipes to make healthy meals for me. And it worked. I lost 18 lb. the first two weeks, 30 the first month, 45 in two months, and now 75 lb. in five months. I'm back down now to what I weighed in college (and when Molly and I got married). The thing is, I'm still 50 lb. heavier than I was in high school, and I was a 'Fat Boy' even then. So, I've still got a ways to go.
Now I have more energy, and I just generally feel better. Six months ago, my blood pressure was 140/90, my cholesterol was 230, and my resting pulse was 78. Last week, my blood pressure was 111/62, my cholesterol was 95, and my resting pulse was 54. I was on two BP medications and a cholesterol med, and my doctor took me off all of them. And if you ask Molly, she'll tell you that things between the sheets are better than they've been for a long, long time.
I don't know how to tell you what an impact this is having on me. I feel a little like Cinderella, waiting for the clock to strike midnight. I've had such a lack of success in my life at losing weight, that I almost can't believe this is really happening. But I can tell you, this is a permanent change - I'm never going back to the way I ate before. And I am so incredibly grateful to Molly - she's doing all the work. Food preparation is taking significantly more of her time now, but she's happy to do it for me. It communicates her love to me in an incredibly deep way. I mean, she really does want to keep me around for a while longer, and grow old with me.
So goodbye, mayonnaise - enjoyed the time we had together, but I just can't hang with you anymore. So long, ice cream - it was fun, but I gotta go now. Bye-bye, pizza - you had to know this was coming, right? And hello, spinach - I can't believe we never got to know each other before now. Same for you, blueberries and cherries. And green tea. And my old friend fish, sorry I neglected you for so long. Stick around, chicken, but don't bring you skin with you, OK?
I apologize if I'm being too 'preachy' about this; I really do know the difference between weight loss and something REALLY of ultimate importance. But this is so amazing to me, so flat-out miraculous, that I just sort of rattle on about it. If you all will just indulge me for a moment here, you'll be very kind. . . Thanks for listening.
-------------------------
edit June 22 - Molly is urging me to tell you all 'the whole story' of just how miraculous this weight loss is. . .
Last fall, I asked for prayer in one of the meetings of the Christian community Molly and I belong to, because I was so discouraged about my inability to lose weight, and my weight was starting to affect my health, and bring my long-term viability into question. No big deal, no falling down, no 'HEEE-YUHL', just asking some folks to pray for me. And then, this winter, my birth-mother showed up with this diet.
Now, the timing of things could just be a happy coincidence (well, it is AT LEAST that, isn't it?). I mean, I'm an engineer; I have a Master's degree. I understand the laws of physics, cause and effect, all that. But - what if it's NOT just a happy coincidence? That possibility has to be acknowledged.
And, at the very least, after decades of nothing working, of beating the crap out of myself to no avail, I am amazed and grateful that now, finally, somthing is working, and it's happening when it never did before.
(4/3 comments)
In the past five months, I've lost 75 pounds.
I've been overweight my whole adult life, and I had pretty much given up hope of ever getting to a healthy weight. Nothing I did ever worked - I mean, I would practically starve myself ('embrace the hunger pangs. . . Ommmmm'), and lose five or ten pounds, but I could never sustain anything. After a certain amount of time, you just can't keep talking yourself into enjoying the feeling of hunger. So I was pretty much resigned to life as a Fat Boy.
I refused to 'go on a diet' - take on some drastic program for a while, then once I'd lost the weight go back to what I'd always done, thus undoing all the weight loss. No, I knew that I needed to change my lifestyle - I just didn't know how.
Then, last winter, my birth-mother came for a visit (to be here when 1F had her baby), and brought a diet book with her (very subtle, my birth-mother), saying that this seemed like a really good program, aiming at lifestyle change more than simply weight loss. Just what I needed. Molly read the book, taking a week or two to absorb the ideas, and then she went to work, following the book's recipes to make healthy meals for me. And it worked. I lost 18 lb. the first two weeks, 30 the first month, 45 in two months, and now 75 lb. in five months. I'm back down now to what I weighed in college (and when Molly and I got married). The thing is, I'm still 50 lb. heavier than I was in high school, and I was a 'Fat Boy' even then. So, I've still got a ways to go.
Now I have more energy, and I just generally feel better. Six months ago, my blood pressure was 140/90, my cholesterol was 230, and my resting pulse was 78. Last week, my blood pressure was 111/62, my cholesterol was 95, and my resting pulse was 54. I was on two BP medications and a cholesterol med, and my doctor took me off all of them. And if you ask Molly, she'll tell you that things between the sheets are better than they've been for a long, long time.
I don't know how to tell you what an impact this is having on me. I feel a little like Cinderella, waiting for the clock to strike midnight. I've had such a lack of success in my life at losing weight, that I almost can't believe this is really happening. But I can tell you, this is a permanent change - I'm never going back to the way I ate before. And I am so incredibly grateful to Molly - she's doing all the work. Food preparation is taking significantly more of her time now, but she's happy to do it for me. It communicates her love to me in an incredibly deep way. I mean, she really does want to keep me around for a while longer, and grow old with me.
So goodbye, mayonnaise - enjoyed the time we had together, but I just can't hang with you anymore. So long, ice cream - it was fun, but I gotta go now. Bye-bye, pizza - you had to know this was coming, right? And hello, spinach - I can't believe we never got to know each other before now. Same for you, blueberries and cherries. And green tea. And my old friend fish, sorry I neglected you for so long. Stick around, chicken, but don't bring you skin with you, OK?
I apologize if I'm being too 'preachy' about this; I really do know the difference between weight loss and something REALLY of ultimate importance. But this is so amazing to me, so flat-out miraculous, that I just sort of rattle on about it. If you all will just indulge me for a moment here, you'll be very kind. . . Thanks for listening.
-------------------------
edit June 22 - Molly is urging me to tell you all 'the whole story' of just how miraculous this weight loss is. . .
Last fall, I asked for prayer in one of the meetings of the Christian community Molly and I belong to, because I was so discouraged about my inability to lose weight, and my weight was starting to affect my health, and bring my long-term viability into question. No big deal, no falling down, no 'HEEE-YUHL', just asking some folks to pray for me. And then, this winter, my birth-mother showed up with this diet.
Now, the timing of things could just be a happy coincidence (well, it is AT LEAST that, isn't it?). I mean, I'm an engineer; I have a Master's degree. I understand the laws of physics, cause and effect, all that. But - what if it's NOT just a happy coincidence? That possibility has to be acknowledged.
And, at the very least, after decades of nothing working, of beating the crap out of myself to no avail, I am amazed and grateful that now, finally, somthing is working, and it's happening when it never did before.
(4/3 comments)
Monday, June 19, 2006
I Must Be Clueless
Yesterday was Father's Day, and I am a father. So do me a favor, and don't throw any more days for me, OK?
The day got off to a roaring start, when one of the older girls (I'll decline to say which one) decided that she was receiving insufficient attention for her recent birthday, and threw a major snit that Father's Day would take precedence over presents and birthday cake for her. Nice. Actually, it was embarrassing; I mean, we're talking about someone in her 20s, know what I mean?
Then one of the teenagers decided that the little kids were getting too much attention at his expense, so he spent most of the afternoon picking fights with them and engaging in attention-getting behavior, which included setting off firecrackers in the living room.
On top of it all, Molly was short on sleep from the night before, so she wasn't dealing with the chaos as, uh, constructively as she might have.
Plus, it rained all day, so the nice family walk in the arboretum that we had planned, never happened. That might have actually been merciful, considering how the day went.
And it all came to a fitting conclusion, with one of the younger ones screaming from his bed, "I HATE this family!"
So I went to bed last night kind of shell-shocked, wondering how the day might have gone if they weren't trying to honor me in a special way.
At least the Tigers won.
I must just be the world's most clueless father, because I really try to do right by my kids - to "train them up in the way they should go", to love them, to prepare them for their own adult lives, and, as best I can, point them in the direction of heaven - and what I have to show for it are a distressing number of incidences of my kids acting like self-absorbed jerks. Of course, they are only too happy to point that out to me. (That has always seemed to me an odd insult - "You're such a bad father; just look what jerks we are!")
I love my kids, I really do. I love being a father, and I take it as seriously as I know how to. But I mean, obviously, I must be doing something wrong here. . .
(3/1 comments)
The day got off to a roaring start, when one of the older girls (I'll decline to say which one) decided that she was receiving insufficient attention for her recent birthday, and threw a major snit that Father's Day would take precedence over presents and birthday cake for her. Nice. Actually, it was embarrassing; I mean, we're talking about someone in her 20s, know what I mean?
Then one of the teenagers decided that the little kids were getting too much attention at his expense, so he spent most of the afternoon picking fights with them and engaging in attention-getting behavior, which included setting off firecrackers in the living room.
On top of it all, Molly was short on sleep from the night before, so she wasn't dealing with the chaos as, uh, constructively as she might have.
Plus, it rained all day, so the nice family walk in the arboretum that we had planned, never happened. That might have actually been merciful, considering how the day went.
And it all came to a fitting conclusion, with one of the younger ones screaming from his bed, "I HATE this family!"
So I went to bed last night kind of shell-shocked, wondering how the day might have gone if they weren't trying to honor me in a special way.
At least the Tigers won.
I must just be the world's most clueless father, because I really try to do right by my kids - to "train them up in the way they should go", to love them, to prepare them for their own adult lives, and, as best I can, point them in the direction of heaven - and what I have to show for it are a distressing number of incidences of my kids acting like self-absorbed jerks. Of course, they are only too happy to point that out to me. (That has always seemed to me an odd insult - "You're such a bad father; just look what jerks we are!")
I love my kids, I really do. I love being a father, and I take it as seriously as I know how to. But I mean, obviously, I must be doing something wrong here. . .
(3/1 comments)
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Et Tu. . . ?
A week ago Sunday, Molly got up early, as she always does on Sundays, to help 5M do the paper route, and the message light on the answering machine was flashing. Strange. She checked the messages, and they were all from the police, letting us know that they had 4M in the overnight lockup. What? Were they talking about the right kid?. Anyway, I got up and went downtown to spring yet another of my kids from jail. . .
It seems that 4M was out with his buddies for a little after-hours frivolity, and got caught waiting for a ride, so he 'borrowed' his sister's (2F's) car. Which would have been damned inconsiderate, taken by itself. But he's only 15 and DOESN'T HAVE A DRIVER'S LICENSE! Or even a learner's permit! Even that wouldn't have amounted to much until the police caught him going 52 in a 35mph zone. So all of a sudden - cha-ching, cha-ching, cha-ching - speeding, driving without a license, and breaking curfew (in OurTown, kids under 16 are supposed to be off the streets after midnight). So the officer took 4M downtown (and very helpfully left the the car in a nearby parking lot for us to retrieve at our convenience).
This is our 'GOOD' kid - The All-American Boy.
Well, now he's got a $115 speeding ticket to pay, and he gets to appear before a magistrate to find out when he'll even be eligible to get a driver's license, and to what extent his freedom will be curtailed. Oh, boy.
I was very good; I didn't lose my temper, didn't even raise my voice (much). I just told him, as calmly and clearly as I could, how disappointed I was, how this had damaged my trust for him, that it would take a while for him to rebuild my trust, and that he wouldn't be getting the freedom and priviliges that he would have if I still trusted him.
AND HE GETS MAD AT ME! Starts telling me that now I'm four-for-four with my oldest kids getting picked up by the police, and that can't be a coincidence - obviously we're failing miserably at our parental duties. I just sat there with my mouth open.
So Sunday afternoon, he headed up to his room, saying he was tired and wanted to take a nap. A while later, I was upstairs in one of the other kids' rooms; I stuck my head in to check on 4M, and he was gone! He'd called one of his buddies, then snuck out the back door to go to another buddy's graduation party. We finally tracked him down, and went to get him. When I asked him what he was thinking, he said, "Well, you're just gonna take everything away from me, so I might as well just be rebellious and do whatever I want."
What I really want to know is, what alien keeps sneaking into my kids' rooms at night and sucking out all their brains?
Thing is, 4M is really a pretty good kid; I think he'll actually learn the lesson he's being given, without the Universe giving him too much of a beating first. But he's been running way too wild lately (much wilder than we thought he was, you can be sure), and needs to be reined in. I was talking with his football coach a couple days ago, and the coach said that he's been "pretty full of himself, pretty cocky lately". Sounds like the coach and I are seeing the same stuff.
So, it's a shock to us, for sure, but it's not the end of the world. You know, experience in dealing with the police is one of those things you never really hope to gain in the course of your life, but. . . you do what you've got to do. 2F actually got 'scared straight' by her brush (years ago) with the law, and I'm hopeful that 4M will do likewise. Really, he's got too much going for him to flush it over some late-night rowdiness, and I think he understands that.
Well, I've certainly been on kind of a downer around here lately. Truthfully, things aren't as awful as all that, but it has been an intense couple weeks. So I need to post something lighter soon, or you all will start to wonder about me, too. . .
(2 comments)
It seems that 4M was out with his buddies for a little after-hours frivolity, and got caught waiting for a ride, so he 'borrowed' his sister's (2F's) car. Which would have been damned inconsiderate, taken by itself. But he's only 15 and DOESN'T HAVE A DRIVER'S LICENSE! Or even a learner's permit! Even that wouldn't have amounted to much until the police caught him going 52 in a 35mph zone. So all of a sudden - cha-ching, cha-ching, cha-ching - speeding, driving without a license, and breaking curfew (in OurTown, kids under 16 are supposed to be off the streets after midnight). So the officer took 4M downtown (and very helpfully left the the car in a nearby parking lot for us to retrieve at our convenience).
This is our 'GOOD' kid - The All-American Boy.
Well, now he's got a $115 speeding ticket to pay, and he gets to appear before a magistrate to find out when he'll even be eligible to get a driver's license, and to what extent his freedom will be curtailed. Oh, boy.
I was very good; I didn't lose my temper, didn't even raise my voice (much). I just told him, as calmly and clearly as I could, how disappointed I was, how this had damaged my trust for him, that it would take a while for him to rebuild my trust, and that he wouldn't be getting the freedom and priviliges that he would have if I still trusted him.
AND HE GETS MAD AT ME! Starts telling me that now I'm four-for-four with my oldest kids getting picked up by the police, and that can't be a coincidence - obviously we're failing miserably at our parental duties. I just sat there with my mouth open.
So Sunday afternoon, he headed up to his room, saying he was tired and wanted to take a nap. A while later, I was upstairs in one of the other kids' rooms; I stuck my head in to check on 4M, and he was gone! He'd called one of his buddies, then snuck out the back door to go to another buddy's graduation party. We finally tracked him down, and went to get him. When I asked him what he was thinking, he said, "Well, you're just gonna take everything away from me, so I might as well just be rebellious and do whatever I want."
What I really want to know is, what alien keeps sneaking into my kids' rooms at night and sucking out all their brains?
Thing is, 4M is really a pretty good kid; I think he'll actually learn the lesson he's being given, without the Universe giving him too much of a beating first. But he's been running way too wild lately (much wilder than we thought he was, you can be sure), and needs to be reined in. I was talking with his football coach a couple days ago, and the coach said that he's been "pretty full of himself, pretty cocky lately". Sounds like the coach and I are seeing the same stuff.
So, it's a shock to us, for sure, but it's not the end of the world. You know, experience in dealing with the police is one of those things you never really hope to gain in the course of your life, but. . . you do what you've got to do. 2F actually got 'scared straight' by her brush (years ago) with the law, and I'm hopeful that 4M will do likewise. Really, he's got too much going for him to flush it over some late-night rowdiness, and I think he understands that.
Well, I've certainly been on kind of a downer around here lately. Truthfully, things aren't as awful as all that, but it has been an intense couple weeks. So I need to post something lighter soon, or you all will start to wonder about me, too. . .
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