A Future That Works

Our oldest Beatrice is a junior in high school this year and college discussions have become a priority. When I started writing about our family, before Beatrice was born, I never really envisioned this moment. Talking about college, I mean. The same is true for our youngest Bryce, but they're a freshman and have a few years yet. The public high school they go to has what's called the Excel Block Schedule. This means students take 90-minute classes each day, which are equivalent to year-long classes in the more traditional two-semester system. Talk about nice prep for the college talks.

And both kids have their eyes on college, too. Beatrice primarily wants to be a teacher and Bryce wants to be a marine biologist. What we think we aspire to be and what really happens are always initially parallel lines that may diverge at some point and head in directions they never imagined. That happened to both their mom and me. Amy wanted to be a marine biologist and I wanted to be an architect and then a psychologist -- and we're nowhere near those professions. 

And that's okay, because both Amy and I lived our lives and figured out who we were and what we wanted to do professionally. We've been together for 28 years now, which is over half of Amy's life since we met. There is truth to feeling motivated and passionate about the work you do, but the reality is that you still try to balance that with making enough of a living to provide for your family and then some. 

And then some to be able to help send them to college, with or without financial aid, and/or help them explore other career opportunities. Beatrice could also be an artist someday and Bryce a musician, both things they love to do. Or maybe a trade could be a choice since a lot of private equity investment has been poured into plumbing, HVAC, and many other trades. 

So, I took Beatrice to college night at our local community college. Not only was the community college highlighting their programs and the value of starting there and then transferring to another university, there were dozens of other universities represented from California and other states. Beatrice felt like she wasn't asking the right questions, but she did just fine. I coached her a little and asked my own questions of the college representatives on site. 

It's been quite the journey watching them both grow up into early adulthood. College night was a kick because it was just me and Beatrice talking about life today and where it was headed tomorrow. I shared my bumpy college experience with her, how I went from nearly not finishing to finishing with honors, and talked about how Mom went to a junior college first and then transferred to a university. Beatrice and I shared yummy food truck gyros and falafels onsite and then made the rounds in the gym talking to the different colleges represented. I thought, this is the beginning of talking with our children like the adults they're becoming, and I felt blessed and super grateful. 

More so since in an ever-increasing dystopian world where the abnormal continues to polarize and is normalized, where artificial intelligence is fundamentally changing everything around us, and the greater rest of us long for more peaceful middle-of-the-road days swirling past. Today, our children look tentatively hopeful at a very scary future. But one where they control their narrative as much as they can that will hopefully have a positive impact on their lives and the lives around them. As we drove home, I wished for a future that works for them. For us all. 

The Autonomy Train

I slept restlessly for the first two hours with my cell phone near my head. My wife Amy was already long asleep, knowing I would be checking if they needed a ride home from the homecoming dance. I checked a few times to see if there were any messages from our teens but there were none. Before I finally fell back asleep for the final time that night, I thought I had heard them come home, and all was right with our world. 

We're at a point now where we want our kids to have more autonomy, independence, and more problem-solving skills to figure out what to do in life without our direct parental intervention. We've given them plenty of emotional, psychological, and physical safety skills over the years thanks to Kidpower, and we continue to reinforce those safety skills continuously, teen eye rolls and all. This includes always understanding what the "safety plan" is if help is needed when we're out together or when they're on their own, which is more and more these days being 15 and 17 years old. And to always let us know if the "plan" changes and why. 

So, when both our kids wanted to go to the high school homecoming dance that would go to 11 PM, and Mom and Dad like to be asleep by around 10 PM, we asked them to find a ride home. Neither of them drives yet; our oldest Beatrice hasn't been in a hurry to drive, and our youngest Bryce can't wait to drive, but still has to wait until the spring. That's okay. Even though Amy and I were driving back in high school, driving is a lot of work (and insuring a teen is a lot of money these days). Beatrice does have friends who drive now, but they're not supposed to drive with other kids the first 12 months they have their license, and we don't want them too either (right now). 

We have reciprocal friends who share in pick-ups and drop-offs, including us, when our friends' kids need rides. Our kids are also comfortable taking the city bus that drops off right down the street from our house and have done so many times in the past few years. While we wouldn't want our teens to ride home on their bikes from a school dance that late at night, only Beatrice uses our e-bike. Bryce uses no bikes. (We tried a long time ago to be a bike family, but that never worked out.)

Plus, the next night after the homecoming dance we were taking Beatrice and a friend to see a concert and knew we'd be coming home after midnight, way past our bedtime. Two nights in a row of late nights and disrupted sleep don't bode well for us, especially Amy. 

We enjoyed the homecoming football game and halftime show while our kids hung out with their friends and then went to dance. When we left the game, we texted them to ensure they had their house keys and to ensure they found a ride home, preferably together, and we let them know the buses still ran that late. They responded that they had their keys and would find a ride. Of course, we'd get them if they had no other ride no matter how late it was, which is why I was restless with the phone near my head. The Mom-and-Dad Uber service is always available, but we agreed that it's time for them to adult more often and figure out (safe) alternatives. We're grateful that they hang out with good kids.

They had fun and made it home safely from the dance that night, getting a ride from another friend's parent. In a few years they'll be doing a lot more adulting on their own without Mom and Dad's help. Blessings to them. The autonomy train has left the station and it ain't coming back. Toot-toot.

These Dry Kids Today

What could go wrong with having 14 teenagers over unsupervised for a few hours?

Actually, nothing. Everything went quite right. 

While my wife Amy and I were out celebrating my birthday and our anniversary with dear friends, our oldest Beatrice had thrown herself a belated Halloween birthday party with her good friends (some of whom were the kids of our friends). Bea planned it all, from the decor to the food to the activities. It was quite the production. Amy helped her out with the food before we went out, and I helped a little as well, including decorating for Halloween outside prior to the party because Beatrice loves Halloween. Our youngest Bryce loves their sister but wanted nothing to do with all the teens in our house, so instead spent the night at her best friend's house.

What's great is that Beatrice is taking a culinary class this semester in high school and is learning a lot about food, cooking, and presentation. From a cemetery spinach dip to mummy dogs to ghost pizza and strawberries to spider Oreos, she really had quite the spread for her friends. 

What was missing thankfully were the alcohol and drugs. That's not a joke either. Zero interest from our kids and their friends as far as we know. No vaping either. Nothing. However, when Amy and I were 16 and 17, we had many friends who drank, smoked, and did various drugs. We did as well, although I didn't try alcohol until I was 18 during my senior year. And shortly after high school I started smoking cigarettes. I smoked a pack a day for much of that time until I quit on September 22, 2002. 

But the drinking was common during our teenage years and early adulthood. My sister and I threw many parties at house when our parents were away (which they always knew). We were literally like all the 1980's teen coming of age movies personified. Amy had similar party times as a teenager, too. I was also in a fraternity in college and there was always lots of drinking going on.

Decades later during the pandemic, many parents we knew who drank moderately prior to covid upped their ante on drinking. We were no exceptions. But then Amy stopped drinking just over three years ago, and I drink less frequently overall, even periodically debating about stopping drinking all together myself.

According to a new survey released by Gallup in the summer, only 54 percent of Americans now say they drink alcohol. That’s the lowest share since Gallup began tracking the question way back in 1939, six years after Prohibition was repealed.

Wow. That's down quite a bit, but humans have been drinking alcoholic drinks in some capacity for thousands of years, brewing beer, fermenting wine, and creating other distilled concoctions. The more recent conventional wisdom that moderate drinking is okay and can be good for you, like red wine, just isn't correct. It turns out that the World Health Organization reported "no level of alcohol consumption is safe for our health". Then there are the devastating effects of addiction and alcoholism on the addict directly and their family and friends. 

The good news is that, besides the dip in overall alcohol consumption, it's even more dramatic for teens, with some recent data suggesting that alcohol, tobacco, and other drug usage has been declining significantly since the late 1990s.

That's why it's funny when our kids joke with us and say things like "I'm going to host two parties while you're gone", which Beatrice really said but no other teen ever said (unless it was a Tupperware party). Or, "We're going to find our stoner friends and tell them we'd like to buy one drug, please", which was funny coming from sardonic Bryce when I asked what they were going to do with their best friend when they spent the night. But no, no stoner friends, and no drugs or alcohol. And we check in regularly with them, too. 

Beatrice's Halloween "adulting" birthday bash was a big hit without the bad stuff. Maybe in the future they'll try something, but today they don't. These dry kids today with their culinary skills and safer and stronger social bonds. Mercy me, maybe we should be modeling them instead. 

Our Quality-of-Life Difference

In that moment, I exploded. 

It wasn't their fault. I was late picking them up from school knowing that I had a work call I had to get back to. I had sat in the car, getting more anxious with every second that passed, texting them to hurry up.

I called our oldest Beatrice. "C'mon, I have to get back," I said. "We're coming," she said. Seconds passed. Then a minute. The rubicon of me not making it back in time for my call was coming.

It was a busy time at work for me. Still is. The weight of things I had to do combined with my perception of the state of world and our country became an avalanche of glacial darkness. I could feel the impotent rage not far behind. 

I texted both Beatrice and our youngest Bryce. They said they were coming. Finally, I could see them approaching the car. It had only been a few minutes, but it felt like a span of geological time. 

They got in the car. Bryce said hi. Beatrice said she was really tired. I don't even remember what I said at first, just that my voice escalated with rage as I pulled into the street to drive home. I yelled and pounded on the steering wheel. I vaguely remember babbling about how hard I work for our family to support them, and how I have so many things to do, and how they didn't seem to care about that.

Then it was over. Neither of them said a word. I'm not even sure they breathed for a minute after that. I know I didn't. I felt horrible, but I was still mad. We drove in silence for a few minutes. I kept my gaze forward watching the road ahead. 

My anger drained away and I felt empty and ashamed. I knew I had scared them. "I'm sorry I yelled at you both," I said. "I'm just really busy and frustrated about work right now." I sounded muted, like I was on the other side of a room from them speaking quietly. No one spoke the rest of the way home.

Once we got home, I told my wife Amy that I had "flipped my lid" and yelled at the kids. I then went straight upstairs for my work call. I struggled to stay focused during the call, but I got through it. 

Afterwards I got the opportunity to apologize again to both of them. Bryce seemed aloof about what had happened (such a teen) but appreciated my apology. Beatrice and I had a positive, reflective conversation about what had happened. She appreciated my apology, too, and apologized for not hurrying to the car. I told her it wasn't their fault, because it really wasn't. We told each other we loved each other and reconciled. 

It's rare that Amy and I blow up at the kids, or at each other, but it's happened over the years. We're human, but usually centered, empathic, respectful, and mindful in how we treat each other and communicate with each other, and with our kids. I'm still the grumpy dad sometimes, yes, and we're still the parents and they are the teens. We are all sometimes overwhelmed by our own ancient limbic system and biological breakdowns. We know they're learning to adult, and we want them to model loving and resilient humans who understand life can feel overwhelming at times, but how we react to it makes all the difference in our quality of life. 

So, for my birthday today, I will celebrate my family and our quality-of-life difference.

A Series of Fortunate Events

At first, it felt like a series of unfortunate events...

When my wife Amy came back a few minutes after she had just left, I knew something was wrong with the car. 

She came back inside the house and said, "There's a bolt in the front tire."

"F-ck," I said. 

"Can you contact the Hyundai roadside assistance?" Amy asked me. 

"Yes, I will. We have the worst frickin' tire luck in the world," I said.

"I know, but at least the car maintenance is fully covered," she said. 

"We'll still have to have it towed to the dealer, though. F-ck."

This was only three months into having our new car. It's like every six months we're dealing with a screw or bolt or nail in our tires. 

Like everything that happens in adulting world that we can't put off and have to take care of, it can be a life-drag momentary buzzkill. "It's only time and money" Amy and I joke when these things happen. Time and money. And sometimes the money might not always be there, but there's sure as hell always time. Time you can never get back.

Then came the news of my sister in ICU battling recurring health problems. So, the day after the tire was fixed, we drove four hours to see how we could help my niece and nephew and their mom. 

While we were gone, we got a call from our oldest Beatrice that there were ants all over our kitchen. We coached her on cleanup and she did the best she could. There wasn't anything else we could do until we were home again. 

After returning home, we assessed ant situation and saw that our neighbors had an exterminator over because they also had an ant infestation. So, Amy called the exterminator and they came over to our house to spray. This was during our morning workout, which was frustrating to me, because that's important time for me, both physically and mentally, but I knew we had to take care of it. Blessings to my wife for managing that. 

Then we had our handyman come over to replace the faucet mixer valves on our shower and bath. We didn't have all the right parts at first, so that delayed the fixing. Once we did have all the parts, the shower went fine, but the bathtub faucet did not. No matter what he did, there was no hot water, and it wouldn't stop leaking out of the faucet. He finally got the hot water adjusted, but it still wouldn't stop leaking, and now we have to call a plumber. Amy had been researching it to see if we could fix it ourselves, but I knew if I touched it, there would've been a horizontal geyser drenching us both.

During this week of continuous un-fun things, I attended a work conference in Las Vegas for a few days. I enjoyed the time with my team, seeing old industry friends, and some yummy meals, but it was a lonely drag being away from my wife and kids. I felt overwhelmed by it all because I was also woefully behind on work research reports, and the conference time increased that distance further. I kept checking in on my sister who was stable and out of ICU but still not well. Plus, the wifi in my room didn't work well, and the hotspot on my phone didn't work at all, so I had to sit in the food court of the casino hotel with pop music playing too loudly around me to get some work done. All the while the divided world outside burned.

Used to be that when life got overwhelming for me, my anxiety would bind my mind with barbed wire, and my heart would sink to the bottom of the sea. I'd get depressed and completely check out from everyone around me. But over the years I've learned to better adapt, stay centered (somewhat) no matter how askew, and keep going. That doesn't stop me from being grump-fussy; I rail at the universe and let it know I will persevere. Amy helps me with that along the way as well (even when I'm grump-fussy with her). Our meditation practice has helped a lot, too. And if the universe is God, and God is the universe, blessings to us all.

What felt like a string of unfortunate things ultimately became a series of fortunate events. Ones that included seeing family we don't see that often. Ones that included seeing colleagues I don't see that often. Ones that included hearing our youngest Bryce's solo audition video for choir while I was away at the conference. Ones that included talking about what colleges to attend with Beatrice after I got back. Ones that include petting our purring cat first thing in the morning then walking our dog. Ones that included a wonderful mountain hike with Amy to reflect and decompress from the bumpy week we had just had. 

Ones that included having a celebratory dinner for your daughter's 17th birthday. Time and money got nothing on these things. Fortunate indeed. 

For the Rest of My Life

There's only one person I've ever wished would die. I'm not sure if that's something I should be proud of, or admit to, or to write down here, but it's true. Not only wishing him to die, but wanting to kill him.

Why? Because he was a horribly abusive man who terrorized my mother, emotionally abused my sister, and sexually abused me. Two and half years of our lives that felt like forever every day. This was our first stepfather after our mother divorced our birth father, another broken man who was an alcoholic, abused our mother, and neglected my sister and me, who I eventually forgave decades later.

Both our birth father and first stepfather are long gone now. My vengeful hate is long gone. I'm grateful for the latter. Blessings to anyone struggling with past personal trauma, who can envision themselves striking back against those who have wronged them. Because if you act on it, you cross a Rubicon you can never return from, and it will never change what prompted the vengeful act in the first place. Decades later, forgiving and letting go were the only viable solutions for me. That was transformative for me and helped me to be a better human, husband, and father. 

But there are many kinds of personal and societal trauma today that need the positive support structures. mindsets, and skills to heal from them. Today, extreme political and socioeconomic polarization traumatize our world (again). Some are striking back and being celebrated for doing so. Killing or hurting, or attempting to kill or hurt, vilified CEOs, billionaires, Presidents, other elected officials, judges, political influencers, celebrities, and others. Those we blame for our personal woes, the woes of others, and/or those who we vehemently disagree with. 

For me, there are two problems going on simultaneously. Two problems that are impacting the lives of too many around the world. Those are the aggressive and violent overreactions to the extremism, and those who support the extremism (or selective parts of it) on either end of the spectrum. Both are dangerous to the rest of us. The rest of us who believe empathy and finding common ground are key to closing the disagreement gap, not destroying it. It's harder when things are batshit crazy and false, on either side of the spectrum. Because the rest of us in between don't revel in the demise of others we disagree with, or blame for our woes and/or the woes of others, or wish them to die, or to kill them. 

It's just as hard for me to accept the rhetoric of those who agree with selective parts of any extremist dialogue than it is to grapple directly with full-throated extremism itself. And it's dangerous that so many have demonized leading with love and empathy. I don't understand how anyone can say empathy is destroying our world, because I believe the very people who believe that are the ones leaving a path of destruction for the rest of us, especially for our children. How can the ability to understand and share the feelings of others be evil? It's this backwards alternative universe we find ourselves in that frightens me the most. 

This isn't a Stephen King novel where we can take out a supposed antagonist to prevent a cataclysmic event. But sadly we're devolving into our violent human past and the extremism is killing civility and compromise. And each other. I've always been supportive of free speech, but I disagree with "agreeing to disagree" when the "disagreement is rooted in my oppression and denial of my humanity and right to exist" (thank you, James Baldwin). The difference is that I'm not going to counter by killing. Blessings to those lost and their families because of it.

I know I'm not without bias or incapable of consuming poisoned beliefs, but I'm going to do everything I can to counter them for the rest of my life by rising above and leading with love, mindfulness, and empathy, without shame, judgment, or retribution. Amen.

The Main Mom-and-Dad Thing

Every time I had an asthma attack, it felt like a ton of hot gravel had filled my lungs. My face would wash out white and I had to slump over to help me breathe better. And if I got a cold with my asthma, it became horrid no-sleep coughing jag for many nights, getting little to no sleep.

This was when I was little until I was a teen. The severe allergies and asthma I had as a child literally faded away in high school. But then they came back decades later in adulthood. Not as bad as then, but still bad, especially when I'd get a nasty cold combo.

When I was little, I suffered less because my mom did everything she could to comfort me and take care of me. My birth father and first father shared no love or support for me or my sister, but Mom never stopped caring for us. Never stopped caring for me when I was sick and felt like I could barely breathe.

When my wife Amy and I decided to have children, we went in fully invested in keeping them well. Or, as well as we could. From shared family throw-up bowls, to all-night comfort zones, to empathetically living their anguish when our kids were sick -- we were always there together. 

Especially Amy. I'm a loving, caring father, but I'm not the Mom. And that's okay. As an adult, Amy takes care of me and the kids when we're sick. I, of course, do the same, but I don't have the same softer empathic touch that she has. I'm just a little rougher around the edges when it comes to comfort. 

Regardless of our respective styles, we both care deeply when any of us don't feel good. Mentally or physically. When we dealt with our kids' middle school anxiety angst, we did it with patience, listening, and a lot of love. We were also grateful to provide them with whatever they needed to adapt and persevere. 

When our kids get physically sick, like with colds, it sucks all around for us all. It sucks for them because it simply sucks to be sick, and it sucks for us because Mom and I just want to make it all better, but we can't. It's got to run its course. We can comfort them and give them medicine if need be to treat the symptoms, like cold medicine and decongestant, which helped Bryce a few weeks ago. And after an urgent care visit for our oldest Beatrice recently, an inhaler. Such a bummer for both kids to get sick right after school started.

But we never thought that the cold medicine and inhaler would make Beatrice sick. An inhaler was always my go-to when I had allergy and asthma attacks, especially when it got exacerbated by a cold and a rough cough. Just like what Beatrice got, but for Beatrice, they just made her feel worse. 

Bea's on the mend now and catching up on the school she missed. Bryce did the same before her. Thankfully none of us get sick that often, but when we do, it sucks. It's hard enough when Mom and Dad get sick, because we have to keep doing our Mom-and-Dad things, like taking care of the family, the pets, the house, the work, the everything. To be fair, our teens do have their chores and help us around the house. 

But when the kids are sick, the main Mom-and-Dad thing is loving and caring for them, whether they're 5 and 7, or 15 and 17. I'm sure that will continue to be true for our family, even when they're taking care of us someday.