Almost Perfect

Ten minutes before the game was to start, I knew it wouldn't. That's because the team we were supposed to play wasn't there. In fact, they always showed up much earlier than us for the previous two games we played then. But this time they weren't there to play our last game of the season. The league had changed the schedule two months earlier for this last game, but obviously the other team missed it somehow.

Our team, the Flamingos, was only one of four female U12 recreation soccer teams this year (10 and 11-year-olds). Participation overall had taken a hit because of the pandemic, and there weren't any rec teams playing at all in 2020. I hadn't coached since 2018, and our youngest child Bryce hadn't played since 2019. Our oldest, Beatrice, hadn't played since 2019 either, and ended up helping me with the team until she made the 8th grade soccer team (so proud!). I've had the pleasure to coach both daughters. 

Because there were only four teams in our rec league this year, we were to play each team at least three times during the season. Yes, it's a long season, over three months worth of weekly practices and games from August through November, but definitely worth it. I'm so glad my schedule allowed me to coach again. The last game of the season was supposed to be against the best team in our small league, a team that we had played better against the second time around. 

Our team was really looking forward to the last game, and then afterwards, our end-of-year soccer pizza party. It was going to be a night game, the only one of the season for us. They had all grown so much as a team; some of the girls had played before and some had never played, and they all seemed to learn a lot over the three months. Their skills improved, their support of each other blossomed, and they just plain had fun. You can see them all aglow when they know they're playing better, while having fun. Along with Beatrice being an assistant coach, another player's father also helped out, and we all had a blast coaching the team. At the end of the season, I got a card from one of the players that said, "You're the best coach I ever had." And being the Ted Lasso of recreation soccer, I embraced that.

While we waited for the other team, it became clear that they weren't coming. Our team was super excited, bounding all over the field while they warmed up. At dusk, the field lights didn't come on, so that added to the certainly we weren't playing that night. But who doesn't love playing outside at the edge of night? The weather was pleasant and the kids needed to play, play, play! So the adults and some of the players' siblings played against the team. 

It was almost perfect. Until it wasn't. 

Only moments earlier during our fun, frenetic pre-game warm-up after a long season of positive growth, one of our players felt picked on and demeaned by some of her teammates, and then she disappeared into the dimming light of dusk along the sidelines. The team had been so supportive of each other all season, that to find out something like this happened was disappointing. I didn't witness what had happened and unfortunately found out too late to address it in the moment. 

During the season, we won a few games, lost a few, and tied a few. Until that night, I felt it was mostly a "winning" season overall with skill-building, team-building, and fun. Except in the end, we lost one of our own to one bad experience, and as the leader of the team, I felt light years away from almost perfect. But as long as the girls still want to keeping playing soccer, and I hear they all do, then it's still a win for the team. 

The Positive Spread

Our first-born loved dandelions. When she was nearly two years old she loved to pick them and run with them and blow the parachuting seeds into the wind and watch them float away. She'd giggle and do it again and again until the dandelions were all gone. 

When I think about those seeds now, and how many took root where they landed for other children to pick them and blow the seeds away, I think about both our daughters and how they've taken root and grown into positive, loving, empathic, and resilient little humans. 

Our children have become what I'll call the positive spread -- sharing freely a part of their empowered positive souls wherever they go and with whoever they meet. Something it took me decades to be comfortable with. Something I still work on every day. Something we should all work on every day.

Now a tween and a teen, both of our children have grown up with positive discipline and Kidpower. They've learned a lot about natural consequences of their actions; about being calm, confident and aware wherever they go -- to be able to set healthy boundaries and always be emotionally and physically safe while inspiring others in kind. It doesn't mean they always like it when we reference these life skills they've grown up with, but even when they push back on their influence, they embody them each and every day.

I thought I was done with writing in this space, of sharing my family's journey and my own thoughts and feelings about parenting and personal leadership, and I thanked you all for reading. 

But I'm not done. Life is a work in progress and the past two months have been a deep reflection for me of what I thought I'd let go of, but instead what I've held onto. I allowed resentment and anger to reboot inside me after decades of damaged trust with myself and others I thought I had reconciled, but instead, only shuffled around inside my always hopeful heart. 

A heart full of love and optimism ever since I had picked dandelions as a child and blew seeds of hope into the wind. 

We all deserve to be loved and to be safe, and to be given the chance to learn and practice the skills that make it all reciprocally so. This is why I'm rebooting this blog to continue the positive spread that my children and my wife embody every day. I am so grateful for them. 

Blessings to you all. 

Protect kids from harm this #GivingTuesday and donate to Kidpower!

Give the gift of safety. Every dollar does wonders.

Every day, people tell us how Kidpower skills, strategies, and values have helped them and their loved ones survive and thrive while facing the many challenges of the past year. Your support for our work has allowed our incredible network of dedicated instructors, volunteers, and Centers to transform our life-saving in person programs into online services that are safe, effective, and empowering. Kidpower now reaches more people, in more places, more quickly, and more affordably.

Thank You For Reading

"I don't regret it – I'll never forget it

I wouldn't trade tomorrow for today..."

–Rush, Headlong Flight

When I first jumped into social media in 2007, I joined Myspace. Within 30 minutes of setting up my profile, I was "propositioned." 

That was almost the end right at the beginning. I didn't stay on Myspace, but I did get convinced by old high school friends to give Facebook a try. That was December of 2007, nearly 14 years ago. That was also the year I launched this blog, Get Off The Ground, a year before our first daughter Beatrice was born. 

I had already been on the professional network LinkedIn since January 2005, connecting with others in my industry sharing work-related content. That hasn't really changed since, although unfortunately some LinkedIn users have taken a toxic turn of sharing the same toxic crap we see on Facebook and Twitter (which I had joined in May of 2008). 

Social media has been valuable for many to share positive stories and to inspire others around the world. It's helped family and friends stay in touch with photos and videos. It's also been used to market products and services across industries, as well as to promote jobs and and employer brands (the HR and recruiting space I'm in). 

It also divides and destroys. It fueled COVID-19 and vaccination information, and still does. It fueled election lies and the insurrection on January 6, and still does. It fueled racial hate, and still does. For both adults and teens, bullying also thrives on social media.

You may have watched The Social Dilemma, the documentary from early 2020 that shares the dangerous and addictive destruction that social media has unleashed.

And you may have heard about the recent Wall Street Journal investigation referring to internal Facebook research about how Instagram causes increased levels of anxiety and depression and suicidal thoughts in teenage girls.

Because our girls are practically teens now, I want to be more attentive to what I share on social channels. It's usually always positive, what I write and the pictures I share, but now it's time to close this Get Off The Ground chapter and start a new one elsewhere. I will also continue to limit my personal time on the social media, as I've been doing for weeks now, except when it's work-related, or when I'm promoting safety skills with Kidpower. 

Our daughters know that they can come to us any time they see offensive or disturbing stuff online (they play Roblox primarily and watch TikTok and YouTube shows they like). While we'll hold off as long as we can from them having their own social media accounts, we'll want them to be responsible, safe and empathetic when we do so. Just like they are now, and just like we're practicing as adults now, finally, after all these years. 

From my first post on Get Off The Ground to this last post (for now), I've enjoyed sharing my parenting and personal leadership journey with you all.  I'm certainly no expert. I'm just trying to navigate it all like you are. I wouldn't change a thing; I would never trade tomorrow for today. Thank you for reading.

Be safe and well. Blessings to you all. 

In Balanced Measure

I felt horrible that day. My asthma was killing me and it literally felt that way. The math problems in front of me blurred and shifted on the pages. Every moment felt like forever; each problem I solved felt like forever.

Somehow I made it through the day and still helped our 7th grade math team do very well in the local competition. 

I was a super shy kid in grade school and early junior high with severe allergies and asthma that continued until high school, but I still participated in organized academic and sports activities. I'm so glad I did. I have so many fond memories of these activities over the years, so many friends I made, so many things learned. Memories that continued to be made through college. The social interactions and experiences were invaluable. 

However, my wife Amy and I didn't have to grow up in a pandemic that affected every facet of our lives, and continues to do so. One that has infected over 225 million people and killed nearly 5 million globally. We had the AIDS crisis growing up, which was horrible, but it didn't effect us or our families directly (that I'm aware of). There have been different strains of flu and the H1N1 virus since, but nothing like what we're dealing with in COVID-19. 

2020 sucked. Many of us will probably agree on that one. Sheltering at home, distance learning, social distancing (or not), wearing masks (or not), hospitalizations and deaths. Limited or no extracurricular  activities for our kids. Divisive polarization in nearly every community on every issue, especially COVID-19. 

Finally vaccinations are here! Infection rates are lower! Woo-hoo! The rest of 2021 is gonna rock!

Nope. But at least our daughters are back to in-person school, and are able to participate in school and other activities with their friends. Where we live, if there's a positive covid case in one of their classrooms, then they'll have to forgo activities for 8-10 days, but at least it's not forever, like it felt in 2020. 

Nope, it won't be forever. It still sucks, but not forever. Our youngest Bryce will hopefully be vaccinated before the end of the year, and until then, she'll play soccer. I'm coaching her team and her sister Beatrice is my assistant coach -- we're the Flamingos! Bryce will also play percussion in the school band (my drumming girl!), Bea is a junior guide for an outdoor after-school program, and both are getting involved in clubs and other school activities. They love being in school again with their friends and we want to keep them there. Of course, all of this activity will be in balanced measure with family time and staying healthy and safe. Amen.

One Mindful Beat at a Time

The second time I tried, I fixed it. I didn't think I'd even try again after the first time; I didn't think I'd even try the first time. Fixing things beyond my working knowledge isn't something I usually spend any time on. While my wife Amy is someone who will hop on the world wide interwebs and find how-to YouTube videos, I ask, "Who can fix it for me? Where do I get a new one?"

That has changed some for me in the past year since we've had a trailer camper, although a lot of the learning curve is still above my pay grade. And to be fair, there have been many home projects over the years where Amy and I do it ourselves, with a lot of blood, sweat, tears and cursing along the way. Mostly for me, not from her. Plus, any time there are computer, Wi-Fi or printer issues, I'm the fixer, no matter how much I grumble about it. And I grumble about it a lot.

So, when my six-month-old electronic drum set hit a snag with the snare, I was bummed. The snare sound no longer triggered each time I hit the drum head. It was under warranty still, so I contacted the manufacturer and waited. And waited. 

And while I waited, I continued to work on me. Learning, stretching, growing and improving are big parts of our family culture, and we encourage each other and our daughters to try new things, to try things we've always wanted to learn. We also encourage each other to work through our feelings about the world around us and others, all starting with how we feel about ourselves first. We check in with each other daily and during our weekly family meetings, to ensure emotional and physical safety, empathy, belonging and love. 

The pandemic continues to stress us all out unfortunately. I've been super sensitive to overreactions and divisive anger all around us, limiting my time on social media and reading the news. So much has happened over the past year and a half. So much loss. So many broken. So much helplessness of not knowing how to help. Sure, we can donate, volunteer, get activated and participate in making a difference, which we do, but it can all still lead to mental health strain and sedating. Recently after reenergizing my heart, I focused more on Amy and our daughters. And me. 

After fits and starts for decades of always wanting to play the drums, I'm actually playing the drums. Really playing them. Not in a band or anything like that. Just practicing and playing nearly every single day. Which is why when my snare broke, it bummed me out. I could still play most of my lessons, but the drum sounds were off and I felt off balance, out of synch. 

I went online and searched for "how to fix your electronic drum head." I found a few videos and settled on one that guided me on what to look for. In most of today's electric drum heads there are two sensors that pick up the vibration from hitting the drum and then those vibrations zoom along cables to the drum computer that then translates into a specific drum sound -- snare, tom, cymbal, etc. -- that emanates from my drum speakers. The sensor at the bottom of the snare picks up the rim hits, and the padded sensor at the top picks up the main drum head hits. What I found was the wire to the top sensor was severed somehow. How it happened, I had no idea, but the cut was very close to the sensor itself under a glued foam pad, so I didn't think I could fix it. 

A week later I finally heard from the manufacturer and the new snare was on back order and they'd send me an alternative drum. I said to myself, Great, but in the meantime I'm going back in. I took the snare apart again and went to work. This time I figured out I could lift the glued pad enough to reconnect the severed wire without damaging the sensor. After putting it all back together again, it worked. Right on. 

But unlike my snare, I can't fix others when they're broken. I can encourage introspection and healing, but I can't fix them. While pandemic anxiety continues to punch down on many of us, the place to start is here (I'm pointing at my own heart). I can open up my own heart and tinker with what's inside. Maybe even fix it. 

One of the latest meditations Amy I listened to states, "My relationships begin within, through love and caring for myself." Amen to that. Whether you meditate or pray, exercise or vacay, or engage in other kinds of mental health help, fix your heart first, one mindful beat at a time.

Reenergizing Our Hearts

"A tired mind become a shape-shifter
Everybody need a mood lifter
Everybody need reverse polarity..."

–Rush, Vital Signs

I thought I was going to die. After the first lap, my asthma kicked in and I struggled to breathe. After the third lap, my lungs felt like they were filled with hot mud; I had to fight for every single raspy gasp of air. After the fourth lap, my skinny body was drenched in sweat and my face a pasty white. 

But I did it. Every year when I had to run the mile to pass physical education in grade school, I did it. Even with the asthma attacks I used to get. 

Fast forward to today – Beatrice has to run a mile every week in middle school PE, and she decided she wanted to work on improving her time. She asked her mom (Amy) to go with her, to run to the ocean about a mile from where we live. I told her I wanted to go, too. Her sister, Bryce, said no way. 

So, the three of us left the house and began to run. Immediately Beatrice sprinted ahead and Amy kept pace. I was left in the dust. I don't really run anymore since I had knee surgery, but I do run on the beach once a week at Natural Bridges State Park. As I ran the best pace I could, I felt every ounce of my body weight and I kept thinking about our recent decision to cut back on caloric consumption (food and drink).

Amy and I are in pretty good health, but as the pandemic wore on this past year, we both put on what has been jokingly called the "COVID-19". Thankfully it wasn't literally 19 pounds, but it was enough for each of us. We exercise nearly every day, and yet, our metabolisms are slower than ever.

Beatrice and Amy were over 50 yards ahead of me when we hit the half-mile mark. I thought I was going to die. No adult asthma this time (although it has come back over the past 15 years during fall and spring), but I was still sucking air. The weekly beach runs were not my conditioned friends at this point. I kept going though. Amy and Bea doubled back to be with me, but then Bea zoomed ahead again with Amy right there with her.

It wasn't just the weight that was the issue. Like so many working parents with kids distance learning (not this year so far thankfully), sheltering in place, wearing masks everywhere else, waiting for the vaccines (which we got once available), and the contrary extremes around us going completely bananas on nearly every aspect of life, we compartmentalized the daily grind and didn't really care for our mental health. 

We thought we did with our morning meditations and positive communication practice. And while it may have been a temporary mood-lifter, sedating with food and drink every night isn't really good self-care. It's just turning "off" until the next day starts everything all over again and the compartmentalizing continues. Even so, we remained grateful throughout for our circumstances and took care of our children and their emotional needs, just not our own as much as we should have.

After Beatrice, Amy and I finished running the mile together, and after I caught up to Amy and Beatrice who kept their 50-yard lead most of the way, I looked out over the ocean and to the Natural Bridge below where I'd finish my workout. My chest heaved, my big body was drenched in sweat, and my face was a pasty white. The air tasted so very sweet though, and was filled with a clarity and grace, without judgement, for ourselves and for others who have struggled with pandemic life, even when we think we didn't. We're finally reversing the polarity of our fatigued spirits and reenergizing our hearts. Blessings to you all. 

Just Another Part That Pierces My Heart

Within a few days, it was infected. I remember it well, because at first it became inflamed and itchy. Then came the gross discharge; obviously I didn't take care of it at first. After it got infected, I had to keep cleaning it every day with hydrogen peroxide while keeping it bandaged for nearly the first month until it finally healed up. After that, I only really kept it in for about one year. 

So much for my fashion fad of wearing an earring.  When I told Beatrice I had an earring years before I met her mom, she wanted to know more. She wasn't the one interested in getting earrings, though. Her younger sister, Bryce, was. 

Beatrice had run an errand with me one night after dinner and that's when we got to talking about it. Bryce was all ready to get her earrings on her birthday, and so I told Bea about my experience. She told me she would probably never have earrings, and not just because of my story. 

Bryce definitely wanted them for her 11th birthday, though, and my wife Amy and I agreed to it. The plan was to go to Claire's in the mall to get them pierced. Claire's is a jewelry & accessories store for girls, teens and tweens that also does ear piercings onsite. And that's actually where I had my done in my late twenties. No judgement, please. The earring looked cool once the ear healed up. 

Months earlier, though, Amy and another friend of ours were talking about buying piercing kits and doing our daughters' piercings together at home, which didn't happen. Visions of using ice cubes to numb the lobes and then using sewing needles to puncture the ears came to mind for me. That's not how it's done anymore at home (I hope), but I definitely wasn't supportive of the home direction either way. I teased Amy about this, telling her she wasn't certified to pierce ears. She countered by asking how do we know those people in the mall were? 

We didn't, but I thought they had to be somehow, right? I mean, they've pierced millions of ears over the years without litigious problems that I'm aware of, so there has to be some level of training and safety. After Bryce's ears were pierced, not before, I went to Claire's website to check. According to their website, their associates are trained in local piercing policy, practice and procedures in order to deliver clean, hygienic and safe piercing environments. It went on in more detail about their training process as well. That made me feel better. 

When we went to Claire's to get Bryce's ears pierced, all went well. Bryce was nervous, but only felt a quick pinch when the piercing device made the hole and inserted the earring on each ear with one clean action. The piercer had a wiggle a bit on one ear, like the piercing device was stuck, but then it came out clean. Both ears now had lovely 14K gold peridot August birthstone stud earrings inserted, which weren't cheap. The piercing was free with the purchase of earrings, of course. You pay for it in the marked up earrings. Although when I checked online later, these earrings can run a lot more than even we paid. 

"I could've bought a home kit for 10 bucks. C'mon," Amy said as we left the mall.

"Again, you're not a certified ear piercer," I said.

"Again, how do we know she was?"

"Fair point." 

Again, I did check the website after we got home and their piercers are trained and seemingly certified, in a sense. Good to know. Now, to keep her ear lobes clean so she doesn't have to bandage them up like mine had to be. But in fact, the bigger deal is the fact that both of our girls are growing up, and are now a tween and a teen; just another part that pierces my heart. Sigh.