The Ruse of the Do-Over

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Action and ReactionThink back to the days when you were younger playing ball in the street.  A car came or the ball hit a branch over-hanging the street sometimes after an argument you did a do-over.  Nothing happened, and you get to replay the moment.  Later in life though comes the realization, the do-over is a ruse.

Adult reality is more aligned with Sir Isaac Newton’s law of physics: for every action there is an equal but opposite reaction.  And there is no do-over.

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Mistakes happen.  People are emotional creatures which helps cement the randomness of actions and reactions.  Then there are the consequences.

Out in the street there was the ruse of the do-over.  Yes, you can replay that moment.

Later in life, actions and re-actions come complete with consequences.  And there in lies the rub of life.  Stand there, and realize Newton was right.  Actions spur equal and opposite re-actions and when emotions are added predictability is gone.

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The Devil In The Details

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Devil in the DetailsIt’s three weeks until 12.5 turns 13 and has her Bat Mitzvah.  I know it’s a time for her to be excited, nervous and probably a little worried.  For me, it’s a time to be excited, nervous and a little worried.  I know she’ll do a great job and I know everyone will have a lot of fun at the party-but getting it planned is a huge task, and the devil is in the details.

We have the big stuff done.  Dresses are in.  Shoes are purchased.  Place picked out.  Speech (hers) done.  Invites out and responses back.  Now comes the nitty-gritty.

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We have to do the table seatings.  Come up with the center pieces. We need to get gifts for the tutor, rabbi and cantor.  A bunch of things like that just need to get done.

Oh yeah, I have girls.  We have hair and nails to worry about as well.

Not to mention working with the DJ on the flow of the event, the photographer on the pictures I want to make sure get captured, picking out the menu and the linens (somehow it matters what color the napkin is that is on a table-cloth that is also color coordinated).

The first step though is knowing the list.  Got that covered.  Next up-picking off the devilish details one at a time.

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A Busy And Thoughtful Mother’s Day

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Flowering MemoriesFor the third time the girls and I marked Mother’s Day as a threesome with time to remember, time to be together and time to enjoy those around us.   While I don’t want to say it gets easier, it has become more normal.  On the whole we had a busy and thoughtful Mother’s Day.

The day started with a long drive together as I got 12.5 from a friend’s house where she spent the night after another Bat Mitzvah.  She’s now inside a month to hers, the time is running down on us for that.

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We visited my mom (Grandma) and brought her a plant that 10.5 picked out at a school fundraiser.  After that we did a BBQ where the girls were able to enjoy some outside time on what was a beautiful spring day in the NYC area.

Tonight, when we got home we planted a flat of annuals in the front flower beds.  10.5 picked out the flowers at the school event-and we were able to relive Mother’s Days gone by when we did this with Risa.

Those Sunday’s usually started with both girls and I at a local garden center picking out annuals and then bringing them home.  After giving Mom breakfast in bed, the four of us would go out and plant the flowers.  10.5 recalled fondly tonight planting the colorful flowers around the tree out front.  12.5 remembered her mother helping her carry the full watering can out of the garage to shower the freshly planted flowers.

And so, memories in tact and a memorial of sorts planted-we head into a Sunday night.  Ready for the week ahead.

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Sacrifice and Juggle, Another Day For the Single Dad

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Islanders Playoffs 2013A month ago, with the Islanders on one of the best tears they have been on since they last played in the Stanley Cup finals in 1984 I decided to give my self a birthday gift and I got tickets to the playoffs.  Then the schedule was set, and low and behold, even that would require sacrifice and juggle just to get through the day as a single dad.

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On the calendar before the playoffs started was a pair of Bat Mitzvah events for 12.5.  I knew I would have to take her out to NJ on Saturday, she’d sleep at a friend and then go into the city with the friend for the Sunday event and I would meet her in the city.  Around that would be the playoffs-or right in the middle.

I got two tickets, figuring I would alternate the girls to games (this is the their first playoff experience) and work everything around that.  Admittedly it’s a crap shoot of sorts, but a noon Sunday game? UGH.

Part of what made the whole weekend such a juggle was trying to get all the other stuff done.  It had been two-weeks since I was at the dry cleaners, so that could not wait this weekend.  Fruits and vegetables needed restocking, so that was not something that could push.  Then there was Friday night.  We were the family doing the coffee and cake (oneg) after services so we had to be out of the house by 630.

That was also the night 12.5 decided to try ghost-pepper hot sauce.  She also drank a quart of milk, so there was no pushing a trip to the store to get more milk.  In fact, 10.5 called me out on that Saturday morning while I was driving 12.5 to NJ.

So, a full plate of errands, crisscrossing the Hudson twice and the East River four times and a stop at the Coliseum for playoff hockey were all on the schedule for the weekend.

Now at 7 on Sunday night we’re done.  The big sacrifice?  10.5 and I had to miss the OT at the Islanders game in order to get into the city to get 12.5.  These are the things we do.

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Change v. Evolution

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Stages in human evolutionA long time ago while sitting in an executive meeting with members of the “C” ring of a large company I heard an executive explain a 180-degree change in course by stating with a straight face, “My thoughts on that have evolved.”  That line has stuck with me for more than 10 years.  I’ve even used it.  This week though, I’ve been holding court in my head in an interesting case of Change v. Evolution.

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One of the issues with this debate, the plaintiffs in the case are both me.

I like to think of myself as an evolved person.  As a single parent with two girls I have to be in touch with enough of my feelings to be able to talk to my girls.  Now that one is about to be a teen and the other is holding on to tween, the conversations are very different.  I think I am effective enough though to hold my own with both scenarios.

Then come other aspects of life-when I’m not at work and not at home and have to communicate.  That can be a challenge for me.  I even stopped to get some testimony on this theory today and my thoughts were validated.  I do struggle.  But I think I am better at those conversations now than I was when I was in college or when I was married.

To borrow from the executive mentioned at the beginning, my abilities in this arena have evolved.  When I looked up the difference between “evolution” and “change” it was an interesting read.

Via dictionary.com evolution is a process of gradual, peaceful, progressive change or development.  The same site says change is to make the form, nature, content, future course, etc., of (something) different from what it is or from what it would be if left alone

By my read, over the course of the (gulp) 23 years since college my ability to communicate has evolved in the truest sense of the word.  And I’d like to think the evolution will continue.    But change seems more immediate and less nuanced.  Yes, in this case life is better with change (and the change agent) that what it would be if left alone.

While man gradually stood through the course of evolution, change (and it’s agents) can be far tougher.  Think back to the change in our history on 9/11 or the Boston Marathon bombings.  It’s a sudden shock that alters the reality.

In my house, I try to bring on change through evolution-long and short-term evolution projects.  My kids deserve that, and frankly I can handle that.  Change in the house that comes on suddenly tends to disrupt our house and we’ve had enough of that.

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Another Year Older: Taking Stock

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self assessmentAt the cross point between a hectic week last week, and an equally hectic week ahead I was able to take a few minutes this morning to look back, ahead inward and outward some-call it a self assessment three days after my birthday.  So, another year older and in taking stock, hopefully a year or so wiser.

As I’ve noted over the years, I am not huge on my birthday and do my best to make sure the girls have great birthdays and although a little different this year, I use the season of my birthday as a chance to (overly) self assess.

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I like to say if I can stand in front of the mirror and look back at the person shaving before me, things are not so bad.  So this morning as I was dragging the razor over a three-day stubble I did just that.  The outcome was not so bad.

Certainly neither person in the mirror flinched or  tried to look away-a small victory.

Over the last year I think I have changed and adapted in a lot of ways.  Made mistakes a plenty for sure, but managed to learn from most of them.  I’m trying to be more patient with my girls, with people around me, co-workers etc.  I’m trying to be more understanding.  I’m trying to be more communicative.

The nice thing about taking an annual look back is you can see the progress that is not there day-to-day or even week-to-week, and overall I think I’ve made positive progress.  There’s a lot of work to do for sure, but with goals set and either achieving them or working toward them, I would say 45 was a good year for me, and into 46 I go.

Hopefully the lessons learned can be applied, and new lessons learned with less internal angst-but we all know there will be a lot of that.  From a Bat Mitzvah in a month, to camp in seven weeks to the school year ending and starting and into the holidays-there is a lot of time to walk through many new situations.  One day at a time and then a moment about this time next year to look back.

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Marathons, Tragedies and Explanations

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Marathon BombWith the images of the explosions at the Boston Marathon seared into our minds, the tragedies that followed the blasts burned into our minds and the sense of reality sinking in, it’s time to look back at how the explanations of all this sounded.  Oh what a week it was.

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Starting with the blasts.  The moments of chaos, the images of dust settling and soldiers pulling the spectator pens apart.  Eerily reminiscent of 9/11 in NYC.  In 2001 12.5 was just a year old so we didn’t really worry about the images.  This time would be different.  I knew they girls would hear about this in school, but I wanted to keep them as best I could from the early views of the blasts.

Then as the memorial service faded to black came the manhunt.  I awoke to the head of the Massachusetts State Police on Friday morning saying, “This is a very grave situation,” and I had to think about how to manage this message with the girls.

Left unsaid was going back 18 months or so, I was thinking about targeting the Boston Marathon this year as an event I would feel good about.  Going back to 2000 when we moved to Boston (where 12.5 was born), I was fascinated by the Boston Marathon.  The day is an event in Beantown and the course a great test of will.  For me, my knee issues of 2012 took care of that goal.

But for the single dad, there was a lot to explain.  12.5 theorized connections to Sandy Hook and the failed gun control laws in Congress.  10.0 reported dutifully on the facts (as an aside, I like that her teacher this year sets time aside for current events).

Missing from the puzzle though was the discussions I would have with the girls about the images they were seeing, the stories they were hearing and facts and fallacies they were processing.  Coming out of the news environment I can offer some insight into how decisions are made on what they see or hear, but giving context to the un-contextual is a different issue.  Putting it in terms that are digestible for a 10-year-old and meaningful for a 12-year-old is a different story.

For better or worse I avoid those “how to talk to your kids” stories in papers and on TV and just handle in real-time the discussions. I try to use the words they use and whatever insight  I can add in.  Still though, marathons should not end in tragedies that need explanations, right?

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The Comfort Zone – Who’s To Judge?

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Comfort ZoneI think it’s fair to say everyone has a comfort zone.  Call it that area you feel at ease in situations:  at work, among friends, socially, morally. It’s where you are most relaxed and able to thrive (as opposed to survive).  But sometimes you need to step out of the zone and push your limits.  But who’s to judge where the line is and when you’ve pushed through it?

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A few weeks ago at work my boss in talking about a job candidate stated he wanted to have this person present something, and see what the candidate would be “out of their comfort zone.”

But I wonder if we even are intellectually aware of being in the comfort zone?

There are situations and settings where you are comfortable and times and places where you are uncomfortable.  I get that.  But I wonder about the outward signs of being in or out of the comfort zone.  What would that look like?

I know for example I can sustain a conversation of small talk, but get uncomfortable talking about myself.  It’s not a paralyzing issue for me though, and does not hold me back.  In fact there are times I even manage to talk about myself in social settings and survive.  So is that my new comfort zone?

Probably not.  But not because of a comfort issue.  But because it’s kind of who I am and I am not really one to share.  Not comfort-preference.

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The Single Dad Run Around, Off It Goes

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The Run AroundThis afternoon was one of those afternoons where a single dad would need to be in two places at once, or just run around to keep the wheels in motion.  And it all started so innocently, until that moment when you know it’s off the rails and there it goes.

I probably should have realized the day would go that way when I was doing a hardcore budgeting project before breakfast and before my shower.  Looking back, that was probably the easy part of the day.

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So, this afternoon, my sitter was dealing with a car problem and I knew 12.5 had a doctor’s appointment at 345 and 10.0 would have to get to Hebrew school (with her half of the carpool doing the pick up) by 430.  Cutting it close, sure.  But 12.5′s doctor the last four times we saw him was right on time-so if that was consistent we were fine.

As I should have noted at 815 when I was messing with spreadsheets and projects, there would be nothing consistent with the day.  I missed the signs of inconsistency.

12.5′s doctor was a full 45 minutes late.  We walked out of the doctor’s office when I should have been dropping 10.0 and the rest of the carpool at Hebrew.  So, the smart thing was texting all the parents and letting them know I would be late-but who knew just how late I would be.

Mix some traffic, and then getting caught behind a left-turner and 10.0 and the carpool made it to Hebrew a full 30 minutes late.  Safe yes.  But late.

Finally now, dinner is done and the Islanders are on TV and I am kind of caught up.  Sure there is plenty to do still, but that can wait for now.  I’m sure that in no time the bell will sound and off I’ll go on the single dad run around.

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Opening Day and Throw Back of Sorts

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Mr. MetWith significantly less planning than I used to use in my school days, I managed to be home today for opening day and as my beloved Mets hit the field at Citi Field, I could not help but think this opening day was a throw back of sorts for me-back to the days where I came up with reasons to be home to watch the season start.

It was not a perfect system (and yes I know my mom reads my blog), but by and large I manage to cough, scam and finagle a way to watch opening day most years.

Today though was a little different.

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For one, by the time 8:30 rolled around I had forgotten it was opening day.  I was on my fourth call of the day and was listening to a product discussion while pouring coffee and grabbing my keys.  I knew I had a 9AM call as well.  I would head for the train station, take the call, get on the train and hit the office.

But then I found out during that call at nine I would also have a 9:30 call with some high up in my company folks, so reliability would be key.  In the office I was going to catch up with a few folks, no customer meetings today in person (all calls) so instead of parking and getting on the train, I looped around the parking lot and headed home.

It was just as the 9:30 call ended that I re-realized it was opening and here I was sitting at home with just hours to go before first pitch.  Back to the days of Lee Mazzilli in the outfield, Craig Swan on the mound and John Stearns behind the plate.  Today it would be the more updated version-but I would be able to watch opening day.  A throw back of sorts.

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