Brain damage?

Sometimes, it seems as if children hear you speaking without actually hearing anything you say. A case in point happened this afternoon when I took Riley and Elizabeth to a baseball game and scored tickets for The Jackson Sun's skybox. Before the game, we had a long talk about how they were supposed to behave. No bickering. No asking me for money (which I didn't have) for $5 cokes. No hitting their grandfather for money.
"Do you think you can do that?" we asked them. With angelic expressions, they answered, "yes."
Fast forward to the game, and it seems like they didn't hear anything we said. They started bickering the moment we got in the car to go, and didn't stop the entire game. Elizabeth started complaining she was hungry in the first inning and didn't stop until her grandfather broke down and got her food. It was like they didn't hear ANYTHING.
I'm reminded of the old Bill Cosby routine about brain damage and kids. I used to just think it was a funny bit. Now, I realize just how insightful Cosby was. And I think he was right on the money.

A very Brady Breakfast

This morning, Riley decided to get up early and cook breakfast for the family. He decided to make pancakes and bacon. Great idea, except that he accidentally used the entire box of batter. The result was the world's biggest pancake! (cue music Duh Duh Duh!). It took three spatulas to turn this gargantuan flapjack, which we eventually divided into four giant pancakes.

It was so funny, but I was trying not to laugh. He was so earnest and trying so hard to do something nice for the family. The whole thing reminded me of that old episode of the Brady Bunch where one of the boys (Peter, I think) decided to wash his own clothes and used the entire box of detergent. The result was predictable: A flooded utility room and soap all over the floor, even coming out under the door.

This morning's breakfast was great. I truly appreciate the effort it took for Riley to get up early and make breakfast. He really is coming along in his culinary endeavors. I also appreciate moments like this. I know they won't last forever, and that he will eventually learn his way around the kitchen. In the meantime, I just sat back and enjoyed our very BradyBreakfast!

The hardest part

The hardest part of being a step-parent, to me, is splitting time with the children between our house and their father's. Under the custody arrangement Sarah (my wife) worked out with her ex-husband, we get equal time with the kids. They spend one week with us and one week with their father, alternating weeks. This is hard because just about the time we get used to having them around, it's time for them to go back. It's also hard because splitting time makes it hard to reinforce lessons we're trying to teach them. There's no telling what they're being taught at their dad's, and how well he's backing us up with what we're trying to teach them.

Today, I learned another hard part of being a step-dad when Riley came home and announced to his mom that he's doing poorly in school because he wants to live with his dad full time and she won't let him. On one hand, I can see that he might want some stability in his life and not have to alternate back and forth. On the other, I can't help but think that even at a mature 11, he's not nearly mature enough to make such a life-altering decision. I can't help but think what it would do to his sister if he were to disappear. He's the one constant she's had in her life from the beginning. I also can't help but think just how much I would miss him. I've grown used to his face and his sly sense of humor. I would miss his deep thoughts and probing, insightful questions.

I know that all this will work itself out, but it's still hard. The sooner things work themselves out, the better.

Bringing back memories

Tonight, I had a wonderful experience. For the first time, I got to help my stepdaughter, Elizabeth with her homework. It was only a short, 1 minute speech, but still it brought back great memories for me.

I remember when I was her age, asking my Dad for help with homework. We would lay in the mdidle of his study floor, with a pad of paper and a sharp pencil, and he wouild take the time to help me with my homework. Sometimes, his explanations would go over my head, much like my attempt to help Elizabeth went over her head, but still the time we spent together remains some of my favorite memories of my father

Growing up a little too fast

I made a startling discovery a few weeks ago. Apparently, my stepson, age 11, has been using my desktop computer to look at online porn. I don't know why this came as a surprise to me. I guess it didn't. I suppose if I'm really honest, I would say that I've been waiting on it to happen. I just didn't think it would happen quite so soon.

I can't blame him for being curious. Truth is, I saw my first Playboy when I was his age. I know his hormones are kicking him in the ass. I know he wants to look, but what's next? I suppose in a couple of years we'll be meeting his girlfriends. Then, in a few years, he'll be coming to us and telling us he wants to get married. This is an age-old lament, but where has the time gone? Every time something like this happens, it is a stark reminder that time is passing and he's growing up. I'm not sure I'm ready for that. I wish I could keep him young and innocent, like he was when I first met him. I know I can't, but wouldn't it be nice if we could?