Mental Temperature

I sometimes find myself questioning my purpose and the path that I am on at the moment. I think we all find ourselves questioning the decisions and choices we make in life. Free will is often a scary privilege and one I think I often get wrong.
Sometimes I think if it weren’t for wrong choices, I’d have no choices at all but I think most of us don’t give our decisions enough time before changing them.
We all struggle with this when it comes to our children but for the last few years, I’ve found myself having more conflict over the decisions I make concerning my father. He’s been a tough one to please since my mother passed away three years ago. Making your parents happy will always be ten times as hard as making your kids happy.
When you find yourself in a position of authority over your parents, you really just have to find the humor in everyday challenges. My weekend went something like this:

On Thursday, my dad’s refrigerator stopped cooling properly. Trying to keep the situation under control as these types of issues can quickly turn him into a panic stricken mess, I calmly suggested that he meet me at the store during my lunch hour on the following day and we would simply pick out a new one. Twenty minutes and thirty complaints later we ended the conversation with an understanding of time and place to meet the next day. Between Thursday night and lunch time on Friday, I received many more calls from my dad explaining and complaining about every inch of his refrigerator. There wasn’t an hour that passed that I wasn’t made aware of the current temperature in the refrigerator. I was entertained with the many theories my dad had as to why the refrigerator wasn’t cooling properly. It was a toss up between the outside heat and the heat and air system. He was convinced that because the system had to cut on so much that it was causing a malfunction in the fridge.
Finally at lunch time, I was able to meet my dad and pick out a new fridge to be delivered the following day. We were on the last lap now; I could almost see the finish line. More calls would follow with more reports on the refrigerator temperature before I arrived at my dad’s house the following day to await the delivery men. I was then provided with a demonstration of how the fridge wasn’t working properly as I continued to remain calm. It’s an insane sort of calm that normally only parents have experienced. It’s usually a calm that comes just before the breakdown which could take hours, days or months.

At last the delivery truck pulled up just as my dad was forcing me to feel the temperature of the milk jug. The old refrigerator was removed and the brand new one was put in its place. All was right with universe as I mentally ripped through the finish line. And just as I started to throw myself a little congratulatory mental party my dad began to meticulously scan through the new fridge.
“It’s smaller than my old one,” he says.
“No it isn’t, it’s the exact same size,” I respond.
“The door won’t open all the way because of the door frame,” he continues.
“Well then that must mean it isn’t smaller then right?” I answer.
“It isn’t cold yet,” he shot back. And here we go, 3….2……1…..Breakdown! My mental temperature exceeded my dad's refrigerator temp by 100 degrees in less than 5 seconds.

“Daddy, they just plugged it in 10 minutes ago! Are you trying to make me crazy? Do you realize I’m one evaluation away from the crazy house? Now put your food in that box and wait for it to get cold!
“Well you don’t have to yell,” he quietly answers.

Laughter echoes through the kitchen after that and at first I’m not sure where it’s coming from but I soon realize it’s coming from my own throat. My dad only looks at me puzzled as he continues to put his food back into his refrigerator. I go back to my mental celebration only this time there’s a keg of beer in it!
Hey, it's my mental party!

Crouton

Crouton began his life as a breakfast meal for a future slithery serpent. Crouton was born to be food. We bought him to be food for my son's snake. Things went terribly wrong when Crouton refused to be eaten by a slow snake getting ready to shed. So we tried to keep Crouton as a pet for a few days. My daughter tried to tame him and we fed him croutons as the snake slowly became hungry.

Tonight we had a new visitor. A cute little green tree frog appeared on our window and my son fought to keep the frog in place of the mouse especially since the snake was becoming increasingly hungry.

Before I could cast my vote, Crouton was snapped from his now stinky little aquarium and offered to the serpent as a late night snack.

Crouton was a good pet for the few days we had him and my daughter is in tears over the loss. I can only explain it as the circle of life and offer my sympathy. Life is a difficult lesson for the young.

Why do Kids Yell?

Why do Kids Yell?
Are They Insane?
If adults began screaming uncontrollably, running throughout the house, beating up family members and throwing random objects, we would almost immediately be arrested or admitted to the nearest psychiatric ward. However, if you are under the age of 12, this behavior is a form of communication. Is it more productive than calmly sitting down and talking things out for hours? Probably not, but I think it is probably just as effective. At the end of a fifteen minute screaming match, my two middle children have finally prevented the other one from beating on the drum during a television program.
Communication. Who says it has to be civil?



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