Bad communication and father/son relationships Essay

Exactly what kind of stupid shit have I gotten myself into this time? I asked my stimulate. take int worry, it only gets worse er better I mean, he replied.Growing up I invariably figured the two of you knew inherently how to raise us, at present I question my ability to go bad even my pregnant wifes wrath, much less an incessantly crying baby.Funny you tincture that way. Your mother and I raised you despite our ignorance and oddly enough I feel no more(prenominal) qualified in a flash than I did more than twenty years ago.Oh, thanks for that. You know what? I mischievously doubt, based on your uplifting words here, that you truly are more qualified.I make love you a equal watchword, utter my breed. Now instead of concerning yourself with the future, start approximateing about the here and now and get in there with your wife. Its a right of passage and Ill be damned if you get to run off out on this oneImmediately upon conclusion of my not so reassuring conversation with my father I somewhat less than bravely headed back to the room and my once lovely wife now everyplacecome with fear, anger and most importantly rage at seemingly nothing but me. These memories of a day some seven years ago remain vivid in my mind. In fact, its amusing what a mind chooses to place into the vault and that which it seems to discard alike some Sheik discards apply Jaguars.Regardless of what whatsoeverone might profess, whatever literature, scripture, propaganda or media might say, child birthing is not, by any bureau, a better-looking miracle. It is simply a function of biology, and certainly one of natures most awful and gut-wrenching sights to behold. Ive rarely even for a second understood the parents who weave these intricate tales of how theyve neer forwards witnessed a more perfect baby and how impatient to hold and caressJohnny they were the little he br to each oneed the birth terminateal. Let me for a minute explain, for all of the delusional parents and more importantly for those who are easily manipulated by such tales, that childbirth is not remotely akin to the beauty of a bride on a spousal relationship day, picturesque mountains covered with snow or a fantastic waterfall hidden deep in some jungle. It is certainly far more reminiscent of a triage base that exists in any X-files like movie where recently captured aliens are carved like the Christmas ham with a bit of grade B teenage horror movie screaming mixed in to accent the not so still surroundings.When I first witnessed my countersign, Owen, born into this troubled world, I felt a magnificent burst of love that Christ himself could not have invoked. Seconds later however, when the surprisingly slow neurons had traveled from my all too eager optic nerve to what I like to refer to as myself, my brain, a mere millimeters away, that love remained, crest with something new, shock. Thoughts forget race through ones mind in this situation Funny, my head isnt tw ice as tall as it is wide, or What exactly is that nurse doing stitching up my wife down there? fortunately, for my own sanity these were intermingled like morse code within those of concern, fear, excitement and certainly, love. reply to say, the first day with my new child was not a picnic, a miracle, a wonderful packet boat from god, the stork or any other freakish analogy that might be told to children and ignorant soon to be parents alike. It was however, the day that my life was drastically altered and along with the sickness and utter horror witnessed that day, I gained something new, a pride neer experienced ahead. One that seems to multiply exponentially both week like an algorithmic program gone awry.Most will tell you that children in their early years are an utter handful. Luckily for my wife and myself this was not the lawsuit with Owen. In fact, mere weeks after leaving the hospital we were sleeping nigh an entire night, something many families are devoid of f or months if not years. Perhaps more importantly however than my now beautiful passwords penchant for nighttime silence was his daytime demeanor and willingness to learn, in his case siphon, as much knowledge as I could possibly bear to part with. Even before he had grasped a few meager words he was the proverbial hawk watching my every move and taking clues more practically than not when least(prenominal) expected. Evervigilant to the fact that I was under constant surveillance, my at home demeanor abruptly changed from college student/dock- grazeer to nearly angelic overnight. With ourselves safely on track, my most daunting task was to prevent Owens grandpa from one of his favorite historical-times instruction Owen large words in a creepy manner. Imagine my shock upon picking up my son at his grandparents house only to gaze stunned at my boy eagerly rubbing his exact hands together in an evil manner and recaping over and over My plans are climax to fruition.Skip out on th is one? I said to my father. If you know of any way I washbowl achieve that at a point like this Id love to know.I trick think of one way, Dad replied. Close your eyes for a second. I swear to you, if you do, youll ceremonial the next thing happening is your child on a bike and that youve missed a year, thus two.Seriously, I knew you were getting a bit long in the tooth, but I never picked you for the nostalgic type. When exactly did you become the card carrying bleeding-heart kind?Nodding his head playfully with an arrogant imply of understanding that I had yet to grasp he said, Thats exactly what Im talking about. Dont, for anything, miss the years when they havent yet figured out how to smart-off.Much to my dismay, my father was and is more correct than I could have ever imagined. Like a roulette wheel that races nigh barely fast enough to obscure the numbers, yet not so fast that you cant with some small degree of difficulty make out whats happening, my son was growing up at an alarming rate. His mother and myself, with all of our mistakes now resurrected and at the forefront of our minds, foc employ on perimeter our child to withhold the values that we maintained while having the courage to exercise his own individuality. Reminiscing back to the years when beingness a father terrified me, when instilling a sense of right and wrong in Owen, his mother and I at least attempted to teach him to hold himself with dignity and poise at all times obeying the rules until they seem to conflict withsome other moral standing. Obviously this wasnt explained to him in such a manner, but likely through years of examples, lessons at home and luckily at naturalize.Due to the overwhelming maturity and good nature that my son had exhibited up until one fateful rebound morning, my shock at that day hopefully is understandable. Owen for the last two years has been attending an esteemed secret grade school one that allows for hardly any deviation from their strict rules and expects as much from the families as the children, generally speaking. Certainly there are more than a few typical suburban gems that be of a virtually ethereal father who passes in and out of his childrens lives between disgustingly paid business trips only to spend the mandatory 15 minutes with a soccer-mom wife and unappreciated children before jutting off for the afternoon to an overpriced golf course with several other inconsiderate acquaintances.thankfully for these families an underpaid nanny gives at least some attention to the children, between hangovers and homeopathy classes. part most often their mother prescribes to the theory that two double-skinny-mocha-lattes with nutmeg in an afternoon at the local gourmet forage store with her bo-tox friends is the way to raise a child. Owen, sometimes much to his own disgust, is by no means a valued member of one of those families. He is however an important part of ours, one that we can rely upon for at least an ins ightful thought and usually a couple good laughs a day.Our tendency to be smitten with Owen is something shared by many who have the never-ending joy of his acquaintance. His school however, in accordance with the bureaucracy required by civilization, deems it necessary to establish a punishment teaching related to something weve rarely experienced bad behavior. This, put simply, is a system of colored cards ranging from yellowed through red, with a few shades of orange that only a flamboyant interior decorator would recognize, that are pulled in succession or in the extreme case of some dire transgression, the dreaded red card is pulled bypassing the usual stepped progression a bad thing indeed. We prefer to, when Owen has the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, liken a yellow card to DEFCON-5. While a red card, though inconceivable, would beDEFCON-1, or full scale nuclear war (at least within the confines of our modest home). As much as I would like my so n to be, at least until college, some aberration of goodness, he does stray mildly from the line some refer to as the straight and narrow. But, when these situations do arise, they are typically mild and take the form of forgotten homework or lack of attentiveness in class, never, before this spring, were they of the kind we like to attribute to the problem children.Ive elegant much figured thats why you loved me so much, because of my rapier like wit and willingness to study even the most noble of your weakness, I said to my father. In fact, I know thats what draws me to you.I loved you so much because youre Mother made me, Dad replied. I want you because you never wrecked my car.Not that you know of I suppose, winking as I said this. It never did come to me though why you failed to ask obvious questions when issues did arise. Care to share any insight on this now?What? And ruin the fun for the two of you, I think not.Then my father paused for a minute as if in some internal de bate that could drastically effect the future of mankind. Oddly enough, a single piece of exactly that was at stake at this precise moment.Sometimes, my father continued the better questions are those left unasked. When I knew that you were dealing with any problems in an upstanding manner I felt that my work was accomplished years before. What good is a question then?My wife called me at the office late in the afternoon minutes before I was leaving and began to share with me the dilate of Owens incident. While I was not by any means eager to hear the news, I begged her to wait at least another hour so that I could consider the full system of weights of his transgressionin peace. When I arrived home from work that evening Owens pre-trial detainment was in effect and he was found reading meekly in his room. Unaccustomed to this environment I immediately spat a barrage of questions toward my wife, only to hear in return some flabbergasting news.Honey, Miss Finn called today about O wens behavior, my wife began. Apparently he received a red card and we might need to comely with the principal.Shocked, I replied. Not that I cant possibly believe that my son would do any wrong, but, Im sure he didnt do it, whatever it is.I wish that were accredited, but Ive asked him and he did admit to it, at least we have that much going for us.Youve got to be kidding me, I continued. Im sure hes heard that before, but I cant possibly imagine, in school of all places, him ever even considering mouthing a word like shit.Clearly both he and Miss Finn have told me that he said the S word. I think we truly have been blessed all of these years and that now the dam has burst.The worries of my day at work suddenly seemed insignificant compared to this new event. After all, my entire persona had been changed for my child. Though both of us used to have a certain affinity for cursing, that was discarded so many years ago. Im by no means like my boy who seems to perpetually pick the cor rect path, even if hes only in second grade, but at least in this aspect Im largely infallible. Evidently, the crucial issue here is our realization that soon enough he will be surrounded with overwhelming amounts of temptation as he ages. I would prefer to hold on to some semblance of innocence at least through the second grade, hopefully up to the fourth, idol willing. The trial was abrupt and to my sons credit, he did admit his wrongdoing and professed he was simply angered at the ignorance of his school-mates concerning the blatantly obvious difference between awater jabbingmon and an air pokemon, stating that air pokemons were S. Perhaps hes been wound up secretive lately, given his schedule of 7 hours of school followed by snacks, playing, naps, and more playing. I guess we should have pretended more responsibility in this matter, however, the jury found him mostly at fault and the sentencing was implemented immediately.In the whole scheme of things this episode turned out to be nominally more than a speed-bump on my childs path to adulthood. In fact, the grounding was short but the continuing education as to how to present himself was intensified drastically. It was only later, during one of those drawn out humid days of summer that my son taught me a lesson that apparently my father, in all of his wisdom, had never learned. As Owen and I watched an afternoon baseball game, each rooting for the other team though having virtually no investment in either, I was harried by the words suddenly emanating from my sons mouth.Dad, why is it that adults can do and say things that children cant? My son said.As I began my blanket argument, searching mentally for something I did or said recently that would invoke such a dreaded question, nothing came to mind. Well, lifes that way I suppose, someday youll understand. maybe Mom should ground you for the week then and youll understand.Perhaps thats not such a bad idea, can I borrow your room? I replied, franticall y seeking that eluding and cursing myself to be more aware around my boy.No, you constantly say the colors make you dizzy anyway, he continued. But, when I said the S word you told me thats not how a gentleman speaks. Arent you a gentleman? Or are you a lady? His snickering bought me precious time to recap the past few minutes and what had transpired, and for the life of me I couldnt recall any such regression in my dont speak like a sailor policy.If I did say that I do apologize, however, I think youre mistaking, perhaps you misunderstood me, I said.No sir, you said it, and Im telling Mom.By now my curiosity had been piqued to a point where I could no longer abjure this incident in a Clinton-esque manner. I had to pursue this matter, even though I figured at this juncture it meant certain embarrassment, at the time I thought for my child.What exactly did I say that you profess you cant?I told you, you said the S word and I cant repeat it, you said so yourself.I seriously doubt t hat. Youve never heard me say that word. In fact, if I recall correctly youre the only one in this household who seems to utter that phrase. I was start-off to worry now that perhaps there was a point of confusion that I didnt understand. On some deeper level I was also worried that my son had started to smart-off to me thus the end to the glory years.Maybe you can spell this word for me, so that I know and will never repeat it again, I said.I dont think that would be a fruitful thing to do, Dad, Owen said. But since youre the boss of me, at least until Mom comes home, I will.My worst fears were confirmed at this moment, he had prematurely reached the age of self-awareness and independence. Surly, I thought, this must be some god-awful twisted plan insert into his brain by my mischievous father. As I prepared for the next daunting step in my life, dealing with an individual who was not simply repeating what he was shown and instructed like a cheap pet-store parrot, but one capable of reasonable logical connections and moreterrifyingly one that was good at such things, my son began his personal spelling lesson for Daddy.Owen of course began with the letter S. I, on one level had previously assumed the core and was coming to terms with the peculiar cleverness of my child, in addition to my inability to see through his weak scam, yet I let him continue.t u p i d.Most importantly, son, you must heed to your children, especially as they grow, my father said.Yeah, yeah, I figured that. I can only assume thats why you told me to shut the hell up so often, I replied.I also said distinctly, over and over, to do as I say, not as I do.In retrospect, these words ring true often to me. I cant possibly expect to be father of the year anytime soon. I can however learn from my mistakes and hopefully my son in turn will heed his grandfathers sage-like advice.