The Holy Sh*t Moment: A Daddy Diary

April 1, 2013 by 3 Comments

Snow Family CarHoly Sh*t!

Car is sliding off the road.  Snow is falling so quickly that I cannot see more than 50 feet in front of me.  Back end starts to zig on me.  Front end decides to zag.  So, I do what any driver does in this situation, I yell out…

“Holy Sh*t!”

And, what follows… a speech from my two back seat English majors, ages 6 and 8.

“Dad, you said a bad word,” States Officer Clean Mouth from the Department of (Linguist) Corrections.

“Dad, you really could have found a better word than that word.  That’s the “other” S-word,” explains his partner, 2 years his Senior (29 years my Junior).

“Yah, Dad, at least you didn’t say “Shut Up!” chimes in the “now” fortune teller.

(Hmmmmm… I’m not a fan of the “other” S-word either, but this might be the time… I’m just thinking out loud here)

As I continue to listen to this wonderful introduction of English 101 from my two little professors, the car is still scooting sideways scraping the street’s shoulder.  Those are all “S” words.  No problem with those I guess.  Sheesh (I’ll use that one next time when my blood pressure isn’t soaring skyward… I’ll stop with the alliteration now.  I Solemnly Swear.)

“Dad, here’s the thing, Mom says there’s always a better word to use than a bad word.”

“Yah, Dad, Mom doesn’t say “sucks”… She says “unfortunate” … She doesn’t say “crap” … She says “unnecessary” … She doesn’t say “shut-up”… She says “listen up.”  So, see, Dad, there’s a better word than that “S” word.

As the Preachers continue their sermon, the car (and my mind) is going in a completely different direction.

Holy Sh*t!!!

Dad!!!

Car corrects it-self.  We come to a stop on the shoulder of the road.  My heart beat slows.  They both look to the right and see a steep decline.  They both look forward and see me look to the sky.  And, they both screech in unison…

“Holy Sh*t!!! It worked.  Nice driving Dad.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jeff, Cooper and DelaneyJeff Smith is a Dad first, Coach second.  A former Sportscaster and Play-by-Play Announcer, he lives to give his kids the true spirit of sports and a strong foundation as truly good people.  No matter what his career path, his priority has always been clear: his family.  This site has been lucky enough to have him writing his regular Daddy Diary since its inception.

To connect with Jeff, find him on Twitter.

For more of his incredible writing… read on:

iRule, iThink

Courage, Size 6: Lessons from the Sidelines

The True Rules of Soccer and Life

The Road to U.S. Citizenship: An American Perspective

A Coaching Philosophy to Live By

 

Filed Under: Daddy Diary, Featured Content, Kids say the funniest things, Parenting, Recent Posts Tagged With: , ,

There is No Place Like Home

March 12, 2013 by 3 Comments

Delaney and DaddyI’m scared.  And Frustrated.  Today is a Bad Day.

My Little Girl is on her way to the emergency room.

A Winter Storm has ripped thru my home town.  The Governor of Missouri has declared a State of Emergency.

My wife, a Southern California native, is driving on the snow/ice packed streets of suburban St Louis.

And, I’m in a Hotel room 700 miles away from my girls who need me.

This is how I define helpless.

I’m relegated to typing my thoughts on this piece of paper in between “Our Fathers and Hail Mary’s” as my 8-year old daughter suffers from severe stomach pain and a fever north of 100 degrees for 60plus hours at this point.  My wife has called our Pediatrician who instructed her to take Delaney to the ER.  The fear is appendicitis.

I’ve checked Mapquest.  I’m a 12 hour drive away…and, that’s with “light traffic” and “nice weather.”  I’ve called the airlines.  There are no flights into St Louis until tomorrow.  My scheduled flight doesn’t depart for another 12 hours.  That flight is to go through Cleveland which is supposed to receive the same winter storm right about the time I’m supposed to arrive for my layover.  I’m scrambling… I need to get home to my baby girl.

I’m her Daddy.  I’m supposed to be there…

I wrote the preceding story as it was happening  days ago.  Many tests were run on my little “Mini” as I call her.  Physician’s diagnosis was an intestinal virus that ran its course over the next 72 hours.  She was able to rise again on the 3rd day.  She was stuck, prodded, poked, x-rayed, and “messed around with” (her words) for over 3 hours.  And, I ended up being there the entire time… thanks to Face Time on my iPhone.  We watched cartoons together.  I told her jokes.  She didn’t laugh.  I know what you’re thinking, wow, she must have been sick.

Quick funny story:  Danielle placed me (her iPhone) on the top of Delaney’s Hospital Bed in the Emergency Room.  Mini needed an IV because she was severely dehydrated.  She just couldn’t keep anything in her little tummy for those few days.  A nurse entered the room to stick her vein.  She stuck and stuck with no success.  And, she stuck her right arm (her throwing arm).  I’m still mad at myself for allowing that.  That’s a future Olympian’s softball throwing arm… You just don’t stick that.  Anyway, Nurse #2 entered the room to try the left arm.  Thank you very much.  Danielle had forgotten to mention that I was present in the room, hovering above Delaney’s pounding head.  Nurse #2 was successful on her first stick in the left arm.  I said “thank God” and she looked to the heavens trying to figure out where that voice came from…Well, it came from the father of course, the father of the patient.

This story makes me thankful for many things.

I’m thankful to my daughter’s care givers of course.  I’m thankful that she ended up being okay.  I’m thankful that her right arm has no lingering negative effects from being stuck with a needle multiple times.  I’m thankful that she still has a rocket of an arm on the right side of her torso.  I’m thankful that Danielle made it safely to and from the hospital that evening then into the morning.  And, I’m really, really thankful that I was there with my little girl the entire time thanks to the technology of our world.

It’s just so cool to be alive in 2013.

I’m heading home tomorrow.  Now, if I could just get an App to make it 80 and sunny every day.  My wife tells me there is an App for that… It’s called SoCal.  I’ll have to run a search… only after I get some real life Face Time with my kiddos when they get home from school.  Today is a good day.

Sincerely,

A Thankful Daddy

Filed Under: Daddy Diary, Featured Content, Parenting, Recent Posts Tagged With: , , , , , ,

Winning Isn’t Everything: A Lesson in Parenting

February 27, 2013 by 1 Comment

Dad and Kiddo time“Dad, are you mad?”

“Coop, mad?  About what?”

“Well, you lost that radio contest, so I thought you might be mad.”

“Buddy, have you ever seen me mad?”

“Um, yeah Dad.”

“When?”

“Well, when Delaney and I fight or argue or I don’t make my bed or I don’t turn the light off in my room or I don’t clean up my Legos or the Cardinals bunt with a runner on second and nobody out in the first 7 innings of a game or … “

“Okay, okay, I get it.  I might get “upset” from time to time, but I don’t get mad about losing a contest or a game or really anything (many friends and family are laughing at that last statement).  I might be disappointed, sure, but mad, no, pal, I’m not mad.” (Note:  I was a Finalist for a local sports radio contest, winner’s prize was to broadcast live from Jupiter, FL at the St Louis Cardinals Spring Training Facility.  Yes, this is on the “Bucket List.”)

“Really?  I get mad when I lose.”

“Come here dude, time for a Daddy Talk.  This is a good teaching point for a 6-year old.  Good for a 37-year old too.”

“Okay”

“Here’s the deal.  Losing is a part of life slugger.  Did you know that Babe Ruth struck out One Thousand Three Hundred and Thirty Times?  That was the record for strikeouts when he stopped playing?”

“He did?  I thought Babe Ruth was the greatest baseball player of all time?”

“He is Cooper.  The Babe also has the 2nd most career home runs behind Hank Aaron who himself struck out even more than the Great Bambino.  (Note:  We don’t recognize Barry Bond’s Career Home Run Total in our house).  You see, “a swing and a miss” or “losing” is a part of life.  There’s always going to be a winner and loser.  In order to be a winner, you, also, need to know how to lose too.  It’s just part of the game.  The Cardinals play 162 games right?  Do they win them all?”

“No Dad.”

“No Coop.  Of course not.  But, they give their best effort every game, though, right?”

“Well, I’ve heard you yell at the TV before and say “Guys, what are you doing?  And then you say the Cardinals are acting like the 1919 Chicago White Sox, only you call them the Black Sox?”

“Okay, maybe sometimes, I get a little carried away, but that’s only in October, only in the playoffs, and only because I want them to win sooooo badly.  But, you’re right, I shouldn’t yell at the TV.  It’s not the Zenith’s fault.  And, yes, they’re trying very hard to win.  As for the 1919 Chicago White Sox, well, that’s a story for another day.  Here’s the thing.  Did I want to win the contest?  Absolutely.  Would it have been cool for the four of us to go to Spring Training?  Yep times 11 Cardinals World Championships.  Would I have been as excited as you are on Christmas morning to interview the Cardinal players?  One Hundred Percent, yes, Cooper.  But, someone else was better this time.  There was another fan that won this game.  Does that mean I’m disappointed?  Sure.  Anytime you want to win something, work hard to earn the prize that comes with winning, and it doesn’t work out, it’s okay to be disappointed, but there’s always a lesson to be learned.”

“What’s the lesson this time?”

“Well, I wasn’t sure until just now, but I think the lesson this time is to show you and your sister how to act after losing or missing out on something you really, really might want.  The lesson is to congratulate the winner, realize there’s always another game, play that game again, and do even better next time.  And, until that next time, practice, figure out how to be better, so that when that opportunity comes around again, you can win the game.  Make sense?”

“So, you’re going to try again?”

“What would have happened if Babe Ruth would have stopped playing baseball each time he struck out?”

“You and I couldn’t have watched the Movie “Sandlot” that’s for sure…”

“Exactly, and Babe Ruth would have never hit all of those home runs.”

“714, right Dad?”

“Well done, Cooper, same as your birth weight, that’s a sign by the way… I’ll explain more on that some other time too”

“The point is, you’re going to strike out.  Learn from the swings and misses.  Figure out how to hit the ball on the sweet spot next time.  Your turn will come back around, and the next time, knock it into James Earl Jones’ backyard.  But, the key is to climb back in that box, and try again.  Deal?”

“Deal Dad.  Hey Dad, since you’re not mad, I just want to tell you that I spilled Orange Juice on your Catcher’s Mitt. But, I now learned to not drink Juice with your most favorite thing in the whole world.  I’ll use my other hand next time.   I’m not mad though… I’ll just do better next time.  See, I’m already learning.  Thanks Dad.”

Sincerely,

Dad of a Winner

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jeff Smith is a Dad first, Coach second.  A former Sportscaster and Play-by-Play Announcer, he lives to give his kids the true spirit of sports and a strong foundation as truly good people.  No matter what his career path, his priority has always been clear: his family.  This site has been lucky enough to have him writing his regular Daddy Diary since its inception.

To connect with Jeff, find him on Twitter.

For more of his incredible writing… read on:

iRule, iThink

Courage, Size 6: Lessons from the Sidelines

The True Rules of Soccer and Life

The Road to U.S. Citizenship: An American Perspective

A Coaching Philosophy to Live By

 

 

Filed Under: Daddy Diary, Featured Content, Parenting, Recent Posts Tagged With: , , , ,

Stan Musial: Heaven’s Outfielder, Our ‘Man’

January 28, 2013 by 6 Comments

Delaney 6 softball Stan MusialSix

The number is sacred here in St Louis.

Six

It’s the number my daughter wears on her Softball uniform; her soccer jersey too.

Six

It’s the reason why I dragged my son and his sister downtown on a 30-degree day in late January to witness a Memorial to “the Man” who has made that number famous throughout the Midwest.

Stan Musial’s #6 was retired after the 1963 baseball season, his last for the St. Louis Cardinals where he played his entire 22 year career.  He was my Grandpa’s favorite player, my Dad’s other hero, a man that I heard story after story about, and now, 50 years later, my daughter knows so much about him, she requests the number from her Softball Coach.  Think about that, a half century after “Stan the Man” played his final game, an 8-year old girl knows to ask for his number.  Welcome to St. Louis!  Welcome to a city that understands how lucky we were to have Stan Musial as a part of our community for the past 70 plus years.

So, Mr. Musial, now that you’ve entered Baseball Heaven, this is a thank you note from a fan.  A fan, who never saw you play in person, but appreciates all that you’ve done for my family, my team, my city, my country.

Thank you for the thrills you gave my Grandfathers who witnessed you lead their team (now, my team) to 3 World Championships.  Say “hi” to both of them for us all down here on earth too.  We miss them.

Thank you for staying with the Cardinals for your entire career, so that my Dad could see you play as a kid.  I can only imagine the experience of a Father and Son going to a game together and watching the greatest player to ever wear the Cardinal uniform.  I’ve heard the stories, and admittedly, I’m jealous.  I hoped I might be able to share similar experiences with my son, but that hope decided to join the Angels on Earth, whereas only the Angels in Heaven could take you from our daily lives.

Thank you for serving our country, taking a year out of your baseball life, in your sports prime.  You, both of my Grandpas and many, many others like you defended freedom against the bad guys of your time.

Thank you for making the entire country take note that baseball is played in cities not named New York and Boston.  St. Louis is dead center, middle of the country, just like you liked your fastballs which you turned around for 3,630 hits, a National League record when you last picked up a bat.  St. Louis is easy to lose on a map.  We don’t have a Green Monster like that on Yawkey Way in Beantown nor the Green Monsters (Billions of them) like that in the high rise Office Buildings on Wall Street or that fund the Yankee Roster.  Our color is Red.  Thank you for leaving your Northeastern home and becoming one of us.

Thank you for the example you set for others that followed your career, that you can be married for 72 years to the same woman, believe in a higher power, be flawed of course, but set about as good as example of what it’s like to be a better person, than most, if not all, who perform in the public eye.  Thank you for being a role model to my Dad and many others of his generation.  You positively affected more than just the scoreboard.  You made us all better people.

Thank you for granting an interview request and autograph to this one time Sports Journalist many years ago.  I was fortunate to interview some amazing people during my very brief 3-year Sportscaster career.  And, I can say, with no hesitation that my most fond memory was at the Missouri Sports Hall of Fame in 2001.  You and your buddy, Jack Buck, sat down with me to conduct an interview.  I was as nervous as a Rookie in his first At Bat.  There I was, interviewing the man who I grew up listening to…and THE MAN that I grew up hearing about.  I’ve only asked for two autographs in my life.  Both were from you:  one on a baseball for my Dad, the other on a baseball for my Grandpa.  You, of course, signed and personalized both.  I cannot thank you enough for that kind gesture.

Stan Musial Statue Wedding PictureThank you for taking part in introducing me to my first love.  The year was 1978.  I was getting ready to enter thru the Busch Stadium Gates for the first time when my Dad walked me to THE STATUE, as it’s known in St. Louis.  It’s of course a statue of you.  This is where he first told me all about you.  With tears in his eyes, he said “Jeff, you should have seen him play.  There will never be another like him.”   And, sure enough, there hasn’t been.   You were a big reason why my Dad loves the game of baseball.  And, thus, you are a big reason why I love the game.  And, continuing, you are a big reason why my kids love the game.  The inscription on your statue quoting former MLB Commissioner, Ford C. Frick, says it all, “here stands baseball’s perfect warrior, here stands baseball’s perfect knight.”

And, lastly, thank you for allowing the City of St. Louis to mourn and celebrate your life this past week.  You did not consider us strangers and we considered you a part of our family.  Thank you for allowing me to introduce you to my wife on our wedding night.  Thank you for allowing me to share your life with my little ones this past weekend.  My son says to me, “Dad, how did Stan the Man have the same amount of hits on the road and at home? Did he do that on purpose? I mean, Dad 1,815 at home and 1,815 on the road is pretty cool.” My daughter responded for me, “Cooper, he was THE MAN. He always did the right thing.  Always!”

And, so we leave your Statue where the three of us say our Final Good Bye.  We’re off to the Sporting Goods store to order their uniforms for the upcoming season.  My little girl walks up to the register where the clerk says, “Alright, what number do you want young lady?”  She turns her head towards a replica 1944 Cardinal’s jersey hanging on the wall, turns back to the clerk and says …

“Sir, I’d like

6

Thank you Stan the Man.”

Sincerely,

A St. Louisan, a Cardinal Fan, and a Dad

Jeff Smith is a Dad first, Coach second.  A former Sportscaster and Play-by-Play Announcer, he lives to give his kids the true spirit of sports and a strong foundation as truly good people.  No matter what his career path, his priority has always been clear: his family.  This site has been lucky enough to have him writing his regular Daddy Diary since its inception.

To connect with Jeff, find him on Twitter.

For more of his incredible writing… read on:

iRule, iThink
Courage, Size 6: Lessons from the Sidelines
The True Rules of Soccer and Life
The Road to U.S. Citizenship: An American Perspective
A Coaching Philosophy to Live By

Filed Under: Daddy Diary, Featured Content, Parenting, Recent Posts Tagged With: , , , , , ,

They Shoot… He Saves

January 10, 2013 by Leave a Comment

“Dad, I’m nervous” says the 6-year old Goalie on the way to the game.

“Why, buddy?”  “Well, I didn’t play very well last game, and I’m nervous that I’ll let my team down again.”  “Well, first thing, little man, you didn’t let your team down.  Teams win and lose together.  No one person is more important than another.  You remember that after a win…and … a loss, and you’ll be just fine.  You cheer your teammates on when they’re down, and celebrate their success when they do well.  Besides, those aren’t nerves, you’re excited, and that’s a good thing.”  “So, I’m not nervous?  I’m just excited to play?”  “You got it.  Now, just do your best, help your teammates, and all will be fine regardless of the final score. Deal?”  “Deal Dad.”

Toughness …

Jacob (6-year old teammate of Cooper and one of “my” players, I’m the coach) is sprinting off the field for a line change.  This is Indoor Soccer.  He jumps to the top of the wall to get off the field.  Ball is rocketed off side of his face.  He falls head over cleats heading straight for the floor of the bench when he catches himself at the last moment.  Pause.  No reaction as he lies on the floor for a split second.  I carefully grab him and place him on the bench checking his face and head.  Now the tears spill from his eyes.  Good.  When there’s no reaction, I fear.  When a kid cries, he feels and that’s a good thing.  I count him down from 60 to 1 as I feel it normally takes about a minute for a “sting” to go away…assuming it’s nothing serious.  3-2-1. Eyes dry.  Mom is behind the bench.  “Is he okay?”  Yep.  We’re good to go.  Jacob nods.  And, of course, scores our first goal on his next shift.

We’re Even …

Own goal by David.  He approaches the bench.  “It was an accident Coach. I didn’t mean it.” “I know pal.  So, here’s the deal.  We just gave them a free goal, now we need to get it back.  Go do your thing. Cool?” David nods.  2-1 game with about 12 minutes to play.  Ball plays into the offensive end.  David upshifts.  Ball is rolling towards the goalie who is coming out to meet it at the top of the box, when a blur flies in front getting a tiptoe on the ball, just enough to sneak into the net.  David runs to the bench.  “Got it back Coach.  We’re even.”

Size doesn’t matter …

Ball played in the corner.  Zach (smallest kid on the team) pursues.  3 opponents speed towards him from behind.  All 3 are at least a head taller (we play “up” a grade, so our little squad is always the smallest, but this team looked like an NFL offensive line).  Zach disappears.  Where did he go?  3-2-1 seconds pass by and 1-2-3 of the opposition are now on the ground.  Zach speeds to the offensive end.  Puts a perfect pass right on Jacob’s foot.  4-3 Crusaders lead with 6 to play.

Cardiologist Smiles …

1 minute to play.  5-4 score.  Crusaders are winning.  Spitfires on the attack.  Shot.  Deflected by Connor.  Shot.  Booted away by Kaden.  Alex leads a rush into the offensive ends.  Shot.  Wide.  Back come the Spitfires.  Shot.  Cooper save.  Outlet pass to Derrick.  Pass to Sam.  Shot.  Save the Goalie.  Here they come again.  Shot.  Wide.  Rebound.  Save.  Cooper clears out of harm’s way.  Spitfires Goalie moves into the offensive end.  It’s 5-on-4.  15 seconds.  Shot.  Save.  Shot.  Stopped by wall of Crusaders.  Ball kicked length of the field.

Joy …

Buzzer sounds.  00:00 on the clock.  Game Over.  Cooper sprints from the Goalie Box towards me, and leaps into my arms in the same way that Yadier Molina leaped into Jason Motte’s arms after the last out of the 2011 World Series when the St. Louis Cardinals won.  5-4 Final.  Crusaders Win. Crusaders Win.  World Champions!!!

Memories …

See above story.

Sincerely,

Coach Jeff

 

Filed Under: Daddy Diary, Featured Content, Parenting, Recent Posts Tagged With: , , , ,

iRule. iThink….

January 3, 2013 by 3 Comments

iRule.

iThink.

My 8 year old daughter and 6 year old son are official iOwners now.  For Christmas, they received an iPod Touch from Grandma.  Thanks Mom.  I received a package of half-calf white socks.  I look like Salami from the 70’s TV show “The White Shadow.”

“Delaney, I have something to show you,” I pronounce as I look up from the book titled “Parenting the iGeneration for Dummies”

No response.  (Understand she’s on the floor behind the couch where I’m seated, so about 2 feet away)

I turn around and there she is bopping her head to some tune on her new Christmas Gift while wearing a pair of multi-colored head phones that would make me look like Bozo the Clown.

So, I rise assuming she’s listening to the National Anthem and walk behind the couch, lift up the left ear head phone and ask her to come here for a moment.  She was just a baby a few minutes ago, now she’s decked out in a hoodie wearing Converse shoes with headphones covering her ears.  She’s halfway to driving a car, and fullway to driving me crazy.

“Honey, please don’t have the music so loud as you cannot hear us talk to you.  What if there was a fire?  Or what if a tornado was heading straight for us?  Or what if your Mom actually agreed with me on entering your basketball team in yet another tournament? “

“Dad, you know Mom thinks you’re a little loco when it comes to my sports.  That won’t ever happen.”

“Just turn the volume down a bit.  Look at this.  It’s a box of toys that I used to play with when I was younger.”

“Is that He-Man?” asks the confused 8-year old.

“Oh, yah, he was…ahem…IS… the most powerful man in the Universe,” I proudly state for the record, “Wait a second. You know He-Man?”

“Yah, Dad I know all about He-Man,” explains the now He-Man expert.

“You do?” I ask incredulously.

A new voice speaks up, “Well, yeah Dad, I downloaded the app yesterday.  I’m playing the game right now.  There’s Battle Cat, and Skeletor and …“ interjects Delaney’s 6-year old accomplice also known as her brother. “I let Delaney play, and so of course, she knows all about He-Man.”

“Incredible.  There’s an App about He-Man?”

“Dad, listen” professes iCooper, “there’s a game app on He-Man, Star Wars, Smurfs, Scooby-Doo, Go Speed Racer, and all of the really old cartoons/movies that you used to watch when you were a kid. Now, can I get back to texting?”

“What?  You can text?  Danielle, we don’t have them as part of our cell plan, right?”

All 3 of them stare at me and recite in unison “There’s an app for that, Dad.”

Okay, you two, you may be the iExperts around here but remember that iRule, got it?

“Okay, Dad” they say with heads down, thumbs up (not playing Heads Up 7up) as I’m now staring at the top of their skulls.

“Listen you two, I think it’s time to lay down some rules on these iGadgets.”

Rule #1 – iRule.  If I say something, devices go off, and it’s time to listen.  Deal?  They both stare at me and nod.

Rule #2 – Mom Rules.  Same as Rule 1, but applies for Mom.  “Dad, you know Mom is first, then you.”  “Fine, I’ll give you that one, now onto Rule #3.”

Rule #3 – No iDevices get turned on until after you get home from school, homework is complete, you’ve read a “real book” ie one with a cover and pages for at least 30 minutes, table is set for dinner, room is clean, lawn is mowed and trimmed, furniture is dusted, toilets are scrubbed and shower is re-caulked.  “What is caulk?” says Cooper who is acting like he doesn’t know.  “Dad, we’re in 1st and 3rd grade, we cannot mow the lawn,” explains his older sister clearly using Cooper’s younger age to her benefit.  “Fine, but everything up to that point is still in play, deal?”  … “Deal, Dad” as they both roll their eyes.

Rule #4 – No text typing.  “Y-O-U-R” is a possessive adjective.   “Y-O-U-Apostrophe R-E” is a contraction of the two words “you” and “are” … U-R is not a word.  If Y-O-U-R usage of these two words is incorrect, Y-O-U-Apostrophe-R-E in trouble and the iTouch gets taken out of Y-O-U-R hands.  Understand?  They both give a relaxed thumbs up seeing as their thumbs have been inactive now for almost 2 minutes.

Rule #5 – No picture taking of anything personal like where we live, or our neighbors homes, street signs, anything at your school (come to think of it, if you take your iTouch to school, don’t come home, I’ll download you into my phone and then turn the phone off…Forever), and definitely no pictures of me…ever…  Everyone say “Okay Dad.” “Okay, Dad” sings the 2 person choir.

Rule #6 – No Social Networking.  No Facebook.  No Twitter.  No Instagram.  “Wait a second, Dad.  Mom said we can use Instagram as long as we keep our account private and ask her permission before we “follow” anyone.” pleads Delaney.  “Mom?”  I ask the clear ruler of the iWorld in our home. “Yes, Jeff, It’s 2013, would you like me to handcuff them to their bedpost too, so they can’t leave their rooms?”  “Don’t tempt me?”  Fine, I relent on this one, but only because my wife is currently writing the soon to be released book “Social Media Engagement For Dummies” the latest in the “For Dummies” series of books, thus she’s in charge of this one.  (Purposeful Product Placement.)

Rule #7 – “Dad, how many rules do you think there will be? “ asks Cooper who continues to stare at his dormant iTouch that sits in the corner begging to be poked.  “75!” I exclaim.  “75 rules?” asks Coop.  “Okay, fine this is the last one.  Rule #7 is to refer back to Rule #1 which as you may recall is the rule where iRule. “

“Rule #1 is Mom rules,” they both correct me.

“Fine.  Rule #7 is to refer back to Rule #2 which as you may recall is the rule where iRule.  I mean that if a grade drops at school or you drop a pop up at your softball or baseball game because of lack of practice or focus due to too much attention on the iPod then the iPod goes away…FOREVER.”

Forever?

Forever!

Forever?

Yes, FOR-EVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVER!!!

“Well, what if I drop a pop up in my baseball game because the sun is in my eyes?” asks the future Hall of Fame Shortstop which obviously will not happen but he likes to try to push me to see how far I’ll go with things.

“Don’t drop it.  You know how to shield the sun with your glove or play it to the side.  Practice!   This is something you could do when you were 3.  Don’t blame the s-U-n because then I’ll blame the s-O-n.  Got it little man?”

“Okay Dad.”

“Um, Dad, thank you for being such a wonderful Dad and teaching us so many good things.  You’re the best Dad in the whole world.  Thank for teaching us how to read, write, and switch hit.  Would you mind if we played our new Christmas Toy that we received for Christmas since it is Christmas morning?” asks the little 8 year old girl with Christmas magic still in her eyes.

Well, of course, honey.  You too Coop.  I want you to enjoy your new toy.  After you recite rule number one.

“Mom Rules!” they shout.

iRule too…iThink.

 

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Confidence Inspired

December 12, 2012 by Leave a Comment

My 8-year old daughter performed her first public speech this past Monday. She did so in front of a school assembly of 500 of her own peers. Nervous Day for Daughter…more so for Dad.

We’ve heard over and over that “Public Speaking” is the number one fear among adults (ahead of dying and the thought of the Cubs winning the World Series…the latter will never happen, so no worries).

So, factor that fear into the formula of an 8-year old reading an excerpt from a book in front of all of her friends plus another 450 souls that she encounters in the hallways every day at school. Oh, yeah, no nerves at all. From me I mean. Sarcasm.

Delaney is a bit shy. Not an introvert, but just so afraid of embarrassing herself. She has an angelic voice but refuses to sing in front of any humans (she’ll sing to our dog). She’s a terrific reader, but had, until now, never volunteered to do so in front of anyone without the last name “Smith” (although that could be one heck of a large group if we could pull us all together one day). But, last week, she bounced through our front door and stated proudly, “I’m reading at the All School Assembly next Monday.”

She’s been exuding more and more confidence over the past few months. I can see her growing up before my eyes. And, I’m going on the record to attribute this to one major event followed by a succession of events that played off that event.

I’m her Dad, one of two people in the world that know her best. And, I’m right on this one.

The event occurred on the night of June 17th (just shy of 6 months before I received the aforementioned confirmation that her confidence is soaring like a softball over the outfield fence). If you read this blog post on a regular basis, well, thank you, and you’ve heard this story before, so I won’t repeat. Here’s the shortstop…er snapshot version. Delaney made a game saving play in a Championship Game of a Softball Tournament to force extra innings where her teammates scored enough runs to win in their final at-bat.

From that point in the softball season till the end, Delaney couldn’t wait for the ball to be hit to her. She bounced from the on-deck batter’s circle to home plate. She begged me to play “Fall Softball.” Of course, I allowed it. Shocking.

She found her thing. She found that thing that we all try to find where we’re in our comfort zone. For me, the most comfortable place I’ve ever been is behind the plate in full catcher’s gear and behind the mic speaking about the players in front of me. Each of us has our thing where the world slows down, we forget about all else except for what’s in front of us, and we do our thing.

Delaney found hers.

Now, I’m not saying she won’t have other “things” and I’m not saying she’ll be an All-American Softball player (I might have mentioned that a time or two in the past…maybe). What I am saying is this… She now knows that she is good at something. And that has boosted her confidence in other life skills as high as her batting average.

Here’s yet another example of why Youth Sports are such a great thing. Kids learn how to win…and…lose. Kids learn what it’s like to be a part of team. Kids learn so many things, but one of the greatest things about these games is it forces kids to find something within themselves that maybe, just maybe they wouldn’t have otherwise found.

I’m not trying to be the Softball Prophet here, but what I do know is this. The sport is good for my daughter. She found something inside her that I don’t think she knew she had. I knew she had it, but it doesn’t matter what I know. She needs to know it, and now she does.

I was there Monday. She approached the microphone the same way she approaches home plate. With a courageous stride, eyes UP, attention fixated on the task at hand, the 8-year old All-Star delivered. The student body applauded. It was a hit!

Sincerely,
Delaney’s Dad

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