Family Man

"Sibs at School"

By Gregory Keer

For three year's, my sister and I went to the same school. Kimmy was especially proud of that fact, as I witnessed one day when she told another kid that if he wasn't nice to her, her big brother was going to beat him up. Truth be told, Kimmy was the only person I was ever really mean to back then; but somehow she knew that on campus, we were on the same team.

  In those mid-70s years, I loved having my sister with me at school. I got a chance to show off my basketball skills at recess and student-council speeches in sixth grade, but I also noticed her laughing with her friends at lunch and leading her third-grade class in the newspaper drive. It was great to be part of each others lives outside the house, even though it was just for a short time.

  As a new school year unfolds, my two oldest boys will converge on the same campus for the first time since Jacob (6) was in preschool. Benjamin (10) will begin his third year at his public elementary school and will be one of the reigning fifth graders, who will graduate at years end. Although he had big hurdles to jump when he transferred to the school, he has since become an expert on every nuance of the teachers, grounds and events. Jacob has soaked up his big brothers experiences by seeing Benjamin do complicated homework and attending open houses.

  "I know he's going to annoy me," Benjamin said in a late-summer talk I had with him about Jacob joining him on the schoolyard. "He'll drag me over somewhere to show me something like a bug he found under a tree."

  This scenario is likely, yet even the little guy who sometimes goes all "kung fu" on Benjamin is welcome to big brothers kingdom.

  "Jacobs good at art, so he'll like that we do a lot of it at school," Benjamin explained. "He's pretty fast, too. He'll love sports day, when we do relays and obstacle courses."

 Although he expects Jacob to be a bit sad and confused at a new place with people he doesnt know, Benjamin said, "[My classmate] Seans brother will be going into first grade. Maybe I can get Jacob to be friends with him so hes not alone when Im not around."

  When I talked with Jacob, he seemed mellow about not having old pals with him at the start.

  "I like challenges," he offered, as if he were vying for a corporate management position.

He cannot wait to ride the bus for the first time so he can talk with the other kids and trade game cards with them. He's also eager to check out the classrooms as a student and not just a visitor.

  "Will I go to the same after-school programs as Benjamin?" he asked hopefully.

  Jacob has been champing at the bit to try out a comic-book drawing class and a "rock star" program ever since Benjamin bragged about them. Jacob has even begun learning the violin so he'll be ready to join the orchestra like his brother did in third grade.

"I hope Jacob knows it's not easy to make it in the orchestra," Benjamin explained, showing territorialism about this particular area. "I had to practice a lot for two years before I could be a first trumpet."

 Sibling rivalry will certainly find a home away from home at school. I expect to hear competing stories about what Benjamin may have said to a cute fifth-grade girl at recess or what Jacob may have done to overflow a toilet. The key is that they will be together, if only for a year.

  Today, I call my sister "Kim" not "Kimmy" and shes been able to handle her own battles for years, even without her big brother down the hall. But we did build on that shared school time as part of what is now a close bond. For Jacob and Benjamin, I hope they, too, will learn they can depend on each other even when theyre not under Mom and Dads roof.

2008 Gregory Keer. All rights reserved. Gregory Keer is an award-winning syndicated columnist, teacher, guest expert in national media. He and his wife have three sons. He can be reached at his fatherhood magazine, www.familymanonline.com.

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Family Man

"Losing the Battle with Oscar Madison"

By Gregory Keer

Each child is finally in bed. The dog and cat are fed. Work e-mails are answered. All I want to do is vegetate with my wife in front of a Netflix DVD, which will probably take two weeks to watch because we keep falling asleep after 15 minutes.

  "Somebody has to finish cleaning the kitchen," Wendy says with all the energy of a poor soul who has traversed half the Sahara desert.

  I lie there, paralyzed with exhaustion.

  "If I get up a few minutes early, I can " I drawl before Wendy interrupts.

"I did two loads of laundry tonight. You do the kitchen," she reasons.

  I roll out of bed. On my way, I pass a mound of bristle blocks and kids shoes in the hallway, a stack of sorted-through mail on the couch in the living room and a pile of unfolded clean clothes on the dining room table. These items need attention, but it's all I can do to step into the kitchen.

  I had left the light off because I like to delude myself that a mess is not a mess if you cannot see it. Upon flicking the switch, the chaos appears. Air-dried marinara sauce on plates, lettuce leaves in cups (my middle son thinks plants will grow in this way) and chunks of buttered brocauflower on grimy countertops all leering at me like a culinary murder scene. This is one of those moments when Im comfortable enough in my manhood to wish I were Tabitha on Bewitched and could simply nose-wiggle my way out of this dirty task.

  I hold a deep-seated resentment toward the never-ending cycle of do-stuff-then-clean-up that mars the typical day, which also involves the heavy mental and physical work of guiding, educating and protecting children. What makes my hatred complicated is that, even in moments of fatigue, I am at least one part compulsive neatnik.

  Within me is a titanic battle that can only be compared to The Odd Couple dynamic between uptight clean freak Felix Unger and the contentedly messy Oscar Madison. I appreciate the healthfulness of sanitation and the serenity of orderliness, but I also value the freedom to live in a linear fashion, moving forward through life without going back to tidy up. I enjoy the feeling of efficiency when my organizational efforts make Aris plastic animal figures easy to find because everythings in color-coded bins, then I glory in letting go enough to make a muddy mess with Jacob in a backyard that won't be cleaned up for weeks.

  While Jacob, age 6, loves to throw real dirt around, he is the most like me when it comes to his approach to neatness. He was the toddler who sang the clean-up song loudest in preschool. Now, he takes pride in organizing his room and even begs to wash my car.

  At 3 years old, Ari can be impressively responsive when I ask him to put away his blocks; however, he resembles the Cat in the Hat as he adorns the house with snacks in various stages of consumption and rips through his t-shirt drawer like a dog digging for a bone.

  My 10-year-old takes after my wife, who cannot resist the urge to grace any empty space with heaps of clothes or paperwork. For his part, Benjamin not only scatters stuff everywhere, he has become a hygiene rebel. He needs constant reminding to wash at the end of the day, and, when left to his own devices at sleep-away camp, managed to shower all of three times in two weeks. He returned home to us covered in a cloud of dust. The beauty of it all? He really does not care.

  So why should I? Really, what's a better use of my time as a dad? Straightening closets for hours at a time or shutting the door on the mess to go kick a soccer ball with the boys? Should I stay in bed or plow through the dishes? As my life gets busier, I'm trying to give in to my inner Oscar Madison with a clearer conscience. The piles may be ever-present, but they don't mind as much as my kid's do when they're ignored.

2008 Gregory Keer. All rights reserved. Gregory Keer is an award-winning syndicated columnist who also writes for Family.com, TheCradle.com, DrLaura.com and CanadianParents.com. In addition, Keer is a high-school English teacher and a guest expert in national media. He and his wife have three sons. He can be reached at his fatherhood magazine, www.familymanonline.com.

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Family Man "Grounded"

By Gregory Keer

 "Daddy, you promised to take us to Hawaii," Jacob says as we watch a TV program about island habitats.

  "One day soon," I tell him.

  "You're lying," he responds in a huff. "You've been saying that for 20 years."

"You're only six," I answer. "You havent been alive long enough for me to lie to you that often."

  Scowling at me, he turns off the television.

  "What'd you do that for?" I ask.

  "I'm not going to Hawaii, so I don't want to see it," he says, stomping out of the room.

  Such problems. I feed him, clothe him, keep him up to his eyeballs in his beloved art supplies. And it all comes down to a broken pledge to take him to a place most people only dream about.

  I follow him to his room where he is writing a note with a picture of a palm tree and the words, "I hate Daddy. Love, Jacob Keer." At least he signs it with affection.

  "We still have to make a plan to go on our father-son trip," I offer.

  "Unless were going to Hawaii, I don't want to talk about it," he growls.

  "I was thinking someplace closer," I counter. "Someplace we can drive to."

  "Are you telling me we don't have enough money to take a plane?"

  I wince at this question, but it's the one Jacob always seems to ask because he's the family budget expert. He's the one who asks, "How much can I spend here?" when we visit a store. He's the kid who offers to split his meal with someone when we go out to eat. And he's the first to tap into his personal savings if I say, "That's too expensive for us right now."

  This is exactly what Jacob does as I fumble for an answer to his affordability question. He pulls five crumpled dollars from his "drawer of treasures" (he's got everything in there from favorite rocks to candy that he thinks I don't know he has).

 "I can give you extra if you pay me to clean the house," he says earnestly.

  While I am impressed by my sons understanding that vacations cost money and that cash needs to be earned, I'm not ready to explain to him that flying to exotic locales takes a bit more than a six-year-old or his father can handle.

  We are certainly fortunate in having a comfortable lifestyle, afforded by our two working-parents household. But the current economy has been squeezing us everywhere from the grocery bill (milk for three boys is a fortune) to the cost of utilities (we use less energy and pay more). Then there are those gas prices. It'd be nice to save gas by using mass transit or walking (we're trying both); shuttling everyone for the basic school and work stuff has us spending a significant percentage of our monthly budget on liquid gold.

  Largely because of fuel prices, we've thus far taken a single, one-night road trip in the past 12 months. And airfares, themselves rising because of oil prices, have prevented us from flying with our kids for the last five years. On one of my recent price checks, I discovered that flying a family of five to a moderately distant destination could cost $1,800. Hawaii? Try a minimum of $1,000 per person, depending on where you start your journey.

  Still, my wife and I believe strongly in the bonding power of vacationing with our children. So we've committed to return to family camp -- and the credit card debt that accompanies it -- at a site two hours away from home yet miles apart from our usually busy lives.

  As I sit with my middle son, who so passionately wants a tropical adventure, I remind him, "This is the first year that you and I get to do the parent-child overnight at camp."

  Jacob cheers up a little. "Yeah, and that can be our father-son trip."

  I'm still hoping to take him for a separate getaway, but it seems that we've all become more grounded this year, in more ways than one.

2008 Gregory Keer. All rights reserved. Gregory Keer is an award-winning syndicated columnist who also writes for Family.com, TheCradle.com, DrLaura.com, and CanadianParents.com. In addition, Keer is a high-school English teacher and a guest expert in national media. He and his wife have three sons. He can be reached at his fatherhood magazine, www.familymanonline.com.

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Family Man

"Jock Itch"

By Gregory Keer

Jacob runs up the track, his back straight, his arms and legs pumping with precision. The taller kid in front of him looks like hell easily win the race, but Jacob has a kick. His feet tap the composite ground like Gene Kelly, and Jacob whooshes ahead to the finish line.

  A thrill leaps in my chest. Thats my son! My gene pool! He may only be a six year old running in practice, but I can already see him flying down the lane in high school, college, the Olympics

  "Daddy, can I eat those goldfish and sit on your lap for a little break?" Jacob asks.

In my bleacher seat, my overheated expectations cool as I reason with myself that this is not about me.

  Truthfully, though, some of this is about me. Ever since my first son wriggled with impressive strength on the hospital bed beside my wife, I imagined my children would be athletes. Its an age-old father fantasy though I know a lot of moms share in the hopes of seeing their kids score the winning basket or smack a game-tying home run. Some of it sprouts from my desires to relive the excitement of childhood sports, especially since now I cannot run or jump without being severely injured or depressed.

  Yet, as I enter my second decade as a dad, I'm rebuilding my thoughts about athleticism from the kid up. After too many "soccer dad" comments that, at their worst, made my eldest son cry, Ive found a balance between pushing my boys to compete in sports and giving them space to simply enjoy playing and being part of a team.

  For Jacob, sports has been a natural release for a kid who seems best suited for a bygone era, when children could climb and frolic outside for whole days. On the fields and courts, my primary challenge with Jacob is to keep him from fouling the other players in his zeal. He finds true freedom and exhilaration in every sport he tries, even if he totally sucks at the skills part.

  Ari, who is three years old, is easy. Hes my little jock, or so I hypothesize by his habit of kicking and throwing anything round within his sight. He's also the one who challenges me to races and tries to jump into the games he watches his brothers play.

  Benjamin, age 10, is more complicated. Two years ago, he appeared ready to chuck in his sneakers, unhappy with the stress of competition and feeling that he just wasnt any good at sports. Aware of my shallow tendency to force the issue, I dug deeper. I suggested that if he could see what I see in his steady physical growth and improving abilities, he would want to participate. He looked at me, uncertainly. Then I promised not to ride him.

  Benjamin played soccer and started the season as he always did, picking daisies. Slowly, though, he gathered confidence with each game. By the end of a league championship season, Benjamin realized he was a good defender with more speed than he had imagined. He also took it hard when the squad lost in the playoffs, broken up over the end of time with a group of kids who had depended on each other.

  I couldn't have been happier, especially since Benjamin has continued his participation in sports, finding increasing satisfaction in himself and knowledge of what he can do with his body, as well as his mind. During the most recent basketball season, Benjamin who usually balked at practicing in the backyard with me frequently asked me to shoot around with him. As memories of one-on-ones with my own father dribbled in my head, I fought back tears almost every time Benjamin and I played. I was proud of his inner motivation to improve his skills, but this bonding exercise meant the world to me.

  I don't know if any of my children will compete in high school sports or anything beyond that. My wish is that they'll play for camaraderie, fun and maybe a little for dad. I also hope they'll play for their own kids when its their turn on the sidelines.

2008 Gregory Keer. All rights reserved. Gregory Keer is an award-winning syndicated columnist who also writes for Family.com, TheCradle.com, DrLaura.com and CanadianParents.com. In addition, Keer is a high-school English teacher and a guest expert in national media. He and his wife have three sons. He can be reached at his fatherhood magazine, www.familymanonline.com.

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