A promise is a promise!

So in my first blog I mentioned that at this time in my life college just isn't for me; and that I would cover that in a future blog.  Guess it's time now, eh?  I mean, you've heard me whine enough already about not being a good dad, huh? LOL

Anyway, I didn't come by this thought lightly.  I suppose I have a bit of a left-over anti-college streak left in me form hearing my father rail against the establishment of "the piece of paper doesn't make me smarter," which was juxtaposed with the indoctrination of my mother that was "if you don't go to college you won't amount to anything."  Ok, maybe that's not fair to her...but that is how it came across at the time and stuck on the dartboard that is my mind.  The point of all that blathering is I did have a balance from which to ponder my dilemma.

Man, this brings back memories!

My dilemma?  Ohhh...perhaps I'm a bit ahead of myself.  If you've not kept up, my kids are all in school now.  After spending many years as a stay-at-home Dad, I find myself wondering, "What next?"  Or, as my lovely wife, Karen says, "What are you going to be when you grow up?"  The fact on if I'm going to grow up is another debate altogether.  As stated I found myself staring at a camera I purchased a little over a year ago.  I have always wanted something better than my crappy point and shoots that kept getting pop spilled on them. >.<  But ever since my first DISC Camera waaaaaaay back when I was 8, I've loved taking pictures of my finger in front of the White House.  That stupid Disc camera had it's lens in the wrong place...my finger belonged there, and I'm sticking to it.

I tumbled through school bouncing from wanting to be an Art Teacher because I despised one of mine so bad I wanted nothing more than to replace him, to Commercial Design and then Youth Ministry.  Commercial Design took a header after my senior year after I had taken two years of Commercial Design.  I liked the class enough, but after having to hear for the umpteenth time "That's not what I want" when I delivered exactly what was asked for from some guy who had no business drawing a stick figure with a ruler, I decided there was no way I could make a career of doing that daily and no shoot someone inside of two years.

I settled on Youth Ministry and started looking for a good place to get a degree in it.  However, my fiance' was going into computers.  We had agreed she would make vast sums of money above and beyond what I ever could in ministry, thus she would go to school first.  We also decided I would be a stay at home dad, based on desire, money and what not.  So off she went to school. while I worked retail, moved into management and passed up store after store promotion so she could get that degree.  We moved back to Indiana, I ran screaming from full-time retail, left management and she started working on her BS degree.  (Note to Dad: BS stands for Bachelor of Science, MS is Master of Science and PhD doesn't mean "Piled Higher and Deeper.  I know, shocked me too!)  Blah blah blah, hit the fast forward and I've come to the conclusion that my calling is not to a career in youth ministry.

And thus, I found myself staring at the camera.  Talk about your digressions!  Photography speaks to the artistic side of me.  I argued internally, sought advice and just plain harassed people in my life for their opinion on college.  Looking at different schools, so few had schedules that would allow me to be home with my children when they got off the bus and still pursue a degree in Photography.  Add to the fact that they all seemed to be very expensive degrees.  I needed a portfolio...which I do not have in photography, to get into many of the programs around the area.  It was all very frustrating.

Shameless plug? Maybe...but I doubt I get
a free class outta this.

During my searches though, I stumbled across Indy Photo Coach.  There was a very loud few measures of Handel's "Messiah" coupled with this beaming light from my window and the image of Jesus pointing to the computer screen saying, "Hey dolt, look...not college, but an edu-ma-cation."  Ok, that might have been the questionable yogurt two days past expiration that I was eating at the time, but it all definitely lined up with my desires and schedules.  Plus, lets face it...it didn't cost a whole lot!  I do wish the classes were a bit longer, but I've learned a lot more than I imagined I could have.  I mean, look at the difference!

Before IPC:                                                                             After IPC:

Lighting is all wrong.  I even got the off camera
flash in the frame!

So much better!  Fancy lighting abounds!

So I'm smack in the middle of my second and third classes and I think I've found what I love most about photography.  For a long time I thought of photography, especially nature and architectural photography, as plagurizing someone else's work, God's, Ted Moseby, architect's you name it.  I figured, with exception of product shoots where the photographer manipulates the object, sets up a still life or something, it was just capturing another's work in a new or different way and claiming it your own.  But in the Speedlighting class, I am falling in love with how one manipulates the light.  So many neat tricks I've learned.  So many more I'm going to experiment with once I get a stand, umbrella and gels.  (Parents reading this...hint, hint...)  The world of off-camera flash and light sculpting is amazing.  I will probably pay for a private lesson with the same teacher covering the same aspects just because I feel more comfortable with someone over my shoulder guiding me as I learn.  Plus I really connected with Dustin's teaching style.  The fact that he teaches high school on a regular basis is in no way a comment on my immaturity.  I make that comment on my own, thank you very much!

Wrapping it all up though, I do think once I'm comfortable behind the lens and producing professional level images, I will look into business management type classes at maybe Ivy Tech or something.  Not a degree, just something to tuck under my belt so that I feel safer in taking the risk of opening my own photography business and studio.

So I plug along

So Tuesday I had something happen I saw coming a long way off.  I'm not going into details in public as it doesn't really matter, please just suffice it to say I was asked to leave the youth ministry in my parish.  Leadership and I did not see eye to eye, and we leave it at that.

Those of you that know me know about my driving desire to work with youth.  I had "the calling" the summer before my 9th grade year.  I knew with absolute certainty that God intended me for youth work.  I argued with God over the years about how that was going to look.  If you know all or any of that, you also know me well enough to know how well I hold grudges when I'm hurt or angered.  I can hold a grudge with the best and the worst of them.  And I won't lie, after being told to step away, I was hurt, very hurt and angry.  I drove home in a haze, fuming over the thoughts in my mind.

I reached out to a great friend of mine, Nick Nix.  This man has been through things in recent years that would test the best of us in the best of times.  And when I look to him, I see God's love in all things he does.  I'm not saying he's perfect, but he does well in the category of love.  He has always seemed to have that insight from God for me.  It's probably a lot like when I have insight for others, but can't seem to see God for myself, I imagine.  But anyway, he reminded me, yet again, that perhaps this was God's way of encouraging me to stop looking beyond my own threshold.  I have four beautiful children God blessed me with.  I have four children that I've been raising in the faith with admittedly less excitement than I was giving to my youth kids.  And there's something wrong with that.  Nick was right.  As soon as he said it I felt that assurance that he was right.  Instantly the burgeoning hatred abated.  I let it go.  This is the miracle.  Normally I would have held onto that anger so tight that I would have hurt myself eventually.  It's something I've done before.  For me to "let go" so quickly was like a rap on the skull, a wake-up call as to just how right Nick really was.

But each day I am actually having internal fights with myself.  I hear the conscious bitter and nasty thoughts seep in and I have to look to Heaven, beg for help in stomping them back.  I refuse to let my anger run away with me.  So I am asking for help, those of you that ninja read my stuff.  Please keep me and my struggles in prayer.  This is a real struggle for me to not let my old ways come back.  And as I said, this really is of God to step back.  I might not agree with the reasoning I was given, but I do know with my whole heart that it is right and true.  My children deserve a better father, and I am seeing that this means more than just proper discipline; it's a "whole Dad" deal.

I rarely ask the Saints for help, as I am still a young Catholic, but in this instance, reaching out to St. Joseph and asking him to pray for me sure seems wise.

St. Joseph,  God gave you charge over His most precious gift of Himself, to us, as His Begotten Son.  You were entrusted with the protection of not only the Blessed Virgin and Holy Mother, but the protection and duty of raising Jesus to be the man He became.  You clearly taught Him to observe and live His Faith.  You clearly raised Him as a disciplined child. St. Joseph  I ask you to pray for me as I roll along this voyage of personal discovery and become the father my children need.  Amen

Of pain, of parenting and of failure.

I'm a bad father.  I don't mean bad father in the sense that I left the kids and my wife to chase after some 22 year old co-ed off in California.  I don't mean in the manner that I beat or neglect my children.  They are fed, and fed well, even if they don't like green beans.  But I yell.  Boy howdy, do I yell.  I'm not talking "raise my voice a little bit to get the point across."  I mean "top of my lungs if I keep this up much longer I'll strip my vocal chords" yelling.  Why?  It gets results.  The problem was, when I got sick of the yelling and tried to get something done, or request anything of my children, nothing would happen until I hit a certain decibel level.

Many people, parents, media and psychologists would say that this was because I had "strong willed children."  Be that as it may given they have an Irish blooded father and a Polish purebred for a mother, that is not the crux of the matter.  Too often I've heard the buck passed anywhere from the kid's fault to some new disorder or another.  Rarely does the parent say, "Oh hell.  This is my fault.  I was wrong.  I have to change."  Well, that's what I'm saying.  I was wrong.  I have to change.

So I started down that road about three weeks ago.  I have been listening, when I could catch him on air, to Dr. Ray Guarendi.  The guy is a take no prisoners, this is the parents' ball now clinical psychologist with a radio show on the EWTN radio network.  He has a practice in Canton, OH and yet still has time for his 10 kids.  I flat don't know how he does it other than he is really the ultimate father.  I've come to respect his opinion on things.  Partly because they are generally so alien to what I've tried (and is obviously not working) or heard in the world today.  Some because I pride myself in taking responsibility for my actions.  And so I'm doing so again, even though I can't explain to you how much it hurts me and how hard it is for me to admit I'm wrong.  God as my witness, my children deserve better than I have given them thus far.

Now, allow me to introduce you to my children.  Zach is fourteen currently, rounding turn four to fifteen this November.  He's a smart kid, but like his father and grandfather before him, he thinks he can just skate through school, regardless of grades.  He does have an ace up his sleeve though.  He is so bent on proving he's nothing like me, when I call him on school work, he generally straightens himself up for a few weeks or a grading period or two.  We've had a tough go of it this year as he's a new freshman in a couple honors courses.  Brought home some poor grades at midterm and so I removed access to his computer (except when required use by his teachers) and TV.  I made a "Homework Table" in the living room where I can observe him doing his homework nightly.  This serves two purposes as his younger brother Josh needs a lot of help in that area as well.  More on that later.  I will admit he's working to change his grades.  Unfortunately, it's a huge climb uphill with several zeroes holding him down.  But he's doing it.  Not without a fight, but that's the way I raised him apparently.

On the downside of that intelligence, he's also become quite good at "playing the game" with his old man.  He will leave out one thing, or skip over certain parts of a job, or deliberately to something very sloppy to prove a point that he can't be forced.  He will wait you out with the best of them so that as soon as your back is turned he can go about what he wants to do.  Sometimes I play along, other times I put a stop to the game as soon as I see it play, and occasionally I will completely ignore it all-together.  I'm still not certain which is the best route.  But I think now, stopping the game and keeping my emotion in check is the best.

He is also quite disrespectful.  This is the button upon which he likes to hammer his fist.  Repeatedly.  He is not disrespectful to his grandparents, his teachers, the youth ministers or our priests.  Nor is he disrespectful to strangers or new people we meet.  His social graces and manners aren't always the best, but that has not been for lack of training on my part.  (Manners are a big deal in this family to me.  Chalk that up to the southern influence of my Grandmother.)  But what he isn't handing out to others he reserves for both his mother and me.  Admittedly he gives far less disrespect to Karen.  But she is not the authority figure in the house.  That's not her burden.  She has enough on her plate as it is.  And so I take the vast majority of it on the chin.  I've told Zach this in the past, that I'll take it, but I flat refuse to watch him disrespect his mother.  If he mouths off to Karen, it's over.  There is no discussion, no negotiation, no "You better take that back, mister."  I put my foot down and he is removed or immediately apologizes.  Maybe that's why he dishes so much less to Karen, huh? Because I am uncompromising in that area?  Most people would say it's because she comes to his defense and thus he feels she's his ally.  I will say I tend to find myself in that category.

Zach is also a fan of the "it's not wrong to do it, it's only wrong to get caught" mentality.  Problem is, he is nearly always getting caught.  Those times I don't call him on it are usually because I don't want to start the fight.  Unlike my father who was so proud of proving how smart he was in catching me, I don't tell Zach how. I'm not giving the kid a "this is how you don't get caught next time" handbook.  I don't take pride in catching him, I find frustration in his constant and repeated attempts to undermine and sneak around behind my back as soon as it's turned.  Some of you might be thinking "as soon as it's turned?  Isn't that a little over exaggerated?"  No.  I walked out of the room one day and within 30 seconds he had done what he knew I wouldn't allow.  30 seconds.  And it has happened far more than just once.  This all goes back to the disrespect in my mind.

But I want to end on an up-note about Zach.  The kid is miles and away more responsible than I was at his age.  Given a choice, I would have slept until noon even on school days.  But even if Dad has dragged himself out of bed yet, Zachary is up shortly after his alarm goes off.  He gets himself ready in a timely fashion.  Granted, historically this was so he could watch some extra TV in the morning, but he still does it.  Don't believe me?  Since being grounded he's only gotten up twice earlier than 6am, and that was to sneak in TV upstairs. ;)  Yes, I called him on it.  He took training and is CPR certified.  I have no problems with him watching the younger kids if Karen and I go out or we need an emergency baby sitter.  Should I go out and the house catch fire, I know he'd not only know what to do, he'd push himself as far as humanly possible to make sure everyone was out safely.

Next up to bat is Josh.  Zach and Josh are night and day as far as personality.  Zach is a boisterous extrovert, Joshie and generally quiet introvert.  Get him with friends though where he's comfortable, you'd never know it!  But he and I tussle over homework, responsibility and a general lack of any sort of ambition beyond "I want to play video games and watch TV."  He even told his sister once his goals in life included living here for the rest of his life and maybe play a little "Jak and Daxter."  Humorous? Yes.  But that is Josh in a nutshell.  Nothing seems more important to him than games and gaming.  And it's not like I let any of the kids sit for hours on end playing them.  They are all limited to 1 hour per night on a school night.  I honestly feel like no amount of proper discipline will instill any sort of ambition in him.  I can give him a goal of exactly what he asks for and wants...and he has no drive to get it.  None.  Want to go fishing?  Give me one week of sweeping the floor immediately after dinner without me having to tell you.  Hasn't done one day.  Want a PS3?  Do the stair step goals (two weeks long, one month, then midterm and grade card) and I'll buy you the components until your semester grade card and you'll have a full system plus three games.  Hasn't done even one step on the goal.  If it's not right in front of his nose in bright flashing lights, he stops caring 20 seconds after.  I have no idea what to do with Joshie.

Ahhhh Sammie.  My sweet little angel.  LOL  My only girl, the rose amongst my stinky, dirty thorns I call my sons. (Do their laundry, y ou'll understand.  Ugh.)  For those of you who say I spoil her, I say in my defense she has been grounded...a couple times. She has a chore to do nightly, same as her brothers.  And she has only once given me guff about it.  But she does have her downside.  She is very stubborn.   Ugh.  Slap some red hair on her and she's the perfect little Irish Princess.  Top that off with she has her mother's Polish stubbornness and sense of humor.  I'm in for a hill of trouble come the teen years.  And she's very self-centered.  This one I chalk up to the fault of her parents.  I will admit it.  She is my little princess.  She does have some hand-me-downs, but not like the boys.  She has no older sister.  She doesn't have to share a bedroom.  And her Grandmother and Karen treat her regularly to all sorts of special days out.  Her world is all about her.  Many times to the detriment and danger to others around her.  So, as my example that I failed with more than just one kid, I submit my little girl.

And finally on the roster, my baby boy Alex.  I can't say much or this will read like a bitter diatribe followed up with what would appear to be my "favorite."  That's just not true.  But he's my baby and still fairly young.  This is not to say we don't butt heads.  Come watch some Saturday when we clean the playroom.  Boy howdy do we butt heads.  I've also been able to learn what to expect from age to age, and adapt accordingly as the younger children age.

There's a regret for you.  That I've made most of my mistakes in parenting with Zach.  That's not really fair to him, but given that none of my children yet have popped out with care instructions sewn to their heels, this is a trial and error process.  And I've erred.  You can read through this whole post and pick out any number of my foibles I'm sure.

Ok, so with all this babbling, what is the point of all this, Michael?  We know you suck, what are you going to do about it?  Glad  you asked.  I am trying a new style of discipline.  We'll call it, "discipline."  Before I just yelled and punished.  I'm finally learning what actual, true and right discipline really is.  And it's hard.  It's a lot easier to yell.  There are days, today for example, that I would love to go back to just yelling and getting the results that I want.  It's not like Zach would hate me more than he does now.  Nor would Karen be as frustrated with me or as worried about Zach as she is today.  Zach is going to be upset that I put this in here, but I'm doing so anyway.  I'm not talking about him behind his back.  I'm just saying what I'm doing now.

As stated earlier, Zach had TV and computer privileges removed.  These are gone until his report card comes home mid October and his grades have come up.  Watching them on Powerschool, he's on the right track.  Though, his honors English could use a lot more work.  We're currently putting a lot of faith into his 9-week test scores.  Anyway, Dr. Ray introduced me and a great number of other parents to what he refers to as "Black-Out."  The purpose is to show the parents how much they control in the situations of "I've taken away everything and they still are ____________."  Zach was put into Black-Out last night after repeated warnings that he was very close to it happening.  What does this entail?  Well he lost his cell phone, his iPod and headphones, his alarm clock, his right to make his own breakfast, choose his own clothing to wear for the day, any outside of the home privileges and is required to write an essay on a subject given him.  The beauty of this punishment is the power of taking away might be in the hands of the parents, but the power of how long it lasts is in the hands of the child.  As soon as he does a satisfactory job on the essay and turn it in, he's free.  All rights restored.  How long the punishment lasts depends on how hard he's willing to work to get through it.  It's hard, it's strict.  He hates it.  But that's sort of the point.  He's not supposed to enjoy it.  He's not supposed to "not care" about it.  I honestly hope (but I know better) that this needs to be done only once.  

Now Karen is worried he's going to harm himself over this.  Truth is she's been worried he was going to harm himself over my former strategy of yelling at him mercilessly.  She hates this new thing.  She doesn't believe me that I hate this new form of discipline either.  But, she is standing with me.  At least in the open.  I gave her the right to hate me and read me the riot act behind closed doors.  And I love her all the more for it.  I can't abandon this part way through, or it just becomes another idle threat that Mean Ol' Dad did to me and Mom saved me from.  We are united on the front at least.

I want to close now.  I'm worked up, frustrated and hating myself.  I'm doing this because I love my children. I've been a piss poor example of a dad for too long and my children deserve better.  I don't they don't believe me that love isn't all hugs, kisses and letting them do what they want, but I do love them.  I would give my life in a heartbeat for them.  The only thing harder than my own sacrifice would be admitting I'm wrong.  And I love my children enough to admit for nearly 15 years I've been wrong as a parent.  I'm doing this for them.  I'm doing this for the entire family.  God help me.