Son, I am (not) disappoint

I kept most of my textbooks, and while they are now out of date, I thought that because he was on the fence about taking the class with me, Alex would benefit from flipping through my old Psychology of Sex textbook.

He handed it back to me this morning. This is really boring. I thought there would be more about figuring out how women think about the whole thing.

So no, he's not going to take the class. Which means I don't have to, either.

When he told Char his reason for not taking it, she sighed hard and asked If you want to know what a woman is thinking, just ask her.

He was smart enough to not say anything, but when she was out of earshot: Is she serious?

I think she was, son, but for future reference, if you're going to ask the question, have a ton of chocolate on hand, and be prepared to listen for a very long time.

Instead of the psych class, he's taking a computer class. Because, he says, at least computers make sense.

Act of trust?

I don't know if it was trust or foolishness, but we decided to let Craig spend the night with the kids while we went off to ski. He had a list of rules that pretty much boiled down to not leaving the house unless it's an emergency, don't even think about alcohol, and don't believe the kids if they tell you they're allowed to be on the phone or texting after 10pm. Alex is perfect capable of being in charge of Rachel and Kevin for an evening, but we wanted an adult there overnight; since he has no school right now, Alex could get his sister and brother up and out the door to the bus in time, but still. There needs to be an adult around. Craig wanted to do this, and he's done well enough lately that we agreed to it.

That's not saying we didn't have Alex texting us frequently to let us know how things were going; he understands our reluctance where Craig is concerned. For that matter, so does Craig, and he doesn't take it personally.

At 6pm Char got a text: Grandpa is here, says he just wanted to bring pizza over but I think he's spending the night.

Char called him; he was as polite as he could be, but the gist was Hell, yes, I'm spending the night. He likes my brother, but doesn't quite trust him with his grandkids' lives just yet. I should point out that Craig raised his boys and they turned out just fine, but I was just a little bit grateful that Brad was willing to butt in. It was testament to the fact that while I am proud of how far Craig has come, I'm still not 100% sure he has what it takes to hold onto sobriety. Brad was there, he later said, so that if something did go wrong there would be a witness. Kids do stupid things and break bones; addicts do stupid things and slip up; there needed to be another adult around to tell the tale if either happened so there would be no doubts about the cause.

Will we do it again? Probably. We'd like to take advantage of some kidless time on the slopes, and we have willing adults to stay with the kids. The kids don't mind as long as we're willing to turn around and take them skiing and snowboarding on the weekends.

Next week, however, Brad is staying with the kids and we're taking Craig with us. I'm hoping to get some good audio of him sliding down the hill, because I know he is going to scream like 5 year old girl being kissed by the kindergarten cootie-monger.

Well, I think it's funny

Alex tried to register online today for his next semester classes, but was thwarted by the psychology class he hoped to take. He did not, the error message said, meet the age requirement to enroll in said class. We learned this by overhearing him complain to his friend Evan; "It's a fucking psych class. I meet the pre-req. I should be able to take it if I want."

Deny his son an educational experience? Ian turned into Super Dad; he knows most of the faculty in the psych department, and interrupted their conversation to ask who the instructor is. He could make a call and find out if the requirement could be waved.

Alex mumbled his name, obviously not wanting Ian to get involved. As soon as Ian heard the name, he turned around and headed for the phone, chuckling under his breath.

I wanted to know why any course taught there would be closed to a student based on age.

"Because," Ian said before he picked up the phone, "he wants to take a class in the psychology of sex."

I wanted to stop him from making that call; there are plenty of other classes Alex can take, and I see no need for him to get into this particular one right now.

"I took it," Ian informed me. "Relax. It's not like he'll be watching porn. Well, not much, anyway."

I couldn't get to the phone to wrestle it away from him before he had dialed the number.

While he exchanged pleasantries with his former colleague, I went to do laundry and to try to think of something other than my teenaged son fixated on sex and getting a grade for it. And also, to figure out a way to convince him to not take it even if his dad could arrange it. I don't care if Alex understands the particulars of sex, that doesn't mean I want him studying it as well.

As fas as Ian is concerned, any academic endeavor is worth pursuing.

Half an hour later, Ian was off the phone, and had news for Alex. "You can take the class, but you'll have to wait for the first day and enroll as an add-in. He'll hold a slot for you."

There was a but there, and I could hear it.

Alex did, too, because he waited for it.

"You can take it if I agree to chaperone you."

"What? I have to go to class with my Dad?"

It was a class of over a hundred students, Ian explained. He would sit in the very back and they could pretend they didn't know each other. The class wades into some serious territory, and is not appropriate for the average fifteen year old. But, we would allow it under these circumstances; this was the deal, take it or leave it.

I think Ian presumed Alex would leave it. But, he looked at me, looked back at Ian, and then said, "All right. You probably should take it. You might learn something."

Now I think Ian is hoping Alex changes his mind at the last minute, but I know my son; he's going to do whatever he can to make his dad squirm.

And who knows, maybe he really will learn something :)

Happy New Year

Much of New Year's Eve was spent on the back patio with Alex; sitting in a lawn chair next to his old man was probably not how he intended to spend the evening, but Stephanie was happily hanging around the kitchen with Char and Rachel. If it really bothered him he hid it well--he understands that for Stephanie an evening baking cookies with Char is a big deal. Her mother has been gone long enough that she doesn't really remember her, something to which Char can relate. I think because of that, Char makes an effort to carve out time for Stephanie; she worries about the effect that will have if Alex and Stephanie ever break up, but for now, she's willing to be that female figure in Steph's life. She remembers how it felt, perhaps even on a scale grander than Stephanie feels it, because the women in Brad's life were transient at best, and none of them were someone she could really look up to.

Alex understands that, and he's never complained when his girlfriend comes over to see him but winds up spending more time with his mother and sister. On New Year's Even, though, I don't think he was exactly happy about it.

I think it did make him feel better, however, that I would have preferred to be somewhere with his mother that didn't include ringing in the new year with our kids.

I also would have preferred to be inside where it wasn't so cold that even my toes wanted to invert, but he was sitting outside and it seemed like a good idea to join him. For some reason, if I can get Alex out there on the patio, where his brother and sister aren't in ear shot, I can get him talking. Usually when we're alone out there I can get him talking about the things going on in his life, whether it's serious or not. Last night he turned the tables on me; he asked about my ex-wife.

Because he was so angry when he first found out about her, and because he shut down somewhat at the mere hint of my having had a life before he was born, when Kathy died we vacillated so long on whether it was something to tell the kids or not that by the time we decided, it was basically a non-issue. They were never going to meet her; they knew that Char spoke to her and liked her, but that relationship was strictly online and sometimes on the phone, and it was never going to cross into let's be friends. She had her life, I had mine, and never the twain shall meet, so to speak.

However, now Uncle Craig is here a lot, and Alex has overheard some of our conversations, and some of the talk has revolved around his feelings for her. Alex was curious; how the hell could Uncle Craig fall for his own brother's wife? To tell him it was complicated would be an understatement, and it's not even a question I have a concrete answer for. I don't think Craig does, either.

But, last night Alex wanted to know about it, and with the little I told him, he latched onto the idea that Craig would have happily started something with Kathy if she's made him think there was a snowball's chance in hell of that ever happening. I couldn't give Alex most of the answers he wanted; most of his questions were clearly about things that are none of his business. I can't and won't speak for my brother, and I can't say for certain what kind of interaction he had with Kathy before she met and married Tucker. But then he asked something that gave me pause. Now that he's sober, do you think he'll try to win her over?

My gut reaction wasn't borne out of grief; I still miss the idea of Kathy being alive and happy with her family, but whatever there was between us was long gone when she died. I appreciate Tucker's consideration in letting me know when she had the stroke and when she died, but what I felt wasn't really grief so much as it was sorrow for all the lost potential. Yet at that moment, I didn't want to tell Alex the truth; it felt like a serious lie of omission. Had we told the kids when it happened, it would have been shrugged off with a Sorry. That sucks. But after all this time, I worried he would be angry.

I worry too much.

He grasped that we got the news about her death while on a ski trip to celebrate Kevin's birthday, and that overall our job was to protect our kids from something that might have detracted from that. "We didn't know her," Alex pointed out. "Yeah, so what good would it have done to tell us?"

What he wanted to know, more than the idea that Craig might have made a move if she was still alive, was about her stepkids. Are her kids all right? Do you know?

I wish I did know, at least enough to tell him they're getting along fine. But I truthfully have no idea.

When we finally headed inside, there was hot chocolate waiting for us--they thought we would need it, given how frigid it was out there--and when midnight rolled around I realized that Alex made sure he was standing right next to Stephanie, and he wasn't the least bit shy about kissing the new year in with her.

That left Kevin and Rachel to high five each other, because there was no way in hell either of them was kissing the other.

I have to admit, I enjoyed the time spent in the cold with my oldest son; the times we'll have together like that will become fewer as time speeds on. But it was, to say the least, a nice way to end 2010, and greeting 2011 with his mother, there's not much better than that.

He ain't heavy

I pseudo-lamented last year that our Christmas traditions have changed; the kids are getting older and the things we used to do, like sending them to bed at a reasonable hour so that we can spend an hour or two curled around each other on the sofa, have gone by the wayside. Last year we got home from church, and the kids stayed up. And it was all right; I missed that quite time with Char but realized that there will come a day when I'll wish the kids were all there there making more noise than I would like.

This year I expected more changes; the family is bigger, all the kids are older, and they had their own expectations about how we would celebrate. Alex was fully prepared to suck it up and go to church with us on the 24th, but the truth is that none of us have been to Mass in months, and I wasn't especially inclined to force everyone, myself included into dressing up and sitting through a service I was sure would leave both Alex and myself with a bitter taste. So we stayed home; the kids had friends over until early evening, when Brad and Craig showed up, and for the first time I can remember we spent Christmas Eve at home.

This was also the first Christmas I've spent with my brother in at least 3 decades. To be honest, I wasn't sure how it would go. He had his own traditions with his kids and grandkids and I knew he would miss them, and I really wasn't sure how the stress of being away from his kids would affect him. For his sake, it was an alcohol-free holiday; he wouldn't have said anything if there had been a bottle of wine or if Brad had brought a twelve pack of beer, but neither Char nor I wanted to shove that in his face. Brad was not thrilled, but only because his tradition includes a shot of something strong at midnight. He doesn't remember when he started it, but Char thinks it goes way back to when she was a toddler, but neither of them really remembers.

Weeks ago Char started to pepper Craig with questions about the things he typically did on Christmas. While nothing we did was going to take the sting out of not seeing his grandkids, she was certain that if we embraced a few of his traditions that it might help. And I think she was right; his thing at Christmas is baking, and our kids were all over it. After dinner they spent the evening in the kitchen with him baking cookies and a couple of pies; Char and I sat at the breakfast bar watching and keeping them company, and it was obvious Craig was in his element. I don't think it was the baking so much as it was that he had the kids' attention, cooperation, and more importantly, they hung on every word he said. It was loud and it was messy, but it was also wonderful to see.

The kids were up late into the night again; after the last of the cookies came out of the oven they broke out the board games again, and while Char and I cleaned up the baking mess they gave Craig a taste of what it's like to constantly lose to them.

Christmas day brought the rest of the family; the true test of Craig's ability to withstand the masses. With Erin and Miko's kids here, the noise level shoots through the roof, and it's a constant battle to keep the smallest ones from pulling down the tree, eating things off the floor they shouldn't, crawling or toddling into walls, bookcases, or the TV. Craig put himself in charge of keeping track of Thad and Alex laid claim to Travis, so that Mom and Dad could relax a bit; more than that, it turned into being something to really see, how well my brother interacts with the little kids, and how a grandfather he could be if he got a better chance at it.

I think next year, as his own kids relax about him, he'll have more opportunities to be a grandfather. I don't think he'll ever move back home, but as he holds tight to his sobriety, I see his kids being willing to bring theirs here to visit him. As it is, all of his boys called him on Christmas and he got to talk to most of his grandkids.

How Craig is doing and how determined he is, that's really the only gift I needed this year.

I am proud of him. That's not something I ever thought I would feel where he's concerned. But I am definitely proud of him.

He's been into the Beatles lately

Kevin, singing under his breath as we made our way through the mall in search of facilities:

Let me pee, let me pee, let me pee, oh let me pee; there must be a restroom, let me pee-eeeee

I don't think he realized he wasn't just singing in his head, which just made it funnier to us.

Just don't call him Twinkletoes

Last night was the second holiday dance recital Kevin has participated in. Last year he was the new kid, and as new as he was he held his own and did well enough that people were talking about it later. He showed grace and flexibility, but his creativity stood out. While last year was a mashup of musical genre and dancing styles (Kevin and the older kids who helped him out danced to Stray Cat Strut and were followed by ballet and then a wildly entertaining group Broadway number) they had a holiday theme this year and did most of the numbers in large groups.

One of the things I appreciate about this school is that the instructors allow the kids to explore their own ideas, and they come up with the basic ideas themselves; they flesh it out as a group and the teachers help with the final choreography. The end result is that the performances are fresh and original, a little quirky at times, and the kids really get into it. They don't wind up doing the same things year after year; there's no annual performance of something in particular and nothing written in stone that can't be changed on a whim. New students are taken as seriously as long time students, and there is firm encouragement for the more experienced kids to help their new friends.

The end result is a recital the parents enjoy as much, if not more than, the kids.

Kevin danced in more than half of the numbers this year, and I was blown away by how good he's gotten since last year, and last year I was amazed at his talent and composure. I had one of those moments; this isn't something Kevin does because it's a neat past time. This is something Kevin does because it's what he is.

He was good at TKD (something he still does once a week or so) but he's much more of a dancer than he ever was a martial artist.

Thump has mentioned those moments to me before, when you see your kid doing something and it all clicks into place, when it hits you that they have actually found their "bliss." Char and I were talking about that during intermission, how Thump was on Facebook during the intermission of Romeo and Juliet, talking about how her son can never stop acting. I thought I got it then, but I evidently didn't. But I got it last night.

Granted, I grasp that Kevin is only 11 years old (or, at his insistence, "Almost twelve!") and he interests could switch gears on a whim. My gut, though, tells me this kid is headed for something creative, and as much as I don't want him to be in a hurry to grow up, I also can't wait to see where his interests take him.