Oh Boy, Oh Boy, Oh Boy!

I let my girls out of practice early to participate in the homecoming parade. They were very excited to have a day off. I have been very hard on them this year. Hard in a good way, pushing them to endurance limits that they have never been before.

When I got home, Sarah and I thought watching the homecoming parade would be fun. We got on our bikes and biked to the route.

We were early and got to witness first hand the growing excitement of the parade. People appear out of nowhere, deserted street become lively before your eyes. The boys felt the energy and were getting very excited.

The parade started with a Fire and Ladder Truck. The candy being tossed from the drivers put my boys over the edge. Sarah and I were franticly pulling the boys back from the street. It is incredible watching the focus a 3 year old has when candy is involved.

I knew the girl's float was coming when a Tootsie Roll hit me in the head. As I looked up, I was pelted by several Root Beer Dum Dums. That was when the screeching started from my boys. Candy was everywhere. Mike was shoveling it into his mouth with out taking the wrappers off. Anthony was double fisting handfuls into his bag, Nate was picking through the pile looking for chocolate. Kids who I didn't ever know were thanking me for standing next to them.

When the wrappers settled and the Girls Swim Team Float (minus their candy) moved on, I could help but ask Sarah if I had been working them too hard.

Na!

(I wrote this November 28, 2001. Michael was 2 months old.)

The other day at ~ 11 PM I was watching Michael lying in his crib. He was watching his Winnie-the-Poo mobile and his arms were moving sporadically. As his hand kept hitting his face, I realized that he was trying to suck his thumb. At that moment I was so proud that he had figured out what he could do with his hands. I was then struck by how hard he was working and how hard it was for him to do it.

At that moment I pictured him playing his first T-Ball game stumbling to catch a ball and trying to get a hit; his first swim meet, false starting, swimming with his head up, and missing the wall; writing his first paper at school not knowing where to start.

Then, for a split second, I saw him changing his first diaper with that same clumsiness. Giving his son his first bath worried that he was doing it wrong. Coming home from work to see his son's first snowman and calling his dad to tell him what incredible thing his grandson had just done. Working so hard to do something so new.

Life is amazing sometimes.

After listening to Kinky Friedman for the last 5 days straight, I started thinking about other songs that make me laugh. Here are but a few:

-1- If Jessie Don’t Like It Then It’s Probably Not Art (Loudon Wainwright III)

Favorite Line: "If Jessie Don’t Like It Then It’s Probably Not Art, old Jessie is good old Jessie is smart."

-2- I Spent My Last $10 (on Birth Control and Beer) (Two Nice Girls)

Favorite Line: "I Spent My Last $10 on Birth Control and Beer. Life was so much simpler when I was sober and queer."

-3- Merry Christmas From the Family (Robert Earl Keen Jr.)

Favorite Line: "Mom got drunk and Dad got drunk at our Christmas party. We were drinking champagne punch and homemade egg nog."

-4- I hate liver! Liver makes me quiver! Liver makes me curl right up and die (it makes me cry)! (David Rasche and Jim Stahl)

Favorite Line: "Lounging like a whore on a pillar of fat."

I got a present from my brother-in-law out of the blue yesterday, Kinky Friedman and the Texas Jewboys. One of the few songs that I feel comfortable sharing with anyone is the following. Kinky is one of my favorite mystery writers. He has a very outrageous, funny, politically incorrect, and insightful style. He is someone who I would vote for president!

Men's Room, LA

I saw a picture yesterday
In a men's room near L.A.
Lying on the floor beside the throne.
Had I not recognized the cross
I might have failed to know the boss,
I thought, "Lord, you look neglected and alone."

I picked it up with lovin' care,
I wondered who had placed it there,
When l saw there was no paper on the roll.
I said, "Lord, what would you do
If you were me and I was you,
Take a chance, save your pants or your soul?"

Then a voice said,
"Kinky, it's Jesus here, you know that I ain't no square.
Well, I've got these pictures of me,
I mean statues, you know they're everywhere.
Well, I may seem I come from Liverpool,
And then on the other hand I may come from France,
But if you don't get off that toilet, well I'm just gonna have to dance."

I saw a picture yesterday in a men's room near L.A.

I have a picture on the wall that my son drew for me. It is simple, hard to decipher, and one of my most prized possessions.

The picture is someone looking in a cave. The spelunker has a flashlight and a rope around their waist. Above (or it could be further in the cave) a ghost with a miners helmet lurks. Both are smiling but with different kind of smiles. The sun is peeking out of the clouds .

If you look real close, in the middle of the cave, you can just barely read two words, "Anthony" and "Dad". Everytime I look at the picture I look for those words. There is something about the word "Dad" that makes me feel loved.

Anthony has just started 1st grade at Valley Crossing. His pictures have gotten better, he's added more color, better features, more detail, but I will always keep this picture. It reminds me how much he needs me and how important I am to him.

I love coaching. I love teaching. I live for that "Ah ha" moment in teaching when a student makes a connection and a concept goes from impossible to easy. I get a charge out of watching a swimmer accomplishes a goal and you can see the pride on their faces. Both jobs let me communicate and see growth.

Even with all these similarities, coaching and teaching are different beasts. I think one major difference is why kids participate in each activity. I have found (and I work with a very unique population) most of my math students hate school and have little motivation to learn. Conversely, most of my swimmers love swimming and just need me to direct them to where they want to be.

Coaching helps me balance teaching. In my perfect world all students and all swimmers are all self motivated. Both want to succeed and will do what it takes to be their best. Coaching helps me see this perfect world and strive for it in my classroom.

I hope this works. I am having problem posting on this page.

Tim McGuire has knowingly inspired me to start this current blog and unknowingly to start the following blog.

Just Keep Swimming, Just Keep Swimming

Thanks Tim