Putting in the time

I think we’ve stumbled upon my a prospective best friend for my little dude, and as with every childhood bond of deep friendship, it’s primarily based on proximity. We’ve found another family living in our townhouse complex who have a son who is almost exactly the same age as Max, even born in the same month. This means that they’ll both be going into junior kindergarten at the same time, and they’ll both attend the school right around the corner. Like magic, my anxiety about the new school and the strangeness of it all has almost entirely vanished. He’s going to have a class buddy! Someone familiar who will accompany him as he embarks upon the journey into the mysteries of primary school.

And, to allay any concerns that their nearness to each other is the only commonality between them, please rest assured that they get along like peas and carrots. They are both smart, energetic, outgoing and creative dudes and they rally enjoy each others company. Of course, this means I now have double the amount of 4-year-old negotiating and pleading when I try to split the two of them up, but it’s a small price to pay.

It’s funny, I normally would feel very awkward about dropping in on a relative stranger, and a younger version of myself would have avoided doing that at all costs. But now, I can do it without really flinching, all because I want the relationship between Max and Shane to grow.

The trick to doing things you’re not comfortable with is having the right motivation. Before I found pursuits that I really believed in, it was impossible to challenge my own limitations and barriers. Now that there are a wealth of causes and goals that I’m chasing after, the intermediary steps I have to take to achieve those goals don’t seem insurmountable. As another example, I set up a meeting with a complete stranger, to talk about their involvement in my riding association. And not only did I set up the meeting, I was excited to go. For someone who used to describe himself as socially anxious, this is a surprising development (and a pretty cool one).

 

Social Media as a community response catalyst

Forgive the dry title-I’m attempting to steer away from comedic but uninformative post titles. Also, this post isn’t necessarily humourous.

I woke up this morning to the news of idiotic celebratory rioting, complete with overturned, burning vehicles. Our yearly celebration of mindless excess (St. Patrick’s day) brings out some terrible, anti-social behaviour in a handful of people (let’s call them “fools”).If there’s a large enough gathering, these fools will congregate and egg each other on until something tremendously stupid happens.

No matter what the excuse (St. Paddy’s Day, hockey game, tuition increase), the fools will see the opportunity to act out and they’ll jump on it. The crowd around them gives them a sense of invulnerability, as if the rules of society are fully suspended when a large enough group of people stand around together.

And, traditionally, they have had the protection of virtual anonymity. Committing crimes in front of a horde of drunken by-standers is fairly low-risk. The witnesses aren’t really in any shape to provide stellar eyewitness accounts, and they’re really in no position to stop the fools without putting themselves in danger.

But here’s a neat twist of the tale: through the instant availability of communication that social media gives us, the community at large can find out about the event as it happens, complete with evidentiary photos. Those by-standers, who have very little control over the chaos around them, have gained the ability to safely alert the community, and record the perpetrators as they commit their thuggish nonsense.That bubble of temporary immunity is shrinking at an incredible rate, as a few of the dumbest fools will find out this morning. While the fires were still burning, people were sending tweets and pictures of the fools to the police, as well as sending photos out to the community in the hopes of identifying the people in the picture.

It’s vitally important to remember that there is a clear line between good citizen involvement and vigilantism. The temptation to use this quickly gathered evidence to chase and harass the supposed perpetrators is strong, but we have to resist it. No matter how damning the ‘proof’ may appear, we still don’t have the authority or responsibility to punish the fools. Their transgressions against societal standards and the rule of law do not in any way give us license to do the same.

 

 

The fury of a 4 year old

If this blog is supposed to be about adventures in parenting (among other topics) I should try to write about dad stuff once in a while. The delightful trouble is that things are pretty even keel right now. Other than flapping my arms and crowing proudly about the little dude’s massive brainpower (starting to honest-to-goodness read!), we’ve been just keepin’ on.

There was one noticeable exception, though. A few weeks ago, during a particularly rough bedtime, my exhausted son threw a tantrum.  That’s the standard term for his behaviour – I’d say it would be more accurate to say that he lost his ever-loving mind. Not just pouty, or weepy or angry, but a full-blown loss of all restraint. Shrieking at the top of his lungs and hammering on my chest with his tiny fists.

This wasn’t the first tantrum that he’s had –  I took the brunt of what I think was his first one months ago, when he woke up a half-hour after bedtime and freaked the f*$k out. And with his history of occasional night terrors as an infant, that first tantrum was somewhat understandable. It still pushed me all the way past calm and controlled,though I managed to somehow resolve the situation. I actually pried his eyelids open during the tantrum, and that calmed him down. I think he was still kind of asleep. Sleep rage, I guess? Even after he was back asleep, I was left with immense guilt and shame for having lost my own composure and for getting angry at him for shrieking at me.

This time, he was fully awake when he launched into his tirade. I am glad to say that I had learned from the first time, and I found a place of serene compassion and calm that I hunkered down in. I was ready to gently talk to him and hug him until his cognitive process regained control of his body. My dear wife actually came in and interceded, because she didn’t want him treating me that way. It was a kind of strange dynamic, and I admit that his angry, spiteful words were pretty hurtful. But under the calm but stern guidance of my dear wife, we came together as a family and calmed down to resolve the situation.

Afterwards, it was a strange sight to see his pride fighting with his remorse as he struggled to apologize to me. He was embarrassed by his actions and he really didn’t have the ego to spare for a hearty apology. A mumbled “sorry” without making eye contact was the best he could manage. But, when I came downstairs the next morning, he made a point of looking over at me and saying “I’m sorry dad”. And that was probably one of the best apologies I’ve ever received, because it was entirely unprompted and heartfelt. He had thought about what had happened, and he felt bad.

Staring into that unthinking and defiant tantrum reminded me of the angry beast inside every one of us. It’s not that we lose the urge to throw all the rules aside and assert or will upon the things around us with violence and spite: we just learn to control it. I know that there are times that I just want to punch walls, kick over tables, and scream at the world for not obeying my commands, and I think that’s common to all of us. We live in a universe that doesn’t really care about fulfilling our desires, and that is immensely frustrating to a species that is so self-important. So, in staring down the lad’s tantrum and finding a peaceful way to deal with it, I’m also re-enforcing my own coping mechanisms, putting new chains on the rage beast.