Speak up, sonny

For the first time that I’ve ever noticed, I’ve had a full year with an overall theme. Not just a random mishmash of haphazard life events (though those still happened) but a set of important experiences and revelations that all work towards the same motif. This is the year that I found my voice.

No I was not bound by a vow of silence in a remote German monastery, or trapped within an iron mask to prevent me from taking the crown from my usurping cousin.Nope, it was a lot less exciting than that. I found my creative voice by working on WitchKids and its sequel. I found my political voice by enduring the humiliating discomfort of being on the losing side of an election(the really, REALLY losing side). And more importantly, these experiences and my need to share and explore the new ideas has made me into a social creature.

I know, you all seem shocked when I talk about being socially anxious, and I’ll admit that I’ve always been pretty good at conversational situations that I had some control over. But now, I’m willing to talk to pretty much anyone at any time, flying without a safety net. Big gatherings full of strangers dont’ frighten me any more. In the interest of full disclosure, I am still a little intimidated by a room full of complete strangers, but I think I’m now at a level of stress that you could qualify as ‘normal’.

I give credit to my life-long love affair with the sound of my own voice: when you love something this deeply, you want to share it with everyone around you. The next step might be talking to random people on public transit, in the mall food court,  anyplace where a person might stand still for a few moments. And then, triumphantly, my transformation into a crazy old man will be fully complete. (Serious note: I give all the credit to the unflinching kindness and support I receive continually from my wonderful wife. Best wife ever.)

Another benefit of this willingness to talk and interact with people is that I can withstand salespeople now. No more running from a guy trying to sell me something. I don’t begrudge him – he’s doing his job, trying to get me to buy something, but I do not have to buy anything from him just because he really wants me to.

 

Calling it early-Christmas is a success!

Looking at the tree and the presents starting to accumulate below the branches, I started to ruminate about my own gifts that might show up under there in the next 24 hours. I’m usually pretty bad with coming up with gift suggestions. When pressed for an answer to “what would you like for Christmas?” I engage in an overly complex intellectual process of valuation analysis as I try to find out what my own perfect gift would be.  I should just relax and give my gut answer.

But really, I’ve already received the best gifts, the presents that I want with all my heart. I have a family that has been healthy and happy for the entire year.  I’m able to watch my little dude rough-housing and giggling with his grandpa, an experience that I never had as a child. I’m able to stay at home and be with my wonderful boy, as well as pursuing my ambitions and dreams, and that is all thanks to the hard work and sacrifice from my amazing wife. Who could ever ask for more than the chance to chase your dreams? I mean, I wouldn’t turn down a new big TV or a fancy trip to Ottawa, but it would all be icing on the cake.

And, I also have the gift of you, my resilient and delightful readers. Even when you disagree with me, you still come back to read the next burst of nonsensical text I churn out. Your attention gives me encouragement, both as moral support, and as a motivational prod, and I love you all for both of those functions.

All in all, I’m making out like a bandit, and I couldn’t be happier. Merry Christmas, happy holidays, and be excellent to each other.

 

It’s a Picasso to me, pal

I read an article recently where the author made the argument that constant praise had a detrimental effect on a child’s capacity to face adversity. Basically, if you’re always being told that you’re awesome (even when you suck), a real challenge will expose your lack of skill and send you running in the other direction. Then again, being told that you suck at continual intervals would have the same chilling effect, so it’s about realistic re-enforcement.

But from the outside perspective of the childless observer, it can really look like us parents are heaping on unnecessary praise. We can get thrilled and excited over even the most meager of scratchwork art or minor cleaning effort. Let me explain why we get so excited. When you have been along for the long and grueling journey from infancy to now, any new skill or ability, no matter how trivial, is a sign that you’re passing the parenthood test. Your kid is getting better at being a human, and they’re able to do something that is totally brand new to them. So the first time they draw a vaguely human shape with the facial features in some kind of proximity to each other, well, that’s the most beautiful picture you’ve ever seen. This week, my little dude read 2 words off of the television screen, with no picture clue to guide him, and I lost my mind. Reading! THAT IS THE REAL DEAL, PEOPLE. We have progress!

And I am in no way advocating a persistent level of “way to go, tiger”. As the task becomes routine and easily achievable, I dial back the praise, as we make the transition from extraordinary to ordinary. But when he does something that I’ve never seen him do before, I am genuinely ecstatic, and my cheering is authentic. On rare occasions, the thrill is more of a terror, like this evening when Max was on the cusp of inserting a key into the electrical socket. Honestly, I thought we had made it past the age where that kind of dangerous shenannigan was possible, but now I realize that with great mental capacity, comes wildly dangerous ideas. As I write this, I am dredging up a memory from my own childhood, of being drawn to the wall socket and wanting to do the exact same thing. I must not have, or else I would have an electrocution story (unless the shock wiped my memory clean). I do remember successfully pouring water on a lit, incandescent lightbulb, and being puzzled at the result. Man, kids can be dumb.