Noah met us this morning at 9:00am. He weighs 6 lbs and is 20 inches tall….perfectly healthy.

The only bad news of the day is…
unfortunately if his first appearances hold true…he looks like me.

7:00 am

Ash is at 9 cm.  Doctor will be here soon and we will start pushing…more me than her…she will just be here chilling.  I’m doing all the work.

Thanks for the well wishes.

So it has been quite some time since my last post. Ya’ll may not have noticed, but that makes sense…you would have to know about and visit a site to know when it goes down. Kind of like Circuit City going out of business…who knew. I could actually speak on that last topic, but that is a different story.

Either way…whether you knew it or not…I took some time off from writing and now I am back (for a brief time).

I always claimed I never had anything good to write about. Anybody that knows me, knows my profession which automatically makes the lack of material a lie. Teachers always have something to say….just ask them.

For me though…I just needed some inspiration. Tonight I am finding some.

For the last two years I have lived in a WOMAN’S WORLD. I have pretty much enjoyed every moment of it. I have a wonderful 2 year old daughter…a more than wonderful 35 year old wife….and a dumb-as-hell 8 year old dog. These last two years have been the most touching and meaningful of my life, but starting tonight (or in the morning) wonderful will become extraordinary.

It won’t be very long before Ash will give birth to a wonderful baby boy…Noah Jaxson.

We are in the hospital now and there is a good chance we will meet Noah before daybreak. There is tons of excitement, and to be quite honest a little panic as well. Thankfully I had a buddy that met me for a couple of beers to calm some of the anxiety. It is weird the difference I feel when comparing the birth of Noah to the birth of Morgan. I guess the best way to describe it is…”ignorance is bliss.”

One thing I am not ignorant about is the love I already have for the little guy, I have often dreamed about a son and the relationship I long to have with him, One of the most influential and important relationships in my life is the one I share with my father. If I am fortunate enough to have that relationship in reverse as well…I will consider my life a success.

Life’s are made up of relationships and who a person is can be defined by those relationships. As a son, a father, and a teacher…I can honestly say I have an expert’s opinion when I state that a father-son relationship is probably the most vital relationship a male could have (outside that of his wife).

I hope and pray that I will be the leader in that relationship and will make it everything it can be. I hope and pray I can be there for Noah, that I can support him, guide him, and love him unconditionally. I pray that he will look at me one day the way I look at my dad.

I also hope and pray that when it comes down to it…he chooses me to have a beer and watch the game with.

I haven’t written an opinion piece in quite sometime, and I feel my opinion is long overdue.

Living in a city as large as Houston I see a wide range of social classes, and when I accompany this with the fact that I am a teacher in a super low socioeconomic school, was raised in a low economic school, have a brother that is a surgeon, friends who have in the millions (or close to it)…I find mself a part of a very diverse crowd.  I am fortunate enough to be in the middle of all walks of life, which puts me right where I belong…the MIDDLE CLASS.

Now that I stated all that I am going to change directions and not talk about any of the social classes I am familiar with.  I am going to talk about the homeless.

There are a couple of disclaimers I want to get out there before I get into the meat of this article.

1. I am a teacher, therefore this is written from that perspective
2. I do not know any homeless people personally
3. I am sure there are some homeless that aren’t “homeless”
4. I am sure some homeless are mentally unstable
5. The final disclaimer will be stated at the end of the article as a footnote

With all that said, here is my opinion…don’t hate me.

I see homeless people begging for money everyday (literally).  I have grown rather cold towards it.  I have given some money, food, and even driven around with coats and blankets in the car when it is cold out, but for the most part I ignore them.  Every once in a while I will see one and actually buy their ”story” that is written all over their face or cardboard sign…but rarely. 

Here is why.  I am a teacher (as previously stated).  I am passionate about my job, and for the most part I believe in the public education system.  I have to or my life would be void of meaning and purpose.  I am well aware that there are bad teachers (just in it for the summers).  I also know that even the bad teachers still try most of the time to do what is right by the kids.

There are students who do not care about these teachers or schools and refuse any help.  These students deserve what comes to them.  Every homeless person grew up with the priviledge, right, and obligation to go to school.  That means (assuming they made it all the way through school) they had more than 60 adults that cared for them and assisted them.  More than 60 adults did everything they could to make their life better and prepare them for the future.  More than 60 adults stood by them and fought their battles with and for them.  This number doesn’t even include aides, coaches, tutors, mentors, counselors, assistant principals, principals, and other specialists that have also made it their life and passion to help.

If a student can look at that many people in the face, spit on them, and turn them away then they deserve what they get.  Quite honestly they deserve to sleep on concrete.  This may sound rather harsh, but since I am part of the most thankless profession in the world…I’ll take my victories where  can get them.  A victory to me will always be when I see a student get what they deserve….good (hopefully) or bad.

Now that I have had my soapbox speech let me share the story that inspired this long-winded pointless article.

This past weekend I was on my way home from Third Coast.  There was the usual beggars on the side of the road.  I like looking at them from afar to see if I can put together a story.  Maybe I’m weird or maybe it is the hidden writer/journalist in me.  Either way, I was watching a beggar I hadn’t seen before.  He had a sparkling sign claiming to be a veteran (shocking I know).  My thought “No you aren’t.  It is clear you have a physical condition that would have prevented you from being accepted.” Next thing I see is him bending down and grabbing something.  That something was two hotdog buns.  My thought “That’s nice.  Someone gave him some of their groceries on their way home, but that isn’t very smart of him to eat in front of the very people he is trying to convince he is dying of hunger.“  I watch him a little longer and he isn’t eating the bread, instead he walks over to about five pigeons and throws the bread at them.  My thought “HAHAHA…Blog Material“  I couldn’t believe it.  This was definitely something I had never seen before.  My assumption is that this guy’s hunger pains are so bad that his brain was shutting down.  Well, it must have been shutting down for quite sometime because as I drove by I noticed that he had brought 2 loaves of bread, 2 packs of hotdog buns, and 2 packs of hamburger buns…afterall pigeons like variety.  A question I have for you…where does a homeless guy store this kind of loot?

A sad but true part to the story…my wife (who is obviously way different from me) had left Third Coast earlier that day.  She actually rolled down her window and gave him money.  Her lasting impression…he warned her that a tsunami was going to hit the US coast in less than six hours.  That finalized the deal.  If you haven’t figured it out yet…this guy wasn’t working with a full loaf of bread and his life wasn’t the next best thing since sliced bread.

Alright enought with the buns…I mean puns.

footnote:  disclaimer #5 – I have read this article both silently and out loud.  It sounds way more harsh than the actual thoughts in my head.  There is no way for me to portray completely these thoughts without this turning into a large novel.  When I shorten it down it gets pretty ruthless…no fluff to soften the blows.  Either way I hope you have not been offended.

Tonight I was sitting around in my car pondering a few thoughts.  The thought that kept drifting in and out of my head was…”if I played indoor volleyball, I bet I would suck.”  This was a weird thought to be pondering, because it wasn’t really a hypothetical.  Today I DID play indoor volleyball and I DID suck.

It wasn’t  a “I really only play sand which is a totally different game so I am just not in very good indoor shape” suck.  It was more of a “I am short and old and can’t jump, or pass, or SET“ suck.  Setting is in all caps because undoubtedly I am not only a bad setter but also an often illegal setter.  I actually thought I would be decent, but I was quite wrong. 

What I am happy about is that my team was made up of some of my closest friends, and they are actually fairly good at volleyball.  They made winning a little easier and looking good a little harder.  Either way I had a pretty good time.

If anyone is curious about results…we played in the worst division I have ever seen against some of the less polished teams I have seen…and we lost.  To make matters worse, we lost to a “douchebag” and a girl.  Yes a girl.  I don’t know how it could be worse than that.  Yes I do…we didn’t block her a single time, and I am not even positive we had a quality dig either.  I hate losing and indoor is also back on my hate list.

Each of you that read this blog… you have a job.  Make sure I see a doctor about my knee.  I can’t keep this up any longer.

I am about to start a post about my baby.  Since most of my friends and family members have babies now…most will relate and enjoy.  If you aren’t into baby stories and baby talk then visit: http://hammertoe.wordpress.com.  The only baby talked about there is himself. 

I have put off this post for about a week now.  I have not put it off for any real reason other than it just hasn’t felt “right” when I have been sitting at my computer.  This post is about my daughter and my love for her, and since I was raised in a family that believed there never had to be a “right” time to show love…I am writing now. 

The thing is…it does feel “right”…right now.

We spent a good portion of our evening in the doctor’s office this afternoon with our baby.  We received word from her dayschool that she had a 102.5 degree temperature.  Morgie has not broken 99 since the day she was born.  You can believe our heart was racing.  She was definitely not feeling well.  The doctor’s could tell, and it was very obvious.  We were there for a few hours and they poked, pinched, prodded, shot, and swabbed every part of her body.  The only thing they could tell us when we left was that they were 99% sure she was fine.

I can tell you with 100% certainty that 99% sucks. 

She is doing much better now, but it is not a nice feeling seeing your daughter in pain and discomfort.  I only pray that she continues to heal and get back to normal…normal is full of love and joy.

Now that I got that all out of the way, I can start the actual post I have been wanting to write:

Morgie is getting older now and her phases come and go like the wind.  As a parent you are often confronted with the thought of what it will be like when a certain phase is gone.  Will you be happy?  Will you miss it?  Will it come back?  What will replace it?

Most parents probably have a certain phase or thing that they treasure most about there child…maybe the laugh, maybe the cuddling, maybe the kisses and hugs, maybe the mimicking.  All of these things are remarkable and memorable, but they aren’t what is most near to me.  The thing I love the most and the thing I will miss the most is what you see right below.

I will never, ever forget these times.  This is the one thing that I long for during the day.  This is the one thing that I will remember long after she is grown and gone.  I will treasure her hand in mine always.  I will never forget the walks.  I will always be ready for her to reach for my hand and to go for that walk. 

With that one simple gesture she is saying so many things.  She is saying:

• “I love you”
• “I need you”
• “Let’s do this together”
•  ”I am ready to go by myself, but why don’t you stick with me anyway”
• “I am comfortable”
• “I accept you”
• “I am older, but not to old to hold your hand”
• “You are my safety”
• “You are my DADDY”

I know these days of her holding my hand have just started, and I know they will be around for quite sometime still, but I also know like many other phases…when it is over…it will feel like it lasted only a day.

The one thing I am saying now and I will say again.  The one thing I want my daughter to see when she is old enough to read and too old to hold my hand is that:

When she is too old to hold my hand…she will still hold my heart.

I want to start this post off by admitting to doing a bunch of dumb things:

1. I rip my pants while dancing at weddings.
2. I print directions to Milsap when going to Dallas.
3. I get donations for patches, and….most of you know the rest.
4. I often talk when I shouldn’t.

So, I am accustomed to being an idiot, but I never, NEVER mess up when ordering things off the internet….

UNTIL NOW.

A couple of weeks ago I completely ran out of checks.  Ash and I are still living in 2003, and we pay most of our bills through the mail.  I obviously needed some checks so I remedy the situation by ordering some.  Because I hate not having them, I figure I will order enough to not really have to worry about it for a while.  I went through the ordering process…and somewhere in my mind I must have thought “4 is a good number.”  Here is where the thinking, or understanding, or intelligence went right out the door.  I am not sure what I saw or what I was thinking, but I ordered FOUR BOXES of checks.  If you haven’t ordered checks before you might be wondering what the big deal is…I’ll tell you. 

There are SIX books in each BOX.  That means I have TWENTY FOUR books.  Each book has 24 checks.  I write maybe 4 checks a month…I’ll do some math for you (I am a math teacher).  These checks will last me 12 YEARS. 

12 FREAKING YEARS!!!!!!!!!!

And that is assuming we don’t decide to start some online checking soon.

The real kicker….the address on them is the address to this house…we are moving in 25 days.

I can tell you now that I don’t and won’t have any ambition to write anything this week.  I will just wish you all a Merry Christmas.

This is an amazing time of year, and I am very thankful for everyone I am able to spend these days with.  I haven’t been doing tons, but I do a little shopping everyday and have managed to find something productive to do around the house as well.  My brother and his family are coming in later this week, and I am super excited to spend some time with them.  We are hoping to take the little ones down to Galveston and that should be a lot of fun.

This Christmas promises to be very, very special…it will be the first Christmas Morgie will actually be able to partake in.  I look forward to her wonder, awe, and energy.

I also look forward to watching ELF this evening.

MERRY CHRISTMAS

Article #2

Question:  What is the deal with girls and hand-setting? (paraphrased)…thanks Blake.

This question cannot easily be answered, and I am not even going to pretend to know the answer to this.  This, like most natural phenomena, really has no logical explanation.  Some of the common arguments are:  hands are too small, hands aren’t strong enough, and they were taught to set indoor and can’t make the change. 

I feel that all three of these things make the task of hand-setting more difficult, but I cannot believe they are definitive.  The best arguments I can make claiming that strong hands, big hands, and no indoor exerience don’t make a good setter are:

Rico Couse and  Dave “A.D.D” Demarco

The reason I think girls aren’t quite as good of setters is something a little different than what has previously been stated.  My opinion doesn’t necessarily lie with the genetics of the body, but more so with the genetics of the mind.   I, like most guys, was raised around sports.  I played hours and hours a day…everyday.  What I am getting at is that sports (and the little things about sports) come very easily to guys because they play them more often, and when they aren’t playing them physically…they are playing them in their mind.  We have been around sports for so long I think we have a better feel for things like: speed of the ball, trajectory of the ball, steps to the ball, touch on the ball.

I also believe that because we play more types of sports than girls (as a whole) we can subconsciously put the different aspects together more easily.  Most girls play two sports growing up, and they only really play if they are required to be at practice or a game.  They then usually drop down to one sport by the time they get to high school.

Guys on the other hand…they play almost every sport.  They play every sport they can and they do it even when there isn’t practice.  For instance I played football all the time, but never with any organization.  I played baseball my entire life.  I have played basketball my entire life, and I have played volleyball for most of my life.  I still play some forms of all these sports to this day.

My belief is that all these sports combined and the affinity we have for these sports gives us a little better feel for the ball.  We are able to see trajectories better, ball speed better, movements toward the ball better, and when we get there we have previous experiences to allow for soft hands and proper technique.

The final and probably most important reason why guys are better hand-setters than girls is this…we care more.  When girls watch volleyball, they don’t really see the setting aspect.  “Good” is good enough for them.  Guys on the other hand strive more towards PERFECTION.  There are obviously many exceptions to this rule, but I can honestly say that good hand-setting guys weren’t born that way.  For some reason a lot of guys love the idea of being a really good setter…therefore they become that.  I remember when I was in high school, before I ever played a single tournament at any level, I saw someone set and the ball came out clean and there wasn’t any noise.  I went home that night and tried everything I could think of to emulate that motion.  It took a while, but I got close.  These days I am a fairly good setter, but just because of my love for the game…I still set the ball to myself repeatedly many times a week.  My wife on the other hand, she loves the game just as much as me…if not more, but she hates setting to herself.

So again, not so much physical…but mental.

I have received my first assignment (thank you Traci).  When I call it an assignment…it makes me feel like an important journalist, and I guess that would make you my chief editor. 

Assignment:  My Thoughts on the Tiger Shenanigans 

When I read this assignment, my first thought was, “how am I suppose to blog about something that has been given this much coverage?”  There have already been more articles and blogs written about this by paid writers than there will be words in this whole post.  My second thought was this, “What is funnier than a BILLIONAIRE acting like a teenage sex mutant?”  I like a challenge, and I like being cynical, and I like making fun of people, and I like those rare occasions when I can be better than the best.   When you put all that together….I like this topic! 

First off, let me say that his ability to play his sport is unique and unparalleled in the history of all sports.  He quite possibly has the strongest mind, most determination, most focus, most confidence, and best smile you will ever find in a human being.  In fact, this guy we call TIGER is PURRFECT (poor joke).  

This perfection that I see reminds me of an article I remember reading about him and his father.  I remember the article very vividly, and I remember where I was when I read it…the place where I do all my important reading/thinking…sitting on the toilet.  In this article, Tiger’s late father addressed Tiger’s perfection and went on record as saying he will transform the human race like none other since Jesus.  Here is an excerpt from a 1996 Sports Illustrated magazine:

“Yes, because he has a larger forum than any of them.  Because he’s playing a sport that’s international.  Because he’s qualified through his ethnicity to accomplish miracles.  He’s the bridge between the East and the West.  There is no limit because he has the guidance.  I don’t know yet exactly what form this will take.  But he is the Chosen One.  He’ll have the power to impact nations.  Not people. Nations.  The world is just getting a taste of his power.”

There is way more to that article than that…but I want to give it justice, so I will provide the link: http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/vault/article/magazine/MAG1009257/1/index.htm 

Now…I don’t pretend to be God and judgment is not for me, so I don’t really have a take on Tiger, but one thing I do know is this:  

If I were a billionaire that rivaled only Jesus Christ in awesomeness I would have way better taste in women. 

I have heard tons of interviews and read a lot of articles about people trying to explain why someone with Tiger’s status and prestige would blow his entire image and life on something like this.  I haven’t really heard anything I like though (maybe I am looking in the wrong places).  My opinion on the matter (and an opinion is all it is) mirrors the thoughts of Mr. Earl Woods…..Tiger is god.  Well, in a matter of speaking anyway.  He was raised as though he were a god, and when you combine that with his status in the world you get a certain type of god. 

The god you get is the GOD-COMPLEX.   

My brother is a surgeon, and he has told me that surgeons are not all that fun to be around and often think they are above the rules on some level.  This is derived from the fact that people’s lives are in their hands daily.  When they save a person they have a piece of what only god can imagine.  When they lose a person they go through a feeling that other’s can’t really relate with.  They basically are set on an island in both cases.  If your life is an island, and you are the only one on it, then it makes sense that you would become fairly self-centered.  When this happens enough…I assume they are a little more “god” than the rest of the world.   

Surgeons and athletes are also often considered better than the average layman.  This combined with the “island” theory stated above is where the complex begins.  Gods are above rules, directions, and judgment.  They believe they are loved by all and always will be. 

All this to say, Tiger never thought he was doing wrong….I’m sorry he knew he was in the wrong, but not for him….only for a normal schmo.   He never thought anyone would tell, he never thought he would get caught, he never thought people would hold him accountable, and he never thought people would hate him for it. 

It is unfortunate that he is an idiot, but to me what is even more unfortunate is that people care (not speaking of you Traci).  Don’t get me wrong, I have come home and turned on the news just to find the latest, but that was before it merely turned into a big soap opera.  I was curious what happened the night of the wreck.  Since the wreck is now an afterthought, I could care less if Tiger’s name is mentioned again until the next golf tournament. 

I have seen what adultery can do in a marriage.  I have seen lives hurt and torn apart.  I have seen it on a real level…on a layman’s level…with people I know.  I teach kids who are still reeling from the effects of it.  To me…it is very disinteresting, and I think it is unfortunate that our world can be enamored by it.  There is a whole lot this world has to offer that is interesting and amazing. 

To me…this just isn’t one of those things. 

Tiger’s an idiot…no doubt about it.  The story is different from others in the sports world…which makes it intriguing.   

There are parts of my life that are forever ruined by the exact same scenario…so, to me, this story is really just another soap opera that I am glad I am not a lead character in. 
 

Footnotes:

1. The aspects of adultery that affect my life are in no way connected to my marriage.
2. My brother has merely mentioned the “god-complex” in surgeons…everything else stated above is inferences made by me.