The things in my head go ’round and ’round

Do you facebook?

Do your kids shake their heads when you tell them that you do? Are they embarrassed?

Good for you.

I started facebook awhile back. A long while back. I now have 10 friends. After diligent, and arduous ignoring of said Facebook. I am not that good with Facebook.

The youngest son is BIG TIME into his Facebook. I think that he invited everyone he runs into to be a friend. He has over 150 friends. I can’t remember the names of most of my employees, much less 150+ people that I just met.

How the heck do kids do this stuff?

Facebook. Hmpf.

namaste.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I have been gone for awhile again. Life does that to you.

But in my absence the spammers have tried to break down the doors and take over. I just deleted 25 different spam comments. What a waste of time and effort. On everybodys part. Because you can’t tell me that there is actually someone out there that puts together these spam comments and then hits send. It has to be a spider of some kind doing it. And the other waste of time is me deleting the stupid things. I have a pretty good spam filter, though sometimes crap does get through. If some of these folks would want to advertise on here I would consider it. For a price. Not a big price, mind you, but not for free.

Free is mine.

The youngest son was here for a few days, and left on Friday. My eldest daughter and the youngest son have this rivalry of sorts going on as to who is the favorite child. The eldest son doesn’t get into it as he knows that he is his Mothers favorite. How does he know? She has told him. And everybody else. Which is pretty creepy for the youngest son.

But for me? My favorite is….every stinking one of them. Each one is special to me in their own particular, and peculiar way. And that is the way it is now, and the way that it will always believe.

So, Raven. You can believe what you want. That is up to you, but there is no difference between you, Pierce, and Cali-boy. Except Cali-boy is waaayyy more passive aggressive than any of you, hands down.

Gotta scoot.

Namaste.

We hurried up and left the beach so that we could make it home so that The Princess could watch a Miley Cyrus concert where her dream Nick Jonas would be performing with the remaining Jo Bros.

But unfortunately the Jo Bros have been a no show on the telepho-ne.

We got home with enough time to go to the store so that The Princess could buy the latest copy of The Rolling Stone, because the Jo Bros are on the front page. And to make life that much sweeter, the Brothers Jonas played at Hershey Park Friday night, and their pictures are on the front of the 2nd page.

The Princess is in nirvana.

And Sunday, the Disney Games are on. And guess who would be participating?

Come on. You can guess.

Go ahead. Come on.

Ok, I will tell you. Dream boy Nick, Cutie Pie Joe, and Jo Fro wearing Jo Bro Kevin.

So, maybe the Jo Bros are in Soho, hanging with J-lo, at the DoJo, playing Dobro, solo.

You guys gotta help me adding on to this. It is a whole lot of fun.

Namaste.

That time of year again.

But then isn’t every time of year, THAT time of year in one way or another? I think so.

But the time of year I am talking about now is graduation time.

Kids graduating from High School. Freedom! Blessed freedom from the horrors of having to get up EVERY DAY and go to school where they MAKE YOU DO STUFF THAT MEANS NOTHING!!

One day our kids will understand that they lived in a dream world for the first 18 years of their lives.

I was talking to a woman I work with on Sunday about her son’s graduation. I asked her when she started crying. She said that she didn’t. She is a liar, and I told her so. No one goes to their childs graduation and doesn’t cry. No one. I did, and I have the published proof.

I have 4 kids. Three of them didn’t have a choice of me as their Father, and one chose me. When I went to my eldest daughters graduation, it was in Phoenix, Arizona, with her mother and her step-father. I had to seperate myself from them so that I could sob my Dad tears in private. When my eldest son graduated, it was in Hartland, Michigan and I pretty much sobbed throughout the entire proceedings. When they released the graduates I was this 6′, 300 lb, sobbing juggernaut pushing my way through the crowd so that I could be the first to hug that boy.

And this is the child who thinks that he is not my “favorite”. Kids, sheesh.

After I finally put him back down on the floor, and pouring tears down his neck, I got this tap on my shoulder from a guy with a camera asking if I would be ok to have a picture published. What did I care? I had just seen my first born son graduate. A couple of days later the boy calls and says we made it on the front page of his local paper. Cool.

The youngest son’s graduation was a tad bit different. He graduated from the same school as his older brother, but there were no photogs around to record the event. Just me, my tears, and a lot of hugging. And some drama having to do with seats, the boys girlfriend, and his Mother. Who should learn how to make plans prior to an event happening, THEN she would have seats where she wanted them.

Now we have 5 years until The Princess graduates. I will be a mess, without a doubt. We chuckle about it, but it is something that my kids expect from me and I won’t let them down.

So don’t tell me that you didn’t cry when your son/daughter walked across that stage. I know that you did. And you know that you should. Because now is the time for those kids to start really flexing those wing muscles that you have been helping them build up. They are going to fall, and they are going to get bruised up. But they have to keep at it. That is their job.

And ours is to keep wiping away those tears.

Namaste.

Pierce, the youngest son, is always talking to me about cars. He has not had the best of luck with vehicles. His first was a Ford Ranger. That promptly broke down and cost him a bunch of cash. His next vehicle was a geo priszm. Also known in our family as “The Car That Won’t Die”. It is a 1992 or 1993 geo that has been in MLW’s family since that time. And it won’t die. The engine in it is as strong as the one in my Tacoma.

Now the boy owns a Tiberon. Loves it. But I called him the other day to tell him that I had found the perfect car for him.

A 1979 Checker Motors Company Marathon. Yeah, that’s right. An old Checker cab. It is perfect as the boy lives outside of Detroit. The car is built like a tank, runs off of a small block V-8, and has a huge back seat for all of the kids he is always hanging out with. He can also charge fares from all of his free-loading friends.

I like this idea.

Him? Not so much. Kids just don’t have the vision that their parents do.

Namaste.