Football, Fatherhood and Feeling Guilty.

I have a guilty conscious.

For instance...

If I'm not spending time with my kids...I feel guilty. If I spend too much time with my kids...I feel guilty that I'm not experiencing the spice of life.

If I don't write or draw...I feel guilty. If I write or draw too much...I feel guilty that I should be doing other things, like running.

If I skip my daily run...I feel guilty. If I run too much...I feel guilty that I'm not spending enough time with my kids.

You get the idea.

It's a never-ending cycle that drives me absolutely bananas.

So, a week or so ago, I was feeling guilty about not spending enough time with my kids. In particular, my three-year old son.

As fate would have it, this past weekend we both had an opportunity to spend some 'Man-time' together when my wife decided to take our four-year old daughter to get her toes painted.

The NFL playoffs were on the tube, which sparked an idea...a perfect father-son tradition that has been handed down from Eimer generation to generation...

Tossing Football! The perfect male-bonding experience for any male, any age at any time.

As my son was napping (yes, he still naps), I ran to the garage and started searching for the pigskin. I hit paydirt - a Michael Vick-branded Atlanta Hawks football.

It was a football that my good, old dad purchased for me back in 2006 during our summer vacation at the Jersey Shore.

With football in hand, I walked in from the garage to find my bleary-eyed son, rubbing his eyes with one hand and holding an Ugly Doll in the other.

"Hey guy," I said holding up the football. "Wanna toss some football with your old man."

"Don't want to toss football," he said. "I want the ferry."

"Ferry?" I asked. "Are you looking for a ferry boat?"

"No," he said again. "A ferry."

"Let's just toss some football and we'll find the ferry later," I said as I lobbed the red and black oval into the air.

The ball bounced on the floor with a clunk. My son took off running.

"Hey," I yelled. "Where are you going?"

"I want to play with ferry!"

I sighed. Then I heard a loud happy shriek that sounded like a young girl, but was definitely from my young son.

"I found it," he exclaimed.

He turned the corner, a big smile on his face as he was holding a Tinker Bell figurine.

"Oh, a fairy," I said nodding my head as I picked up the football.

Then I looked at Tinker Bell. Then I looked back at the Michael Vick-branded football.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

Then I thought....(click here).

My Clash of the Titans Redux Memory

With the new release of Clash of the Titans movie last week, I was reminded of this piece I wrote on a certain cinematic experience at the Ohio Valley Mall way back in 1981 - when I was 9-years old.

Enjoy it right here.

The Education of My Kids - Fire

Yesterday,as the sun was setting and a cool breeze was blowing in from the West, I decided to start a small fire in my backyard.

My daughter, with her stuffed dog 'Pupper' in her hand, approached.

"Daddy, what are you doing?" she asked.

"Making a fire?" I said.

"Why?" she asked.

"Well," I thought for a second. "I guess it's because I like to burn stuff."

"Why?" she asked.

Again, I thought for a second.

"Because it makes me feel like a man," I said tossing a stick into the fiery embers.

"Oh," she said matter-of-factly. And walked away.

Socks! Dammit! Melting Snow! Shit!

So, we have this mudroom at our house.

I'm sure all of you understand the concept of a mud room, correct? In olden days, when you returned from the outside conditions from a hard days' huntin' or farmin' they would walk into the mudroom and strip off your boots, clothes, socks, etc.

Wife is happy her house is mud-free. Husband is happy that wife is happy. Kids are happy that the two aren't fighting.

Our mudroom is not only our mud room, it's also our computer room. Plus, it's connected to three different doors: the door to the garage (which also houses our trash cans), the sliding door to the backyard and the door to the front of the house. It also used to be our dog's room until he died last August. (sob!)

In any event, a lot of traffic comes through the mud room and I'm constantly hopping back and forth doing various things. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah.

So, yesterday I stepped onto the linoleum floor and (BAM!) the melted snowy water started seeping through my sock and into my right foot.

I bit my lip.

Then, I searched for another dry spot on the linoleum and, like Frogger hopping across the lily pads in the popular 80's video game, I jumped into the air. I landed with a SPLISH. The melted snowy water started seeping through my sock and into my left foot.

"Dammit," I grimaced cursing the melted snow.

"Dammit," I hear behind me.

My head pops up and, with wide eyes, I do a 180-degree turn. My two-year old son is staring straight at me.

"No, no, no," I say walking over to my son, but step into a big puddle of melted snow, which completely soaks my already-wet right foot.

"Shit," I scream, but it comes out like slow molasses and sounds almost like 'Sheeeeeeeeeiiiiiit'.

"Sheeeeeeiiiiiit," my son screams mocking my slow molasses speak.

"Dammit," I say condemning myself for saying 'Shit' in front of my son.

"Dammit," my son responds staring up at me with those innocent eyes.

I take a pause.

"No, Daddy messed up," I say to my son. "We don't say 'Dammit', we say 'Darn it', understand?"

"Dammit," my son responds with an evil smile. Then he runs away.

"No, no, no, wait," I scream and take another step towards my son and SPLOSH, my left foot steps into the same puddle of melted snow.

"Fuck," I scream out.

"Fuck," I hear someone scream behind me.

I twist around and see my three-year old daughter staring at me.

The Education of My Kids - Part 2

Last night, I was preparing dinner for my two kids, ages 1.5 and 2.5.

In any event, my daughter was playing with this annoying talking Elmo doll.

My son reached over for it and, in an instant, the Elmo doll flew into the air. In slow motion, it landed on the ground and bounced not once, but twice.

Immediately they both looked up at me with these puppy dog eyes. I guess they wanted me to pick it up or something.

I shook my head and said "No, no. We eat now. Play with Elmo later."
(NOTE: This is how I talk now)

The both started hopping up and down in their seats and howling like a couple of chimpanzees pointing at the talking Elmo doll on the floor.

Honestly, it was a fucking zoo.

"HEY, HEY, HEY," I yelled. "LET'S KNOCK IT OFF!"

The were both silent. I sort of felt a little bad.

I took a deep breath, pulled up a stool, looked them both in the eyes and gave them the following piece of advice....

"You can't always get what you want. You can't always get what you want. No, you can't always get what you want. But if you try sometime, you just might find you get what you need!"

Hmmmm? Not too shabby.

I may have a future as a songwriter.

RELATED STORIES:
The Education of My Kids - Part 1

A Cedar Point 70's Gang Story

I've talked about my love affair with Cedar Point

I've also talked about ways to upgrade theme parks around the country.

But, my very first memory of Cedar Point that still lingers in my brain involves a gang who looked like cast members of the hit 70's flick The Warriors.

I'll try to keep this short.

I was about seven or eight years old (maybe younger) and it was a warm summer day. My mom, dad, brother and I were waiting in line to ride The Blue Streak at Cedar Point.

This summer, I had just made the 'you-must-be-as-tall-as-this-stick-to-ride-this-ride' height to be able to conquer all of the rollercoasters at the park. Much like getting a driver's license, this was an important badge of honor in a young boy's life. Myself included.

My brother - a rollercoaster aficionado to this day - had a simple strategy on this particular trip: take his younger brother on a couple smaller rollercoasters (i.e. the Mine Ride, The Corkscrew and The Blue Streak) and get him ready, willing and able to ride biggest, baddest, newest rollercoaster of them all, The Gemini.

Sure it was extremely selfish on his part. But, in a way, it was helping me overcome my rollercoaster fear as well. Thanks bro.

Anyhow, when you're waiting in line, you have to walk these metal gates that send you through this endless maze that stretches back and forth, back and forth until, finally, you reach your ride.

If you love to peoplewatch, then waiting in line for a ride at Cedar Point is the thing to do.

Hot girls.
Nasty girls.
Big guys.
Skinny guys.
Cute kids.
Ugly kids.
Here come the fat kids!

So there we were waiting in line. All of a sudden this group of guys approached the ride and took their place behind us in line. As I stated above, they looked like extras from the hit movie The Warriors. I remember that they were a little rowdy, giving each other high fives and the like. I also noticed that they were all dressed the same...black t-shirts and blue jeans. Which seemed a bit crazy to me considering the humid temperature.

My dad (with his big-ass curly head and big-ass sideburns) kept looking back at the gang with this annoying scowl, almost like he was keeping them in check. At least that's what it seemed like to me.

Anyhow, we made our way around the first turn of the gate, advanced one gate forward ahead and headed back down the line.

That's when something frightening caught my eye.

As the gang of dudes approached the turn in the gate, the leader of the gang (I'm not sure but I believe he had one of those roach clip feather things in his hair) walked by and put his left hand on the top of the railing.

That's when I noticed his knuckles. They were busted open and covered in blood.

My heart started racing.

Then I looked at the rest of the gang. They too had similar battle wounds.

One guy had a black eye. Another guy had blood dripping out of his mouth. A couple of the other guys had bloody knuckles as well.

Being a young kid, this threw me for a loop. Questions that I knew would never, ever be answered started swirling around in my little brain.

Did this gang just beat the shit out of some other gang in the parking lot?

Did they beat up a Cedar Point employee and charge their way into the park for free?

Did they get into a rumble before breakfast? (I should note that it was around 10 a.m. at the time.)

Did they just get finished robbing someone's house a' la The Clockwork Orange and rape one of the homeowners with an extra-large porcelain dildo?

I mean, I couldn't think of a better thing to do after a big street battle then to to hop in my van (that's what I pictured them driving), heading to Cedar Point and riding The Blue Streak.

All before 10 a.m. and without cleaning your wounds.

Every time I passed the leader in line, I thought he was going to take a swing at me with his fist full of steel and kept my distance from his bloody guns. They must've got a kick out of that.

Then I imagined that I was part of their gang. And that I, too, had just got finished kicking the shit out of some gang members.

Then I imagined that my mom, dad, brother and I were a gang and we were going to beat the crap out of some other family in the park.

Then I thought that I was going to be a part of a gang someday and possibly kill someone and go to prison.

Then I started thinking about prison. Then I got really, really nervous.

My memory was going so fast that I didn't even realize we were on The Blue Streak.

When we hit the first hill, I wasn't excited, scared or anything. I couldn't stop thinking about bloody knuckles, gangs and prison.

For the rest of the day, I was completely messed up by the bloody knuckles and the gang of droogs at The Blue Streak line.

That was the only time I really, truly didn't enjoy myself at America's Roller Coaster Capital of the World.

Thanks a lot you wannabe Warriors assholes!

Crabapple Stew

Yesterday morning, I was hanging out with my kids in the living/playroom.

The sun started peeking over the treetops. The big, ball of fire in the sky started to blind the two little guys. They covered their eyes to hide the glare. I'm not sure, but I think one of them whined.

Like Superman (or possibly Iron Man), I leapt to the window and pulled the window blinds. Hooray for me.

Now that I had their attention, I remembered that kids' brains are sponges and they yearn to learn new things.

That's when I decided to go all Confucius on them.

"Kids, that was the sun."

They were staring at me in awe.

"Respect the sun and, in turn, the sun will respect you."

I felt like Aristotle.

My son started to cry. My daughter's attention was abruptly swayed toward Little Einsteins. (I think she has a thing for Leo.)

Yes! My first successful lesson for my kids. With more to come, I'm sure.

Yesterday's score:
Fatherhood: 1
Children: 0

As the Little Einsteins say "Mission Completion".

Oh yeah, when my son was crying I picked him up and called him 'Crabapple Stew'. (Actually I called him son of a bitch, but that's not too cute now is it?)

Then I thought, what a kick-ass name for a rock band.

"Good afternoon Cleveland, we're Crabapple Stew. Are you ready to fucking rock?"

Six Random Wednesday Thoughts

Thought #1
Remember my previous post about a nude Natalie Portman in Wes Anderson's new movie? Well, I finally watched Hotel Chevalier, the 13-minute prequel/short to The Darjeeling Limited and let me tell ya, the nudity ain't all that. To be honest, I was a bit underwhelmed. I'm sure this short was meant to be a major plot-point segue into the feature film. Don't get me wrong, it's finely acted by Portman and Jason Schwartzman. But, as far as nudity goes, it's a 2 out of 10 stars. She had a better look in Closer.

Thought #2
If you completely take out the concept of evaporation, I wonder how long it would take for you to fill a swimming pool with your own pee?

Thought #3
Yesterday, my future father-in-law - a staunch Republican - switched parties, signed up as a democrat and voted for Hilary Clinton in the Ohio Democratic Primary. His reasoning: "I don't think McCain will win if Obama gets the Democratic nomination." Don't know why, but I thought this was a very interesting strategy. I wonder how many other people did this?

Thought #4
As each day goes by and the realization that I'm going to be on this Earth a limited time slowly sets in, my urge to move out of rainy, cloudy, slushy Ohio grows stronger and stronger.

Thought #5
Last night, I imagined my two kids being 12 and 13 years old. Although I already know what I'm going to say to my son when he starts to masturbate. I imagined this great speech I was going to give them about being a sister and a brother and standing up for your sibling and protecting one another from bullies and danger. Then, in my imaginary conversation, I started talking to them about drunk driving, doing drugs and peer-pressure. That's when I thought up this quote:

"Look If you're ever in a situation and something in the back of your mind is giving you a funny feeling and telling you not to do it, that's your intuition talking. That's your sixth-sense saying that something's not right in Denmark. You should listen to that little voice, because 99% of the time, that feeling is right on the money."

It's that point in my imagination when I see them roll their eyes, let out a big sigh and leave the room.

Thought #6
Is anyone, besides myself, going to be watching The Wire series finale this Sunday on HBO? If you want to see one of the best television series, ever (that's right, you MASH-loving fags!). Start with the Season 1 DVD box set and get acquainted with the good, the bad and the ugly of Baltimore's drug scene. Great acting. Great writing. Great direction. Simply great. For pure selfish reasons I want you to watch it, just so I can talk about it with someone besides my five-month old son.