Graduation Day

My Big First Grader.

Yesterday, Philip had his last day of Kindergarten.  My Little Guy isn't so little anymore.  He grows and grows quickly.

There's been a core group of about five of us, parents, who live in the neighborhood and walk our kids to school.  We all got a little choked up as our kids came out and we realized that they were done, and next year our babies were gonna be in school, First Grade, full-time.

It's been a good year.  We all started off a bit scared and apprehensive about how the children would handle it.  

Parental Philosophy: Questions and Answers.

There was recently a big brouhaha in Seattle about a lesbian couple being asked to stop kissing at a Mariner's game.  That's fine and all.  Public displays of affection, by anyone, depending on the degree, would make any of us want to throw up.  That isn't what struck me about the article.  What struck me was peoples quoted reaction to the scenario.

"I'd have to explain what's going on to my kids."

That's the reason some people gave when asked why they might have a problem with two women kissing in public.

To them I say, "That's the job.  You're parents."

One constant inquiry of my oldest is on the subject of death.  We drive by a number of cemeteries out here in the 'Burbs.  Philip will often comment, "That's Heaven.  Right, Daddy?"  Or, "That's where we go when we die.  Right, Daddy?"  I try to tell him that our soul goes up in the sky (I can't avoid my Catholic upbringing entirely) to heaven, and that the cemetery is where  we put your body after you die.  Not a great answer.  Not the only answer, but the best I can do.

I also don't avoid the answer, "I don't know."  This isn't much of an answer, but I want to encourage him to find the answers himself.  These answers can often be found in books.  Books contain the whole knowledge that we have accumulated as humans.  If you have a question and no answer there is a good chance a book will have the answer you seek.

I haven't figured it all out, but it seems that avoiding subjects, within reason of course, is the wrong choice to make as a parent.

Why Was It That?

That Boys and I were watching Toy Story last night. If you haven't seen it, or haven't seen it in awhile, it's great. Holds up very well after some ten years. We got to a point where Woody asks the magic 8 ball a question.

Philip says, "That's a bowling ball, right, Daddy."

You rarely want your kid to operate on incorrect information. You want them to have the proper knowledge when they observe the world.

That's not to say their imagination should be stifled. Two sticks can be an airplane. One stick can be a rocket. Our living room carpet can be water with our couch cushion acting as rafts. As of this moment, Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy are still real. That's all pretend, and very important and fine.

But there's a difference when it comes to them accurately trying to categorize the world around them. They do want, and need, to know that a fork is a fork sometimes.

"Well, not exactly. It's a funny toy called a magic 8 Ball."

"What is it?"

"Well... That's what it is... Uh, you ask it questions, and... It gives you some kind of answer..."

Philip saved me from having to explain what exactly is the use of this toy by repeating my own description, "It's a funny toy, Daddy."

"Yeah, it's a funny toy." I say, assuring him and smiling to myself.

But it got me thinking, why is it an 8-ball? Why not a 6-ball? Or a magic cue ball?

Some questions are unanswerable. It's a funny world.

Playtime 03/08/07

We spent today at the Lake View Nature Center in Oak Brook Terrace. Philip had a field trip there, so I grabbed some literature and found out they are open to the public, for free, and they have animals. Kids love animals. I love free. Open to the public is obligatory or we couldn't go.

Philip and I took some pictures of our day.

Like his heart when discovering, broken.

Portrait of the Artists Little Brother #1.

I wonder if he was trying to get the distorted glasses seen through a bowling ball sized ashtray.

Family refrigerator, Artist's accomplishments.

Portrait of the Artists Little Brother #2.


Artist's dinner tray.

Portrait of the Artists Little Brother #3.

The current exhibit at the Nature Center is Sand. Sand, and the animals that live in it. Obviously, that includes these feral, suburban youths. There were a bunch of insect toys in the sand, and every once in a while a child would unearth one and surprise themselves. A few mad dashes out of the sandbox in terror at a millipede.

We were met there by our friend, Ava.

Sand everywhere!

George the rabbit and Patrick.

Parental Philosphy

Pet Peeve 2000 Diana Ong

So, the comments for my post on kids and t.v. watching lit up like a Christmas tree. I think part, emphasis on 'part', of what made the subject attractive to comment on was the 'pet peeve' factor. I happened to stumble upon something that people feel strongly about, television. I am obviously less concerned about my children's t.v. consumption than others might be. But it got me thinking, what am I a hard ass about, with regards to my kids.

Or, more importantly, what are you a hard ass about? What are your pet peeves?

I'll stick with the subject of my kids for now, but feel free to add your own, in regards to my kids or not.

We do not believe children belong in restaurants. This has a lot to do with me being a career server and having to serve rude children, but I also don't think it is fair to ask children to behave themselves in a restaurant, and I think it is rude to the other people dinning to ask them to put up with my screaming child.

The Wife and I demand politeness from our children. (This also has a lot to do with me being a server.) We don't always get it, but nothing gets under my skin more than rudeness in children. We require, please, and thank you. We require, excuse me, and I'm sorry.

You got any you want to share?

Shhhh. You hear that?

It's silence.

No kids.

My Uncle Herb and Aunt Mare took the kids last night.
I just woke up out of habit, I'm going back to bed.

See, I can do this.

Though I'm the at-home-parent, The Wife usually handles this stuff. The joke always is, when Mom is away, no baths. This is solely to make her nervous.

The post bath tools for cleanliness.

That's a good boy.

Parental Philosophy.

I watched a lot of t.v. growing up.

My kids watch quite a bit of t.v. I do not think that t.v. is intrinsically bad. As far as the programing for kids these days, I consider it far superior to the t.v. that I grew up on. I know we had Sesame street, 3-2-1 Contact, Mister Roger's Neighborhood, etc., but nowadays, everything is educational, and encourages child participation. If Malcolm Gladwell, in his book 'The Tipping Point', is to be believed, they are rigorously tested for maximum educational impact. Hannah/Barbera is garbage (despite Scooby-Doo's current popularity) compared to most Nickelodeon shows. Noggin', an all day preschool age kids programming schedule, breaks down the specific benefits of the show about to air, whether it be language skills, communication, shapes, numbers, and so on.

I try to subscribe to the philosophy, moderation in all things. Like I said, I don't mind them watching t.v., but how much is to much? I'd appreciate your feedback on this.

I'm not here to judge, so I'll go first. The Boy's probably average between 5-7 hours of t.v. a day, while awake and active for 12-13 hours a day. This is exclusively kids programming on PBS, Nickelodeon, Disney, and Noggin. That I'm writing this post tells you I think it might be too much, but it is also the middle of winter. I do think I do a good job of getting them out of the house 2-3 hours a day for specific kids activities (bookstore, friends house, library, school) outside of day-to-day errands. Plus, there is general playtime (fort building, toys, etc.), book-reading time, numbers, and alphabet work.

Anywho, let me know what you think.

Happy Birthday Patrick!

Patrick Myles Hendricks, Glendale Memorial Hospital, 11/04/04.

It's an amazing thing when your child is born. Patrick was our second; but it is no less amazing the second time you go through it. It's one of the few things we all have in common. We all get born. A completely new, unique human being arrives on the earth. Right now he is young, but someday he will have friend's, lover's, failings and successes. He will effect people's lives for the better or for the worse. He will help and be helped. He will be taught. He will teach.

My birthday is one week before his. The day, and sad memory, of a friends passing falls in between the two. Dates such as these gives one pause, dwelling on hopes for the future, regrets for the past.

My one hope for Patrick, and his brother Philip, as they walk the difficult path of Life, is that they won't lay waste to the planet as super powerful mutants bent on making the world pay for their father's lack of love.
Jeremy & I, smoking our cigar's of celebration.

Happy Halloween!

Team Hendricks. Halloween, 2006.

Team Brennan & Bad Art.


Shelto & Ava

The Halloween Hendricks wagon is rollin'!!

A grumpy, Mr. Incredible.

Patrick's Baptism.

Cousin Edward and Team Hendricks
Patrick's Baptism 2006

This past Saturday, we got Patrick Baptized along with his 3 month-old cousin, Marybeth. Patrick will be two on Saturday. We are rather lazy Catholics.

My cousin Edward is a Deacon. He Baptizes everyone in our family. I like that I have a family member perform the ceremony. For me, it becomes a family celebration rather than a obligatory religious ritual. My brother, Tim, is Godfather, The Wife's sister, Karin, Godmother.

He always gives a good service. On this occasion he brought the New Testament (Christian) closer with the Old Testament (Jewish); describing how Jesus taught the Old Testament of 'love thy neighbor' second only to 'love thy God.' Later he examined the 'Our Father' prayer, focusing on 'We forgive those.' Both good, appropriate messages in these times of dwelling on overly exaggerated differences between people and religion.

There is the added pleasure of getting the family together. My Uncle, and Godfather, is a Jew named Herb. He's a big personality, loves to talk and kid. When my son Philip asks, "What's that," while pointing to the Stations of the Cross, my Uncle informs him that it's, "My cousin, Jesus." Earlier in the year, when my Grandmother O'Donnell passed, the flowers he ordered formed a Star of David, which he set in the coffin with her. High comedy.

Marybeth carries her Grandmother's name. I always get a kick out of my wife's family. Everyone is a redhead. My wife is one of six. Her aunt had twelve. Getting them together for these things, you'd think the Midwest's entire population of redheads was in attendance.

Edward is fond of telling family stories; often educating us on our history. Ed is my Grandfather's, sister's son; they were the youngest of thirteen children. Patrick carries his Great-Grandfather's name. My Grandfather's older brother's were bootlegger's in the '20's. Al Capone was at my Great-Grandmother funeral. I should really sit down with him and start a written record of our family history.

Long story short; great fun was had by all.

My Actor Friends Part 2: World's Greatest Dad.

Really. I'm a very good father.

For more info on this film visit, Monkey Come Home.

First Day Of School

Today was Philip's first day of school. Preschool, actually. He attends Precious People classes at the local YMCA. Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Nine a.m. till eleven a.m. He was enrolled in the same class, same teacher, last spring semester. So, it isn't a completely new experience for him. He was fairly excited to go back, see his friends and teachers.

Why the YMCA? One, the price is right. I don't like to put a price on my kids education, but let's be honest, the cost of a standard Montessori school is a bit much. There is probably something to be said for rampant consumerism invading our school choices too. I'm not the guy to make it other then to say, the costliest isn't always the best.

Two, we love the facilities. No it ain't much to look at, but they take the kids swimming ever week. In the winter they ice skate and swim. Very few preschool programs offer that. Philip's heroic level of energy require's it. Activity equals expended energy which equals naps. Sweet, sweet naps.

First days of school occur for millions all over the world. Normal. Ordinary. What is just as common, but much more difficult, is the feeling a parent has as they leave their child behind at that school. The child is partially on their own, partially in the school's care. Most important, they are not in my care.

Your child trusts you to keep them safe. We drop them off and trust that they will be. I trust the parents of his fellow students. All the parents trust the other members of the Y coming and going. You trust the community the school is in. Strangers in a web of trust, or TrustWeb, for our purposes. If you asked me if I trusted a stranger with my son, I'd say no. I'd be lying. I trust strangers everyday to keep them safe. I should be more honest. When that safety is menaced, history tells us it will be those strangers first to help.

Thought I would forget the most important reason we attend the Y? We like the teacher. Her name is Ms. Maryellen. After meeting her last semester we were impressed with her patience, openness and creativity. I try to get daily behavior reports on Philip plus any homework for me; ways I can re enforce what she is working on with the kids. She has been very good for Philip. We trust her.

Parental Philosophy

The Boys and I were playing in our yard earlier today. We live on the southeast corner of the block. Kids from the neighborhood roam freely from yard to yard. No fences. That's the way we like it. Sometimes other kids toys get left in this yard or that. Everyone is pretty cool with it.

The older, Philip, picked up someone else's two-handed, pump-action squirt gun. Pointed it two inches from his brother's face and pulled the trigger. I watched it happen but I couldn't get the no out of my mouth fast enough. Patrick was fine. The gun was empty save for a bit of mist.

The image was fairly shocking to me. I took the gun away. Explaining to him that I didn't like guns. He was sorry and wouldn't do it again. Sorry. No gun. Daddy doesn't like guns.

Philip is four. At four he knows what a gun is. Knows what will happen if you pull the trigger. Point. Aim. Shoot. Well, not really.

Last summer we went to the park one day. There was a kid there with plastic numb chucks stuck in his belt. A plastic knife in his pocket. A plastic rifle in his hand. This kid was ready for a Cobra invasion! He was nice enough to share one of his three hand-held weapons with Philip who held it upside-down and backwards.

I was somewhat proud of myself as a parent. He didn't even know what a gun was. Now he does.

See, I think violence is more damaging for a child than sexual subject matter or foul language. I would prefer The Boys watch "Emmanuelle 1: First Contact" than "C.S.I. Anywhere." There is just something off about a culture where children play with authentic replica assault rifles shouting, "I killed you," but the image of a baby breastfeeding on a magazine cover is cause for alarm. Call me crazy.

I understand that kids will be kids. Back in the day we all played "Star Wars." I watched "The A-Team" and "The Dukes Of Hazard." We didn't have "Good Taste." I never shot anyone. Anyone you know of.

How worried should I be about guns? What can a parent do? Am I over-reacting?

I'll go ask Philip, maybe he has some ideas.