Aaaah-choo!
I knew right then I had the flu, even though, days later, I was
fine, not another sneeze or other symptom to be found.
But horrible stuff happens all the time, so I wasn’t being
ridiculous with my assumptions. Still, I wondered if my negativity was
attracting the horrible stuff. There I go being negative again.
Eeeee-uck!
My 11-year-old son’s breath was a sign he wasn’t brushing and a
sign that the dentist would surely have to perform several surgical extractions
very, very soon.
And there I was, going from zero to 300 again.
“You have to brush your teeth better,” I told the kid while he was
getting ready for bed one night. “And did you use soap in the shower? I can’t
smell it.”
Later I checked the kid’s soap bottle—empty. I didn’t say a word.
I waited for him to tell me there was no more soap. Two weeks later I had to let
him know. He thought water was all he needed to get clean.
“What if he gets staph infections?” I said to my wife afterward. “Or
lupus?”
“You can’t get lupus from not using soap,” she told me.
Maybe not, but the kid wasn’t going to get ahead in life by taking
short cuts. I had to hold him accountable for his poor workmanship.
I bought soap and told him that if I didn’t smell it on him, I’d
do the worst thing he could possibly imagine and make him take another shower.
Same with his teeth brushing—if I didn’t find his work satisfactory, he’d have
to brush them again and again until it was.
I had an image in my head of one horrible dad. I was looking just
like him, not teaching my son how to do things right, just criticizing him for
it.
I’d send him back to the sink and the shower at least three times
a night. The kid was miserable, so much so I could use showering and teeth
brushing as punishment for bad behavior.
“Why were you fooling around in class? Go brush your teeth. Keep
it up and you’re gonna take a shower.”
Seeing this horrible image of me made me realize I had to make
some changes. But then, one day, my son got all the plaque off his teeth. And
he smelled new after every shower. Maybe I wasn’t such a horrible dad after all.
But horrible dads are like killers in slasher films—you can stab
‘em, shoot them, burn ‘em, tie ‘em to tactical ballistic missiles and fire ‘em into
minefields, and they’ll keep popping up to get you. That horrible dad in me
stopped checking my son’s work and, eventually, he was back to being on the
brink of losing teeth and getting lupus. Horrible, horrible dad!
Why, at 11 years old, wasn’t my son self-sufficient? I was a
horrible dad, and there was nothing I could do about it except embrace the
horrible dad in me. Where was my dirty tee? And my beer? And, “Hand me that
remote, I’ll be in front of the TV for two weeks straight.”
As days passed, the horrible dad in me kept telling me that I was
doing all I could do. This imaginary character in my mind said the problem
wasn’t me—it was my son. He said my boy was going to have to learn the hard
way. He said the kid would learn soon enough. The horrible dad in me tried to
make me feel better, but it wasn’t working.
That’s when I realized the horrible dad in me wasn’t so horrible. He
cared about me and had ideas of my son doing better, which meant he had
feelings after all.
The problem: My negativity was attracting the horrible stuff. What
I needed was a positive attitude in order to attract the good stuff.
So I became optimistic about my horrible dadliness. If I was going
to be horrible, then I was going to be amazingly horrible.
“If you don’t want to take a shower the right way,” I told my boy,
“then I’ll wash you like when you were a baby, and then we’ll achieve
cleanliness.”
The thought of me seeing him naked made him wash well. He even did
a good job when I wasn’t checking his work. I knew this because I’d do the
smell test on him when he was asleep. He began doing quality work in all areas
of his life for fear I’d treat him like a 2-year-old. I let the good stuff
roll.
Aaaah-choo!
My wife announced that she had the flu, even though it was just a
sneeze.
“Why do you go from zero to 300 like that?” I asked her. “You
gotta be more positive like me.”
“You used to care when I got sick.”
I had an image in my head of one horrible husband.
-February 2015
No comments:
Post a Comment