My Scooter is a Metaphor

Earlier this year we developed a problem when our oldest finally got his driver's license. We only have two cars and now we have three drivers, all going in different directions... We got some stimulus money and looked around for a used car, but got cold feet when we saw our choices for the money we wanted to spend. A few months went by while we postponed putting money into a potential money trap. So one day Julie comes home and says "hey somebody's selling scooters out there on main street! Maybe that could be our third vehicle." Rarely has anyone uttered such sweet sounds in such a short sentence.

You see, I've had a secret longing for a scooter for many years. My freshman year at BYU a roommate had one that he let me take occasionally for little jaunts, and I was hooked. They're faster than walking, it's easy to find parking, they get like 80 mpg, it takes almost no skill beyond riding a bike, repairs are cheap...what's not to like? Then life hit--the mission, no money, marriage, no money, along come the kids, no money, more schooling--no money, etc., etc. 20 years slip by. And then my beautiful, intelligent wife points out that, really, its just the smart thing to do to buy one. I couldn't have agreed more.

So now I have a scooter, and I look for reasons to buzz around on it. "Buzz" is the sound it makes when I drive it. In fact, I may just name it Buzz. Any errand that can be done in town should be done on the scooter. Sometimes it just needs a little exercise--you know--work out the bugs, check the idle rate, use up the stale gas, and so I take it out for some air. You want pizza for dinner? Ok, I'd better go get it on my scooter. Hey is that library book due? I'd better return it real quick on my scooter. Out of milk? I'll just buzz over to the store. On my scooter.

It's really all about saving gas money, though. AND using less gas is good for the environment. And my son really needs to get that taste of independence that driving a car brings-it's crucial for his development. That's the kind of guy I am.

I have driven it up to work in Park City on several occasions now, and while initially it was scary to be driving between 40 and 60 mph in a 70 mph zone (there are hills), it's getting easier. The first time I took the trip I was wearing a "half-helmet" that only covers your scalp, and I thought I was going to go deaf from the wind--not to mention the bugs and bits of hay, etc. coming off of trucks. By the time I got to work I felt like I'd had some serious microderm abrasion. I also felt at first that I needed to drive off to the side of the road so as to be nice to the cars that wanted to go faster, but there tends to be a build-up of junk on the sides of highways, i.e. shredded truck tires, bits of car trim & hubcaps, roadkill of various sizes, species, smells and rates of decay, etc. These all have to be dodged, and frankly I don't want to dodge anything going 40-60 mph.

I have overcome the obstacles one by one. I got me a sweet helmet (color matches the scooter) with a face shield, which blocks the airborne meteorites and cuts down the wind noise. I "manned up" and stopped riding on the roadside. It helped when I read it was illegal to do so... Also, one day I noticed the sign that said "slower vehicles use flashers," and I thought--"hey--I'm just a slower vehicle... Those guys can just go around me!" And so I buzz my way to work a few times a week now, with my flashers prominently declaring me a "slower vehicle" with full rights to a lane.

Now that I'm to the point that I don't have to tell my legs to unclench after the big trucks roar past, I have begun to wax philosophical about my scooter experience. I look around at the actual MOTORCYCLES zooming past me, and wonder if they look down on me. I know that some of the drivers around me on the highway must be annoyed to have to change lanes and pass me. My own son is embarrassed to be picked up from football practice by me and the scooter (I try to help Buzz understand that it's just a teen phase, and not to take it personally). But I think to myself: I and my scooter are similar in many ways. I, too, cannot run as fast or lift as much as others around me. People much smarter and quicker than I must get frustrated with me at times (with apologies to my wife). But there is so much that my scooter can do that the bigger, faster, more sophisticated vehicles cannot. Can your Porsche fill its tank for $3.50? Can your Mack Truck make a u-turn at an intersection? Can your 4X4 get between two parked cars to avoid the traffic jam in the parking lot? I didn't think so.

Just in Time for Father's Day

Happy upcoming Father's Day to all you Dads. I am the father of five kids ages 16-3. I'm also a family therapist, meaning technically I'm qualified to teach people to be good parents. Well, something that's been on my mind a lot lately is my lack of ability to apply my parenting education to my actual parenting. It's almost a proverb that therapists have a hard time applying what they teach in their own families. I think it's mainly because family therapy is a very ACTIVE process if it's done right. You can't just read about it--you've got to read, think, try new things, make mistakes, go back for more help, think some more, try something new, make fewer mistakes, etc., etc. A second reason is that when you're under stress, your cerebral cortex--the part that says "hold everything--let's use reason & logic in our decision making--starts to shut down as we go into "fight or flight". Then we just do whatever will make the problem go away the soonest. A third reason--in a pinch, we just do what our parents did, for better or for worse. The earliest patterns we see are the most firmly embedded.

Case in point. Yesterday my daughter Brynna was in a dance recital/show/ extravaganza. I was at a conference when Julie was getting her ready and apparently she (Brynna) had been an emotional roller coaster in the process. When her performance was over (very cute, by the way), Julie and I were supposed to go get her and sit with her in the audience for the rest of the show. Well, Brynna was fine for awhile, then she and Callen started getting up, walking around, dancing in the aisle, etc. All of this was sort of disconcerting mainly because I was afraid she would disturb some of the other parents/audience members, but it was sort of ok because the auditorium was dark and the music was loud, etc. She required a few corrections to keep her from standing/climbing the seats or singing out loud, etc. Finally she said she wanted a drink, and Julie gave her a water bottle which she rejected, preferring to go out to the water fountain. I interpreted this as "No, what I really want to get out of here because I'm bored." (I recognized it from church)

Well, my instinct combined with training says to me, "In my role as parent, I must teach my child delayed gratification; it's also inappropriate to leave in the middle of a dance number." So I insisted that if she REALLY wanted a drink that she should go ahead and drink from the bottle. So, since I'm the mean parent that rarely gives her what she wants right when she wants it, she went to Julie. Julie had had a long day already with Brynna, so she was less than responsive also. This produced a loud fussy sound from Brynna, which set off all of my "avoid public embarassment" alarms. I hauled her out of the auditorium, which produced even more shrill keening from my darling daughter on our way out, exacerbating the attention-drawing, disruptive situation and sending me into a "you will pay for this embarrassment" mode. I marched her out to the car and headed home, listening to her plaintive cries-"please, I'll stop crying!" and lecturing "Brynna, you had your chance and several warnings; now we're going home," Thinking-now I'm committed, I must follow through to demonstrate consistency."

I took her home, gave her a bath (dancers wear lots of makeup and hairspray for performances) and she fell asleep as I was combing out her hair, giving me time to calm down and reflect. What was my decision-making tree in this situation? I concluded that there was very little cognitive decision-making. I was embarrassed and I punished my daughter by taking her away from an activity which she found entertaining and enriching. Of course there were all the little justification side-thoughts such as "must not reward poor behavior" and "This will allow Julie to stay and watch Sam perform uninterrupted" and "Brynna may finally learn that I mean business when I say no, or ask her to stop a behavior." But ultimately I was not using the big, rational, pre-frontal cortex that gives humans their big flat foreheads, I was thinking with my teeny little almond-shaped amygdala-you know, the "avoid pain, seek pleasure, bonk it with a club" part. Luckily Brynna usually loves me again in the morning. Plus, she has another performance this afternoon she can enjoy. But these kind of incidents can build up over time and I end up having my kids mostly see me as the knuckle-dragging ogre.

The really hard part of all this is that, as a therapist, I will ANALYZE these incidents over and over; reflecting on my character, the long term trends in my parenting practices, the cumulative effects of my parenting gaffes on my kids, how my example will effect their own parenting practices in the future, etc., etc. This analysis, rather than motivating me to better a better parent, usually just depresses me. Then, rather than step up and engage in a better, more enlighted manner, I lose confidence and do less parenting. Then guess who has to pick up the bulk of the parenting? (Yay for two-parent households)

I'd love to hear from anyone who can relate to this situation. Maybe we can start a parents anonymous group and motivate each other to actually use the good parenting skills we're taught, and report back to each other about our successes and failures. Maybe we can actually get some kudos for doing it right now and then. The kids usually aren't going to give us any useful feedback-they don't like the good parenting all that much either because it involves setting limits, too. They'll hold off until they're older and have their own kids or during the therapy sessions they're in to deal with our parenting...

In Support of Long Underwear

I wear long underwear. Specifically they're called garments and they have special meaning in the LDS church, but I'm not going to be talking about the spiritual significance of the garments, I'll just be talking about the kind of garment I wear, which for the purposes of this blog are just long underwear. For you visual types, imagine an old time swimsuit (short sleeves and legs about to the knees), but without the stripes. And no zippers.

Recently I replaced most of my underwear, and in the process took a lot of flack (the generic verbal type) from my wife and mother about the fact that I choose to buy and wear the one-piece variety rather than the bottom & top sets that most people seem to prefer. I will admit that it is certainly not the norm in the age of speedos, thongs, tighty whiteys, etc., and I certainly didn't always prefer this variety (with apologies to my sister for running around in my fruit of the looms at home, well into my teens). Initially I bought one pair just for the novelty of it, but over time the benefits have become obvious.

Consider the following:

1) One-piece underwear does not become separated in the wash. I never come up one top or bottom short when folding my laundry.

2) I never "accidentally" put on my wife's underwear because the rolled up sets look the same when putting the laundry away. I don't put on my wife's underwear "on purpose," either, but I have made mistakes getting dressed in the dark, and... Well, never mind.

3) You know that little bulge ("bicycle tire")that many of us have developed around the waistline? Yes, I still have that, but at least it's not accentuated by an extra layer of tucked-in shirt. So, it's slimming!

3b)In a similar vein, my underwear shirt never becomes untucked, so I never have to worry about it "showing", and I never have to tuck it back in after lifting my arms up over my head.

4) You know the plumber's crack phenomenon? Doesn't happen with long underwear, though I may, on occasion, unintentionally demonstrate my choice in underwear when leaning over or getting out of the car.

5) Many of you germophobes may regularly use the paper seat cover at public restrooms. One-piece underwear comes equipped with an escape hatch for just such occasions, and, when arranged carefully, serves as a portable seat cover. Convenience!

There are a couple of downsides that I should mention in the interest of "equal time":

1) I'm not talking about anyone in particular, but if one should be inclined to be around one's children only dressed in one's underwear, one should be careful about the arrangement of one's "escape hatch." Most younger kids will lose the memories, but the older ones shouldn't have to deal with that...

2) When the underwear gets a few years old it tends to shrink a bit, which can cause some discomfort to males when breathing in deeply, stretching, lying flat, doing jumping jacks, etc. 'nuff said.

3) One must try to keep a "top & bottom" set of underwear to wear to situations like the gym, the doctor's office, the hospital, and other situation where you may be subject to undergarment scrutiny.

I realize I'm a bit of an artifact, and I'm probably not going to convert anyone. It's ok, I am unafraid of being outside the norm. If I can keep even one person from showing me their belly when they're putting a box up on a shelf, it will have been worth it.