Here’s a riddle for you
Find the answer
There’s a reason for the world
You and I…
Five For Fighting
John Ondrasik is straight up rad. Chill out. I don’t have a man crush on him or anything. John is a singer/songwriter who records under the name Five For Fighting, which coincidentally is his favorite hockey penalty.
This may sound weird, but when I listen to this song ,I picture me talking with my maternal grandfather (who died 32 years ago) and my dad (who died nine years ago) about life and how to get through it. Then I picture me having that same talk with my 14-year-old Drama Queen. It’s like the Reed family Circle of Life. Her majesty leans on me and looks to me for help and when I feel like I’m ready to have myself committed, I talk with them. But never out loud. At least, not that I remember.
I’ve recently realized that besides my inevitable death from colon cancer, my family has also passed onto me the stress gene. Unfortunately I also payed it forward. I don’t remember my dad being a “ball of stress”, but I do know that he had a very hard time relaxing.
I’m the same way and it causes me anxiety issues and tension. Couple that with my neurological problems and I can occasionally be quite the douchebag. In case my mom or brother ever reads this, I’m willing to stipulate that I may have caused somewhere between 51% and 66% of the stress, but I have no way of backing up those figures.
Son why you got to sing that tune
Catch a Dylan song or some eclipse of the moon
Let an angel swing and make you swoon
Then you will see… You will see
I need to relax, because when I don’t, I get frustrated very easily. Drama Queen’s school has an online thing where the teachers post grades, assignments and what not. It’s awesome because I can see what she got on each assignment, therefore I know what she’s having trouble with.
My mom was picking up her granddaughter from school last Thursday and taking her home. I checked D.Q.’s grades that same morning and noticed that she still had sub-par grades in Advanced English and Biology. I’m not a science guy. Baby Mama was, but I’m not. Her problem in bio is comprehension. She and her teacher are working together to figure something out.
English is another story. She does well on tests and turns in her assignments on time, but generally gets a zero on it because the assignment either doesn’t contain all the required information or its formatted wrong. We’ve discussed this particular topic at length more than a few times. Frustrated at the grades, I called my mom to ask if they had any plans right after school. She said no and asked what I had in mind.
“Cool,” I replied. Can you two meet me at Starbucks by your house? I want to have a discussion of her grades. Drinks in hand we sat down at a table, where I very calmly and politely told her I was still concerned about grades in the aforementioned classes. I explained that I know she’s not stupid and that she needs to find her groove in science and stay there.
My daughter rotated between ignoring me and asking me odd questions about her decaf pumpkin spice latte. Finally I had enough and motioned for my mom and daughter to come closer. As we huddled together I looked at my daughter and whispered, “I’ve been polite and I’ve kept this conversation low so no one else can hear. If you roll your eyes at me one more time or ask me one more question about your drink, I will get louder and louder until you pay attention or I get arrested. Are we clear?”
D.Q. nodded her head and I continued. “Here’s what I need you to do for English. E-mail your teacher and ask her to write down what your repeated errors are and print it out. Forward me a copy too, OK?” I then told her that I did some math and if she got just 75% of the points on those zero assignments, she would have a B+. That blew her mind.
After taking a drink, she looked right into my eyes and said something that stunned me. “How come you don’t talk about my good grades?” She asked. I pondered that a moment over a very long swig of green tea and formulated a cohesive answer.
“Well,” I began. “For one thing, when we do talk about the bad grades you argue and fight so much that by the time we get done, I’m burnt out.” She started to apologize, but I stopped her. “I never said that was right,” I told explained. “I should talk more about your good grades, but the reality is you’ve always been smart and get good grades.” I took another swig of tea to coat my aching throat and continued.
“You’ve got an A+ in Tennis/PE and Orchestra and that’s awesome. You have a B+ in Spanish (1oth grade Spanish) and a B+ in Algebra and those are cool too. Imagine how cool it would be if they were all in that range?” My daughter promised to work harder and to improve. I actually believe her. I’ve gotten pretty good at seeing through the B.S. and I think this one is legit. So does grandma.
Finally, I reminded Drama Queen that she asked about switching from Orchestra to Drama at the semester and that I told her she needed to get her grades up if she wanted to do it. “You have two weeks of Christmas break to study and figure out your bio,” I explained. “Then you have three weeks of school. I know you won’t be able to get the grades up drastically, but I need to see consistent good grades on English homework and improving test and quiz scores in bio. If not, you’ll just keep rosining up your bow and playing your fiddle hard. We’ll see how bad you want it.”
I seriously believe my underlying stress problems are my current lack of self esteem and the one fear I’ve carried with me every day for the past nine years. I am deathly afraid of how I’m perceived as a single father. I’ve heard mothers make crappy comments because I don’t know how to do a french braid or other girly shit and I feel like it goes on behind my back a lot. I know it’s a stupid fear, but it’s like that yellow alien thing from Green Lantern is using this fear to suck the life out of me.
I truly (and wrongfully) believe that with every blunder my daughter makes, people will look and say, “Oh I get why she did it. She’s raised by her dad.” Either that or some variation of how I’m doing something wrong as a parent. I beat myself up over both constantly and I know I shouldn’t. But I do.
When I’m getting stressed about my parenting skills, I like to put on my headphones, lay back on my bed with a couple pillows behind me, turn off the light and fire this song up. I try my best to put everything else out of my mind and simply focus on the song.
These words remind me that it’s all good and that my shit is so insignificant in the grand scheme of things that it’s like it doesn’t exist. Once it clicks in my brain that it’s all good and no big deal, then I can start to relax and let myself get closer to mellow.
So. That’s my story. Take a moment and peruse the lyrics below, then take a peek at the video. What does the song say to you? Leave a comment and let me know. I’d be interested to find out.
There was a man back in ’95
Whose heart ran out of summers
But before he died, I asked him
Wait, what’s the sense in life
Come over me, Come over me
He said,
Son why you got to sing that tune
Catch a Dylan song or some eclipse of the moon
Let an angel swing and make you swoon
Then you will see… You will see
Then he said,
Here’s a riddle for you
Find the answer
There’s a reason for the world
You and I…
Picked up my kid from school today
Did you learn anything cause in the world today
You can’t live in a castle far away
Now talk to me, come talk to me
He said,
Dad I’m big but we’re smaller than small
In the scheme of things, well we’re nothing at all
Still every mother’s child sings a lonely song
So play with me, come play with me
And hey dad
Here’s a riddle for you
Find the answer
There’s a reason for the world
You and I…
I said,
Son for all I’ve told you
When you get right down to the
Reason for the world…
Who am I?
There are secrets that we still have left to find
There have been mysteries from the beginning of time
There are answers we’re not wise enough to see
He said… You looking for a clue I love You free…
The batter swings and the summer flies
As I look into my angel’s eyes
A song plays on while the moon is high over me
Something comes over me
I guess we’re big and I guess we’re small
If you think about it man you know we got it all
Cause we’re all we got on this bouncing ball
And I love you free
I love you freely
Here’s a riddle for you
Find the answer
There’s a reason for the world
You and I…
WOW!!! Did I need to read this one today!! As a divorced (remarried) mother of 4 (and my very own 2 Drama Queens) I am so glad I’m not alone. I feel so guilty for leaving their father and screwing up their lives. My oldest (15) was recently escorted home by our local police department at 1:30 in the morning while she was over her fathers house. When I questioned her she told me what happens at dads is none of my business. I fear everyday how much I’ve screwed them up. But, reading your blog, I can tell you… Read more »
As a married father of two girls (6 and 4) I feel the exact same things. I am glad to see that it is not just me.