Tag Archives: Raising Kids

What Could Have Been…

At one time this blog was going to be Tales of the Old Monkey, which was a play on ABC’s Tales of the Gold Monkey from back in the 80s (a short lived tv show).

The monkey in question was a toy flashlight my daughter had when she was younger that stood watch over my tool bench. Occasionally the old battery would give just enough juice to make it chatter. I loved it.

One day it fell and busted and I haven’t found another.

Maybe some day.

That’s it. That’s the post.

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Band Stuff

πš†πšŽ 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 πš—πšŽπš πšœ πšŠπš—πš 𝚠𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚝 πš‹πšŠπš πš—πšŽπš πšœ.

πšƒπš‘πšŽ 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 πš—πšŽπš πšœ πš’πšœ πšπš‘πšŽπš’ πš‹πš˜πšπš‘ πš–πšŠπšπšŽ πšπš‘πšŽ πš•πš’πšœπš. πšƒπš‘πšŽπš’β€™πš›πšŽ πš‹πš˜πšπš‘ πš’πš— πšπš‘πšŽ πš‘πš’πšπš‘ πšœπšŒπš‘πš˜πš˜πš• πš–πšŠπš›πšŒπš‘πš’πš—πš πš‹πšŠπš—πš.

πšƒπš‘πš’πšœ πš πš’πš•πš• πš‹πšŽ πš‘πšŽπš› πšπš˜πšžπš›πšπš‘ πš’πšŽπšŠπš›, πšπš‘πš’πšœ πš’πšŽπšŠπš› 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 πš“πšžπš—πš’πš˜πš›. π™°πš—πš πšœπš‘πšŽ πš‘πšŠπšœ πšπš˜πš—πšŽ πš—πš˜πšπš‘πš’πš—πš πš‹πšžπš πšŽπš‘πšŒπšŽπš• πš’πš— πšπš‘πš’πšœ. π™»πš˜πšπšœ 𝚘𝚏 πš‘πšŠπš›πš πš πš˜πš›πš”, πš•πš˜πšπšœ 𝚘𝚏 πš›πšŽπš πšŠπš›πš. π™Έπšβ€™πšœ πš‘πšŽπš› πšπš‘πš’πš—πš.

πšƒπš‘πšŽ π™΄πš•πšπšŽπšœπš

πšƒπš‘πš’πšœ πš πš’πš•πš• πš‹πšŽ πš‘πš’πšœ πšπš’πš›πšœπš πš’πšŽπšŠπš›, πšŽπš—πšπšŽπš›πš’πš—πš πšπš‘πšŽ πšœπš’πš‘πšπš‘ πšπš›πšŠπšπšŽ.

πšƒπš‘πšŽ π™»πš’πšπšπš•πšŽπšœπš

π™Έπš πš–πšŠπš”πšŽπšœ πš‘πš’πš– πšπš‘πšŽ π™»πš’πšπšπš•πšŽπšœπš π™Ίπš—πš’πšπš‘πš. π™°πš—πš πš–πšŠπš’πš‹πšŽ πšπš‘πšŽ πš’πš˜πšžπš—πšπšŽπšœπš πšŽπšŸπšŽπš› πš’πš—πšŸπš’πšπšŽπš πš’πš—. π™ΌπšŠπš’πš‹πšŽ.

π™Έβ€™πš– πšŸπšŽπš›πš’ πš™πš›πš˜πšžπš 𝚘𝚏 πšπš‘πšŽπš– πš‹πš˜πšπš‘.


π™°πš—πš πš—πš˜πš  πšπš‘πšŽ πš‹πšŠπš πš—πšŽπš πšœ. πšƒπš‘πšŽπš’β€™πš›πšŽ πšπš˜πš’πš—πš 𝚝𝚘 πšπš›πšŠπš πš–πšŽ, πš”πš’πšŒπš”πš’πš—πš πšŠπš—πš πšœπšŒπš›πšŽπšŠπš–πš’πš—πš, πš πš’πšπš‘ πšπš‘πšŽπš–.

π™Έβ€™πšŸπšŽ πš‹πšŽπšŽπš— πšπš‘πšŽ πšžπš—πš˜πšπšπš’πšŒπš’πšŠπš• πš™πš‘πš˜πšπš˜πšπš›πšŠπš™πš‘πšŽπš› πšπš˜πš› 𝚊 πš‹πš’πš. 𝙸 πšŸπš’πšπšŽπš˜ πšŒπš˜πš–πš™πšŽπšπš’πšπš’πš˜πš—πšœ. π™Έπšβ€™πšœ πš–πš’ πš‘πš˜πš‹πš‹πš’, πšπš‘πšŽ πšŸπš’πšπšŽπš˜ πšŠπš—πš πš™πš‘πš˜πšπš˜πšπš›πšŠπš™πš‘πš’ πš™πšŠπš›πš. π™·πšŽπš›πšŽ πš’ πš‘πšŠπšŸπšŽ πšŒπšŠπš™πšπš’πšŸπšŽ πšœπšžπš‹πš“πšŽπšŒπšπšœ. πšƒπš‘πš’πšœ πš’πšŽπšŠπš› π™Έβ€™πš– πšπš˜πš’πš—πš 𝚝𝚘 πšŸπš˜πš•πšžπš—πšπšŽπšŽπš› πšπš˜πš› πš™πš’πš πšŒπš›πšŽπš  πšŠπš—πš πšπšŠπš”πšŽ 𝚊 πš–πš˜πš›πšŽ πšŠπšŒπšπš’πšŸπšŽ πš™πšŠπš›πš πš’πš— πšπš‘πšŽ πš‹πšŠπš—πš. π™°πš•πš• πš’πš—.

πšƒπš‘πšŽ πš πš’πšπšŽ πš’πšœ 𝚊 πš‹πšŠπš—πš πšπšŽπšŽπš” πšŠπš—πš’πš πšŠπš’. π™΄πš—πš˜πšžπšπš‘ πšœπšŠπš’πš.

H͟e͟r͟e͟ w͟e͟ β€ŠΝŸgo͟.

πšƒπš‘πšŠπšβ€™πšœ πš’πš. πšƒπš‘πšŠπšβ€™πšœ πšπš‘πšŽ πš™πš˜πšœπš.

Seegars

I’m With The Band…Indefinitely

My eldest found a love for the marching band and is entering her fourth year as a member.

She in turn has infected my youngest. I joke. I can’t blame her.

It’s her mother’s fault.

This week is marching band tryouts. He is the only fifth grader invited to tryouts. Do you see that face?

Now don’t get me wrong, he’s basically a happy kid. He’s shielded somewhat from what the world really is right now. We’re trying to shield him from it as much as possible.

But that face there is pure joy. I saw it on his sisters face when she found her place with the band.

It has been so good for her. That sense of belonging has given her confidence. It has also given her a sense of responsibility and a group to be loyal to outside of family.

And now he joins this group.

Hopefully.

Like I posted on IG:

This week works out favorable and I’m sΜΆtΜΆuΜΆcΜΆkΜΆ happy to enjoy another six years as a band parent. #northcentralsilverknights

Tryouts aren’t over.

That’s it. That’s the post.

Seegars

Here We Go Again

Another long hard week.

Sort of.

The kids have marching band tryouts, late nights, late suppers and homework.

And that’s okay. We sacrifice for what we want.


The truck goes in the shop tomorrow for new ball joints.

It will ride so much better and quieter. It’s an $800 investment in a twenty-two year old truck.

I’m $3K into it already besides some minor improvements. Still, it’s only got 140,000 miles on it. Many more good miles left in this old truck.


Tomorrow is Monday. Better get some sleep.

That’s it. That’s the post.

Seegars

A Year Ago Yesterday

A year ago yesterday we had a storm go over our house that was as close to being in a tornado as you can get without actually being in one.

Thank God is all I can do.

I’m about to get up and go to work and come back to my home that’s still standing. I have a lot to be thankful for.

I almost forgot to write tonight.

But then, I didn’t.

That’s it. That’s the post.

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Age and Play

Sam was in the garage tonight bouncing a ball. He had been doing this inside the house and it was driving everyone crazy so he was banished to the garage.

I felt bad so I went out to play with and he came up with some quick rules on how we were getting points. This lasted about ten minutes to where I got too into it and twisted wrong.

My back is on fire. Lol.

There’s a forty one year age difference between us. But what am I to do? I’m his dad. He doesn’t think I’m old. I hate to tell him, I am indeed.

But I do what I can when I can.

So I’m going to sit here and hurt awhile. He’s already asleep.

That’s it. That’s the post.

Seegars

I’m With The Band

I’ve just spent the better part of the afternoon/evening recording my daughter (and soon to be sons) marching band.

They had their spring concert tonight.

My daughter has been with the band for the last five years. My son has decided, after much research and sensible thinking, that sports are not for him. No, band seems much safer.

Until tonight when he was helping load the trailer and took a spill. Some hard road rash. There’s danger in everything if you’re unlucky enough.

Ouch.

But he’ll be okay.

For now we’re looking at an exciting future of band stuff. It ain’t all fun. There’s a lot of hard work ahead.

But he’s up to it, just like his sister was.

Marching band has been one of the best things my daughter ever got into. It built her confidence and it has given her strength. And it has given her a family outside of family.

First time.

He even got to take the stage with the band tonight to help out. It was kind of an initiation. Tryouts are next month. We shall see.

That’s it. That’s the post.

Seegars

Panem Et Circenses

We are watching The Hunger Games movies as a family because Sam has never watched them, he was too young when they first came out.

It’s an interesting story if you like dystopian type stuff.

It kind of reminds me a lot of something I can’t quite put my finger on.

But…

That’s it. That’s the post.

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Storm Day

We had a little bit of everything except snow today. Also, no tornadoes, although the conditions were favorable.

Severe weather alerts all day had me a little stressed but like I wrote yesterday I had a nice calm about me.

I would say we’re lucky but I know that we are infinitely blessed. There’s nothing I can control about bad weather. I’m just a man.

Somebody else has their hand on me. Guiding and protecting me.

I’m so very grateful and thankful that is so.

That’s it. That’s the post.

Seegars

The Coupon

When my daughter was small she gifted me with a coupon.

Often I will put out my arms for a hug and just say β€œCoupon.” as she rolls her eyes but smiles and hugs me anyway.

This coupon also extends to her mother, although I am the original and current bearer of the coupon.

I have it hidden in a secret spot. Safe from anyone who might want to destroy it.

She’ll never find it.

I will leave it for her one day, when the inevitable happens.

Here’s hoping that’s gonna be a while.

That’s it. That’s the post.

Seegars

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