My very wise Mrs.

I’m not big on conflict. Even when I have the occasional argument around the house I tend to catch myself and let it go. My wife is usually, (read 99.9% of the time) right anyway, and my kids are really good kids with good hearts. 

Not much is worth fighting about.

Not much gets me amped up at all really. Maybe sports, particularly hockey, but even there I don’t yell and scream at the television like I used to.

When I need to advocate for my kids though... that’s when it’s on. I am a very protective Papa Chow, and I will do whatever I need to do to take care of my kids. All of them.

Which is where I think this all started. I’m not going to go into all the sordid details, but it lasted about a week, involved an incredible amount of discussion and in the end, once I knew things were taken care of, it was over.

I thought.

I’m realizing though that it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

I’m realizing that being in that defensive mode has carried forward and I’ve been putting up some walls.

I’m realizing that for a person who doesn’t usually know how to say: “no” I have been subconsciously saying: “leave me alone.” Emphatically.

Easy things have become complicated, even difficult, and that just doesn’t need to be.

When I woke up this morning, this all hit me like a ton of bricks. By the time I had arrived at work, or about 2 hours later I had some clarity. I’m still working it out because it’s still new, but it’s time to take those walls down.

I told Netter the other day that I thought “Skinny Jim” seemed like kind of a jerk, or an ass. Which probably was the beginning of recognizing the walls, now that I think about it.

She told me that was not the case, that I just needed to stop over extending myself and learn to be more patient, particularly with myself, and that the timing, (with the weight loss) was just coincidence.

Wise woman that Netter. Don’t you think?

You Drink Like You Did 60 Pounds Ago.

What the heck? I’m not proud. I’m not trying to hide anything. The public nature of this blog suggests that I’m comfortable sharing the good, and the not so good in my life. So, I’m sharing this one too.

One of the many side effects of losing weight that I hadn’t anticipated has been rearing an ugly head in my life. In short, well - I just can’t drink like I used to.

This isn’t to suggest that I drink or drank “a lot,” because quite honestly I think that varies by individual with several factors coming into play. I’ve seen small guys who could consume cases. I’ve seen large fellas who couldn’t drink a glass. I’ve known women who, as the saying goes, could drink anybody under the table. Nobody knows for sure what all of the variables are and how one might affect another.

But one variable that I haven’t been considering is my weight, and sadly in the last few months on more than one occasion I’ve had some embarrassing moments as I “drank like I did 60 pounds ago,” without realizing that that was what I was doing.

A friend said that to me on Friday, and honestly I couldn’t be more grateful.  

No, I’m not going to break it down into detailed stories. There haven’t been any trips to jail, or court, or anything like that. Fortunately, my wife and a great group of friends have looked out for me, and tolerated me, (my word, not theirs) listened to me, and given me good advice to go on.

Still the whole thing is both embarrassing and frightening.

A man has to do a better job of knowing his limitations, and knowing when enough is enough.

And then... There was Abram.

This is a cross post from The MJB Foundation Blog.

In the literal sense the drive from Galloway to Westerville only takes about 40 - 45 minutes.

Figuratively, however it took a bit longer.

Finally though, in early October 2011 my wife and I found ourselves en route carrying an MJB Donation.

A gift for a boy named Abram who simply needed a way to get out and play with his sisters, a way for Mom and Dad to get him outside. Abram’s “Get out and play" deck as we call it now.

We had heard about Abram a few months before. His family was having a fundraiser to build the deck, they had a goal number in mind, but came the query - Could The MJB Foundation help?

Of course we would - folks who were industrious enough to hold their own fundraiser? Heck, we were right on board. We would help with the difference. They would raise what they raised, and The MJB Foundation would make up the difference.

So we carried that check with us as we traveled to Westerville.

But here’s the catch - This was the first MJB Gift of Joy we were delivering personally. No agency involved. No intermediary. Just us... and honestly - we were a little nervous.

We were greeted at the door by some lovely young ladies and welcomed in to meet Abram and his family

What followed quite frankly was life changing, and as far as that goes - MJB changing too.

When you lose a child, as we did with Meghan Joy, the feelings, the emotion, the carousel, the roller coaster are all things you do alone. Oh, you have your spouse, and you are together. If you’re lucky, like we were, you have that support, that someone to lean on.

But nobody can understand what it is truly like. Not your friends, not your family, nobody who hasn’t gone through that experience themselves can truly understand what it’s like.

But, Emma and Andy, Abram’s parents, had done just that. Abram’s twin brother Heath passed away when he was 3 weeks and two days old.

Emma and Andy knew exactly who we were, and they made us feel so welcome. We spent about an hour and a half chatting, sharing stories, talking about Heath and Abram, and Meghan and Kailey and Delaney and Livvy, Ella, Mollie and Poppy and on and on, and we gave them the check and went on our way.

Afterwards, we visited the local mall to run some errands.

As we shopped we talked about our visit and marveled at the ease with which Emma carried on a conversation, cared for Abram, and still managed to keep track of what the girls were all doing.

We could not imagine keeping up with that pace. We could not imagine the energy that must take.

We discussed the similarities and differences we shared, and we decided that we were incredibly happy we were able to help, and more importantly that we had made that donation personally.

We kept in contact with Emma and Andy and their clan, with the goings on with Abram and his deck. We invited them to Bowl for Joy and Emma came with the kids and had a terrific time.

Afterward, Emma contacted me with some ideas for other ways The MJB Foundation could help folks, and other ways that she could be involved.

We had no idea...

If Jim Brochowski can do it...

Maybe this is why:

As I stood up at third base I could see him looking at me and shaking his head. I had just smashed, (Hey I was 13 I still smashed things.) the ball into the fence in left field and while I was disappointed it didn’t go over I was also thrilled with what was probably the best hit of my life.
I scored on the next play and as I walked up to my Dad he said: “Just think how far it would have gone if it had been a strike.”

Ouch!

He was right though, the ball I hit was pitched almost over my head. As the infamous movie line goes: I like the high ones!

Now, I love my Dad and I don’t blame him for anything about my upbringing, but my point is I always have greater expectations, It’s taken a long time for me to learn how to be satisfied, and well, I don’t handle praise all that well.

The year to date has been a good one. The MJB Foundation has raised almost $7,000 with an event still to come, I’ve lost 42 pounds, (as of this morning), and I learned a couple of weeks ago that I’m to be inducted into my high school’s hall of fame, mostly for my work with the foundation.

Right and left I’m being congratulated and praised. Folks are using words like inspirational, and...

… And I have no idea how to handle this.

My wife even wants to have a celebratory get together after the HOF induction. She created a Facebook event, and made me a host so I can invite people who are on my friends list, but maybe not on hers.

Really?

“Hi, Come celebrate me?”

That just feels wrong. Egotistical, making a big deal out of nothing. To me, it’s just weird.

I feel like if I can do what I do, anybody can do what I do, and the reality is it’s not me. It’s an incredibly supportive family. It’s a whole team of people. It’s hundreds of supporters. It’s the folks who inspire me that help me do the things I do. They’re the ones who deserve the recognition.

I’m told I just need to learn to say thank you and move on, but when people are heaping this high praise, thank you doesn’t seem like enough. Not even close.

A friend once told me that she loves exclamation points because they add emphasis to what is otherwise ordinary. Okay - let’s give this a try...

Thank you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A Birthday Mystery

As I reflect today on 43 years on God’s green earth three stories keep rolling through my mind. I’m not sure exactly how they are connected, but I have a feeling they are, and I’m fairly certain I’m supposed to figure it out. Maybe you can help me?

(Note* The first two stories are things I don’t talk about very often, and many do not know. If you’re not looking for that much knowledge about me well, you’ve been warned.)

The first story - When I was 3 my Mom got divorced, and while I know there are different sides to every story and details I probably wasn’t aware of, the fact of the matter is that my biological father was largely absent from my life from that point forward. There were some visits. There was some contact, but what I remember most is that he would cancel visits often, show up very late, and sometimes not at all - and his new wife is one of 3 things I’ve had nightmares about in 43 years. She was just not a nice person. His stepsons were no walks in the park either.

So it’s understandable I think that after awhile I became detached, and eventually I just got pissed off and said I didn’t really give a damn, and I didn’t.

The last time I remember seeing Wayne, his name is Wayne - was the Christmas of what must have been 1978. I remember the year because it is part of the story. You see Wayne asked me what I wanted for Christmas, and with my “I don’t give a damn attitude,” I decided to go pie in the sky and ask for all the things I really wanted - top 3 on my list.

I wanted a rocket, a whole box of hockey cards, and a television set, and when I showed up for Christmas at my Grandmother’s (Wayne’s mother), I got exactly those 3 things and that was the last Christmas I spent any time with Wayne.

The rocket went back to his farm where we were “going to” set it off together. The hockey cards were combined with the rest of my card collections, played with and eventually sold when I was 19 or so because I was short on cash.

I still have the television. It still has the sticker that says 1978. It hasn’t been turned on in years. Even with a cable adapter it’s probably not even usable with all the new digital cable and such, but I cannot seem to let it go. I once put in on the truck at the thrift store, but immediately panicked and pulled it back. It was in our last garage sale, but I was relieved when no one bought it. Today, it sits with a collection of other garage sale items that have yet to be disbursed. I don’t know that it will be among those to go.

I don’t know why...

The second story - When I was 6 my Mom met and married a great guy who had no qualms whatsoever about her having kids. Instant family just add Rick, as a friend of mine would say. My Dad (Rick), wasn’t an instant father sensation, but he did pretty well for himself in the parent department and we grew very close. When I’m talking about my Dad, I’m talking about Rick. By the time I was 7 or 8 I was using Rick’s last name and when I was 14 he adopted me and I was officially his son.

My Dad is in Quality Control, which for folks who don’t know means - we moved a lot. QC folks can take one of 3 paths when they come into a new job. 1. They go into the company and tell the employees what they need to change, the employees balk - eventually the QC guy pisses off the wrong head honcho and they part ways. 2. The QC guy goes in, the employees adopt his methods, everybody loves everybody - The QC guy gets bored because there is nothing to fix. He stays with the company and retires pretty miserable. 3. The QC guys finds a new challenge at a new company, moves and the cycle continues.

My Dad chose the 3rd option so we moved a lot. Sometimes that was not as much fun as it sounds like.

Inevitably, at some point shortly after a move my Dad would notice that I wasn’t happy or I was sulking or I was bored or some other indicator he never shared with me, and we would head off on a Saturday morning car ride, and then to breakfast or brunch. Something like that. As an adult, I realize that my Dad was trying to get me to talk to him, to let him know how I was feeling, what was going on in my head, probably trying to determine if there was something he could fix.
As a kid, because my Dad would just say: “let’s go for a ride,” I always thought he had something up his sleeve. Were we going somewhere really cool? Were we picking up one of my friends from our old neighborhood at the bus station? Things like that.

I would get all amped up, end up giving him one word answers to every question he asked, be pissed off that we didn’t do anything “good,” and eat a disappointing meal I couldn’t wait to get home from.

Why didn’t I ever just ask my Dad what he was doing?

The third story - Last Saturday we went out with some friends to celebrate 2 birthdays, mine and my friend Renee’s.

While we were out I was talking to another friend and she stopped and asked me: “How are you doing?”

I could tell that she really wanted to know how I was, my mental state, my life condition if you will, so I paused, thought about it and said: “You know, I’m doing really good.”

She said: “I can tell. You seem a lot happier lately.”

We talked a little more about things that were happening, jobs, family, such... but I in the back of my mind, and still today apparently I keep coming back to that. What does “You seem a lot happier lately” mean?

Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad my friend noticed that. I’m glad I’m showing folks I’m as happy as I am. Still, as it has been quite some time since I was unhappy I’m wondering what has changed.

How have I changed?

So there you have it - Three stories rolling through my head -all with what I think are pretty significant questions - not seemingly related, but somehow I think they are.

Can you help me figure it out?

I Hope You Have One Just Like You...

I really like my kids.

I say that because I’ve been having this debate with my sister about “the one your parents wished on you.”

I’m sure, everyone has experienced first hand or heard the stories about parents who said something like: “I hope you have a child just like you when you grow up. Then you’ll know what I have to deal with...”

Blah, blah, blah... (Sorry Mom.)

My Mom said it to me, and there were a couple times when my girls were young that I thought - “Oh, this one is the one my Mom wished on me, or No, maybe it’s this one.”

When I really sit down and think about it though... It’s neither one of them.

My girls are both really good kids. They are their own unique selves. They are both very well behaved. They both make good choices. They both have great friends and peer groups.

When I think about myself as a kid, I honestly have a very difficult time finding anything about them that is “just like me.”

My sister posits that perhaps I’ve escaped the curse of “the one just like me.”

I have a different theory In fact, I have a secret.

You know I’m going to share it with you. Ready?

I have gone out of my way to make sure my kids are not like me.

It’s no secret that I think being a kid, being a teenager, heck growing up in general is one of the hardest thing that any of us has to do.

So I’ve tried to make it easier for my kids.

Oh they don’t lack for discipline. In fact, if you ask both girls they will tell you that there have been times in their lives when they were just flat out afraid of what I might do when they got in trouble. I’m not sure why. I think I’d have to try hard to find five spankings between them and I don’t know that either of them has ever been grounded or lost a privilege for longer that it took me to explain to them why they might lose that privilege. Still they have both told me there were times when they were afraid.

That’s good. Fear works for parenting.

But you can’t have fear alone.

You have to have trust, and most of all you have to have honesty. You also have to know when to give, pick and choose your battles as they say. Finally, sometimes you just have to let it go.
So what does that all mean?

I’ve told my kids from day one that when they were born they did not come with an instruction manual. No book came flying out of their mother that told me “how to raise them,” and sometimes I was, well I was just going to screw it up.

It’s inevitable. No parent gets everything right all of the time. But I also told my kids that I would be the first one to tell them I was wrong and I would do everything I could to fix things to make them right.

I only asked one thing in return.

Be honest with me. Don’t hold back information. Don’t twist the facts. Just tell me like it is, and we’ll figure it out.

… and we have.

Now my girls aren’t perfect. They’ve pulled their fair share of stunts. They’ve caused trouble. They’ve taken me to points where I wanted to pull my hair out.

But we’ve always made it right, and sometimes we just let it go.

What? Let it go?

Sure, why not?

I’m sure every parent reaches a point with their children where they just have no idea why? What thought process could possibly be behind that child’s decision? How on earth? What the... (Hey buddy, this is a family blog.)

But you just want an answer?

Why?

I’ll give you an example. Right now, my youngest daughter has taken to spending entire weekends at friend’s houses, and sometimes those friends spend entire weekends at our house.

I mean like literally, they pretty much live there weekends. I don’t get it. Don’t they want to go home at some point? Don’t they need to have their space, their stuff?

Baffles me.

But then I think: “Wait a minute, I have friends I’d like to spend the whole weekend with too. In fact, except for the fact that we don’t have sleepovers sometimes we do spend the whole weekend with the same friends.”

So what’s the big deal?

Of course there is no big deal. There’s not really an issue at all. So why get all worked up about it? Why not just let it go? Let.It.Go. Just let your kids be kids. They are not hurting anything, and heck sometimes when they stay at our house they make me cookies. So you know... Score!

It seems to me that sometimes so much of parenting is just a series of arbitrary decisions, choices we make for no other reason than “because they are there.”

I don’t get that.

Who knows, maybe I’m lucky. Maybe I did escape the curse.

Or maybe I made a choice.

I think every parent who wants to can make the same choice, and I wish them all the best of luck.

I love you K and D. Thanks for being good kids.

iWalk for Ryan

We met our friends Greg and Kelly in 1999, (maybe late 1998). Over the course of the next few years we spent a lot of time with them, watched them get married, helped them move into an apartment together, and did all the things that fast friends do.

But unfortunately, in this world where we are all too busy and time progresses so rapidly eventually we just didn’t spend as much time together. They were moving into a new home and beginning to raise a family, Netter was closing down her day care business and rejoining the work force because our girls were much older and always involved with school activities. You know how it goes...

We made sure we got to see Kelly and Greg as often as possible, meeting for the occasional dinner, drinks, night out and such, but as they began to have a family we were all just always busy.

Fortunately, we would still try and reconnect on occasion, but Netter and I never really got to know their kids - at least not then.

As Kelly and Greg’s kids have gotten older we have all tried to make sure we still spend some time together with our girls babysitting their boys. Still, we didn’t really know the boys. We always kept up with what they were doing, activities they were involved in, Facebook pics and the like, but we didn’t know them.  

We knew that Kelly and Greg’s younger son Ryan had been diagnosed with Autism so we started to ask a few questions, not prying, not getting in their business, but you know these are our friends, younger friends, don’t see them as often as we’d like to friends, but friends and we are concerned.

When we would get together and the girls would babysit at their house we always said hi to Greg and Kelly’s boys, but they were flirting with the girls, bargaining for bedtimes with their Mom - typical kid stuff. One evening their oldest son was being particularly flirty, so much so that I didn’t even notice that Ryan was not involved until a little tug came at my knee.

I looked down to see the brightest smile and a little boy with his arms outstretched for a hug.

“Wow!” I thought, and I kneeled down to give him a hug and ask him how he was, and what he was up to. Was he going to have fun that night with the girls, stuff like that.

… and I didn’t think anything of it - until...

The next time we all got together the whole scene repeated itself, and the next time, and again.

This little boy was making time for me, time to say hello, and give me a hug and heck I admit it I was hooked.

Ryan has my heart big time. I would do anything for him.

Autism has always been one of my hot button conditions. Why on earth God, (or whoever you believe in) could screw around with children with something like that is just beyond any comprehension. I’m not going to get up on my soapbox, but suffice to say finding a cure for Autism is a cause I fully support.

Remember, I run The MJB Foundation. We’re all about making sure kids experience the Joy of childhood, the Joy that all kids should experience. Anything that gets in the way of that is not alright with me.

So yesterday, on behalf of The MJB Foundation and our family we all attended Walk Now for Autism Speaks at The Ohio State University here in Columbus. Joining Ryan and his family and friends to support this cause was the very least we could do for this magical little boy.

I shot a video for The MJB Foundation blog. I thought I might share it here too. Here I will also confess that this is take 2. I got a little emotional in the first take. If you notice the gaps in this take, that’s me “controlling” the emotion.



If you can’t see the video click here.

If you’d like to join Ryan’s team please click here.

Thanks.