i'm not mucking about this summer

Mucking about: to my knowledge it's a British term that's very similar to f**king around or fumbling your way through something. It's what happens when you spend time idly. You would say something like, "stop mucking about in there and let's get out of here" if you wanted somebody to hurry up. Or you would say, "you've been mucking about all summer, now it's time to get ready for school!."

Last summer we had Jack's (British exchange student) parents and siblings visit Memphis during June and July. I worked all summer while Lori and the kids spent time mucking about with the Lambros family. Kenzer and Izzy (Jack's little sister) spent all of their time laying around, swimming and eating. It was disgusting, and I'm not putting up with it this summer.

I'm determined to kick some major ass this time around. I cannot watch my kids screw around all summer with nothing to show for it when it's time to go back to school. The fact of the matter is that last summer they did absolutely nothing and I let them. I can't help but to think that maybe I was the one mucking about, but I promise that I won't be thinking that this year. I've got a plan folks. This will be daddy's summer. Stay tuned.

first time for everything

I've been gone for a while, and for that I apologize. Honestly, I just got bogged down with work and the daily grind. But here I sit, feeling a little relaxed after hours of yard work, drinking a beer on the front porch watching the Tennessee sun make its descent behind the western treeline. It's warm--but not hot--with an occasional breeze. Birds are singing their last songs for the evening, tucking themselves in to rest up for their morning serenade. This is one of the things I love about the south. It is truly a beautiful place, despite the checkered history of so many grotesque and horrible things. As I sit here, I have love for this gorgeous region of our country.

Enough of that. The important thing for the day is that Baby D is growing up. It's inevitable, I know, but it's not always easy. Tonight she is having her first sleepover at a friend's house, and I can't imagine what it will be like tomorrow waking up with here not here. All the other kids have had their first sleepovers, but there is something profound about the last first time. It's the first, but yet it's final. I feel a door closing, and it scares the shit out of me. It lets me know that no matter what I do, all of them will grow up and they will become adults. They will have lives of their own and it's highly probable that they will follow in my footsteps and move to other regions of the country. If they grow to be the people we are striving for them to be, one of them may even leave the country!

If this seems to be an unusual reaction to a sleepover, then I don't care. My youngest and final child is showing signs of independence. If I have to go down deep to that place where I sometimes avoid, I realize that I call her Baby D for selfish reasons. You can read between the lines, because I'm just not ready to go there yet. So I'm signing off tonight feeling much older than I did yesterday. Maybe I should just go and pick her up now...