My Chickens Are Roosting

       For reasons that I won't delve into here (for fear that the children might read what I write someday), there was a moment very early in our dating life that I looked at Joel and said, "You know, if we ever get married and have children, I don't think you should be allowed to talk to them until they're at least 18."  It was a good plan and one I probably should have stuck to. Once the children were born, however, the day to day business of raising them necessitated that Joel be allowed to converse with them on occasion. I'll admit that things have been running along pretty smoothly for the last eleven years or so, and to his credit, Joel is a fabulous father. He coaches their teams, packs their lunches, and tucks them in at night.  He's also been known to hand out some words of wisdom on occasion (seriously).  But in between all the time he's spent being a great dad, he's also spent a lot of time (and I'm quoting him here) "being awesome."  Actually, Joel would probably say that he spends ALL of his time "being awesome" because awesomeness is not something you turn on and off, it's just something you are. Recently, I've started to see some troubling signs of "awesomeness" showing up in my oldest child.  He's always been a quieter soul and I had assumed (wrongly, it now seems) that he was genetically predispositioned to follow in his mother's more modest hide your light under a bushel basket footsteps.  Without giving too much detail I will explain that my sweet boy's awesomeness awakening began shortly after his eleventh birthday with a request for sleeveless shirts that would allow him to stage his own gun show and has continued to escalate through last night's dinner that resulted in me posting the following on Facebook:

    What I need to do immediately (TODAY!) is take steps to contain the awesomeness that is currently growing unchecked in my offspring - implement a full scale "Awesomeness Management Program" (AMP) if you will. I know that Joel will scoff at my efforts to dial down the level of household awesomeness because he firmly believes that awesomeness shouldn't be contained, but last night's dinner was a wake up call that the time for awesomeness abatement has come. AMP's first message will be simple - 

"Underwear is NOT Outerwear." 

This is an important lesson that both of our children need to embrace (especially the girl child!). I know that I'm facing an uphill battle. "Awesomeness" is relentless and those who are fully immersed in it's grasp tend to disregard anything that suggests to them that they are less than awesome. There are rare moments, however, when awesomeness fails and important life lessons can be introduced, as evidenced by Joel's recent experience in a local Fourth of July 5K. 

"Hubris is Heavy"

I suppose that "Hubris is Heavy" could serve as the foundation for the AMP campaign, but considering that half of my household is now embracing the "underwear as outerwear" life plan, I'm sticking with my decision to start there.  I've got to get some pants on these people.