Adventures With Children

CHAPTER 1

The event my wife has been organizing for the past several months took place yesterday. The plan was (1) we would drop mom off at the church, (2) help her set-up, (3) go to my workplace for a few hours, (4) pick-up mom after her event, (5) go home and live happily ever after. The boys consider going to work with me a special treat because they all get to play online computer games while I get caught up on some of my work.

CHAPTER 2

Things went according to plan...until the 'help mom set-up' part (OK, so we lost on the 2nd step of the whole day.) My 7-yr-old (T), who has behaviors characteristic of Autism Spectrum Disorder, doesn't know how to deal with variation from his expectations. Immediately he started throwing a violent fit because he expecting to go straight to the office to play on the computer. I sent the rest of the four boys into the church to 'help' while I tried to calm T down before he destroyed the van.

When I got into the church my four other 'helpers' were doing everything except helping. Running around, make lots of noise. My middle son followed me in and continued his protest against helping mom and continued his attempt to manipulate me into getting what he wanted. He noticed the wreath rings sitting on a table and decided they would make good Frisbees. He decided the 'Shepherds Staff' Christmas staff example would make a great marshal arts fighting stick....filling in the gaps with yelling and calling me a liar for not taking them to the office right away.

Finally, with a growl from my wife to take the boys home, and leaving a trail of overturned chairs in his path, the boys and I left with T over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes and the other kids screaming at my sudden cancellation of going to the office until T repented the best he could.

CHAPTER 3

The whole ride home was nothing short of a Tavern Brawl of upset little people in a mini van...empty water bottles flying over the seats, crying and screaming and blaming and arguing and fist swings. The windows fogged from the steam pouring out my ears as I helplessly tried to talk (or yell, rather) the kids out of fighting each other. To add to the experience, the bridge between the church and home was up so a lone fishing boat, whose mast was probably only a few inches above the bottom of the bridge, could pass slowly underneath.

The gnashing of teeth followed into the house with the oldest in time out and me holding T to try to calm him down.

Eventually T agreed to earn the back the opportunity to go to the office by doing the dishes with me. For now, after an hour and a half of intense battle, all seemed calm. Dishes, Lunch and the trip to the Office went well. Then we went to get mom from the activity.

CHAPTER 4

Idle time is dangerous. Young boys sitting in a car seat waiting is like watching a lump of sodium start to slip into beaker of water. Eventually the potential energy reaches beyond its bounds and in an instant a quick and violent reaction occurs. Before we could reach that point, (signalled, in part, by T bursting a packet of ketchup on the seat and ceiling), I decided to let the boys 'run around' outside--at least then the violent reaction would have a wide clearance.

Next thing I know, half the kids are having an all out leaf fight...not innocent dry leaves fluttering in the wind; leaves sitting at the bottom of a puddle created from the last five days of wind and rain.

CHAPTER 5

Once a chemical reaction starts there is virtually no way to stop it--and can trigger chain reactions. No amount of verbal demands changed the dynamics of this 'party' It didn't help that they were all spread out and moving at light speed either. Soon half-empty (yes, not half-full)water bottles from the van quickly became utilized as ammunition cartridges. The idea spread like wild fire and all the boys were grabbing what they could and trying to get each other.

Regardless of any destruction to themselves or other objects, they had fun with huge smiles on their faces while I felt like gum on a the highway...run-over, over and over again, sometimes stuck on the tire and repeatedly slammed between the road and the heavy vehicle. "Passerbys" just looking on...you can only imagine what they were thinking: "glad that's not me."

CHAPTER 6

As these types of activities usually end, someone got mad, and hurt one of his brothers, and sometimes its reciprocated...or another common occurrence, the lone ranger runs in on the scene and inflicts justice on behalf of the brother who got hurt. Parental intervention resulted in most of the boys buckled in their seats and the others in the bathroom cleaning the mud and leaves off of their face.

CHAPTER 7

The adventures of the day were enough to set my 기(Qi) out of balance and I was cranky the rest of the day. And this wasn't even our regularly scheduled weekly battle!

Back to the Ten Commandments: Even though I don't mean 'kill' in any literal sense, there are those days where the Savior's fulfillment of that law to include the avoidance of anger is a little bit harder to follow. I guess that's why I like writing about these experiences because its helps me feel better about the situation and less angry about it--I can look back and see the comedy in it all. Most of the time my boys were only doing 'innocent' mischief and not hurting anybody--so I do have to give them credit where credit is due. But, this post reflect the most 'memorable' events from my perspective.

Incredible Sacrifice: Civil War

Some good friends invited our family to a Civil War battle reenactment at Ft. Stevens State Park (Oregon) on Saturday. Its a great hobby for a lot of people. You get to relive history, meet a lot of friends, enjoy the camaraderie of fellow members, and wear era clothing. It's a lot of fun.


For me, though, it hit a sensitive spot. As I was looking over the reenactment; feeling the gigantic boom from the cannons; hearing the spattering of black powder rifles; watching the clouds of smoke sift through the battlefield as men and some women stood vulnerable to their enemies within a few hundred feet; listening to the bugles and the drums cheering on their respective teams. As the drama intensified, you would see soldiers drop from the crowd: sometimes as random individuals disappearing from the midst or often as clumps melting from the crowd of soldiers--usually after loud booms and pops from cannons or group fire. This is where it got me.


As the scene played out before me, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that this is demonstrating something that happened in real-life. Suddenly empathy for those who lived the real nightmare kicked-in. Fellow United States Citizens, brothers, fathers, faced off in close battle knowing they were more than likely not going to live through it. I could feel the paralyzing fear and anxiety they must have felt as these, often very young men, were thrown-in to possibly face their last moments alive. I could imagine the adrenaline-powered actions as they concentrated on the technical process in operating their guns and acting in faith to the commands of their military leaders, trusting that their efforts, even if short lived, would be most effective.


Then I could imagine the intensity of the moments as some of your best friends fall silent beside you or vainly cry-out in pain--yet you keep your focus on the survival task at hand while in the back of your mind you wrestle with a hurricane of emotion: fear, sadness, anger, despair, helplessness, heart-crushing emotional agony...yet you keep going through the actions of battle, because there is no time to rest.


Towards the end of the reenactment, as motionless bodies lay scattered across the battlefield, with the, much fewer, pops of random gun fired in the distance, a lone bagpiper played a slow, thoughtful version of "Amazing Grace." When the battle was over, provided you survived intact or wounded, ...then, I could imagine, was the time for that hurricane of emotion to break free as the reality of what just happened sank-in. You relive the battle in seemingly slow motion, agonizing over what happened at each moment: what should have happened, and why did it happen this way. I could only imagine that the women who tagged along, just to be with their husbands and, perhaps their sons, were left haunted with a permanent scar for the rest of their lives.



As the reenactors and the audience drained from the battle stage, the vacancy was filled with a solemn feeling of respect, admiration and sadness. The courage the soldiers must have had to act through their fears and face death time and time again. The conviction and the faithfulness to things greater than themselves they must have had to be so willing to trade their lives for it. The sadness that war was the attempt of settling disagreements. Sadness that so many brothers and sisters died in the battles or as consequence of the battles.


In the real Civil War, more than 3 million people fought, 2% of the population (more than 620,000) died in the war. At least in the scripted war I saw on Saturday, those who 'died' were able to get up at the end and continue to enjoy a life that was influenced in one way or another by the real Civil War.


I pray we will all be grateful, and have a lot of respect for the incredible sacrifice our ancestors made in the Civil War and the other great Wars.