Are You Blinking Red or Blinking Green?

It’s been more than a year now since I first received a PT Walking from Nintendo to try out with the Nintendo DS that they also sent me to keep. 

Somewhere back earlier in the spring, I broke it or it went through the wash or something and according to the DS this morning, it’s been 243 days since I last checked in.

As part of my post Modern Media Man Summit promise to myself about getting more physically active again, I’ve been looking for the PT Walking product around town.  Last year they were selling for $49.99 in most places.  At Best Buy last night, they were down to $19.99.  SOLD.

So I got one of the two monitors out of the box this morning, configured it to adopt my old profile, and that’s how I know it’s been 243 days since my last walk with it.

My daily goal with it remains at 4,000 steps.  Whew.  I bet it’s been months, save the five days I just spent in the Atlanta Sheraton Hotel getting ready and being a part of @M3Summit, that I’ve even come close to walking 4,000 steps in a day.

What I like most about the PT Walking reader that you can either slide into a pocket, add a clip on so it attaches to a belt, or as my friend Julie Maloney likes to do, just slip it into your bra, and until you hit your adjustable daily target, it blinks red. When you’ve hit the mark, it begins blinking green when you shake it or walk.

And so, my reoccurring question throughout the day to myself is, “Am I blinking red or am I blinking green?”  If it’s still red, I’m automatically encouraged to get off my butt and go make something happen.

It’s a cool pedometer.  You can sync it with your DS and then it’ll show you where your active patterns were during the day.  You can see how many steps that last walk inside Walmart or across the street to get the kids from school was, etc.  And with blinking red, it’s encouragement to make it blink green.

I highly recommend this product.  As a dad who is WAY over weight–remember, 6 yo dd asked me the other night, “Daddy, how come your tummy hangs down?”–I’ve got to get busy and take better care of myself.   Moms, Dads, SAHDs and SAHMs, in particular, it’s hard to ensure you’re getting enough exercise during the day.  I know.  With the demands of work, kids, carpooling, etc.  you need something easy to help give you some accountability.  For $19.99, this product is perfect.

‘These red curtains look like a girl’s house’

I’ve had one of the most joyous nights in a while.  Getting ready for the Modern Media Man Summit the past five months has totally consumed my time and focus.

Going on the trip to and from Atlanta with Ron Mattocks, helped bring me back to what’s most important, my kids.

Tonight I get to see my three daughters thanks to the incredible abuses of the Texas family law system.  But we will make the time the best possible.

But last night, I got to spend time with my 6-year-old daughter from my second marriage.  She and I have not spent much time together since March and after just 16 hours with her, (Of course 9.5 of them she was sleeping) I can’t describe how I miss it.

To my 6-year-old daughter, I am her daddy.  That’s as much as I want to say about that.  I’m what she knows as a dad.  And my own three know me the same, they know that dad is going to be there when others fail them.   But that’s another story. I’m also pining over the loss of time with my three boys from my second wife.

So what did my daughter do and say to warm my heart last night?  Here’s a sampling:

“These red curtains (in living room) look like a girl’s house.” They’re maroon with tan shears.  Seriously.  

“Daddy, how come your tummy hangs down?” Yes, I know, I need to lose weight.

What did she want for dinner?  “Chicken wings.” Oh, and a dollar for games, and then another dollar for games because she “wasted it on the toy game and it took her money.” A dollar was all she got.

Holding her broomstick horse as we drove to school top down in the convertible this morning, “This is my horse and your horse is the car.  Giddy up.”

And then when she got out of the car in front of the school, she did something my other three won’t do any longer.  She turned around, I blew her a kiss and she blew one back.  What a shame our kids have to grow out of where this is okay to do.

It was great to feel like an active dad again and to know that no matter what all is going on between the adults in the equation, there’s still an incredible love for me in her heart.  And it’s a love that is just as unconditional as I have between my own daughters.  We’re all struggling through some tough times, but when it comes to the end of the day, I still have red curtains and I don’t think they look like a girls’ house.

And now she’s also an Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros‘ fan.  We kept playing “Home” over and over.  She kept trying to whistle the main tune.  It was priceless.

“Home is whenever I’m with you” never sounded so sweet.

One last thing, in the whole time I was with her, she never said the word, “Bagina.” What a relief.

Finding my voice

One of the best conversations I had to and from Atlanta this past weekend involved the literary term “writer’s voice,” with Sugar Milk: What one dad drinks when he can’t afford Vodka author Ron Mattocks. The panel he led with fellow authors John Cave Osborne and Jim Kukral also included the mention of the term as I was walking in for a brief moment on Friday; but not able to sit and listen, much to my dissatisfaction.

On the ride back, we got into what really is a writer’s voice.  I asked him if there’s an outline somewhere either etched onto a piece of paper or carved out in a recess of his mind. 

Ron said it’s really something that evolves over time.  It’s the total body of work.  It’s what makes a writer’s material so unique, you could tell it was their writing without, in a perfect world, even having to see a byline.

So what is my voice?

And more critically important to me, what about it do I need to adjust?

From being around a bunch of men and dads this weekend, I’ve come to understand greatly that the issues I’m dealing with in my personal life are not unique to me.  They’re far more tragic in many senses, but when it comes down to it, among the new friends I met this past weekend, we’re dealing with a lot of crap in life and in many ways, writing about it is our way of reaching out and trying to help others going through the same thing, and two, to offer solutions, advice, and three, to show the joys and experiences of being a dad in this day and age.

That feels consistent with what I’ve been doing.  But there are others, like Ron in particular, who have been able to rise above the mire and some how swim above the torrents of life’s whirlpool that are trying to suck us all down and drown us in the vastness of life’s most painful problems.

Kevin MetzgerThe DadVocate Project

One of the coolest guys I met this past weekend at Modern Media Man Summit was Kevin Metzger aka on Twitter as TheDadVocate.

Kevin has one of the best treasures in the world.  Like me, he has a daughter named Haley.  But unlike my Haley, who did struggle for a few minutes after her birth, Kevin’s Haley struggled through birth and seven years later, it affects her to this very day.  She has Cerebral Palsy.  Kevin brought her up to the event for a while Saturday morning.  She’s as cute as a button.  A special child of God.  And as I learned more through talking with Kevin and a couple of his Atlanta friends at the final hurrah dinner Saturday night, it’s no fault of anyone’s really, it’s just something that happens at birth where her brain was deprived of the fuel of life: oxygen.

I don’t know how Kevin does it.  The people I’ve lived with the past 14 years just stay mad at the world.  Angry at everyone.  Jealous of everyone.  Feeling entitled and owed everything by everyone.  I’m a victim, not of you, but you shall compensate me nonetheless.  Just gimme, gimme, gimme.

The contrasts of this weekend were so vastly different to what I’ve allowed myself to be subjected to since 1994-5.  You can tell, sure, Kevin and his friend, Ed, who also has a son with CP, they’ve no doubt struggled with the pains that life’s cruel undeserving penalties have inflicted upon their innocent children.  But rather than languishing in that pain, anger, whatever it might have been, they’re not sitting back and saying “woe is me.”  They’re doing something about it.

Kevin’s friend, Ed, is helping to raise money for stem cell research to help cure the disease once it takes hold. They know of those who have gone to Mexico for treatment there with stem cells that are having positive impacts on the lives of kids.  But as Ed said, “I want to help make this possible in America so people don’t have to go to Mexico.”

What does this have to do with my voice?

A lot actually.  I struggle daily to rise above the muck that’s been sent my way; I figure 95 percent undeservedly.  And I’m learning at age 44 how to finally put up boundaries between me and people who just like to have their rain cloud follow them around and let it rain shit on everyone else around them.  Life’s long treacherous journey is too short to continue to walk in the direction of the shortest pier.

It’s time to get back to writing about the things in life that are most important to me.  That begins with taking care of me, taking care of a spouse (if I choose to have one), my kids, the rest of my family, my friends and then, everyone else.

I’m no longer going to compromise on my authenticity.  Over the past year or so I’ve been threatened to stop doing that, but it’s cost me being me, and with that, I’m done.

It’s time to live my life like Kevin and Ed and my other new good friend, Ron.  Each of these guys are smart, focused, and have a passion about where they’re going in life and what they want out of it.   They have a voice, and unlike mine the past while, their’s is the one of the guy in the crow’s nest of a yester-year ship at sea in a raging storm looking for land, looking to guide others out of the storm and finding safer ground.   These are more like the men I want to be.   And each day forward I need to remind myself of just that.

Thanks guys for the inspiration.  And thanks for leading me back to my voice.