QC Family Focus: October 2014

Your Mickle’s Worth
by Mike Mickle
Hello Everyone! Fall has fallen upon us. It’s time to dig out the
sweaters, pack away the shorts and shop for Halloween costumes.
Only one Mickle child will be dressing up in costume this year and
even he is iffy. It’s hard to believe our youngest will turn 12 this
month. Matt is the perfect Halloween baby. His sense of humor
is terrifying. His cleaning habits are horrifying. In fact, I’ve been
in haunted houses that were less frightening than his bedroom and
when trying to wake him for school, he moves much like a zombie,
only slower. I really try to be organized. I’m just not good at it.
Matt is no help. This past month was a “not-so-shining” example
of our preparedness. Case in point, Karen was working, Matt had
football practice and Kate had a swim meet. Karen was going to be
off work in time to make it to Kate’s meet but not early enough to
get Matt to football. I receive all the emails from Matt’s coach. Big
mistake. This particular evening was team picture night. We were
instructed to make sure the boys were there on time, wearing their
game jerseys and ready to take their photos so practice could begin
promptly after the photo session. I had everything under control.
I’d leave 10 minutes early, get Matt to practice, approximately 15
minutes from our house, make sure he smiled pretty for the camera,
hop in the car and meet Karen at Kate’s swim meet another 15
minutes away from Matt’s practice and still have minutes to spare.
Things were going like clock work. I had Matt’s water bottle filled,
he had his gear and we left just a few minutes later than planned.
We arrived at the field, I walked with him to find his coach and I
was getting him in line to take photos when I heard another kid say,
“Haha. Matt forgot his GAME jersey!” Yep, Matt was the only one
on his team wearing his practice jersey. I’m standing there in panic,
trying to figure out how I can teleport myself back home, knowing
that’s my only hope of getting there and back in time for photos,
when the coach says, “I have an extra jersey. Matt just won’t be the
same number as usual.” If this had been Kyle five years ago, the
different number of the jersey would have been a HUGE deal to
me. With Matt, it was a minor inconvenience. Picture taken, heart
rate returning to normal, I hopped in the car, drove to Kate’s swim
meet, raced into the building, down the hall and into the pool area,
to see Karen pointing to the pool, as Kate is getting OUT of the
water. Ugh. I missed the first race.
Fast forward two days later, I’m again in charge, Matt is
dropped off at practice... sort of on time.. at least for our family.
We get a text from the coach. Matt doesn’t have his mouth guard.
Spectacular, I’m not happy, but at least I haven’t paid for braces
yet. Five days later, heading back to football practice, I ask,
“Matt, do you have everything you need?”
4 October 2014 - QC Family Focus
“Yep”
“You have your cleats, your water bottle AND your
mouth guard?”
Silence, followed by a scrambling through his football
gear. “Oh crud.”
“You forgot your mouth guard again didn’t you?”
“No, I remembered to put it in my helmet.”
“So, what did you forget?”
“My helmet.”
That conversation was quickly followed by the
screeching of brakes, the driver (me) attempting to bang his
head into the windshield, a trip back home to get the helmet
with the mouth guard and arriving three minutes late for
practice. Two days later, another swim meet, Matt gets to
football on time, I arrive at the swim meet EARLY and Kyle
is picking up his brother. Perfect, except Kyle arrived 7
minutes after everyone else had picked up their child and
Matt was the only player left on the field with his coach
standing with him. Double Ugh.
There are days I feel like a Disney Dad. You know
the type, that is always on the sitcoms. The well-meaning,
good-natured guy that is a complete buffoon? Yep. That’s
me. Still, I won’t give up and I’ve now learned to ask Matt
many more questions. We don’t leave the driveway until a
checklist of needed items has been completed. When I ask
if he’s done with his homework and he says, “almost”, I ask
for the definition of almost. Strangely enough, when he tells
me he only has 30 minutes of reading, spelling sentences
to complete, a math link and he needs to research a current
event and write about it, I don’t consider that ALMOST
done. Somehow, Matt does. Obviously, he gets this from
his mother. Even with the frustrations, I can’t imagine
life without our forgetful, tardy, blonde-haired, blue-eyed,
Tasmanian devil.
Have a great month, keep the kids safe during trick or
treating and on a more serious note, be sure to check out
our special section, The Dangers
They Face. Our experts delve
into some topics that are not fun
to discuss, but very much a reality
in today’s tween/teen world. As
always, thanks for your support.
Mike