[This post originally appeared on Dad-O-Matic, a cool site for Dads, by Dads.]
We bought our daughter one of those little primary-colored push car toys for her first birthday. It gets great gas mileage and holds up amazingly well in crashes, of which there have been many so far.
The other day, she got herself caught in a traffic jam. The legs of our counter-height kitchen table and its accompanying chairs gridlocked her into a standstill. With all the might a one-year-old can muster, she pushed and prodded that car in an attempt to break free to the open road.
To no avail.
My initial instinct was to jump to her rescue and free her from her dilemma. But I could tell she was close to doing it on her own, so I decided to stay put. Her frustration level mounted, but I kept my distance. It was hard. Finally, with one last exasperated twist, the car untangled from the last chair leg and she was free.
And let me tell you, the beaming glow of pride on her face melted my heart like a Snickers bar in Scottsdale.
This foray into Fatherhood has taught me a lot of new stuff about God. This particular scenario gave me some insight about how he operates.
We all have rough patches in our lives, moments when we get stuck in the weeds. Things aren’t going according to plan and we’re stuck. Adultitis gets the better of us. We work our butts off to make the situation better, but nothing seems to help. After exhausting all of our resources, our frustrations mount. Perhaps we cry out to God to save us. He certainly can, and sometimes he does. A check shows up in the mail. The idea to solve a perplexing problem presents itself, seemingly out of thin air. We find the thing we had given up hope of ever finding.
But sometimes he doesn’t step in to save the day. Sometimes he’s silent.
Even though I often wish he would step in and make things easier for me, I’ve come to see that he has the wisdom to know that sometimes we have to go through difficult situations in life in order to come out stronger, better, and more confident on the other side.
And I believe that nothing makes him smile wider than seeing us accomplish exactly what he knew we could do all along.
We call people who get our weekly email newsletter Kim & Jason Insiders. Because not only are they the most prominent people in Kim & Jason Nation, but because they get the behind-the-scenes stuff and extra goodies no one else gets. The inside scoop, if you will.
Every weekly issue features an extra bit of something to chew on and a special Adultitis-fighting tip that’s not posted here on the blog. This week’s issue highlights a brand new ebook we just put the finishing touches on.
It’s titled, Busy is a Four-Letter Word: Thoughts, Tips and Inspiration for Staying Sane in a Fast-Paced World. It’s 54 pages of candid, no-nonsense insight about this thing called busyness and how you can keep it from taking over your world.
It’s completely free, but as you might have guessed, only available to Kim & Jason Insiders.
If you haven’t already, now’s a good time to join the ranks.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what college will look like when Lucy is ready to graduate high school. It fascinates me, because considering that she’s only fourteen months old as I write this, I only know it will look nothing like it does right now.
Degrees earned online used to be the domain of people looking for a promotion or a new career and already juggling a job and family. But now I’m seeing commercials of college-aged students talking about taking classes online. iTunes U is filled with audio downloads of educational courses from some of the most highly regarded institutions of higher learning. And increasingly, degrees from traditional universities are becoming worth less while costing more than ever.
When I was in college, email was just coming on the scene. Dial-up was the norm. And my walks to class were accompanied by a Walkman, because iPods hadn’t been invented yet.
This was only ten years ago.
Things are changing fast, and the rate of change is getting ever faster.
What will college look like in 18 years? The experts barely have a clue what next year will bring, let alone five years from now.
Eighteen years from now is completely up for grabs. It’s very possible that college as we know it — the kind with heavy textbooks, ivy-lined brick walls, and ginormous tuitions — will no longer exist. Seth Godin has effectively proven that the benefits of an MBA can be achieved –and exceeded — without going $100,000 into debt.
It seems to me that now, more than ever, we need to embrace a childlike spirit in order to navigate future that awaits us. You can succumb to Adultitis, get all curmudgeony, and resist the changes, wishing for things to stay the same, or worse yet, expecting that they will. Or you can tap into the open-minded spirit of childhood to curiously ask new questions, create new paths, and see the changes that are coming as an opportunity for a great adventure.
You’ve been warned: Stay shackled by Adultitis, and you’ll be left behind.
The future belongs to the childlike.
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photo by pincusvt
This week, Jason, Lucy and I attended the wake of a friend of ours who lived just 13 years. Just by hearing that you may say, “How tragic,” but I would say back to you that actually, Jesse lived
more in his 13 years than most people live in 85. Being diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes when he was three, he approached his childhood with an attitude of appreciation for life and persistence that he could (and would) be able to do all of the same things a kid without the disease could do.
Our lives crossed paths at the start of his elementary years and by this point he had acquired quite the resume of advocacy, raising both money and awareness for Juvenile Diabetes. His work advocating for the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation (JDRF) led him to Washington, D.C. to speak before Congress and he was even honored by Wisconsin Governor Doyle during a State of the State Address. He inspired a snowboarding camp for other kids with Type 1 diabetes – being a real life example that kids with diabetes can do anything that anyone else can do, they just have to manage it a little better.
Jesse touched countless people with his vibrant personality and his ability to connect with anyone. Jesse was an awesome kid and he lived his 13 years to the fullest.
In reflecting on his passing this week, I am faced with the question:
If I only had 13 years of my life left, would I live it as richly as Jesse did? Would my life leave the kind of mark his did?
It’s almost easier to think about what you would do with the cliche “6 months left to live.” Simple. You’d drop everything and be with those you love. You’d take that trip to the Great Wall of China. You’d jump out of the plane or go rafting in the Grand Canyon. You’d have the permission you need to truly say what you want to say.
It’s so cliche to say we should live as if each day is our last. But is this really possible without the bad news from the doctor? There are just too many things you HAVE to do that you certainly would NOT do, if indeed this was your last day here. It’s not a realistic challenge.
But what about 13 years?
With 13 years left, you still have to be financially responsible and maintain the day-to-day of your life (bills, work, relationships, civic responsibilities, chores, etc.), like you do right now.
But what WOULD you change?
Anything?
Would you look for a different way to spend your 9-5 or 5-9? Would you watch less TV? Would you be more generous with your talents? Would you say “I love you” more or “I’m sorry.” Would you make more memories? Would you write that book? Maybe you’d actually make some progress on the ‘ol Bucket List, instead of waiting until the timing is “right.”
Jesse’s brief but abundantly rich journey here inspires me to live like I’ve only been given 13 more years. It’s time I became more bold about the things that I’m most passionate about. So I start here with giving you (and myself) this challenge: get off your couch and do something to make a memory with someone you love TODAY.
The following quote in his obituary really sums it all up nicely…
“It’s better to burn out than to fade away.”
Godspeed Jesse!
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In this episode, filmed live from Madison, Wisconsin, we share some fun, childlike ideas to make your Valentine’s Day the sweetest one yet. We also chat about V-Day memories from childhood, including a quick debate over the infamous candy hearts.
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He suffered from ADHD.
His parents got divorced when he was nine.
He didn’t do so hot in school.
And his middle school teacher told him that he’d never be successful.
Nice.
Everybody seems to have their own definition of success, but I’d be hard-pressed to find anyone to dispute that winning 14 Olympic gold medals is a pretty good indicator of success. Admirably, Michael Phelps didn’t use his teacher’s inaccurate opinion as an excuse to shrink back and settle for a life of mediocrity. Instead, he used the words as fuel to drive him, posting them in his locker so he’d see them before and after every practice.
Many similarly inspiring people have summoned the strength to rise above the pain and doubt resulting from abusive put-downs from parents, teachers, and friends to achieve great success.
The desire to prove someone wrong is very powerful indeed.
However.
It can also cloud our judgement lead us down a dark path.
A son of poor immigrants is ridiculed by classmates for wearing second-hand clothing. The hurtful comments propel him to graduate with honors from Harvard and achieve great financial success. But the memories of the sarcastic remarks make him fearful of ever being poor again, so he works long hours and says yes to every project that promises to pad his bottom line, at the expense of spending time with his wife and children.
A woman spends her whole life trying to prove to her deceased father that she has what is takes to be an excellent lawyer, when her skills and passion are better suited to running a bakery.
Insults from so-called friends lead an overweight guy to make some lifestyle changes in order to get down to a healthy weight. But the euphoria of success drives him to take extreme and dangerous measures to stay thin — no matter what the cost.
Who are YOU trying to prove wrong?
I suspect that every single one of us is motivated to some extent by the moments when we’ve been wronged or doubted. Like a thistle from a thorn bush, those words of discouragement sting when they’re delivered, and they can stick with us for a very long time.
The danger comes when we fail to step back to identify our motivation and examine how it has driven our actions. Pressing forward might lead us down a dead end road where the only prize is a rusty bucket of regret.
May you always rise above the haters who disregard the remarkable potential within you. They don’t see the full picture, and only you can determine how your story ends. But don’t let your desire to prove someone wrong rob you of your health, happiness, or true purpose in life.
It’s not worth it.
Learn more about bringing Jason in to your organization to help them turn stress into laughter, rejuvenate their passion, and achieve work life balance.
photo by mike souza
Remember the childhood game that settled every argument? No, not thumb wrestling (or even arm wrestling, for that matter.) I’m referring to “rock-paper-scissors.” Sure, it’s fun to flip a coin or draw straws, but nothing says childhood like this favorite classic.
If you don’t know that rock beats scissors, then you might need to reconnect with your inner 8-year-old and think back to the simpler days of childhood – the days when disputes were so inconsequential that silly hand gesture games could resolve them in less than a minute.
Oh, if only adulthood could be that simple.
Well, apparently a federal judge in Tampa thought so a few years ago. K&J Nation member Steven S. shared with us an article about a childlike judge who made two arguing attorneys (hard to imagine, I know) play rock-paper-scissors to determine the location for retrieving a sworn statement from a witness. (Thanks for sharing Steven!) How cool is this judge?!
The most interesting part of this story was the poll on the website asking, “Was the judge right to impose a ‘rock-paper-scissors’ order on the attorneys?” The two choices were: 1) Yes: He sure was, embarrassing them that way will teach them to get along, and 2) No: It only makes the judge look childish.
Of course I voted “Yes.” After voting, I noticed that out of 36,083 votes, 92% also voted yes with only 8% voting no. These numbers give me hope regarding Adultitis and tell me that maybe us grown-ups need to (and want to, as indicated by the 92%) stop taking ourselves so darn seriously. So, in an effort to help you do that, here are 9 adulthood decisions you can make using “rock-paper-scissors.” Feel free to get creative and add your own in the comments.
- Who has to change the dirty diaper?
- Who has to pump the gas on a cold wintry night?
- Who has to bring the car for an oil change?
- Who has to change the printer cartridge?
- Who has to take out the garbage?
- Who has to mow the lawn?
- Who has to do the dishes?
- Who has to vacuum the car?
- Who has to go grocery shopping?
P.S. You’ll notice, all of these tasks are often Adultitis-inducing. So, why not mix it up and have some fun with it? Silly fun like this is a simple way to take the dread out of daily chores.
P.S.S. If you’re a R-P-S fan, check out our cool t-shirt!
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I recently got a copy of Good Eats: The Early Years by Alton Brown. To paraphrase Ron Burgundy, if you don’t think it’s the greatest show on television, I will fight you. As a Food Network junkie, I dig Alton’s quirky, fun, no-nonsense style. Between writing books, filming Good Eats, hosting Iron Chef America and The Next Iron Chef, and appearing in all kinds of Welch’s commercials, he certainly seems to have a lot of burners lit. As I perused the acknowledgements, I came across his thoughts regarding his 10-year-old daughter:
“I especially want to thank Zoey for putting up with all the late nights and early mornings, and all the books she had to read alone. You’re my pride and joy, kid.”
I think that’s just about the saddest thing ever written. Am I the only one?
This is what I want to say to Mr. Alton Brown:
Give up one — just one! — of your projects and go read a damn book to your kid.
But that wouldn’t be fair. I don’t really know about the dynamic between Alton and his daughter. What I DO know is that in my travels around the country speaking to various audiences, there are way too many dads who miss big chunks of their kids’ childhood only to suffer the consequences when it’s too late.
I have a friend who has candidly spoken about his contrasting relationships with his two daughters. He was on the road as a traveling salesman for much of his first daughter’s childhood. He missed a lot. He made some life changes that allowed him to be more present for his second daughter’s early years. Today, his relationship with her is solid and rewarding, while his relationship with the oldest girl is strained, distant, and spoiled by resentment.
When you’re not around much when your kids are growing up, they aren’t comforted by the idea that you’re helping a lot of people. They don’t need nearly as much of the things that your “making a living” pays for. And your definition of “quality time” probably doesn’t cut it.
To them, the message is loud and clear: other people and other things are more important to you than them.
Success is intoxicating. In your chase for more of it, don’t lose track of what’s really important.
Because when it’s too late, a few sentences scrawled in some book aren’t going to make up for all your time away.
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