Saturday, December 10, 2011

Here's a little Holiday Cheer...


The following are two stories that I would like to share with you in an attempt to spread some holiday cheer.  At the time, these two experiences did pretty much the opposite of putting me in a good holiday mood, but looking back, they're both kind of funny...

A Christmas Carol

I was in sixth grade, and I was in the starring role in the stage play version of A Christmas Carol.  I memorized those lines and I practiced them and I was pretty good for a 12-year-old.  The make-up was pretty good, and I guess that I looked and sounded about as close to Ebenezer Scrooge as a 12-year-old could.
On opening night, the auditorium was packed—all the dads with their camcorders out, and everyone was so excited to see the show.  I remember this all very well, because there was a girl in the audience, for whom I’d had a crush on since the fourth grade.  She was front and center, and I remember seeing her as I peeked through curtains before the play started, a thousand butterflies fluttering in my stomach.
All in all, I was excited to be in the spotlight, and I couldn't wait to be on stage in front of so many people.  My dream was unfolding right before my eyes, and thoughts of auditioning for Spielberg were right there in the back of my mind.
During one particular scene, I was supposed to take off my pants and I had a nightshirt on underneath.  The top part looked like a normal dress shirt, and when I took off my pants, the shirt was supposed to flow out and drop to the knees, effectively covering my white and tight brief underwear.  I guess that they had those types of clothes back in Scrooge's day, like a nightgown for guys.  During the scene, I pulled off my pants, like I’d rehearsed a hundred times.   The front dropped down without any problems, but the back had been tucked into my whitie-tighties and when I turned to hang up my pants, every person and camcorder saw my undies.  I couldn't understand why everyone was laughing, and I didn't get why the scene was so funny until Marley's ghost came prancing into the scene and whispered the fateful message. 
Spielberg, Hollywood, and dreams of having dinner with Drew Barrymore melted right there on that stage.  I was mortified—am still a little a mortified.  I understood, at that moment, why Mr. Scrooge loved to say Bah Humbug. And people still talk about that night when I visit my home town. 

Mister?

This one happened a little more recently--two years ago, to be exact.  I was at the grocery store on Christmas Eve, minding my own business and getting some last minute stocking stuffers and food for the following day.  This little kid comes up to me and tugs on my shirt.  I looked down, and the kid is super cute, maybe 5 or 6, with big brown eyes filled with wonder.  He reminded me of little Ralphie on A Christmas Story, on Christmas morning, seeing the big beautiful Christmas tree, with all those shiny presents underneath.

"Mister?" the kid asked, his voice filled with plucky innocence.
"Yes?"
"Are you Santa?" he asked.
A good 20 seconds passed in one of those very awkward silences.  I looked down at the kid, and I'm not saying that I didn't want to smack him, but he sincerely wanted to know if I was Santa Claus. Now, I admit that I wasn't in the greatest shape in my life, but I certainly did not have a belly large enough to fill Santa's coat.  I do have a jolly disposition, and I hadn't shaved for a day or two, but seriously, I don't know what this kid was thinking.

"No." I patted him on the head and smiled as sincerely as I could. "No, Santa doesn't look anything like me."
I pointed to a Coke bottle and said, "That's what Santa looks like."
The kid looked at the Santa so cheerily portrayed on the bottle of Coca-Cola, and then back at me.  The look in his eyes indicated that he didn't see a real difference there, and with that, I said good bye and left the store.  Needless to say, my New Years resolutions that year included a strict diet and an intense exercise program to lose whatever resemblance I had with jolly ol' St. Nick.

***
So, hopefully my stories were a short respite from the stress that accompanies the season.  By the way, My novels are all on sale during this holiday season for .99 cents--and they've just been enrolled with Amazon's new lending program--so you don't even have to drop a buck to read them.

Merry Christmas everyone, or Happy Holidays, if that's your cup of eggnog.  Either way, have a good end of the year.

Monday, November 14, 2011

My [disastrous] Saturday Morning with the Kids

On a beautiful Saturday morning a few months ago, my wife was out for a run and I was left at home with our three kids.  My son was the first out of bed and I got him dressed.  I left him in his room to read some books while I started making breakfast.  It wasn’t long before the Saturday morning smell of pancakes on the griddle filled our home.  With breakfast almost ready, one kid dressed for the day, and the other two peacefully sleeping, I humbly patted myself on the back for handling a morning without my wife so well.

And from there, it all went to hell in a hand basket…

            I’d finished my first batch of pancakes, and had just poured the batter onto the sizzling griddle for the second batch when I heard some soft splashing of water coming from the bathroom in the master bedroom.

            That’s weird, I thought, wondering who was in bathroom, and why there was splashing.  I glanced at the pancakes and saw that they still had a minute or two before needing to be flipped.  I hurried into the bathroom, and there was my son, sitting serenely in the bathtub that my wife had apparently forgotten to drain.  (It could have been me, too, but I plead the fifth.)  He was fully clothed, thanks to my ambitious parenting that morning, was sitting in water up to his chest, and playing with a plastic killer whale.  He seemed to be having the time of his life.

            “Liam!” I said, exasperated.  I reached into the water to unplug the tub, realizing that in my panic, I had forgotten to roll up my shirt sleeve.  I paused, elbow deep in the water, and rolled my eyes.  I unplugged the tub, got a towel and lifted my son out of the tub.  

“You need to take your clothes off when you take a bath.” I said as I wrapped him in the towel and carried him to the room.  I passed the other bathroom—the kid’s bathroom—and noticed that my daughter had attempted to use the potty.  All would have gone well, but she had failed to pull her pants down far enough, and the urine went right into the seat of her pants and drained onto the floor.  She obviously felt bad about the mess and had tried to clean it up, gathering an armful of toilet paper and setting it in the puddle of yellow liquid on the floor. 

"Ah!" I screamed and set my son on the floor.  I rushed into the bathroom to clean up the mess, right about the same time that I smelled smoke coming from the kitchen, only a few seconds before the fire alarm started blaring.

The screech of the alarm woke the baby, who started to cry.

In less than two minutes, I’d gone from admiring my amazing parenting skills to wishing I’d never woken up.  It was a humbling experience.  And when my wife got back from her run, the kids were polishing off the first batch of pancakes beneath a cloud of blue smoke, my son still wet, and my daughter strapped into a diaper two sizes too small.  I handed off the baby and told her that my boss needed me in the office.  She was startled by the mess, but she took the baby and immediately started getting things in order.

When I came back a few hours later to apologize for taking off like that, the house was clean and tidy, and the kids were taking a nap.  My wife was sitting on the couch and reading, as if everything was just hunky-dory.

But that’s just how she is, taking care of the stuff at home like its nothing at all, while I would be going bonkers.  She faces each day with an insane amount of optimism and shrewd skill, excelling at pretty much everything she does.  I swear that she has super powers—and is probably a maniacal genius in her off hours, developing a plan to take over the world.  I think a lot of moms are like my wife (and I’m sure that some dads are like that too, but there is something special about moms), having the innate ability to deal with kids and the complexities of life in a way that most cannot.  It’s certainly something that I admire about my wife.

This experience, mixed with a bit of my wife’s general awesomeness, led to the ideas that formed the basis of my book, The Double Stroller Hand Grenade.  It’s a fun, escapism-style book about a stay-at-home dad who simply does not have it together.  Oh yeah, and his wife is not only a great mom, but is a super-cool-femme-fatale of an assassin for the mafia.  The book is packed with action, thrills, and plenty of laughs—perfect for a short escape from the daily routine of life.

Which brings me to why I’m telling you all this: I want you to download The Double Stroller Hand Grenade for only $2.99.  I promise that you’ll like this book.  Check it out before life’s distractions come along and make you forget, and then let me know what you think.  Here’s the link: The Double Stroller Hand Grenade.  (And if you don't want to read it on your ereader device, you can get it in paperback for $14.99)

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Superhero Parents


The other day I caught my three-year-old son playing with a few of his toys.  It was one of the moments that you live for as a dad.  In one hand, he had a Spiderman action figure, as sleek and muscular as a plastic toy could be, and in the other hand was a slightly pudgy stuffed bear.  The toys were engaged in an epic battle, as only a three-year-old can imagine, most likely spiced with the best digital effects his little mind could muster. 

I started to walk away, intending to leave him to his game, when I heard him say “dad.”  I stopped, realizing that the fight between Spiderman and the teddy bear involved his old man.  I puffed out my chest a little, very proud to have been part of my son’s imagination in such a macho way—and apparently I was a super-hero in my kid’s mind.

I watched carefully to see if my character was winning.  My son banged his characters together; they flew through the air, defying gravity and logic, much like Neo and Agent Smith in the Matrix.  The teddy bear dodged several precarious obstacles, with the Spiderman-Dad character chasing close behind.  Suddenly the bear swung around and clocked the Spiderman action figure, sending the little guy flying through the air and skittering under the bed.  The bear was triumphant.  I was devastated with this turn of events, and I couldn’t believe that my son had so aptly removed me from battle.

My son went on playing with the victorious stuffed bear, plopping it on a small wooden train, to ride off in the sunset, no doubt.  I just couldn’t help myself.  I went into the room and sat down beside my boy.
            “Hey bud.” I said.
            “Hi daddy.” He said, pushing the little bear around atop the train.
            I pointed under the bed and asked, “So, uh, what happened to your Spiderman guy?”
            My son beamed, holding up his bear.  “My daddy beat him up.”
            I studied the bear, and realized that my son was right on the money.  I certainly had more in common with that stuffed bear, a little soft around the midsection, than I did with the muscular action figure.
            “Daddy always wins.” He said, in his most serious tone, “ ’cause he’s a suprrho.”
Which is Liam-speak for superhero. 
And with that, the conversation was over and my son was back in his blissful never-never land with his toys.

I got to my feet, thinking about the diet I would start the next morning (and lose that soft-midsection), and about how my son viewed me as a suprrho.  Now I certainly don’t think of myself as a hero.  For the most part, I get up in the morning, go to work, come home, play with the kids for a while, go to sleep, rinse and repeat.  I think, for the most part, I’m a lot like other parents out there with young kids.

It was interesting to me, that for all the normalcy that my life exudes, somehow my son got it into his mind that I’m a hero—and not just any hero—but one who can kick Spiderman’s butt, pudge and all.

It’s been something that I’ve been thinking about since then: how we come up with our heroes, and why.  I have a few people that I could name as my hero: my wife being one (who has the supernatural ability to keep the house clean, feed three kids, be constantly learning, stay in amazing shape, and still be happy about it all at the end of the day.)  Batman is another hero.  Danny Boyle seems like a pretty cool guy, and has that creative touch that I really admire.

But when it comes down to it, my dad has got to be at the top of the list.  The guy is tireless—and has always seemed to be that way.  When I was growing up, he was always the first one out of bed, and the last to turn out the lights.  He worked constantly, but always had time to play with one of his seven kids.  That’s right.  I said seven kids—and he did it.  When I was younger, my brothers and I used to call him Superman—and rightfully so.  If anyone could be faster than a speeding bullet, it was my dad.  If anyone could save the day, it was him.  And right now, he’s not just my hero—but is one of those heroes that we all rely on.  Right now, he’s actively serving our country in the Army—doing what he’s always done—tirelessly pushing forward and helping those he can.  When he comes back from active duty, he’ll continue doing just that.  And for that reason, my old man is my hero and could kick Spiderman’s butt any day of the week.

--Derrick Hibbard, author of The Double Stroller Hand Grenade and This Side of Eden

Friday, September 2, 2011

Good Habits=College Salvation

Habits help us. Or they can hurt us.
Good habits help in everyday life, in the many day-to-day things we have to do. Being a student is really no different. When you develop good habits that help you accomplish your goals and tasks quickly and well, you will be more successful. It’s important, however, to get beyond the thinking that good habits are “hard” and bad habits are “easy”; sometimes that’s true, but often it is not. Many times, a good habit is simply doing things logically, proactively, and with care.
Well, okay…not “simply.”
It’s easy to say we’ll build good habits; the challenge is to actually do that.  A habit is something you do without needing to think. In college you will need to think—a lot—but you will also need to focus your energies on immediate tasks and goals, as well as on your future. Many times we’re not exactly sure what specific tasks we should focus on, or even what our goals (or future) should be, so it’s not surprising that our habits are not always good ones. Developing these good habits will help you as a student, allowing you to focus better on actual learning. Grades are a reflection of that. Success will come. 
Although the advice in this book will ultimately make your work as a student less difficult, the road is far from easy. You will still have to put in real hours, and you will have to work hard. The point is that by establishing these good habits you won’t have to work as hard. And when you do work, it won’t seem so much like “work.” And when you’re done, you can actually enjoy yourself!  More than that, you can enjoy yourself without guilt or that nagging sense when blowing off this class or that project that you’re getting further and further into trouble.
The focus of College Fast Track (and Law School Fast Track, in a law school context) is to develop one general habit that will not only help you be a stellar college student, but also help you throughout your working and personal life. This habit will put you a cut above most students and even most people you will ever encounter—and it seems like such a logical habit to develop. You’d think everyone would be focused on it, but for some reason we, maybe even as a species, just love to waste time. Students spend a lot of time doing things they think are important and still more time doing things—be honest—they know aren’t really all that important. Either way, this is simply wasting time. Much of this book is devoted to the number-one, most important overarching habit, which happens to include four parts:

1. Identifying things that waste time.
2. Refraining from doing things that waste time.
3. Identifying things that are both effective in learning and an efficient use of your time.
4. Doing more of those things in #3.

MAKE YOUR STUDY EFFICIENT AND EFFECTIVE

This means you do what you must do to be the best student possible… and nothing more. This means that when you sit down to study, even if for short periods of time, you are getting the most from your time studying. If you can master this one principle and make it habitual, you will be successful. It seems easy, but as we all know, that doesn’t necessarily make it easy.
We live in a time where it is possible to be extremely efficient. Possible. Not probable. We all have gadgets to keep us connected with the world around us, and these gadgets can be used to make learning easier. This may seem weird to those of you reading this, but I remember the advent of the computer and the internet—not all that long ago—and saw specifically how learning and access to information became easier and easier. I remember trying to do research projects in high school and not really knowing how to use the internet to study. I remember turning to the libraries and being bogged down with the amount of available information and no easy way to sift through the wealth of information in libraries. And then, as the internet became more accessible and easy to use, and as credible websites with the same vast wealth of information that existed in libraries started to pop up, the research and learning processes became easier and much, much more efficient. Along with the internet came more powerful computers and software that allowed the student to excel without wasting time. No longer do we have to sift through mountains of books at the library, nor are we restricted to taking hand-written notes. We can easily type papers and edit them with word processors—and the tools only seem to expand with each new device.
Here’s an amusing assignment: ask a parent about writing papers on an actual typewriter. Then ask a grandparent about writing papers on a manual typewriter. This might be an eye-opener, as you realize that something we take for granted now—something as simple as centering text—used to be an annoying and time-consuming task, requiring counting the number of characters in each line to be centered, setting the typewriter to the center, and then counting backwards, manually, for one-half of those characters. For each line! Any mistakes? The entire sheet had to be redone.
This is an incredible time to be a student; efficiency is within our grasp! All it takes is a habit—a way of doing things that is reinforced by practice every day—to actually be efficient. And keep in mind what this means: being efficient means having more time to do what you would like to do, aside from learning whatever subject you’re studying. College Fast Track is not about denial. It’s about the opposite: learning well and quickly, preserving other time to relax without regret.
Efficient, effective study is the end goal, the most important goal, the crucial goal, the goal that will carry you through undergraduate successes and into your future successes.

--Derrick Hibbard, author of College Fast Track, and Law School Fast Track