Time for a time out to set the record straight

Please let me take a moment to step away a bit from the normal posts. 

This space has been used in a way to vent the frustrations of the Guard in his duties within the prison while trying to controll the inmates. By shunning the socially acceptable norms of referring to the Guard as Dad, the Warden as Mom and the prisoners as children, this blog was meant to attempt to portray the sometime dark, dirty, and sometimes hidden struggles of raising a family with small and energetic children. By assuming the alter ego of the Guard and not referring to the prisoners by name, it was meant as a way to create a satirical look behind the closed doors and curtains during the most trying of times. 

Parents love to brag about their children. With the popularity of social media, many parents will post the cute stories, pictures and events within their family. Dirty laundry is normally not something you want to share since we all want the world to see how proud we are of our children. But as most parents will tell you, there are those trying times times that are just plain frustrating. 

I have taken some indirect heat for some of my stories here. Speaking as Dad now-- my children really are great. They are smart, funny and creative.  They are very supportive of one another, and have a great bond as siblings. They love each other, and they love their parents. And their parents love them very much. And there is tremendous pride when we watch them interact with the world around them and watch them grow, learn, and mature. 

My point in all of this is that if you are reading this blog, know that it is intentionally one sided, and there are some (not many but some-- I am not creative enough to make this stuff up from thin air) liberties taken with the stories. It is meant as satire, but more importantly, as a means for me to verbalize and laugh at the hard times. As someone who does not communicate well, and who typically bottles up frustrations to the point where I am like a fresh bottle of Coke that you shake really hard, this little space here allows me to slowly releive some of that pressure. After a particularly trying situation, the act of turning it into a story is almost therepudic. 

So, the moral of this post is really that like many blogs (or anything on the Internet it seems), the lines between fiction and non fiction are very blurry. And this is done intentionally here.  The Guard and his prisoners represent one small aspect of our life. Life as a father with his children represents a much larger portion of our life, but that portion is not what this blog is about. There are many good and funny stories, but they just don't fit the spirit of this space. I am sorry if there are some of you who want to hear the positive and funny stories. I will try to sprinkle them in, but truth be told, I try to enjoy the good and funny situations in the moment. The bad, well, this allows me to escape and take a break for a few moments so I am not that massive exploding Coke bottle.  

Why?

I have held the job as Guard for over 6 years now. Not a long time in the grand scheme of things, but long enough to ask myself 'why?' A lot. Each day. Multiple times a day. 

It is often in a slightly different context, but the underlying theme is almost always relating back to the behavior of the prisoners. 

Why do we get such glowing reports from teachers at their vocational training, yet their behavior within the prison walls is so utterly horrible?

Why do they agree, after a 10 minute lecture, that they will behave, yet a mere 27 seconds after that agreement, the armistice treaty is forgotten and world war 3 commences?

Why do Legos, no matter how long you spend cleaning them up, always seem to find themselves directly under a bare foot in the middle of the night?

Why do prisoners always find that one permanent marker to place their autograph on a newly painted wall, when there were 7,357 washable markers to choose from?

Why do they feel the need to be so shy and quiet in public, refusing to answer questions of friends and family in a audible level that the human ear can detect, yet in the comfort of the prison, the volume increases to ear destroying levels?

Why do they insist on all talking at the same time, with volume quickly escalating to a crescendo that can only be overcome by an even louder demand to stop?

Why do they insist waking up at the crack of dawn on the weekends, yet on school days, it is like raising the dead to get them to wake up?

Why is the response ALWAYS 'why?' when they are asked, then requested and finally demanded to do the simplest of chores?

Why will they insist they are full after eating dinner, yet go directly to the refridgerator to look for more food as soon as they put their plates away?

All these questions beg self reflection of my own inner struggle with my own 'why?'--  why did I ever wait so long to become a Guard?  I will be near 60 by the time the prisoners are on their own. The answer is then obvious when I ask myself why I am jealous of cohorts who have survived their sentences and are planning to watch their prisoners become Wardens and Guards.  

There are many more. Many. Many. More.   Rivaled only by the questions that begin with 'How in the....?'  And those questions will be reviewed some other day--  world war 7 needs a peaceful truce negotiated.  Again. 

It's a rude world outside these prison walls

Warden's orders are that the Guard and #2 and #3 need haircuts. Go. Now. 

Arrive at usual place. Our clan is closely followed out of parking lot by a 'to-be' rival prison group. Guard holds door for prisoners and rival clan pushes past us in our moment of kindness and rushes to counter to get in line first, putting in the names of her and all her 4 snot nosed prisoners ahead of us. Our reward? An hour wait. We leave before Guard becomes leading story on the 6 o'clock news. 

Go to next place. Packed. Another 60 minute wait. Nope. 

Third place?  Empty!  Score. Until we stood at counter for 5 minutes, finally leaving when Guard over hears one of the 'stylists' state that she wished it was closing time because she hates cutting kids hair. No problem, we hate you too. Buh-bye. 

Now we are at the fourth place. 5, then 6 then 7 minutes with no one greeting us (and they are not busy either), and now we are in search of our next stop. 

Fifth place will surely be our salvation. We are greeted immediately and told there is 'at most' a 20 minute wait. Awesome right?  42 minutes later with no end in sight and the prisoners (who were surprisingly really really good) start to complain of hunger. And they are correct, it is past chow time. So we leave. 

Five strikes and we are out. No hair cuts and one very frustrated Guard who has exceeded his patience quota for rude and nasty people. Back to the sanctity of our prison. Hair cuts will come another day. 

Maybe this is our answer:

Summer is over. Back to the grind.

Summer is over at the prison. 1&2 boarded the bus this morning and were shipped of to vocational training, otherwise known as 1st grade. 3 moved up to pre K in anticipation of her becoming old enough to attend vocational school next year. 

Here are the neighborhood prisoners loading up for training, being sent off by some of the younger prisoners. 

It has been a long and busy summer, evidenced by the Guard's lack of time to chronicle their adventures. 

In typical GP (Garfield Prision) fashion, procrastination levels are always high. School shopping was squeezed into the last two days before school. But in equally typical GP fashion, the prisoners arrived at their send off point on time, well dressed and with proper supplies. 

The summer was a blur. 1&2 spent a week with their GREAT Aunt and Uncle in Virginia and 3 spent a week shuffled between her Aunt and Grandmother (we are forever in debt to you all!!). The Warden enjoyed a week vacation while the Guard spent time at a conference in San Diego. All told, it was a fun time away from GP for all. 

The summer also included some time spent with friends from Florida who came to visit, and with a buddy from Ohio who stayed with us for a long weekend. Sprinkle in trips to the granparent's pool and the daily attendance of summer camp and the prisoners had a pretty solid summer. 

There have been a ton of stories that would have played well in this space, but old age and the pressures of the day job and as Guard have led those stories to fade into oblivion. I do have one story that I find funny, but in 10 years, I doubt the prisoner will be happy.  So here goes. 

#1 is our nervous thinker. She thinks about everything and worries more than the other prisoners. Starting the new school year has provided a high stress level for her over the past few weeks. #1 has a, um, delicate digestive system. We have battled her system that results in, um, clogged plumbing. The summer was carefree and her plumbing worked well, until about a week ago. Plumbing backed up, and the process to clean it out takes some time. We were really close to being on the good side of the problem with everything working properly to avoid any potential first day issues. Until #1 started to worry about the first day of school. The worry started early in the day but really hit it's apex while she prepared for bed. Her tummy hurt. She powered through and fell asleep. At 2 am, #1 was at my bedside. She was nervous, couldn't sleep and her tummy hurt. She crawled into bed and almost instantaneously fell asleep. Well, not completely asleep. Her digestive system went into over drive. How a pretty little girl like her can create what she created is beyond comprehension. The smells.... Oh.my.gawd.  It woke the dead (me!). It curled my hair and watered my eyes. Didn't seem to phase the Warden, but I also acted as a large mountain separating the Prisoner and Warden. All I can say is wow. WOW!  Anyway, I love her. I did tell her about it in the morning, and she was not only not embarassed, but thought it was hilarious and told the other prisoners about it. Yeah, life with young prisoners and potty humor. 

Anyway, now that the prisoners are safely stowed away for the training year, I will try to get back in the habit of providing timely status reports.