Storytelling

Leave a comment Posted on Nostalgia, parenting, Storytelling

What The Family Name Means To Me

February 15, 2013 at 10:17 pm , by 

2 years, 2 months.

Dear Jack,

I don’t know whether it’s from the Vacation movies with the Griswolds, or maybe just a combination of every 80′s sitcom I grew up watching, but in my mind it’s the dad’s job to emphasize what it means to be a [enter last name here].

To illustrate, I’ll just use Growing Pains as an example here. I can easily imagine Jason Seaver telling Ben, “We Seavers are not quitters!”

Every once in a while you like to play with the seashells we collected from our trip to Naples, FL in December 2011.

You pour them out of the plastic cup we keep them in, then examine them one by one on the carpet.

I always think, “Jack, do you realize you are playing with our last name right now?”

Knowing it would just confuse you at this point to try to explain to you that our last name is Shell and what a last name even is, I just let you enjoy your playtime.

But I have been pondering what it means to be a Shell.

Unless you ever have a baby brother, you are basically the last male Shell in our family to carry on the name, since I was the only one until you got here.

Essentially, I figure so much of what it means to be a Shell has to do with the household culture that Mommy and I are raising you in.

I would definitely say in order to be Shell, you have to be a bit on the quirky side; never apologizing for being different, never being tempted to follow the crowd.

Work ethic is huge to our identity. We like to be known for working hard, being proactive, and thinking creatively.

When it comes to politics, we are conservative, yet open-minded and open-armed to different cultures.

In regards to financial decisions, we are as shrewd as my Italian grandfather who grew up in an orphanage during the 1930′s. (The day we pay for a smart phone or cable TV is the day they give it to us for free!)

We are equally as disciplined when it comes to nutrition, being sticklers for reading ingredients while being liberal on calories.

Shells are deep thinkers, always curious of where stuff comes from and how it got here.

To us, God is not simply the third word of OMG, but the one we try to please everyday in the way we treat others.

You are a Shell. You’re one of us. You are destined to encompass the best and worst of our family’s micro-culture.

However, in regards to the importance that individuality plays in our family, I recognize that despite the way that Mommy and I will inevitably “brainwash” you in our weird ways as we raise you, still you have free will to make your own decisions and form your own opinions; especially the older you get.

So while you are one of us no matter what, you’re still you. And I like the micro-culture you bring to our family. After all, I write a letter to you about it everyday.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

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Mommy and Daddy Have First Names, Too?

February 14, 2013 at 10:58 pm , by 

2 years, 2 months.

Dear Jack,

As I reached for the shower curtain and a towel to dry myself off this morning, there you were with Mommy, waiting for me to realize I had visitors. You had a sneaky look on your face.

“Hi Jill!” you proudly greeted me.

Right name, wrong parent.

We felt you were old enough to know that Mommy and Daddy have other names, or as we call them: first names.

The problem is, you think my name is Jill and that Mommy’s name is Nick.

That’s okay. You’ll get it eventually. I don’t think it’s a bad idea for you to know our first names.

What if you get lost in a store? How will you tell someone who your parents are? We figured it wouldn’t hurt to teach you our “real names” for such an unfortunate event.

Until now, I had never thought about what age is appropriate to teach you our names other than Mommy and Daddy. For all I know, maybe it’s too soon.

I wondered at first if this was a recipe for disaster since you might start mainly calling us by our first names. However, I don’t think that will be a problem. You laugh every time you say our first names; as if they are our “funny names.”

As for the next name I shall teach you, what about our last name? Shouldn’t you know that too if you get separated from us somewhere in public? Fortunately for you, it’s an easy one: Shell.

One syllable names like Jack, Jill, Nick, and Shell definitely serve as an advantage to you, as a 2 year-old. You just happened to be born into a family with easy-to-say and easy-to-spell names.

As for your Croatian and Norwegian ancestors on Mommy’s side of the family, they probably had a more difficult time with this.

Just imagine, at best your name would have been something like… Ivan Ljùštura.

(I think I’m pronouncing that right.)

 

Love,

Daddy

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For A Less Anxious Car Ride With A 2 Year-Old…

February 10, 2013 at 11:05 pm , by 

2 years, 2 months.

Dear Jack,

While I am definitely more mindful these days of trying to avoid the use of bravado in my letters to you, I must admit, my ego took a bit of a hit when I recently had to start riding in the backseat with you.

Something always seemed awkward, if nothing else, about seeing a wife drive the car while the husband was in the front passenger seat.

Well, at least it’s not that bad. The new normal is that Mommy drives and I accompany you in the backseat.

I have relinquished my role as the family chauffeur; a role that I feel is supposed to be mine, as the dad and husband.

But, as I had hoped when I implemented this plan, you are a lot less anxious, needy, whiny, and hungry now that it’s me sitting next to you in the back seat.

You see Mommy as the nurturer, which she is.

However, with me, you just want to chill out. Either you contemplate your life, deep in thought, as pictured right; or you like to be goofy with me as we sing the few lines we know of the songs from The Lorax movie:

“How ba-a-a-ad can I be?”

I’m curious to see how our new driving method will work on our next road trip.

We drove two and a half hours to Alabama last month, but it felt more like five. There was nothing Mommy could do back there to make you happy. Plus, you needed a nap, but that never happened.

Since I’m not the nurturer of the family, I wonder if it will be easier for you to fall asleep in the car if it’s me back there with you next time.

It’s just that your expectations are so much different (and lower?) for me as your seatmate, as opposed to Mommy.

You treat us differently. You are much more low-maintenance with me; you always have been.

Like I’ve mentioned last July in “The Hunger Games: Toddler Edition,” you are not as hungry and you ask for food less with I’m the parent caring for you. You can go for hours without thinking about food if it’s just you and me.

But with Mommy, you’ll eat two meals in a row.

So for now, I’ll be your backseat buddy. I shall entertain you, make you lose your appetite, and bore you to sleep.

 

Love,

Daddy

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Raising A Little Boy: Safety Hazard Or Just A Mess To Be Made?

February 9, 2013 at 11:12 pm , by 

2 years, 2 months.

Dear Jack,

Last Saturday morning when it snowed here in Nashville, I snapped a few quick pictures of you discovering the glory of it through the window.

However, those pictures of you didn’t quite turn out as I had hoped.

Instead, they could easily be filed under the categories of “safety hazard” or “a mess to be made.”

Without an explanation, the picture to the right looks like I just let you regularly pretend to strangle yourself with the strings from the window blinds.

In reality, the exact second this picture was shot was the only time you’ve ever put the strings from the window blinds close to your neck.

The main reason you I’ve never let you play with the window blinds is explained in the picture below.

Not only do I not want you to hurt yourself, but I don’t want you to learn that it’s okay to play with something that could easily turn into a big mess, or more importantly, something that could break and be so expensive to fix.

(Those blinds throughout our townhouse costed us a total of $500 for the 3 windows we have, by the time they were installed.)

Trust me, I don’t want to be a stick in the mud parent who is telling you “no” anytime you try to do something new.

I want you to be curious and adventurous. You are a little boy. You’re basically wired to discover fun new things on a regular basis.

But as your dad, I have to constantly be asking myself, “Is this a safety hazard?” and “Will this make a big expensive mess that I’ll have to clean up and pay for?”

Speaking of snow, it reminds me of when I was a kid in school and the Superintendent would have to make the call very early that morning on whether or not school would be cancelled because of snowy or icy weather.

If he cancelled school, and the weather ended up not being as bad as everyone thought it would be, then it could make it look like he jumped the gun and overreacted.

But if he didn’t cancel school, and the weather really was as bad as everyone thought it might be, then he could be seen as unwise and not concerned enough with the safety of the children.

I feel like the Superintendent. You give me enough reasons each day to have continually ask myself whether I should approve or cancel whatever potential hazard or mess you are about to get yourself into.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

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You Can’t Choose Your Parents

February 9, 2013 at 12:21 am , by 

2 years, 2 months.

Dear Jack,

In this very moment, here is exactly what’s going through my mind:

You really do have a weird man for a dad.

I realize that’s nothing I need to apologize for. After all, my quirkiness and passionate beliefs are what attracted Mommy to me in the first place.

So ultimately, you are here today because I’m not so normal of an American man.

We’ll make this thing work, though. You’ll turn out fine.

It’s just that I have a feeling as you get older, your friends will all be aware that your dad is… a bit on the eccentric side.

You’ll be the kid with the dad who doesn’t eat meat, doesn’t use any products that contain sodium laurel sulphate, doesn’t use microwaves, doesn’t pay for cable or smart phones, and doesn’t believe in using credit cards.

I’ll be that Libertarian, yet law-abiding; conservative, yet open-minded; Generation Y father who happens to live on the outside of what is often mainstream.

To be honest, I only recently realized how off-beat a demographic I am a part of. As I look back through the letters I’ve written you, I see that often my worldview does not necessarily reflect that of the majority.

So the question is, how will that affect you?

Am I brainwashing you? Probably a little bit. However, I don’t see how I’m brainwashing you any more than any other parent out there.

That’s one of the scary parts about being a parent. As your dad, I greatly influence your worldview, whether I mean to or not.

You can’t choose your parents. I’m the one you ended up with, though.

Whether it’s for better or for worse, I take pride in showing you my version of how the world works and/or how it should work.

Ultimately, what I want for you isn’t any different than what I assume any parent wants for their child:

I want you to know you are loved, you are special, and you are wanted. I want you to be confident in yourself, strong in your beliefs, and caring to others.

Maybe I’m not that weird of a dad after all…

 

Love,

Daddy