The Grey Area

This week in prisoneyland presented a unique set of challenges. For the most part the world outside has been a movie that I watch with a chuckle in my heart and a reluctant appreciation in my mind, because I know there's only so much I can do before the reality of being away makes itself known. But  decided to stop being a bystander because my heart and my duties as a father demanded. My daughter kick-started my weekend in about the best way possible. She lit up with joy (over the phone) while telling me about a triumph she has in sports at school. She had been having trouble running the mile in P.E. and it was causing her otherwise stellar report card to sag in an area that should have been the easiest "A" ever, in my opinion (her being the daughter of a pretty awesome athlete and all). The problem wasn't in ability, the problem was attitude and effort. I had no doubt that she could do the mile in the required time, or maybe even in "kid record time" if she practiced, but the challenge is trying to convey that message and belief through words when my physical self is stuck behind concrete walls and barbed wire. 

So I said the hell with my budget and maybe I'll have to find another way or do without my snacks for a while, but I increased my calls home and poured as much positivity and motivation into my mini-me as possible, and this past Thursday those seeds bare fruit. i called randomly to check on her and she gushed with "Daddy, guess what's" about the great time she had with completing the mile. She has trimmed 3 minutes off her time and granted she may have never actually tried to run the whole mile before, but improvement is everything. I'll take it. 

So I was feeling like the tallest mountain in the Sierras, knowing that giving my daughter love and praise, even over the phone, may have been the support and urgings she needed to step it up when a challenge presented itself. And then...... she told me she got her nose pierced. 

The point is the same from here, as it is in the world. I don't know of a playbook or instruction manual for parenting. There's really no script for being a strong father when my high moral ground is dressed in prison blues. 

No matter how cute f a fashion statement the face jewelry may be, the man that remembers first steps and sippy cups is having a hard time dealing with it. And from here, barking or making "Big Bad Daddy Threats" only shines a brighter light on how helpless a lot of thissituation is. For the record babygirl, I'm not on board.  You are beautiful- bright and you don't need to add piercings to shine. You are already the brightest star in the room. I have to admit world, this is a battle where I'm having trouble seeing a road map to victory. I'll keep fighting and praying and maybe this stupid thing will fall out while she's running the mile in "kid record time". One can only hope. Until later.....

R. Venner