Tag Archives: dad

I Should Have Started This 25 Years Ago.

Greetings, faithful readers. No time for pleasantries lets get right to it.

A year ago, I made the fateful decision that taking up skateboarding at the age of 37 would be a good idea. It all started when eight year old Little Mitch got it into his head that he needed to skateboard. Check that, not strong enough. More like my Photo on 2015-03-22 at 6.17 PMoffspring relentlessly dogged me for months to get him a skateboard. Skateboarding was one of those things that I never really considered since childhood. I thought I want to skateboard too, I don’t want to sit there on the sidelines, I want to skate with my kid. After a quick trip to our skateshop we picked out our decks and have not looked back since. We jumped into the deep end of the skatelife and we love it. It’s been a year and I wanted to reflect upon what I’ve learned about myself as I skateboard.

-I should have started this 25 years ago. Now, I mean this a couple of ways. Right from the first time I got on a board and got moving, it just felt good. Good and right. There’s no better feeling than feeling the vibration of the pavement beneath you, the wind in your face, your heart beating rhythmically, the zen feeling of knowing you are in total control of that wood plank beneath you. For me, these things combined with the mental concentration it requires to control the physical aspect and the mental input of constantly scanning for cracks, rocks, branches in the pavement etc. creates a clear place of mental zen for me. Which, when you have bipolar/OCD is extremely rare, my brain literally never shuts up. Comes in handy for pointless pop culture trivia, not so good for long business meetings.blossom-hats-today-150702_3_8a2ef44cd14b522976e72f202163b4a0.today-inline-large

“Remember that episode of Blossom where Six sang Neil Diamond? That was awesome. Oh shit, the boss just asked me what I think of the fall statistics proposal. Six sang “You Don’t Bring Me Flowers.” Oh right, frick I have no idea about the stats, damn it. Now I got that song on a loop in my head all day. Thanks OCD. “

-I should have started this 25 years ago Part II I’m under no delusions that skateboarding is a young mans sport to learn. Little Mitch is a freaking mimic sponge. He can spend all afternoon watching pro skateboarders doing tricks on YouTube and attempt them later at the skatepark with ease. Me? It’s been a year and here is the list of tricks I have on lock.

-Staying on board whilst moving.

-Bombing down a hill.

-Surfing and hard carving.

-Carving a skate bowl.

-Kickturn (which I lost for at least 6 months due to injury, more on this later)

That’s the list of tricks I got on lock. Sure I’d love to grind down a huge eighteen stair set like you see those pros doing on the swanky-talking-pornstache-3covers of skate magazines ,but that’s the thing. These guy are pros, as in professional. They’ve been doing this for twenty plus years since they were children, this is what they do day in day out. I think of professional skateboarders as I do professional porno actors. These guys are the elite physical athlete masters of their specialized skill set. Just because they can do that act you’re watching doesn’t mean you should attempt that act before you’re ready. Unless its growing a pornstache, everyone looks great with one of those.

Plus, there’s the risk assessment. Many times I look at a skate line or route and think I could attempt that but I weigh the pros and cons of physical risk first. When you’re fourteen, you break your arm skateboarding, the effect on your life is minimal. Miss a few days of school and get a cool cast for your friends to write on. When you’re thirty seven years old and type for a living to feed your family and pay for your housing and general living a broken arm would impact my life immensely. Which brings me to my next topic.

I should have started this 25 years ago Part III. Don’t get me wrong, skateboarding has become one of my life passions. To be totally honest though, it has a steep learning curve. First lesson of skateboarding should be “You’re going to fall. It will happen. Repeatedly.” Seeing as we have been talking about personal risk, let’s do a retrospective of my injuries the past year. Stop take a minute, and put Skid Row’s classic ballad “I Remember You” on your Ipod for dramatic effect while you read the list.

-Sprained wrist.

-Sprained knee.

-Sprained shoulder.

-Heel pain.

-Bursitis in both arms.

-Hip pain.

-Back pain (I think I paid for my chiropractors new BMW this year).

-Achy knees.

-Achy ankles.

-Too many numerous scrapes and bruises to count.

Was it worth it? HELL YES. I love skateboarding so much, that the pain and the ache doesn’t bother me. Sure, it sucks some mornings crawling out of bed feeling like a I got hit by a Mack truck after hard slamming into the concrete bowl at the skatepark the day before, but I don’t care. Each bang, bruise or strain is a marker on the journey. I’ve had numerous people, friends, family and health care professionals tell me I’m crazy to start skating at my age.

You know what’s crazy to me? Running in place going nowhere on a moving treadmill for a set amount of time. Or lifting a heavy weight up and down and up and down and up and down and up and down again. I would feel like a hamster on a wheel doing those things, not accomplishing anything. To be fair to people who do those activities, I am not criticizing what you do, I’m just stating it’s not for me. I don’t have the luxury of not exercising. I go sedentary and my weight balloons fast, it always has. Plus, when you have bipolar regular exercise helps keep you on an even keel with your symptoms. I really don’t have a choice, I need to exercise, so If I’m going to exercise I might as well do an activity I love.

I’m sure you could read this blog entry and still think why anyone would want to skateboard? Think what you want but the great part of being a thirty seven year old rookie skateboarder is that I’m old enough to know better, old enough to not give a shit what people think, old enough to know that the only person I need to please on my board is myself and old enough to know that I am definitely a better skater than Elvis, Gandhi and Jesus. I really have to evidence to support this claim but I have no evidence to refute it either.

Now, if you’ll excuse me I have a pornstache to grow.

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Life Lessons With Mitch Lesson 251

Lesson 251 AKA “Why You Can’t Have Motivating Sports Talks With a Seven Year Old.”

Scene: I’ve been coaching Little Mitch for the past 3.5 weeks for his first Taekwondo tournament employing many strategies from my wrestling coach and martial arts days.

The-Karate-Kid-Ralph-Machio-and-Pat-Morita-catMitch: “Okay buddy, tournament is 2 days away and this is our last practice. Do you feel ready?”

Little Mitch: “Yeah. I’m ready. I feel good.”

M: “Last drill. Let’s put it all together, let’s spar, offence, defence, the whole thing.”

LM: “Ok.”

M: “The sparring tournament is to 5 points. Right?”

LM: “Uh, I dont know. I guess so.”

M: “It’s to 5 points, okay. That other kid has your 5 points. You need to take those 5 points from the other kid. Those 5 points are yours! I want you to go out there and TAKE your 5 points!!! Whose 5 points is it?!?!?!”

LM: (Blank Stare)….”His? No, mine? No, his, wait, mine…his? mine,? I don’t know his? Uhhh… whose points?”

M: “The other kid has your 5 points. Take it from him. ”

LM: “He has my points? Wait the points are on his chest. I get a point for that right?”

M:”Sigh…You know what? Just go out and have fun, you’ll do fine, you’re ready.”

LM: “Can we order pizza tonight?”

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Good Luck, Goodbye.

Greetings faithful readers,

May 15, 2013 will be the exact three year anniversary of Mitch Being Honest. I have been flirting with the idea for about a year now and I have finally decided to retire Mitch Being Honest. Before you shave your heads and take vows of celibacy in protest to my shocking retirement news that I’m sure will shake the foundations of your very existence, let me lay out for you the reasons behind my decision.

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After three years of writing from the “Mitch” persona premise, I’m just downright bored with it. There’s nothing new I can do with this premise and I’ve lost a bit of that fire in the belly I had for keeping the Mitch Blog train a rollin’. It used to be fulfilling and therapeutic to fire out a blog that made me laugh, now it feels like a chore to come out with something for my readers. And the point of the blog was to always make myself laugh first and foremost, but now I feel guilty that my output is not regular. I’ve gotten away from writing to make myself laugh first, others second.

“The You Got Civilized Dilemma.”Any of my regular readers knows that Mitch is a die hard fan of Rocky film franchise. They are more than films to me, they are a philosophical way of life. In Rocky 3, Mickey at one point says to Rocky “The worst thing that can happen to you, that can happen to any fighter, you got civilized.”

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The blog was a therapeutic way for me to deal with the turmoil that was going in my life by finding the humour in the absurdity of it all. I wrote about my unstable marriage, my marriage failing, my divorce, single parenting, learning to be single, and learning to date and much more. All of those things provided me a wealth of material to draw upon and find humour in. This past year I’ve made a real concerted effort to lead a quiet, mellow existence. Definitely, an antithesis reaction to spending spending sixteen years of my life in a volatile, unhealthy emotionally charged relationship. By creating my new quiet, mellow, stable life, I killed off much of what I used the blog for and what I used to say with it. In a sense, I got civilized.

Originally, the blog was a business school project that I just kept going for myself. To date the blog has 106 Facebook followers, and 99 WordPress followers. I’ve made some friends through the blog, chatted with other bloggers and even landed a paying social media gig from blogging. Not too shabby seeing as the only real effort I put in was to make myself laugh.

I will be back to blogging someday, with a new premise and a new format but for now I need a long break.

Good luck, goodbye- Mitch.

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Life Lessons With Mitch Lesson 250

On a recent road trip, Little Mitch and I were passing the time playing Pictionary on his Nintendo 3DS. My first guess was soooooooo not even remotely close to “light post.”

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(Sorry for the lack of updates gang, I been getting my ass kicked by  my annual spring allergies and I’ve been licnesed to ill for a solid two weeks)

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Life Lessons With Mitch Lesson 246

One of the great things about single fatherhood is that you never really have to fully grow up. I refuse to become one of those middle of the road bland parents who think their personality had to end the day their kid was born.

A great afternoon Little Mitch recovering from the flu, spent playing video game women’s wrestling for the championship we made… and the gag NEVER got old.

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Life Lessons With Mitch Lesson 244

Little Mitch (Age 6): Daddy can I have a breath mint?

Mitch: Just one bud, then they are going away. I need them for this weekend.

Little Mitch: Why? You got a date?

Mitch: Yes I do, Mr. Smarty Pants.

Little Mitch: Hee hee hee, I KNEW it!

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Life Lessons With Mitch Lesson 240

There comes a time during parenthood when you can no longer keep up the lie to your kid that the much cheaper no name brand cereal is the name brand cereal.

Little Mitch (6 years old): “Wait. (looking at cereal in bowl). Dad? Is this my my regular Lucky Charms? They look different. Where are the moons? There’s no rainbows in here. What did you buy?”

Mitch: “I bought Lucky Charms dude. Don’t worry about it. Eat. ”

Little Mitch: (Running to the kitchen cupboard) “Wait. What’s THIS? This isn’t my regular Lucky Charms Dad. Who’s this dude on the front? Where’s the leprechaun guy? This is a wizard.”

Little Mitch (Sounding out the box) Mar…marsh…marshhhhhh…mall….Marhmallow…mag…ick….Marshmallow magic??? Why didn’t you buy me my Lucky Charms Dad? You know they are my favourite.”

Mitch: “Ok fine they are not Lucky Charms. What’s the rule when Daddy buys cereal? Only the stuff that is on sale right?”

Little Mitch: ” I know Daddy. But I need my Lucky Charms. They are my favourite and magically delicious.”

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Life Lessons With Mitch Lesson 233

Important Fatherhood Milestone Number #27:

The day you introduce your  six year old son to the comic genius of The Three Stooges, nyuk, nyuk,nyuk.

Annex - Three Stooges, The_NRFPT_04

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Venti Suck Latte (Originally Published July 26, 2011)

DISCLAIMER: I’ve been debating for a few weeks now if I was going to repost these “Mitch Classic” blogisodes from when my marriage ended. I went back and forth between “I don’t want to repost them and relive that experience” to “I should post them to show how far I’ve come since then.” I concluded that Mitch Being Honest is about being honest, and being true to myself and to not post them would be contradictory to my blog premise.

The last couple hours of the day before sleep are the worst. That time between putting Little Mitch down for the laundrynight and my own bedtime. The only time of the day when I am truly alone. I distract myself. I fold laundry, I love to smell the scent of my son on his clean T-shirts. I watch DVD’s of movies I’ve seen too many times. I read magazines about sports I don’t care about. I listen to Springsteen, no sad songs don’t need that association. I watch music videos on youtube, always the same songs never new ones. I text with friends, keeps my focus busy. I load the dishwasher, when it doesn’t really need to be loaded. I go over my budget, even though I already know its balanced. Anything to keep busy and keep that admission I don’t want to acknowledge at bay. 

It’s been four weeks since the split. I don’t want to admit it to myself but I know it’s there. I miss intimacy. 

I don’t mean sex. I mean intimacy. I miss being touched by a woman. Just to hug, to hold hands, someone to lean into me sitting on the couch, to have someone to hold onto in bed on Sunday morning.

You know what part I miss the most? Now that it’s just me and Little Mitch at our place it smells like a man house.  I’ve always loved the fragrance of a woman and now it’s not there. The scent of a woman can literally make my skin tingle, now I don’t know if and when I will ever get that feeling again. The perfumed floral fragrance of femininity. 

Right now, if someone offered me a choice between a physically satisfying purely sexual one night stand or an emotionally fulfilling intimate cuddle in bed, I have to be honest, I may choose the latter. 

I read a book that says the first 100 days since the split are the worst. I sure hope so because I am ticking off the100 days to get to that number. Not that I expect to get to day 100 and some magical switch will click and everything will be okay. I’m not delusional, I know this stage of my life. learning to be single, is a journey. But I keep telling myself if I can get to 100 days… I don’t know what will happen at day 100 I think Im just using that arbitrary number as a goal to keep my mind focused on the things I don’t want to focus on. It’s always easier to focus on external things than the internal hurting angry bitter sad things. I know it in my head and I know it in my heart but on a certain level I don’t want to acknowledge it; I will be divorced. Just the thought of the word makes my chest sink. 

At this point, you’re probably thinking that I’m depressed. Actually that couldn’t be further from the truth. In fact, I’m actually, in general happy about the state of things. I just feel desensitized. A venti suck latte with a crap biscotti and flavour shot of mildly angry about the situation.

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Little Mitch is doing okay. His grandpa is looking after him for the summer when I am at work. He is happy but there are signs now that the life changes are affecting him too. He’s hitting a lot. Not hard, but hitting nonetheless, I think he’s mad about the life changes too, I don’t blame him, somedays I want to hit things too.

He’s back in my bed indefinitely. The five year old kid who doesn’t really like to cuddle in bed needs to fall asleep on my chest. He’s very concerned about when I am going to bed, he doesn’t want to be in bed alone, he asks me every night to go to bed with him. I wake up some mornings to go to work and he cries he wants me to stay in bed, and then I have to hand him off to his grandpa. Every day hes asks me if I’m going to work tomorrow, I say yes, and he asks me to take the day off. 

Tonight, as we lay in bed, after his bedtime stories, Little Mitch asked me again to tell him a story about when I was a kid. I told him the story of the first girl I ever asked out when I was in Grade 9. He listened intently as he often does to stories about my childhood. “Daddy, did you ask mommy out?” a few years later I did, I replied. “Daddy? Why don’t you ask her out again?” Sorry bud, that’s not going to happen, mommy and daddy were fighting too much. “Oh yeah daddy, we’re still a family though right?” That’s right I said we’re still a family. “Daddy? Are you going to ask any girls out soon?” I told him a version of the truth he could understand, “Not right now bud, maybe someday who knows? But right now, no.” 

The sad reality of my days is that the most authentic adult conversations I have are with my five year old son at bedtime. I think I need to start letting other people in. 

 

 

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