To my worthless wife, who accomplishes nothing during the day…

To my worthless wife who accomplishes nothing during the day…

You don’t understand why you are so exhausted at the end of the day because nothing on your list was checked off.  You feel bad because the dinner was spaghetti again and some of the clothes never made it from the washer to the dryer.  While bathing our daughter, I notice she still has some jelly in her hair that you missed from this morning’s breakfast.  The couch cushions are still on the floor despite picking them up four or five times.  Your hair has been up in a ponytail for two days and you are wearing the same shirt you put on yesterday, despite the snot stains on the shoulders.  You feel “worthless” you say?? 

Let me just stop you right there.  You are exhausted because you have given all you have to our family despite what life threw at you today.  Your spaghetti is the best dadgum spaghetti I have ever had because of the effort you took to make it.  Who doesn’t like wearing socks that are still a little wet?  Not only do they keep my feet cool, but it reminds me that someone washed them for me in the first place.  The jelly in the hair washes right out, and I am glad the cushion is still on the floor so I have something to lay my head on when I come home and play with the kids.  And lastly, the snot stained shirt with a pony tail just happens to be one of my favorite looks for you.  So sexy!!

What you do for me and our family every day is irreplaceable.  You may feel like nothing went quite right, but you are the one that makes our house a home.  You are the one that holds our crazy lives together.  I may be exhausted from work when I come home, but don’t think for a second that your sacrifice goes unnoticed or is underappreciated.  I know you have worked just as hard, if not harder, than anything I had to do today.  If there was a “woman of the year award”, you would be the hands down winner every day.

You see, honey, it isn’t WHAT we come home to that means the most to us husbands, it’s WHO we come home too.  When I walk in that door and see your smile, it makes my whole world ok.  When I see the kids running up, full of excitement, to give me a hug, I know that YOU put that excitement in their head.  There is only one person that could fill the role as “mom” in our house, and you are it.  You overachieve despite being overwhelmed.  You are outstanding despite being outnumbered.  And you will always complete me despite being completely exhausted.  I try to tell you “thank you” as much as I can, but just know I tell God “thank you” every day for putting you in my life.

Signed,

Your undeserving husband, who would accomplish nothing without you.

A good laptop bag?

After many years, and a countless number of meeting rooms, airplanes, hotels and rental cars, I am officially announcing the retirement of my trusty laptop bag.  I make this announcement with mixed emotions.  On one hand, I embrace the opportunity to introduce a new companion along my professional journey.  On the other, I am losing a reliable resource that has literally hung by my side through thick and thin.  Well maybe the more accurate way to say it is “through thick and thin and thick again.”  (I lost 40 lbs several years ago, but unfortunately 20 lbs of it were found again.)  Regardless, my companion has been present for many of the successes and failures of my career and personal life.

I remember the first day we met.  I was going through a fresh transition of personal discovery that led me to decide between the backpack and classic shoulder bag.  The backpack I owned previously provided me the freedom to ride motorcycles, climb mountains, and confidently carry both my coffee and my doughnut without fear of impediment.  But it lacked the accessibility when I needed to rapidly access a critical document in transit or an occasional candy bar (the cause of the 20 lb weight gain).  The decision was made.  The classic bag would allow me to rapidly retrieve these items without removal of the bag’s position, while also maintaining a certain professional look when trying to impress potential clients. At that moment, “Sam” and I were introduced.  I call my bag Sam in order to eliminate any direct references to a brand name.  If you are curious about which brand has served me well over so many years, you can shop your local office supply retailer or ask Lloyd Christmas what Mary’s last name was when searching for her in Aspen.  Needless to say, it was destiny and we began our journey together.

Selecting a laptop bag is like selecting a car.  Or for men, it ranks closely to wallet selection.  The margin of error is extremely slim.  My selection criteria is weighted by 80% functionality, 10% aesthetics, and 10% coffee resistant.  Sam met these needs incredibly.  Tom Hanks had his “Wilson”.  I had Sam.  Now that he is going into retirement, a questionable void must be filled.  The replacement will have to be as strong, resilient, and determined as Sam.  And he must be ready to face new challenges that life with me throws at him. 

Truth is, Sam’s life closely mirrors my own.  In times I have felt worn out, roughed up, tossed around, and neglected.  But just like Sam, someone is depending on me just as I depended on him.  Someone is expecting me to show up, perform to the best of my abilities and weather the storms by their side.  I may fail, fall down, or get lost.  But I will carry the greatest load I can for that person until I burst at the seams.  So when the day comes that I hang up my straps, I will do so knowing that I gave them my all.  That I did my best to help them succeed.  This is the legacy and the lesson that Sam has left me.  The real question is, whose Sam are you?  Whether it is your spouse, your children, your employer or your community, be the one that carries the load.  Be the one that others can depend on.  Be the one that someone can’t do without.  And if you are lucky enough, you may be holding your very own candy bar.

--Jason Dickard

Congrats, you participated!

Let me start by saying I am sure there are some that disagree with me.  That's your decision.  The great thing about this country is that you are allowed to think differently.  So before you call me a bad parent, or tell me I am wrong, just stop a minute and remember two things:

1.  I still love you and will treat you with the utmost respect even if we disagree.
2.  Your opinion on the my parenting of my child really doesn't matter to me.

OK, now that we have that out of the way, here are my thoughts on this issue:

Recently, my daughter's preschool held a graduation ceremony for her class.  Yes, preschool graduation.  There was a big ceremony planned at night and we were all strongly encouraged to be there for this prolific, life changing event (if you can sense the sarcasm, you are reading this correctly).  We did not attend.  Wait, what?  Yes, you heard me correctly, we did not attend.

Now before you start to tell me that we are "not there" for her and "she is missing such a critical piece of her life", let me remind you that every single child that just attended the required number of days, graduated (I use that term loosely).  So in reality, if anyone should have received a certificate or recognition, it should be my wife.  She is the one that gets up every school morning and fights with a bird's nest of hair while my daughter refuses to be still, ensures she eats some sort of breakfast (usually takes an hour for the slowest eater on the planet), and puts together a specific set of clothes that are both presentable, but durable for the craziness that takes place on the playground.  All this while taking time to nurse our other daughter, put in a load of clothes to finish when she returns, plans dinner, picks up the house, and prevent her husband from walking out of the house with mix matched socks.  Yes, the reason the attendance actually occurs is because of her.

And while we are at it, lets talk about the other so called "graduations".  After preschool, there is one for kindergarten, 5th grade, junior high, and finally high school.  When I was growing up, we just called it "the next grade".  When did we have to recognize something that is expected?  I mean, you almost want to recognize the ones that didn't finish, because honestly, it would take more effort to mess it up.  You would have to try really really hard to not get past preschool.  As long as you are turning another year old, you basically qualify for kindergarten.

But I guess this is par for the course in our current world of participation trophies and entitlement.  When kids get to the point of completing high school, which in fact is a major accomplishment, it really isn't a big deal by then.  And they really don't have to worry about that part either.  Because if a large group fails to accomplish that, it is the teacher's fault.  Not the lazy kid or the parents that forgot to tell them they had to work for something.  No, the teacher's are told they need to alter the curriculum and grading scales to make sure the majority graduate despite their actual progress (which is why people speak in text lingo now instead of proper English).

My non-politically correct opinion is this is one more stage in the "Sissyfication" of American culture.  We celebrate mediocrity and are labeled hateful or mean if we don't let everyone know they are special.  Now, my parents taught me I could do anything if I worked hard for it, but important part of that statement is the WORK that I have to do.  It wouldn't happen if I just showed up, or if I just turned a certain age.  I had to do more than the next guy to really be "special".  It didn't mean they felt I wasn't special, just that I was responsible for making it become a reality.  I never got a pat on the back for potential.  Only action.  And even if the action didn't turn out exactly as it should, they celebrated the work and then taught me the lessons of the failure.

This doesn't mean I will never attend a "graduation" ceremony in the future for my kids.  Nor, do I think other parents that attend are wrong.  It just means I will ensure there is proper perspective taught to my kids as soon as the songs and claps are over.  My daughter IS unique and she IS special to me, but she is also just 4 years old.  Before I crown her America's greatest child that deserves more than any other kid, lets see if I can get her to eat her oatmeal in under a half hour first.

What if we all started directing the recognition to the ones that really deserve it?  Imagine our kids visually seeing dad thanking mom for the hard work they do keeping the family moving?  Or seeing mom thanking dad for coming home exhausted and still putting all their attention into their families instead of the TV or smart phone.  What kind of lesson would they really learn?  What if the parents spoke respectfully about the teachers who, despite a flawed system, still work tirelessly to teach our kids critical skills for life?  Do you think kids might have a different view of adults then?  Is there any negative that could come out of showing and teaching respect for people that do more than just show up or "participate"?  Maybe, just maybe, they would see that true accomplishment is a marriage filled with love, or a career in service to others.

Guess I should say thank you for participating in my rant...  Your trophy is in the mail.

                                                                                                                       -- Jason Dickard

Wait, it's my fault??

It started with a really bad day.  For whatever reason, things just weren't going my way.  All I wanted to do was just finish the day at home with my family.  I had to make a quick stop on the way home and the traffic wasn't exactly making my mood any better.

When I walked into the store, I was greeted by a smile from an elderly gentlemen who it appeared was solely employed for the purpose of welcoming customers.  I am normally a friendly guy, but on this day, I gave him a half smile and nodded my head as I quickly walked past.  I was on a mission to get in and get out.  As I arrived at the section of the store where my item was located, I was then approached by another associate asking me if I am finding everything I need or if they could help.  I gave them a quick glance and then responded with a standard response like "I'm just looking" or "No, thank you".  Their reply was a gracious "well, if I can help with anything, just let me know".  I just wanted to do what I came to do and leave.  I was in a hurry, so I didn't want to interact with anyone or even be stopped for a second.  Can't I just shop in peace?  Do I really need assistance picking out the right brand of toilet paper?  Am I not capable of doing that myself?  I mean, no one knows my butt better than I do, so how could they possibly help me anyway??

When I arrived at the register, it was the typical scene.  There were short lines, but the people in them must have been stocking up for the next two winters.  The self check out had a line around the corner, so my only other option was the "express lane".  I took a look at my watch, let out a big sigh of frustration and stepped in line.  The woman running the register was making conversation with the patron in front of me as she was scanning their items.  This, for some reason, frustrated me even more.  Do they not know I am in a hurry and only have one item?  I had already calculated the sales tax in my head and had the right amount of cash in my hand ready to complete this horrible delay in my day.  Why was this taking so long?!

After giving my cashier a generic "thanks", I made my way for the exit.  I successfully completed my "pick and roll" maneuver so I wouldn't have to say goodbye to the elderly gentlemen on my way out.  When I got back in my truck, I took another look at my watch expecting the worst.  It was only about 5 minutes from when I first stepped into the line, and only about 12 minutes from when I first pulled into the parking lot.  Wait, that didn't seem right?? I was sure all of those people in the store kept me from being with my family.  Then it hit me.

There are so many websites, review boards, and social media posts where people rant and complain about the customer service they received or the horrible customer experience they had.  What if we realized that we were partly responsible for this customer experience?  I know there are bad companies out there and it actually happens, but I wonder how much of it could be avoided if the attitude of the customer was different?  In my example alone, there were multiple opportunities where the employees did their best to make my experience as enjoyable as it could.  In fact, they went out of their way to approach me and ask if they could help.  But in this situation, I was too self centered to even notice that.  All I could think of was the mood I was in.  What if their day wasn't going so well and I just added to it?  I mean, it really did only take 12 minutes out of my day and I still got what I needed.

Why is it that we sometimes have a mindset that we are entitled to people looking out for our interests when we often times don't return the favor?  In addition to stores, we do it at our jobs, at our churches, in our marriages, and to our friends and family.  The employee that says "I deserve..." or the husband that says "I wish she would...".  All we want to do is complain when many times, we aren't putting in the right amount of effort ourselves.  We can only control what WE can control.

As for things in my control going forward, I will be that customer that smiles back.  I will be that husband that puts his wife first.  I will be that worker that is grateful for his job.  It's not always about me.  And I'm guessing I will have some better customer experiences in my future.

                                                                                                             -- Jason Dickard