Christian Comedian, Jeff Allen

C.S. Lewis once posed the question, and I am paraphrasing, mainly because I am too lazy to look up the actual quote, but he once asked, how different Christianity might have been if the Gospel writers had said, “….and Jesus laughed.” I only mention it because my wife and I have come to the conclusion that  – by the way our Savior answers our prayers  – he must have a great sense of humor.

One example of this could be that years ago when we decided to have children, we prayed for patience, tolerance, love and understanding. Which by the way, we felt were virtues that only would come to us with some kind of divine revelation. It would have been nice if God would have just sprinkled some kind of fairy dust through our heating vents and we would have woken up more patient, kind, loving and understanding. The truth is, in His loving way, He gave us not one, but two, ADHD children. Those of you reading this that have hyper children know that there is no better way to learn those virtues than through ADHD boys and girls.

Of course, I myself was hyperactive, but in my day, “the dinosaur days” as my offspring refer to it, they didn’t have a name for hyperactivity. If I was anything I was O.L.T, Obnoxious Little Twit.

There were teachers that would drag me out in the hall and slam me against the lockers. I actually had one teacher head butt me, that’s right, head butt me. I wonder if she prayed for patience, tolerance, love and understanding?

So imagine my surprise when the school called years later and said to me, “I believe your son is hyperactive.”

“What’s that?” I asked, somewhat perplexed.

They went on to explain it, and I yelled back to my wife, “Honey, there’s a name for it!”

Honestly, is this announcement news to any parent? Did any of your jaws drop when the school called and told you? The first day my wife and I dropped our son off at kindergarten, it was all we could do to keep from laughing. Some perky woman looked at us all and gushed, “We will have so much fun!”

To which my wife and I mumbled, “We are sure you will.” Then we proceeded right to Wal-Mart and purchased our first answering machine. Call it prophecy, but I felt I would be screening calls between 8:00 a.m. and 3:00 p.m. for the next 13 years.

The principal called me at home less than a week later to inform me that my boy would not sit in his chair and he was disrupting the entire class. He then went on to ask me what I thought he might do.

“Open the back door and let him loose. That’s what we do at home.” I replied. “He’ll come back when he’s tired – he always does.” I also suggested that they check his hair for tics when he returns because he likes to crawl through the shrubbery. I don’t think he took my advice. When I hung up, I prayed for his patience, tolerance, love and understanding.

I believe wholeheartedly in the power of prayer, and in God’s desire to answer those prayers. Life’s lessons come through adversity.  C.S. Lewis also said that suffering was God’s megaphone. Those of us who raise ADD and ADHD children have heard that megaphone, but in hindsight that adversity gave us our greatest lessons as parents, and certainly an answer to a prayer. Not the way I would have answered it, but it is not my universe.

I cannot deny that, because of our children and their proclivity towards chaos, my wife and I are more patient, tolerant, loving and understanding.

I also can’t help but think there are times after “one of those days,” when Tami and I collapse exhaustively into the couch and look at each other and smile. Then we look at the heavens, and say, “alright, alright, we hear you.”

…..and Jesus Laughed.

Epilogue: I know that a lot of you have ADD and ADHD kids and I know it’s not always a laughing manner. Please feel free to share anything you wish.

I remember it like it was yesterday. Aaron and his girlfriend were sitting in the living room laughing, giggling and enjoying a pizza. I did happen to notice that my boy was eating mushrooms on that pizza, which up until her arrival in his life, he “despised!”  This goes along with shaving, combing his hair and putting on a clean shirt. All things that he didn’t feel the need to do until she entered his life.

Today it all changed. I don’t know what happened, but Aaron got a phone call around noon from his girlfriend. I don’t know what she was saying, but he was extremely frustrated and could hardly get a word in.  Some fragments I caught were:

“But, you won’t let me talk…”

“I didn’t say that, she’s lying to you…”

“Why don’t you believe me?”

This went on for some forty minutes.  As you know, the first few “magical” weeks of an adolescent relationship can be, for lack of a better word, nauseating for those of us who have to witness it. The kids float through the house on a pink cloud with a goofy grin on their face. When asked what they are so happy about, they reply, as if you should have known, “It’s our ninth day, fourth hour anniversary.”

As a parent and an adult, i.e., one who lives in the real world, you know that they eventually will crash and burn; you just hope you are there to help pick up the pieces.

Well, that phone call was it. For forty minutes my son sat on that phone and got gutted like a trout. At one point, I was walking by and our eyes met, and I noticed tears beginning to build up. He was looking at me for, I don’t know, something to help ease his pain. This was one of those rare moments where the omniscient teen doesn’t have an answer. So I delved deep into the recesses of my brain. All my years on this earth. So many relationships. Twenty two years of marriage.

I had nothing.

When I realized this, I thought how funny that was.  And I started laughing – that “laughing in church” phenomenon when you know you’re not supposed to.  The thought came to my mind to ask, “What anniversary you on now, Romantic Man?” I was laughing so hard, I had to take a knee.

I apologized when he got off the phone.  I told him I was laughing because I knew I didn’t have much to tell him. I knew that telling him “this will pass” would be meaningless.  So I just told him that relationships go up and down.  That they are not for the faint of heart.  I congratulated him on entering the fray.  I encouraged him to trust that God had a plan for him. That this wasn’t the end, just the beginning of a lifetime of learning about women and how to be in a relationship.  I encouraged him to “enjoy the ride.” I told him, “this will pass.” (I couldn’t help myself.)  Finally, I then told him the one thing I could really say with authority… that I love him and am proud of him.

Then my wife yelled for me from the kitchen… clearly about something I should or shouldn’t have done.  I exchanged a sheepish look with Aaron and said, “Looks like it’s my turn, pal.”

Do you, or did you, have a teen in love at home? Were you a teen in love?  What’s your story?

My wife and I are a praying couple, or least we try to pray. Am I the only one who finds it difficult to pray with their spouse after an argument?  In reality, this is when you should be on your knees praying. I unfortunately find myself on my knees looking for the car keys that my lovely wife whipped at my cranium. As a believer in God, and a believer in the power of prayer, I continually ask myself why I don’t do it more often – and certainly in times of “discomfort.” Isn’t this when we should talk to our Savior?

I mention this because it just dawned on me that as my children grow older, we have more days behind us with them than we have in front of us. In other words, they are almost “growed” up and out of our house. All we have left is to pray for them. They’re never around for us to talk to.

Our oldest son has an excuse; he paid his dues in the Army and is relatively recently back from Iraq. Our youngest son, though technically he still lives with us, for all intents and purposes, moved out a year ago.

This is a typical day. He emerges from his room and, on the way to the shower, we say “Good Morning.” No reply. Then he disappears into the bathroom. He then comes out of the bathroom and we ask, “Are you working a double today?”

“Yeah.” Then he disappears into his room.

A few more minutes go by and he re-emerges from the room, goes into the kitchen, grabs some grub and starts to walk out. Then I ask, “Are you going to be home for dinner?”

“Probably not.”

He then walks out. He’s a good kid.  Just not very chatty.

This goes on everyday. EVERYDAY. One morning I told my wife, “We gave birth to a groundhog.”

I ask him to do things with me, like go to the movies, and he is always busy with his new girlfriend. Imagine that!  No time for Dad, but all the time in the world for a girl.

I remember a time when girls were icky to him. My wife remembers a time when he used to say, “When I get big, I am going to marry you Mommy.”
I heard Harry Chapin’s tune “Cat’s in the Cradle” the other day, and had to pull the car over. I couldn’t drive thru the tears and convulsions. I think they should warn the listeners before they unleash that kind of guilt and shame on unsuspecting parents driving along. It wouldn’t take but a few seconds – they warn parents all the time when they are going to say something inappropriate for children.

How hard would it be to warn us that “Cat’s in the Cradle” is coming on?

Hey Dad, soon to be empty nester, yeah you, the one who traveled their whole lives, the one living with the groundhog who can’t come out long enough to play with you, just wanted to let you know, Harry Chapin is coming up.

Of course, knowing me the way I know me, I wouldn’t turn the dial; I would just sit there and punish myself.

This is a tough time for Tami and I. We continually reevaluate the job we did with our children. Soooooo many things we would do differently; so much so that on occasions Tami has suggested we have another one, just to see if we can do it guilt-free. To that I reply, “Stand behind her Satan!”
The last thing I want to do is raise another child; I told her that we’ve “earned” grandchildren.

All we have to do is now is pray that our groundhog meets someone else’s groundhog, and we let God do His handiwork.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I am going to go guilt my son into having lunch with me… if I can find my car keys.

Here’s a great fun interview I had with Debbie Alan (no relation… she doesn’t even spell her last name properly).

There I was, calmly dining on our favorite family cuisine.  I’ve always been a firm believer in families dining together. In the course of a day, it’s hard to get the kids to stop for five minutes and tell you what’s on their minds.

And here it came from my 15-year old, “Hey! I just thought of this! I’ll be driving in a year!”

That innocent remark kept me awake for eight weeks. I couldn’t get out of my head the terrifying prospect of him driving a car. Last Saturday I was looking out my window when, riding by on his bicycle, he popped a wheelie and plowed right into our mail box.

My wife suggested we sign him up for Driver’s Education. I agreed with her that that was a good idea. I made the call and found out they now charge $250 for Driver’s Ed! Are you kidding me! Two hundred and fifty dollars!  No way, I told my wife. I will teach the lad.

One hour with him, and I came in the house with a tic on both sides of my face. I hit that imaginary brake so many times, I wore a hole in the carpet. It was as if I had some kind of mantra going, I kept repeating the same thing over and over again: “Tell me you saw the truck, tell me you saw the kid on the bike, tell me you saw the office building!”

When we finally got home, I fell out of the car and kissed the ground. (I imagined this must have been what Columbus felt like finding dry land.)
When I walked in, Tami ran up all excited, “How was it!?”

He ran up to his mom and gave her a hug, and said it was “awesome” and ran to call one of his chums.

She took one look at me and said, “That bad, huh?”

I went and got my checkbook and wrote a check for five hundred dollars to the Driver’s Ed department. Believe me, those people are grossly under paid.

With his Learner’s Permit,  we let him drive us to church on Sunday. We figure that way we could get our prayer time in before we get there.

Sometimes there are so many miracles, we skip church and go straight to Cracker Barrel.

Got any good stories about Driving with Teens?  If so, click on the “responses” link and share them with us!

I remember when my youngest teen stopped me in the hall and asked if we could talk. Not having a whole lot to do, I obliged the lad. Without hesitation, he shoots out, “I think I am old enough to buy my own school clothes.”

I thought about it and replied, “You know, I think you’re right.”

Then we stared at each other for about a minute.  He then broke the silence by saying, “Well?”

To which I replied in kind, “Well, what?” (Scintillating so far, is it not?)

He then says incredulously, as if I am a moron that was missing the obvious, “Well, I need some money!”

I said to him, “I thought you said you wanted to buy your clothes, not run to the mall and pick them out with my money. To be honest you could have done that when you were five.”

He says, “Whatever!”

That is one word that makes the hair on my neck stand up. Every time I hear it, I want to boink him right in the eyes, not hard, you know just like Mo used to do to Larry. I mentioned this because the word “whatever”, is one of the words that he uses that drives me crazy. The other one, and I don’t know why this is, is the word need.

I get tired of hearing that word come out of my children’s’ mouths. I have corrected them a thousand times.  “You don’t neeeeeed the gummy bears, you waaaaant the gummy bears.”

“Whatever!” they reply. And so it goes.

We finally had it out in the mall. We weren’t there five minutes and everything his eyes set upon he needed. The proverbial straw was a pair of gym shoes.

“Oh Dad, I neeeeed these shoes, I really need them!!!! And look, they’re only a hundred dollars.”

“Only?” I said.

“Yeah,” he says.

First of all, let me tell you, I love the word “only,” especially, when it comes from the unemployed.   I also have to tell you there was no way I was spending a hundred dollars for a pair of shoes that this walking hormone would outgrow on the way out of the mall.

So I looked him in the eye and said, “No, let’s go home.” Not thinking for a minute he would accept that.

“But Dad, I neeeeeeed those shoes!”

“You don’t need them, you want them.” I said. “Let me ‘splain’ something to you my little lad. First of all unless your name is Michael Jordan, never in this lifetime will you NEED a hundred dollar pair of gym shoes. But I understand how much you want the shoes, and I have forty dollars for your gym shoes.

Now I can tell you what you neeeeed!” I paused for dramatic effect, and said, “Sixty bucks.”

And for emphasis, I added “only.”

As he melted down in front of me, crying about the unfairness of it all, I strode towards the car and paused just briefly enough to utter,   “Whatever!”

How are all of you holding up against the narcissistic onslaught of teenage needs?  Do you cave in? Have you figured out where to draw the line?

I’d love to know!  Click on the “responses” button and let us all know!

My son was guilty of what must be a serious offense. Some kid in the lunch room threw something at him, and well, the lad is one to retaliate. He hurled the Teddy Graham cookie he was holding at the kid.

Unfortunately, the throw sailed on him and it struck an elderly lunch lady (who my son actually likes), in the chest. Apparently she was rushed to the nurse’s office with what can only be diagnosed as “a red mark on her collarbone area.”

Now, I’m not proud of this. I’ve since learned that the Principal himself caught this same son, only two weeks prior, about to throw something meant to be edible in the lunch room and stopped him before he certainly otherwise would have.

The kid is a good kid. You’d be proud to have him as your son. Except for this kind of junk he pulls from time to time. All in good fun. And bad behavior.

Here’s the thing. Guess what his punishment was? I was thinking it would be a day or two of detention. Maybe a one-day suspension.

Shows you how little I know. He was suspended for seven days. They also are citing the lad, which means he must appear before a magistrate (which I believe is some kind of judge) and may have to pay a fine of $400 and or do community service.

Now, my question to you is, “Does this punishment fit the crime?”  Do you have similar stories?

Am I so out of touch? Any idea what I did as a kid?  With this level of justice, I would probably be on Death Row with the junk I pulled. What about you?

I am writing this on a new computer. I finally broke down, and bought something that didn’t use vacuum tubes. In truth, my other one finally gasped its final breath. I don’t want to say it was a tad slow, but I found it quicker to walk to the library and look up the information I needed in an encyclopedia, than to boot up the poor thing and enter cyber space.

My new computer has all its keys, too. My other one beginning to resemble the grin of Leon Spinks. I only mention this because, my son Ryan saw it and asked, “Is that new?”

When I said indeed it was, he said, “Snaps.” Then turned on his heels and started to walk away.

“Snaps?”  “What the heck does that mean?”

He said, “You know… snaps.” Then he shook his head and walked away.

I have to admit, I was more than a little confused. Then I remembered a similar conversation I had with my father years ago. When I was Ryan’s age, my father said something to me, and my reply was, “Groovy.”

My father said, “Groovy?”

I said, “Yeah, groovy.”

My dad looked me in the eye, smirked and said, “There ain’t no groovy in this house boy, understand?”

I think what bothered me more than not being hip enough to understand today’s slang, was the fact  that I know today’s culture is having an uncertain effect on my children. I not only hear it in their language, but I also see it their choice of music, clothing, and now, in Ryan’s case, his hair.

Like my parents, and their parents, what we see outside of our own upbringing disturbs us.  I talk to a lot of parents after my shows and a common theme is that they are all happy that they don’t have to grow up in today’s teen culture. The pressure to conform is even greater than it was when they were teens. Or is it?  Is it even possible to not remember being 15?

I was a walking hormone and a total teenage clod when I mustered up the courage to ask Ellen Collidge to the homecoming dance. Her reply? “Why would I go to the biggest dance of my life, with you?” Honestly, I had no answer.

“So that would be a no?” I asked sheepishly.  Then I felt a zit sprout on the end of my chin. In an attempt to save face I replied rather feebly, “Groovy.”  I pretended it didn’t bother me, but the fact that I remember it 34 years later says differently.

No, 15 is 15. I don’t care if it is the 21st century or the 1st century. Insecurity and self-doubt drive us to want to fit in. Remember how the kids that didn’t fit in were treated?

When you look behind the bad skin, the baggy pants, the hip lingo and the false bravado, what do you see?  I see a bruised ego.  And just beyond that, a little child who only wants to be well thought of, only wants to make a difference, only wants to love and be loved by their family, especially their parents. The rest is all window dressing.

So I try to look past the wild hair, the pierced body parts and the skull and crossbones tattoos and into their hearts.  And then I see this kindness, and that trumps all that other stuff and puts tears of love and empathy into my eyes.

And that moves me, and moves in my heart and makes me want to reach out to my son and say, “Snapes”, just to hear him laugh at me and say, “Not ‘snapes.’  ‘Snaps.’  You’re such a loser, Dad.”  And here I thought I was the “cat’s meow.”

Some things never change.

I know I’m not alone here.  What about you and your kids?  What kinds of strange things do they do to fit in?

Do you sometimes struggle to see the little angel buried in all that teenage malaise (or mayonnaise)?

I’d really love to know. If you’d like to tell me, please click on the Comments link above.

Hello all!  Welcome to the inaugural (I just looked up “inaugural” and I’m astonished to see that it means just what I intended! Namely: “serving to set in motion”) post of my new blog, Teenagers: God’s Revenge on Mankind.  Anyone who has seen my act knows that I pursue the lighter (and heavier) side of being married with teenagers. It’s true that I’ve been quoted as saying that I believe God created teenagers to punish us so we would know what it felt like to have someone created in our own image that denied our existence.

The purpose of this blog is to explore issues related to being married, raising children, even wandering around in the “empty nest” – that state of grace that many dread, only to come to appreciate, or long for, only to come to dread.

However, I’d like this to be different from my normal gigs – the ones where I do all the talking and you do all the laughing.  I’d like this to be more of a dialogue – a community conversation.  My hope is that we’ll all learn something, and have fun in the process.

Are you in?