Four July. Parenthood. Swirling around the abyss.

The fourth of July, like all arbitrary holidays brings moments of self imposed, self conscious and obviously over wrought self examination. Specifically I am thinking of my marginal parenting skills. My kids are great, and are very much the individuals I want them to be, they are not automatons or pointless rebels, but they are sometimes frustrating. I want very much to give them the the sort of childhood memories that I had but the world is very different from my childhood (which frankly wasn't THAT great or interesting either) . The world is much more closed off and the lives of children are by the very nature of the world more interior than they were when I was a kid. I have been reading Michael Chabon's "Manhood for Amateurs" which colors these thoughts. Neither of my sons seems that interested in hanging out with friends this summer. In fact, I can not get Tom's friends to come over to play which is sad for a seven year old. His community center summer program child warehouse has no close friends in it and he prefers to sit outside of the activities and read. Ned just sits at his laptop and stews in his zombie killing video games. You want to make their lives interesting. They have to want to participate.

We were supposed to go to the boy's uncle Joe's lake house for the fourth, which would have been nice because uncle Joe goes on an extended all expenses paid central asian vacation to Afghanistan next month. Ned had a sinus infection that mysteriously disappeared the day we took him to the doctor. We did luck into the most amazing private fireworks show down the block from us. Drunken ex frat boys in one of the rental house on the block must have dropped $1000 on fireworks, lighting the sky in a most impressive way. It made my cheap roman candles look sad indeed. As usual Dad does not deliver. Laurie is patient. Kids do not know they are being gypped out of a decent childhood. The drunk ex frat boys are having a swell time and we watch.