The Taste of Love

Posted on by Patrick L. Hempfing

“I love ice cream.” Big scoops, little scoops – many scoops. In a bowl, in a cone, or, if the half-gallon container is almost empty, straight out of the carton (Sorry, Mom, I know you raised me better). I don’t discriminate against any flavors; I like them all. Ice cream by itself or smothered with toppings – either is great. Heck, one can even mix in a banana or throw me an ice cream sandwich. I love ice cream!

Okay, I actually like ice cream – a lot – but I don’t love it. My wife, Mattie, and I have taught our 12-year-old daughter, Jessie, “We love people, not things.” One of the most-loved people for many of us is Mom. Between the comfort of ice cream and a mother’s love, the choice is obvious. Ice cream melts deliciously, yet quickly, on one’s taste buds and then is gone (except when it lingers, unwelcome, on the waistline). In contrast, a mother’s love lasts forever, and, like ice cream, is something we crave when we don’t feel well.

When Jessie was two years old, the two of us traveled to visit my parents. Apparently, a spider bit me during my sleep. As I looked at my swollen lip in the bathroom mirror, I had a minor anxiety attack. At 2 a.m., I opted to wake my mother, even though my dad drove the ambulance for the volunteer fire company and had more medical knowledge. I’ll never forget the laughter Mom and I shared over the next hour.

I’ll always remember, too, the day 7-year-old Jessie crashed her bike in our driveway, knocking out a loose baby tooth. I immediately assessed the situation, told her she was okay, and handed her my clean handkerchief to wipe her lip. Yet, when I got my crying daughter into the house, she immediately removed my bloody hanky from her mouth and exclaimed, “I want my momma!” To my amazement, a few seconds after she spoke with Momma at work, Jessie’s smile returned as if nothing had happened.

Recently, Jessie’s momma needed her own mom. Doctors found a tumor near my wife’s left ear. Luckily, the tumor was benign. However, due to its location near facial nerves, the surgery would become even more complex if it continued to grow, so it needed to come out. Mattie found a doctor who specializes in the procedure about 1,000 miles away. Her mother not only volunteered to go with her, but campaigned to make the trip and stay with her throughout the surgery and recovery. I stayed behind to take care of Jessie.

Was I disappointed Mattie chose her mom over me? No; I knew her mom would do everything in her power to care for Mattie. She’d interrogate the doctor before the surgery, estimated to take three hours. She’d provide periodic updates to me. Heck, she’d even run into the operating room and dive on the scalpel if that’s what it took to protect her baby.

Mattie’s mom called at 8:15 a.m. to report the surgery had begun. About two hours into the operation, she sent a text, “They said everything is going fine but the operation is still continuing.” At 11:46 a.m., 3 ½ hours into the operation, I texted, “No word yet? It’s time for it to be over!”

Mattie’s mom texted right back, “I’m thinking it has been too long.”

I responded, “Yes, it has been too long. Let’s try to keep calm. So far, I’ve had a Ho Ho [a chocolate cake with cream filling], a strawberry cream cheese cookie, and a Mr. Goodbar. Ice cream is next!”

Why was the surgery taking so long? All kinds of worries raced through my brain. At 12:13 p.m., Mattie’s mom called to say the doctor met with her and the surgery went well. She slept at the hospital with Mattie that night and cared for her at a nearby hotel the entire week until her follow-up doctor appointment.

Most of us could think of countless other “Mom to the rescue” stories. It’s probably a good idea to thank them now and then.

Ice cream might make the world a sweeter place, at least for a few minutes, but the mother-child bond is forever. Mothers come in a variety of brands, such as Grandmother, Mother-in-Law, and Like-A-Mother. All of them serve love in lots of flavors – “hugs and kisses,” “listening and advice,” and “home cooking” are three of my favorites.

Until next month, remember to cherish the moments. Happy Mother’s Day!

A Moment of Thanks … and a Little More

Posted on by Patrick L. Hempfing

I’ll soon be posting my MoMENts column for May titled, “The Taste of Love.” Though the upcoming column touches on my passion for ice cream, it focuses on something even more important … you’ll find out what in a few more days.

Now that I have your attention, I wanted to take a moment to give thanks. It’s hard to believe I’m coming up on the six-year anniversary of my monthly “MoMENts” column. Recently, MoMENts surpassed 500 times published. Even in my “dream big” thinking, I would have never imagined my column would hit regional parenting magazines and newspapers 500 times, spanning 22 states and two Canadian provinces.

Did I do it on my own? Of course not. I could spend hours if I thanked everyone involved in my writing journey. Instead, I’ll continue to thank them in person and in the privacy of my prayers. Today, though, I want to thank my readers for their notes, encouragement, and continued support. The writing profession is not an easy one, and I can’t tell you how much your kind and supporting words have meant to me.

Happily, I had enough columns for a book. MoMENts: A Dad Holds On is a great book for mothers, fathers, and grandparents. Would I make this post in early May to catch readers who are searching for the perfect Mother’s Day gift? Ok, you caught me. The book is available in print and Kindle on Amazon and my website, http://www.patrickhempfing.com, includes a “Buy It Now at Amazon.com” button. Autographed copies can be purchased at the following locations:

Pennsylvania

    The Reader’s Café
    Hanover, PA

Virginia

    Chapters Bookshop
    Galax, VA

South Carolina

    Seneca Family Restaurant
    Seneca, SC

Georgia

    The Rosengart Gallery
    Statesboro, GA
    East Georgia Regional Medical Center
    The Gift Shop
    Statesboro, GA

Florida

    Orange Door Gift Boutique
    Oviedo, FL
    Writer’s Block Bookstore
    Winter Park, FL

I would appreciate it if you would share this post with friends and family members who might also be looking for that perfect gift. Did I mention that Father’s Day is June 18?

Thank you for being part of my “Cherish the MoMENts” community and for staying in touch when you like something I wrote. Remember to cherish the moments!

The Hold-on Zone

Posted on by Patrick L. Hempfing

“Dad, one of my friends from first period said you were cool.” Jessie, my 12-year-old daughter shared this comment with me, right before I gave a presentation to her sixth-grade creative writing class.

I’ve given presentations in board rooms, churches, even to first-grade and second-grade classes, but never to sixth graders. Jessie couldn’t wait for this day. She even began working on a Prezi for me. Prezi is “presentation software that uses motion, zoom, and spatial relationships to bring your ideas to life.” During my accounting career, I brought my ideas to life in audit reports.

Sometimes I voluntarily go outside my comfort zone, other times I’m pushed or pulled. Often, it’s Jessie doing the pushing and pulling. I can’t say three, 47-minute classes with approximately 30 students each fell within my comfort zone, especially going into unchartered waters with Prezi.

Looking back through my fatherhood days, I’ve concluded the comfort zone has a neighboring area, called the “hold-on zone,” where parents spend a lot of their time.

I held on to my stomach contents when Jessie’s doctor delivered her via C-section. Seated by my wife’s head, I never considered peeking over the blue-paper divider where the doctor was performing the operation. I’m confident my comfort zone would have changed to a prone position on the floor had I taken a glance.

I visited the hold-on zone again the next day, ironically, because of what Jessie failed to hold onto, which was now filling her diaper. I’d never seen anything like it. I learned later that what I saw was meconium, a mixture of bile, mucus, and amniotic fluid, but at the time I had a different word for it – “Nurse!” It’s okay to ask for help when one hits the outer bounds of his hold-on zone.

I’m never in my comfort zone when Jessie is ill. Mattie and I almost took Jessie to the emergency room when she suffered her first ear infection at 14-months old. At age 11, Jessie came down with pneumonia and we did take her to the emergency room. My comfort zone and hospital zones don’t have much overlap.

Then there was the time Jessie, age 3, pulled my tennis shorts down in the church elevator. Jessie lost her balance and grabbed the pockets on each side of my shorts. I wasn’t the only one out of my comfort zone, standing there in my jock strap. I’m sure the mother in the elevator was outside of hers, too. Hold-on zone? Hold on to my shorts!

My guess is that the boundaries of my comfort zone will continue to be tested when Jessie’s teenage years arrive. I won’t be in my comfort zone in the passenger seat with Jessie behind the wheel of the car. “Hold on, Dad!”

How will I feel when the doorbell rings and a young man with flowers is ready to take Jessie on a date? Will I be in my comfort zone as I sit in the back of her date’s car or in the rear of the movie theater? Probably not, but maybe closer to it than if I let her go alone.

Back to my presentation day with Jessie’s middle school creative writing classes. Overall, I thought all three presentations went well and Jessie’s teacher invited me back next semester. As the kids left the classroom, I had a basket of candy (an idea one of Jessie’s classmates suggested) and each 6th grader took a piece.

When I drove Jessie home from school later that afternoon, I asked, “How did I do?” Jessie, always honest, responded, “You did half-decent, Dad.” She suggested I eliminate a few “umms” and make a few tweaks to the Prezi. I thanked Jessie for her constructive feedback and said, “Well, at least I was cool with the first-period class.” Jessie responded, “Oh, my friend said you were cool because you gave out candy.” Wow, I went from cool to half-decent to cool only because of candy.

Whether it’s a comfort zone or the hold-on zone, this I know. We grow with new experiences. Sometimes we’ll win and be cool. Other times, we’ll be half-decent or worse. Sometimes we might need to ask for help or even fail.

I’m confident Jessie will continue to fill my fatherhood days, and a few Prezi presentations, with zooms and motion. Hold-on zone, here I come. But I’ll be okay. I’m keeping a basket of candy nearby.

Until next month, remember to cherish the moments.

Don’t Cry Over Spilled Grits

Posted on by Patrick L. Hempfing

My 12-year-old daughter, Jessie, hates shots but somehow made it through all her vaccinations. Dad, on the other hand, is still recovering from her office visits.

I sat down to write this month’s column at the end of a grueling week. Little did I realize that a shot my mother-in-law received for bronchitis would be one of the week’s highlights.

Like any other week, there were a few inconveniences I could have done without. I returned from my morning walk to find dog poop smashed to the bottom of my sneaker. Then, I dropped my favorite pair of sunglasses on the bathroom floor, breaking the frames. I needed a haircut and stopped at the barbershop. When I got home and looked in the mirror, I noticed the hair was about an inch longer over one ear than the other. To get both sides even I had to return to the shop the next day. Then there’s my aging computer that crashes daily, which is not a good thing for a writer. But, in the whole scheme of life, these were minor inconveniences.

A spilled 24 oz. carton of grits is a slightly bigger deal. For readers who are unfamiliar, grits are ground corn and have the consistency of coarse sand. While putting away groceries, I lifted the round cardboard container from the top shelf of the pantry and it slipped from my fingers. Grits sprayed over everything – the food on two pantry shelves, the clothes in the laundry basket, and under the washer and dryer. The miniscule particles even covered the vacuum cleaner I needed for cleanup. But even this paled in comparison to the next challenge.

A lump appeared near my wife’s left ear in December. On Christmas Eve, Mattie had a CT scan that showed a tumor. Life can be sailing along, maybe with minor inconveniences like broken sunglasses, a subpar haircut, and an avalanche of grits, but when a tumor enters the picture, life changes. Mattie’s doctor suggested that the tumor be biopsied, but it took two weeks and five days to get the procedure and wait for the results. Those who have gone through this know that waiting is tough. The radiologist performed the biopsy on Monday and told Mattie the results would be back within 24-48 hours. Mattie called on Tuesday. No report. She called again Wednesday. Still no results. By this time, I was comforting myself with four ice cream cones, two for lunch and two at bedtime. Mattie said if I didn’t cut back, the next doctor we might be seeing would be for diabetes.

Fortunately, late Thursday afternoon we received good news – no cancer. This put everything else in perspective. Though the tumor will need to be removed, Mattie will be okay.

A couple days after receiving the great news, Mattie’s mother, whose bronchitis hadn’t completely cleared after a course of antibiotics, texted early in the morning, “I just got out of the doctor’s office. Got a shot in my behind and some prescriptions. I certainly am awake.”

Mattie typed back, “So is whoever gave you the shot.”

Mattie informed Jessie, “Grandmommy got a shot in the rear end.”

Jessie, remembering her vaccinations at the pediatrician’s office where the nurse used a plastic device to ease the pain of the needle, asked, “Did the doctor use a shot-blocker?”

Mattie, apparently having a mental picture of a nurse holding a piece of plastic on her mom’s behind with one hand and a needle in the other, cracked up laughing. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Jessie and I couldn’t help but join in the laughter. It felt great to laugh.

This leads me to several takeaways. I’m thankful I have the time and good health to walk my dog, even if I have to clean my sneakers afterward. I’m fortunate to have the resources to replace sunglasses, get haircuts, and buy a new computer. I’m thankful for health insurance and modern medicine that can diagnose problems quickly. I’m even lucky to have a good vacuum cleaner.

Last, but important, laughter is one of our greatest gifts. It serves as a “shot-blocker” when life is challenging. Grandmommy, thank you for taking one for the team! The laughter you provided was the shot in the arm we needed, though I’m sorry you were the butt of the laugh.

Until next month, remember to cherish the moments and laugh at the funny ones.

Note: My favorite mother-in-law, now fully recovered, approved this message.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

Posted on by Patrick L. Hempfing

“Love you, Daddy.” My 12-year-old daughter, Jessie, slammed the car door and off to school she went, toting her book bag, lunchbox, and clarinet. I drove out of the school parking lot happy.

Each day, parents experience numerous joys and challenges. In my 12 years as a stay-at-home dad, I’ve seen the good, the bad, and the ugly.

“Love you, Daddy” provides a perfect example of the good. I never get tired of hearing those words.

We experienced the bad earlier this year when Jessie had pneumonia. Any time Jessie is crying is also bad, which happened a good bit this year because my wife, Mattie, took a new job in another state and Jessie had to leave her friends.

Then there’s the ugly – Jessie learning to play the clarinet fits that bill.

Early in August, Mattie and I registered Jessie for 6th grade. The middle school receptionist handed us a course selection form and said to number the electives in order of our preference. Jessie wanted to take Drama I. Since she already excels in “daily drama,” I didn’t see the need for this course. In fact, I think she could teach it. However, Mattie and I approved Jessie selecting it number one on her list of electives.

With Jessie’s first preferred elective checked off, we went through the rest of the options. Robotics, no problem. Art, great idea. Beginning Band? Mattie wanted Jessie to learn to read music and play an instrument. Jessie had no interest in taking Beginning Band. I could have gone either way. It’s amazing how three people in the same family can think so differently.

Sadly for Jessie, she didn’t get into Drama I, her top choice. Beginning Band, however, would be her first class each day.

Little did I realize, things would only get more complicated when the band teacher invited parents to his classroom to discuss instrument options. The band director felt that Jessie’s mouth shape made the clarinet a good choice for her. That worked fine for me. I just didn’t want Jessie beating away on drums or clanging cymbals. Mattie envisioned her daughter playing the flute. Jessie didn’t care. We watched online videos of both instruments. Although the flute makes beautiful sounds in the hands of a skilled musician, videos of students making high-pitched squeals on the flute convinced us to choose the clarinet.

Next, Jessie had to learn to play it. I’ve helped Jessie with her homework throughout her school years, but never before have I had to wear earplugs. As it turns out, the clarinet can also make high-pitched squealing sounds.

We had just moved into an apartment and I didn’t want to force our neighbors, or our dog, to listen to clarinet practice. So I took Jessie, along with my earplugs, to our pickup truck to complete her band homework.

The first week, Jessie blew into the mouthpiece, attached only to the barrel (not the rest of the clarinet), for as long as she could – 5, 7, 10 seconds and more, emitting a loud unpleasant sound. I sat beside her in the truck, timing her as she repeated this exercise to improve her lung capacity and mouth position. I doubted that Jessie needed practice for her lung capacity as she can speak paragraphs without taking a breath. As Jessie practiced, I squinted my eyes, cupped my hands over my plugged ears … and thought about the advantages of Drama I.

Speed ahead to the winter concert. A proud dad, not wearing earplugs, sat in the school auditorium. The band director, with his little white baton, led the class of more than 100 students in an impressive performance. Four months earlier, most of them couldn’t even name their instruments.

This leads me to two key takeaways. First, I need to get myself one of those little white batons. They apparently convey special powers to get kids to obey instructions. Second, something might start out bad or ugly, but not stay that way. Jessie recovered from her pneumonia and loves living in her new home state. There were times I thought about hiding Jessie’s clarinet. However, just by hanging on, and sometimes inserting earplugs, the clarinet turned out to be good, too.

Until next month, remember to cherish the moments … and take out the earplugs to hear “I love you.”

New City, New Book, New Website … New Barber?

Posted on by Patrick L. Hempfing

Change dominated this year. Our family’s move to central Florida topped the list. I also launched my first book, MoMENts: A Dad Holds On. The book compiles my monthly columns dating back to when I began my writing career in September, 2011, along with new material, and is for sale on Amazon.com. There is a paperback and a Kindle version. If you’ve read it, please take a few minutes to write a review.

For anyone considering a move and a book launch, here’s a tip – it’s probably best not to schedule these activities simultaneously. Selling a house, moving, and launching a book take time and each of them can be stressful. I definitely felt stress when the Mayflower van pulled up in front of our house before we had finished packing. Promoting my book took a backseat to getting the house ready to sell, moving our belongings and finding them again in our new state, and getting our daughter ready for her new middle school.

With the family now settled in, it’s time to nurture the new “baby.” Once a book is out, it requires the author’s attention. Unlike my first baby, it doesn’t need burped, but it does need marketed.

I’m happy to announce my new website, www.patrickhempfing.com. Please share it with friends and family and sign up for the “Cherish the MoMENts” community. As a follower, you’ll receive my blog posts and hear about contests, special promotions, and new book releases. If you received my blog in the past, you do not need to sign up again, but please encourage your friends to sign up.

New city, new book, new website. Last week, I had lunch with friends in Gainesville, Florida, where we lived twenty years ago. As I stepped out of my car, my dear friend greeted me with, “I see a few more gray hairs than the last time I saw you.” We laughed. I informed her that I just had a haircut and gave my barber strict instructions to “cut out all the gray ones.” Humm, do I need to look for a new barber? No, she probably didn’t want to leave me bald.

I’ll just have to go with the experienced look over a youthful one when I post pictures to my new website. At least the gray hairs survived the move.

Exciting Announcements

Posted on by Patrick L. Hempfing

I’m pleased to announce that my new website is coming. If you’re a current follower, there’s nothing you need to do except share the address, http://www.patrickhempfing.com, with friends and family members.

My first book, MoMENts: A Dad Holds On, is scheduled for release on May 1 on Amazon.com. This book includes some of my favorite stories from past columns along with never-published material. Pre-orders for this humorous, tender, and inspirational book will begin soon on Amazon.com. It would be a great gift for Mother’s Day or Father’s Day. If you enjoy the book, please take time to write a review for Amazon.

I hope you’ll like the new look of my website, my new logo, and my new book. I’d appreciate if you would spread the word about MoMENts: A Dad Holds On. Thank you for being part of my community of readers who take time to cherish the moments.