Trials and Tribulations

Yes, parenting can be a roller-coaster rides. At one moment, a parent is climbing toward the heavens only to drop steeply back to earth a moment later. Last night, I experienced a couple of significant "rise toward the heavens" moment; this morning, I precipitously fell back to earth.
Yesterday, the Boston Celtics beat the Cleveland Cavaliers in the Eastern Conference Semifinals. Rising toward the heavens. My boys and I were, of course, watching. At one point, there was a gatorade advertisement which featured various NBA players. Expressions of determination/aggression/manliness were displayed on our TV. This ad did not focus on teams; one could only see the players faces. It was with considerable pride that I beheld my five year-old son greet each player's face with "dumb-head" or "cool guy" depending on whether they played for the Celtics. I would guess that most adults couldn't recognize the faces of different NBA players (no jerseys) and successfully identify his team. Not only did my son do this, but he had the excellent sense to berate all players who do not play for the Celtics. Ah, sweet music. The ascent to the heavens was almost dizzying at this point.
The night before, I experienced a similar moment of pride. I was in our office downloading some music from i-tunes. My older son was downstairs reading "How to Speak Dragonese" (book 3 in the How to Train a Dragon series by Cressida Cowell; My son loves these books) and my younger boy was engaged in an imaginary sword battle in our living-room. The music that I was downloading consisted of some particularly cool rap songs that I really enjoy. Before one downloads any song from i-tunes, one has the chance to listen to thirty seconds of the song (to make sure that it is the intended song). As if drawn by the coolness of the music (that was just emanating from my computer), both boys dashed into the office and began to dance. And not merely haphazard dancing. No, they were feeling the music- bopping at all the right times, a smooth gangster-lean and faces of dispassionate coolness. And my boys are not followers. They have their own moves. My older son does a jerky, but effective, hybrid of the running-man and a jump-squat, and my younger son's dancing closely resembles Brazilian martial-arts dancing (punches and kicks to the rhythm). VERY COOL. The warm winds of gratifying parenting-moment (parent-moment?) were washing over me.
Sadly, every rise to the heavens moment is met with a startling fall. Enter this mornings activities. We were doing great. We had eaten our breakfasts. It was 7:31AM. We were on-schedule and looking cool. Then, it all fell apart. Getting my younger son to put on his shoes is like organizing a middle-east peace summit- not easy. So, I am asking, requesting more firmly, Asking Loudly Now, YELLING, "would you, PLEASE, put on your shoes!!!!???!!!" If I had opened the door to the space shuttle and asked the moon to put on its shoes, I would have gotten more of a response. This is frustrating. "Come on," I yell at no one in particular (this is good because, I assure you, no one was listening). Then, to make my morning experience even more pleasant my younger son taunted my older son with a "I'm stronger than you" comment. And my older son, rather than maturely pointing out their age difference/size difference/and thus, strength difference, straight-arms his younger brother into the floor. Now, I found myself yelling at my older boy, "Why did you do that? You are bigger and stronger than him; you could hurt him." My older boy looked at me like I was speaking Greek. "Because he said that he was stronger than me. So, I had to show him he was wrong." My blood had gone from a light simmer (when I first noticed my younger son's not putting on his shoes) to a far more intense simmer (after having seen my younger son thrown to the ground by his brother). Enter the full boil. My boys (somehow working in cahoots to drive me mad without ever formulating a game plan) ratchet up their vexing of me. My younger son put on our dog's leash in an effort to prepare for our walk to school (although HE STILL DOESN'T HAVE HIS SHOES ON). At this point, my older son grabs the leash and proceeds to drag my younger son on the floor. Now, I really lost it. "THAT'S IT," I bellowed, "YOU HAVE BOTH LOST ALL YOUR G-BUCKS! YOU'VE LOST YOUR ALLOWANCE!" I pounded our counter-top for emphasis (The counter-top is very hard; hitting it makes no noise and really hurts, but it seemed like the right move). Even in the midst of my rant, I realized how ridiculous I looked/sounded. So, did my boys, but they had the grace not tell me to my face (why kick a man when he's down?). The yelling does convince them that it's time to actually leave for school. It was now 7:47AM. Sixteen minutes wasted; our leisurely walk to school would now have to be a quick march/slow jog. But we made it to school on time. I admitted, during our walk, that "Daddy got a little hype there, boys. It isn't really fair for me to fly off the handle and take away all your G-Bucks." My older son seemed to appreciate that I was coming back to my senses. "Yeah daddy," he said, "I've done a lot worse and only lost five G-Bucks." I smiled at my older boy. He was right. I looked at my younger son, wondering what I should say to make sure that he wasn't distressed by my outburst. I needn't have worried. He looked at me with a twinkle in his eye, "daddy," he said, "isn't it funny in Planet 51 (the movie), when the alien looks at the guy's penis and thinks it's an antenna?" "Yeah, that is funny," I said. We resumed our walking. Ours was a peaceful, but purposeful pace. I wondered why I couldn't maintain a rational/even demeanor in the midst of pre-depart-for-school-madness of morning. For a moment, I wondered if a better father would have acted differently. But this notion didn't last. I took a zen approach to the whole ordeal. Pleasing ascents to the heavens will always be met by the occasional descent back to earth.