Chaos Theory

I’ll admit, when first asked to guest blog a month back, I said sure, never once giving thought to what it actually meant. After all, how hard could it be writing about whatever comes to mind? For those of you who know me, it comes as no surprise that I tend to have strong opinions about most things, so I figured it’d be easy to blog on any one of a number of subjects. Cue the pressure. Ever so subtley, T (or should I say “t” and did you ever wonder who’s who?) began to ask what my topic was. Topic? I need a topic? And don’t forget the picture (which by the way has to go with your topic). I was told I needed to be creative and perhaps funny because people who know me would be reading my blog. OMG (blogger for Oh My God I am told)! What have I gotten myself into? Mikey Me (seriously bro, we’re in this together, so your not helping with the nickname thing) is worried about divorce if he screws this up? How about death by creativity? Martha Stewart has nothing over my "t".

By now reader (another blogism?) you have no doubt guessed I don’t really read blogs (present company excluded) let alone do blogs. However, I have enjoyed learning a bit about myself in me&t t&me. I have also learned enough to know that shout outs are not only appropriate they are part of the fiber of a good blog. So I’d like to thank the two “t’s” for asking us to do this. I always have a lot to say, but it is rare that I get such a dedicated forum (complete with 4 admitted followers). So fasten your seat belts. Here it goes.

As you might expect with four young children and being married to Martha Stewart (did I say that?) there's a fair amount of chaos in my life. But it's exactly that chaos that I look forward to whether I am coming home from work in the evening or returning from a business trip abroad. I might complain about the craziness from time to time, but the truth be told, it makes the trip through life so much more fun, because in the end it binds us as a family.

Team Brown is a rolling party. Piled into the swagger wagon within minutes Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance" is spinning. Destined for Broadway, Emma is belting out the lyrics. Believe me when I tell you she knows them. Then again she should, as she asks us to repeat the song over and over again. There's a plus side to this though, because as a 47 year old man, I can look hip to the younger generation as I know all the "ga ga"s and "o la la"s. Who would have thought?

Driving along, the conversation turns to what costume I'm wearing for my firm's upcoming Charity Day. This requires a bit of set up, so stick with me. Charity Day, for the uninitiated, is the day my firm takes all of its revenue and donates it to various charities across the globe. It's a pretty special thing. What is really unique about Charity Day is that the employees dress up in costume (or fancy dress - my firm is British). Many groups have themes and the costumes can be quite elaborate.

This year my division was dressing up as super heroes and villians. Unfortunately, that presented a dilemma for me as I have to wear a suit in order to greet the various celebrities who represent the charities. Putting on my thinking cap, I had a eureka moment. I'll wear a Superman t-shirt under my suit, don my glasses, and be Clark Kent.

Back to the swagger wagon. The conversation goes like this.

Henry: Dada, who are you dressing up as?
Me: Clark Kent (I explain my costume).
Henry: Who's that?
Me: You know, he's Superman when he's not Superman.

A moment of silence. I'm not entirely sure he knows who Superman is, so I continue.

Me: You know Superman, right?
Henry: Yea, but I thought he wore a cape?
Me: He does, but when he's not in his cape, he wears a suit. He goes into a phone booth to change.
Henry: What's a phone booth?

Then there's Grace. Smart as a whip (apologies for the parent pride moment), she typically has her head buried in a book. Sight a hawk over head and she pops back into the conversation. "That's not a hawk Daddy, that's a turkey vulture". Really? I think. How does she know that. It's a hundred feet in the air.

Not one to be left out, our youngest, Willy, alternates between keeping himself occupied and jumping into the mix. He and Emma are best frienemies. Laughing together one minute, screaming at each other the next. It's all good though. A few years back, Willy used to get car sick. I got so good at pulling out car seats (the swagger wagon's, not Willy's) to clean, I could do it blindfolded.

We reach our destination and it's on to the next party. " t" and I just look at each other and smile. Perhaps peace will descend.  But the kids have a better idea. Party on!

Ed B. (with Mike Me)