The Middle Child of Recounts

     Recount fever has swept the nation, and nowhere has it hit harder than in my home state of Florida. But there’s a call for a Florida recount that, not surprisingly, isn’t getting any attention. And it has nothing to do with politics for a change. This recount centers around a 2017 study which, as reported by the website DoYouRemember.com, found that “Middle Children Are Most Likely To Be Troublemakers.”
     When I read that headline, I found it so outrageous it made me want to break one of my mother’s good vases. But a team of researchers from MIT, Northwestern University, the University of Florida and Aarhus University in Denmark concluded that “in families with two or more children, second-born boys are on the order of 20-40 percent more likely to be disciplined in school and enter the criminal justice system compared to first-born boys.”
     Like it wasn’t bad enough other studies have already found we don’t do as well in school as our older siblings, we have lower IQs and make less money than them, too. We needed this like we needed a hole in the head.

     The study cites all sorts of reasons for this phenomenon, but that’s a discussion for another post. As the ranking member of the Middle Child Party, I’m having a hard time accepting these findings. Oh, did I forget to mention the name of the study? “Birth Order and Delinquency: Evidence from Denmark and Florida.” Yeah, FLORIDA! You know, the people who brought us the hanging chad. I should just accept the accuracy of the data they collected from Florida!? I think not. So I’m doing what any red-blooded Floridian Middle Child would do. I DEMAND A RECOUNT!

The Return of "The MidKid Road Trip"

It looks SO much closer
on a map!

     You might remember that two months ago I posted and Tweeted about my two day drive from New Jersey to Florida with my in-laws. (See "The MidKid Road Trip" Day 1 Day 2) Back then, I said I was going to Tweet the return journey home. I really was going to. But shortly into the return trip, I knew it would be totally pointless. It didn't take long before I realized my in-laws were basically saying the very same things they said on the trip down! Tweeting the trip north would be a total repeat of the trip south, right down to the constant “losing” of eye glasses and “misplacing” of medication, cell phones and personal items -- without ever leaving the car. It was a virtual carbon copy.
     I did a little statistical breakdown of my in-laws conversation traits on the trip home: 76% of the things they say contradict something they previously said; 84% are something they just said less than an hour ago; and a whopping 99.4% of the things my father-in-law says are somehow related to food. I’ll spare you all the gory details, but here are a few observations from the trip:
     - My father in-law’s geographical shortcomings somehow got even shorter over the last two months. He has now given up completely on acknowledging any difference between North and South Carolina, lumping them instead into one state -- “Carolina.” I suppose he could be making a historical reference to the period from 1663 to 1710 when they really were one colony, but I don’t think so. He has also apparently granted statehood to Washington, D.C.

     - Is it all old people, or just my in-laws who can’t resist the urge to read every road sign they see aloud!?! “Rest Area ahead.” “Best prices on Fireworks!” “Richmond - 82 miles.” When it’s a sign about food, it’s like my father-in-law hit the jackpot! Just when I think they've run out of stories to re-tell and I might get to enjoy a rare moment of silence, there’s another damn road sign! Note to the aged: road signs are not meant to be conversation starters. If you ever want to know how many signs there are between Florida and New Jersey, just ask my in-laws. They have recited them all.
    - Watching my in-laws trying to get into and out of their seat belts is like watching Harry Houdini being locked in heavy chains and trying to escape. Actually, that’s not fair to Houdini. He was also strapped in a straight jacket and underwater and still could extricate himself quicker! By the time my in-laws had seat belted themselves in after breakfast, it was time for lunch.

Suggested title for a movie about a
meteorologist: CLUELESS! 

     - Do you know any group of professionals who does their job worse than weathermen -- except maybe congress? I checked the forecast for the Eastern seaboard up until the morning we left to make sure conditions would be clear. There wasn't a hint of bad weather to be found. CUT TO... with the exception of the first 15 minutes of our trip, over the course of two days we experienced every form of precipitation know to man! It started with rain. Then blinding, torrential downpours of biblical proportions. (Thankfully, we were spared locusts and frogs.) Sleet. Snow. Hail. Graupel. (Look it up.) We drove through it all. So our trip went into extra innings the first day, with a bonus two hours of bumper to bumper traffic in South Carolina. Then, to top it off, there was a 35 mph speed limit on the NJ Turnpike the second day. (I know this because my in-laws repeatedly read me the speed limit signs.) It was the perfect little cherry atop my F*CK ME sundae.
        Finally, if you are ever considering offering to drive your in-laws to and from Florida, I have a word of advice: don't.

#MidKidRoadTrip Day Two: Twitter Highlights

CLICK
HERE

What a long, strange trip it's been... 18-1/2 hours and god knows how many Jelly donuts later, the #MidKidRoadTrip is officially over. And not a mile too soon. Click below the image on the right for the Twitterized version of all the final day highlights -- or is that lowlights? I guess it all depends on where you were sitting. Decide for yourself. I'm too exhausted.

The MidKid Road Trip (a.k.a. The Highway to Hell)

     As Middle Children, we want to be the center of attention so badly, we need to be the favorite so desperately, sometimes we do things we know we shouldn't do. We might even know as we're doing it that what we’re doing is stupid, or wrong, or something we might regret -- but our need for approval or acceptance or whatever is so powerful, we can’t stop ourselves from doing it anyway.
     Case in point: my in-laws love to travel. They just don’t like taking trains, planes, or driving themselves anywhere, which makes it somewhat difficult for them to make their yearly winter exodus to Florida. So I did what any normal maladjusted Middle Child son-in-law would do: I offered to drive them. I wasn't even drunk when I said it!
Frightening, I know. I took a 15 minute trip to get pizza with them the other night and thought I would lose my mind. (My father-in-law launched into a detailed critique of the last seven slices of pizza he ate and my mother-in-law kept talking about how good the pizza was in Naples -- even though she’s never been to Naples.) I really have no idea how I’m going to make it all the way down the eastern seaboard with them in the car -- but I’m not going it alone!

YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO JOIN ME AS I TRANSPORT

MY IN-LAWS FROM NEW YORK TO FLORIDA.

     You can follow my journey here and on Twitter @MidKidMusings. I plan to tweet hourly updates, which shouldn't be a problem since they’ll probably be stopping for bathroom breaks every 20 mins! God help me.

SCHEDULED DEPARTURE IS JANUARY 5, 2015. STAY TUNED.

Confessions of a Middle Child: Knot the Favorite

     I tie my shoes like a six year old. There, I said it. This isn't something I’m proud of. It’s actually a little embarrassing. Even though I’m a grown man, I still tie my shoes using “Bunny Ears.” I have tried over the years to make the move to a more mature method, but haven’t been able to successfully switch. It’s no great mystery why I tie my shoes the way I do. Most people probably don’t remember the day they learned to tie their shoes, but I remember it like it was yesterday (SFX: TRIPPY FLASHBACK MUSIC)...

Tales from the Middle: The Worst Best Seat in the House

Fond childhood memories aren't
always all they're cracked up to be.

     Back when I was a child Middle Child, my family used to drive from northern New Jersey to south Florida for winter vacations. Along the way, we'd also stop in Chester, PA to pick up my Grandparents. That’s me, my older brother, my little sister, my parents and my Grandparents -- seven people in one car. Granted, my father’s Oldsmobile was big, but still -- seven people? And in those days, it was at least a two day drive. Plus, the car wasn’t just packed with us. There was food and toys and anything that couldn’t fit in the trunk. That’s a lot of people and stuff to be crammed into one car for a couple of days, but those trips were some of my happiest childhood memories.

How many people should you
cram into a Oldsmobile?

     First of all, I always loved travelling. Any trip was an adventure  for me, even if it meant being stuffed into a southward bound  clown car. On these particular southern sojourns, my father  always drove. My mother was always the navigator in the front  passenger seat. My brother and sister were together in the back,  nestled between Grandma and Grandpa, and I sat in the front  between my mother and father. That’s right – front row center. I  couldn’t believe how lucky I was to secure such a prime  location! Sitting up front in the “cockpit,” I had an unobstructed  view of the speedometer, odometer and clock, making it easy for  me to collect all the data required to calculate critical information  about the trip and enter it in my travel log.( Yes, I kept a travel log.) Meanwhile, my brother and sister were stuck back in the cheap seats. Suckers!