Lately my moments of being happy have been rare. Nothing wrong — just stress, exhaustion, gutters that need repair, etc. conspiring to make me feel not unhappy, but not happy.

Until this past weekend. Everything seemed to align for a weekend of happy. Business, while very difficult, felt at a proper spot, positioned well for going forward. My 16-year-old daughter gave me $60, without being asked, to help pay for new cleats and clothes for soccer. And, when she got real mad at me about curfew Saturday night, she did it like an adult.

My 16-year-old son was scheduling his first lacrosse recruiting trip for college.

And my 22-year-old continues to show that, while it is very, very hard to get started in life after college, he is not shying away from the challenge — not at all.

It all conspired to make me happy for nearly an entire weekend.

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My wife is becoming like a puppy. And that’s a compliment.

I am finding that, the more stress I am under, the more I just want to be around her because it makes me feel better. You know like a puppy.

(Unfortunately, she is out of the country for 10 days.)

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I TiVo all my good shows. More and more I’m finding that I don’t zip past the commercials because doing so makes the show-watching experience go by too fast. Last week, watching Friday Night Lights, I let the commercials run so that I could savor the experience of watching a great show.

My wife has been out of the country for three weeks. Here’s one thing I have learned. A father should not fold his 16-year-old daughter’s laundry. It’s scary.
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My 16-year-old son played in a lacrosse recruiting tournament earlier this week. A major film company was there filming. They are doing a documentary on college lacrosse and the recruiting process. They put a mike on my son for the day. He was told, “Try not to cuss.”

At one point in the day, he says, “S–t.”

Realizing that he messed up and cussed while being taped by a film crew, his immediate reaction was to…of course…say, “Oh, s–t!”

My 16-year-old son could teach most adults about sincerity.

This past weekend he attended one of the country’s most selective lacrosse recruiting camps. More than 50 college coaches attended. Inside Lacrosse magazine covered it, selecting a player of the camp. This year’s player of the camp was a good friend of his, a young man who plays the same position as my son — goalie. My son was genuinely thrilled for his friend.

How many adults do you know who are sincerely happy when good news happens to somebody they know, especially when it means the good news did not happen to them?
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This is not exactly breaking news, but some adults need to have their priorities checked.

My son is a good lacrosse player. When he was coming out of middle school, several private schools talked to him, including some of the big-name lacrosse schools. But he chose a school not known as a lacrosse power, a school with a rising lacrosse program. He made his choice in part because the coach seemed to genuinely care about his players.

As my son goes to various recruiting camps or plays in summer tournaments, he’s really enjoying getting to know boys from around the country. He told me that one player he met, who goes to one of those big-name lacrosse schools, shared that his coach will only help his team’s very best players get to recruiting camps or tryouts for all-star teams. The reason? The coach wants his program to always look good. My son’s high school coach will commit to, and help, any player on his team that commits and works hard. Maybe that’s why my son’s high school lacrosse team is slowly but surely building a winning tradition, even without a big name.

From the category, “Thoughts that will not win me father-of-the-year” — My 16-year-old daughter and I were at a meeting in preparation for a one-week community service camp she is attending this summer. It’s connected to our church. The adult leader noted that girls can only wear one-piece bathing suits.

“So if you don’t have a one-piece, you need to go buy one,” she said.

A parent of another daughter cheerily commented, “Oh that’s all she’s allowed to wear.”

This is the thought that immediately popped into my head: “Well, look at your daughter and look at mine. That’s why you don’t allow her to wear a bikini!”

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I have concluded that, when dealing with 16-year-old boys, even being right is wrong. Yesterday, Saturday, my son left for a very selective lacrosse recruiting camp, one that will be filled with college coaches. Friday night, he asked if he could sleep over a friend’s house. I told him it was a bad idea, that he needs to make sure he is well rested. Ten minutes of arguing later, I leave it up to him. He decides to sleep at home. But does he tell me I was right? Does he even inform me that he’s going to stay home? No. He just sleeps at home.

Because when you are a 16-year-old boy, Dad can be right but the words, “Dad you are right,” shall never pass your lips.

Today, I learned that my 16-year-old daughter thinks her good friend’s father is very funny, but does not think I am funny. And my daughter’s good friend thinks I am very funny, but does not think her own father is funny. Clearly, if teenage girls swapped fathers when they are 16, only to return when they are 21, adolescence would work much better for all involved.

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Speaking of such, I really hope my 16-year-old daughter has a 16-year-old daughter one day.

I can say the same for my 16-year-old son.

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My 16-year-old son received a note from a college lacrosse coach introducing my son to the college. The coach noted that the college’s student population is 60 percent female. Smart marketing.

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Don’t get me wrong, I like Christina Aguilera. But two nights in a row the Los Angeles Lakers tapped her to sing the national anthem. Are there no other singers in Los Angeles? And I have to note this: I’ve never seen a singer appear more pained as she sang the national anthem. I guess she was really feeling the bombs bursting in air.

It’s summer and all my kids are at home — the 22-year-old and two 16-year-olds, at least for a couple of weeks. Each of them is at a good place in their lives. That makes my house a pretty happy place right now.

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Three-day weekends are great — until the four-day work week. Then, you feel like you are behind the entire week.

My oldest son graduated from conservatory last Friday in Boston. He graduated summa cum laude and was inducted into the national music honor society.

I am fifty. That’s plenty old enough to have learned one thing — real accomplishment, the kind that requires prolonged effort and overcoming obstacles, is rare in life. That’s why I am so proud.

He may or may not build the career he wants. Indeed, he may not know exactly what that career will look like. But he has achieved something significant at the age of 22. That puts him ahead of most men and women.

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On the same trip to Boston I discovered America’s worst sports bar: Champions in the Boston Marriott Copley Place.

A sports bar has one core competency: make sure the game is on the TV. If the food doesn’t suck, that’s just gravy.

Saturday afternoon, while my wife and daughter were shopping, my youngest son and I sat at this sports bar for three hours watching college lacrosse. The game went into sudden death overtime. Somebody at this sports bar decided to change the channel at that very moment. That made me angry. Nobody at this sports bar could figure out how to change the channel back. That made me even angrier.

Here is free advice for every manager of a sports bar in America: make sure your staff knows how to operate the televisions. If not, no matter how many beers you serve and how good the food, your sports bar sucks.

My 16-year-old daughter, a sophomore in high school, is going to the senior prom. Her mom took her prom dress shopping (while I was at the ER with her twin brother — see below). As I’ve mentioned before, my daughter is model-beautiful. The dress she brought home is “holy cow.” Let’s just say there won’t be a boy at that senior prom who doesn’t take at least a minute to stare.

My wife said okay to the dress because we trust our daughter. She’s independent, a leader and not a follower. She doesn’t need a boy to validate her sense of self.

The dress is something. The girl wearing it is more than something. When she heads off to the prom, I’ll be proud not worried.

(Plus I sewed a GPS-device into the hem.)

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Sorry, Blogenberg legion, for missing posting yesterday. My 16-year-old son fractured his thumb in a lacrosse game and I was doing the doctor thing with him yesterday. Star lacrosse goalie plus fractured thumb, not good. Add real good orthopedist, a good hard cast, and a glove re-sized to fit — we’ll see, he might be back out there playing.

My 15-year-old twins have their learner’s permits. The other day I taught my son a very important driving lesson.

He’s driving. We pull up to a stop light, next to a mini-van. We are stopped just a bit further back than the mini-van, so while I can see the driver of the mini-van, I can really only see her from behind. My son then makes the turn and pulls up to another traffic light.

Me: You really made a serious mistake back there.

My son (looking very worried): What? What did I do?

Me: We pulled up next to another car. I couldn’t tell but there might have been a good-looking woman driving. But you didn’t pull up far enough for me to check her out. Don’t make that mistake again.

My son: (Quietly looks and shakes his head.)

Me: I’m serious. When I’m in the car get this right. Or I’ll never allow you to get your license.

Too many kids are left to learn these things for themselves. I’m going to make sure my kids are taught all of the keys to being a good driver.

Ever since my teenage daughter got a job, my wallet has lost control. Now that she doesn’t need my money (at least not for the necessities, like clothes — tuition, for example, is just a luxury) I have little if any influence in her life.

My daughter, for example, has expressed interest in photography. That’s my hobby. I’ve encouraged her to join the photography club at school. She is very creative and I think would be very good at it, plus it would give us something to do together besides our occasional father-daughter trips to the mall. She hadn’t followed up yet so the other day I told that, if she wants, I’ll buy her a very good camera and I would teach her.

“Maybe,” was her thoughtful response.

Nothing. I’ve got nothing anymore now that she has her own money.

So I tried again. “I’d even share my lenses with you,” I said.

“We’ll see.”

I got desperate enough to offer to share my lenses. Do you know what it takes for a man to share his lenses? But it all means nothing to my teenage daughter. Because she’s got a job.
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Here’s a handy home and garden tip from Blogenberg. When your 70-pound dog decides to try to “dig” through the carpet to get after a mouse (or some other critter) she saw, the result is not, shall we say, Martha Stewart-like.