Every Day Father

Unselfish

2012-02-06T14:05:00.001-05:00

As a father, I constantly remind myself that it isn't about me anymore. That was a luxury for my single and double income no kids, days. Now it is almost always about someone else. As anyone with kids can tell you, this isn't the easiest lesson to forget. That being said, a subtle reminder now and again is still warranted. Little did I know, I would get one in the middle of a hectic morning.

A double bloody nose and an Irish shower later (I'm Irish and I have actually seen and laughed with an Irish exchange student who took one), I am trying to make it down stairs where my 4 year old has taken it upon himself to get breakfast started. Time is flying by and I am trying not to lose my mind and start my drill instructor routine. I stand at the top of the stairs doing a quick inventory before my descent. Then I hear quiet sobs coming from the kids bathroom. I peek around the corner an find Emma slowly cleaning the dried blood from her face...the remnants of her earlier nose bleeds. I realize that empathy and compassion are more important at this moment than getting her to the bus on time. As I turn to put down my stack of clothes and personal items, she starts to speak to her reflection.

"I really hope today gets better.....This has been a terrible morning....I hope something good happens at school like gym or music..."

I take a deep breath, exhale, and then step into the bathroom. I put my hand on her back and asked why she's crying. To my surprise she cries more and crumbles onto my legs. I quickly sit on the toilet while keeping her upright. I hug her tightly, though not nearly as tightly as she is hugging me. Finally the sobs taper and she pushes back, ready to answer my question. She launchs in on why her morning was so bad. I guess I wasn't prepared for the rapid succession of problems...........

"I woke up with a bloody nose and then decided to color a turtle to cheer me up, but then you told me I needed to get dressed, so I hardly even colored any of the turtle.......and then you told me the patriots lost which made me so sad that my nose started bleeding again and it bled really bad for a long time, and you put the stuff in my nose, which I don't like....and then I had to clean my face and now it's time to go to school and I got no time to play...I have had such a bad morning."

She returns to my shoulder and again hugs me tightly. I was still a little stunned that she mentioned the Patriots loss, but I refocus and agree that it sounds like a bad morning. I suggest that maybe she got all the bad things over with and now the rest of the day will be great. She pushes back and smiles "Do you really think so?" I wipe the remaining traces of tears and remove the last specs of blood. we walk down the stairs holding hands. I tell her that we should look at her school schedule to see if there is anything good going on today. Luckily her schedule includes music and a lunch of french toast. She looks up to me and smiles broadly "You were right today is going to be good after all"

As I watched my daughter skip down the side walk to the front door of her school, I thought, "I may be late for work, but years from now my attendance record won't matter much. What will matter is that I took the time to listen, and provide compassion and empathy when she needed it." She then stopped, turned around, smiled her missing tooth smile, and waved.....a small, yet massive reward for keeping my selfishness at bay.

Guitar Hero

2012-01-31T20:59:00.000-05:00

After several weeks of preparing a submission for medical device approval in Japan, the muse had pretty much left me. When I arrived home, I couldn't imagine writing or even tolerating the glow of a computer monitor. Fortunately kids have a way of supplying a constant stream of material. Little did I know that Jack would use a celebratory dance over a Blokus block move to compel me to write.

Jack placed his green L-shaped piece in a perfect place to block both my wife and my next move. Simultaneously my wife and I groaned in acknowledgement of his perfect move. Suddenly jack exploded to his feet and began doing a dance that blended the air guitar with the unmistakeable motion that paid homage to the famous Texas Tech bell ringer. My wife lost it and dove behind the footstool, in an attempt to hide her laughter. I was caught in the open and struggled to hide both my surprise and poorly suppressed laughter. My 4 yr old strummed his air guitar across the living room as if he were a tiny Chuck Berry.

I finally buried my laughter enough to ask "are you playing your victory guitar , buddy?" I probably should have followed the standard parenting advice and ignored the whole scene in front of me, but I didn't. To my question he laughed and responded "No...I am playing my penis guitar!" This unexpected response caused us all to laugh to the point of convulsion. How in the hell do you respond to that. One thing's for sure little boys are born without humility and the ability to destroy several weeks of stress.

Money Train

2012-01-18T16:35:00.000-05:00

Not only can money spin the globe, but it can cause riots....and apparently it can't buy happiness. The truth is money has power. I found this out the other night when my kids initiated a bullish raid on our loose monetary fund. The ferocity at which they pursued our loose bills and change, would have given Bernie Madoff an SEC alerting, joy boner. Luckily I arrived home in time to be swept up in the madness.

Jack ran past me with a basket of change and a couple of dollar bills. "We're getting money, Daddy!", he declared. He was searching the floor, under the counters and chairs, like a crazed bloodhound, drunk on a scent. I looked at my wife, hoping for answers for his new interest in money. Before she could answer, my daughter came running in with the same crazed look. As suddenly as they had entered, they were gone. I could hear them mounting the stairs to the bedrooms above. Emma shouted, "Follow me, I know where there's money." I looked back to my wife....."What the hell was that?"

"Somehow they came to the conclusion that they need money to buy toys, something about you giving them a dollar for doing special chores." She said, calmly not looking away from the sink.

"I don't understand?.....I gave them a dollar last night because they helped sort the laundry and do a couple other chores, but I...um....I don't understand the connection" I said a little defensively.

"Well....Now they want more, because they are going to buy Squinkies and they cost 7 dollars. They want special chores that will earn them money. We should really talk about this stuff first." She said, turning to face me.

"I didn't think this would happen. I wasn't trying to establish a new rule. Emma wanted a dollar for the school store.....so I came up with a way to give to her.....and I had to include Jack, right?"

"Oh I understand, it's just that................" she started, as the kids stampeded into the room with a newly acquired quarter and 2 dimes. "MONEY!" Jack shouted, holding up his treasure. As if to emphasize the madness of the situation, Emma ran from the laundry room with a stack of clean clothes. "Mommy! can I get money for putting these away?!!" She said, grinning widely with anticipation. My wife furrowed her brow and responded "No, that is one of your regular chores." To this Emma returned the stack of clothes to the laundry room.....and that was it. For the safety of everyone the markets were shutdown.

As we sat at the table for dinner, the talk turned to allowance and chores. It was decided that each week the kids would receive seven chores and would be paid ten cents for each chore they completed......That is, If they completed it without complaining. They were ecstatic to find they could earn up to five dollars (yes there's an extra 10 cents in there) or $2.50 each. Surprisingly everyone was on board with this. Time will tell if this is a resolution or a just a precursor to a bigger pain in the ass.

Like A Boss

2012-01-12T12:02:00.000-05:00

As one could see from my inactivity on the blog, life goes by fast, really fast. Too fast. I know it is a constant theme. Perhaps it is the groundhog day effect. You know where you wake-up have the same whiny argument with your kids about getting dressed, herd them like cats through breakfast and to school, then work, dinner, baths,....blah blah blah.....and 2 months go by and then a year. I missed writing, but starting again was akin to me entering my old ass in a double dutch competition....by the time I timed my jump....well you get the picture. Game over. Then I realized that writing was my way of slowing down time and capturing the moments that would otherwise get lost in the groundhog day effect (I actually figured this out before, but it takes me a couple realizations to get the point.) So there in the middle of chores came a moment, then it kept nagging at me...... It didn't want me to forget and it knew that time has a way of painting over moments...so it kept nagging. So here I am writing again. Writing about a little boy that in a moment of desperation and strength reminded me that I am what he wants to be.....that for him, I am the best thing going.

"Help! Please Help! Daddy...Mommy.....Help!", Jack screamed, from the side of the house. I moved as quickly as my surgically repaired knee would allow. I reached the side of the house and found him half way up the hill. I was struck by the image....here was my tiny son willing a large wagon full of wood up a hill. I started to gingerly make my way to him. I have to admit, I was worried that the combination of weakened knee, slick grass, and the downward pitch of the hill would result in me doing more harm than good. He must have noticed this too, because he suddenly took matters into his own hands.

He let out a loud grunt. The type of grunt that a little boy lets out when he is trying to prove he is tough. The wagon started to budge. I was trapped in the parental limbo between helping and letting him prove he could do it.....perhaps, I was also a little paralyzed with wonder. He grunted again and suddenly he and the wagon overcame the forces that previously froze him in place. He powered past me and up the rest of the hill. From my gaping mouth came an involuntary cheer and then I yelled "You did it, Jack! Look at you! Hauling Wood Like Boss! Like a BOSS!" He caught his breath and smiled broadly. He then spoke, still smiling "Not like a boss....like a Daddy" He turned and pulled the wagon the rest of the way to the wood pile, leaving me to choke back a moment that would likely be forgotten if not for this endeavor.

Time Off

2011-12-15T11:08:00.001-05:00

Due to the craziness of the season. I am taking a couple weeks off and then I will be back after the New Year. Thank you for the support and I hope you have a tremendous holiday.

Gamesmanship

2011-12-07T01:00:00.000-05:00

A little opportunity presented it self to me this morning. I initially thought that waking up at 5:30 in the morning would give the chance to sneak away to work early. I must have misread the situation. I thought I was home free when I hit the kitchen at 5:50. There wasn't a light on or sound anywhere in the house. I pulled my undershirt over my head and began reaching for the next article of clothing when the real opportunity presented itself.

"Hi Daddy" rang from my daughters mouth through the silence and darkness. I would be lying if I said it didn't scare the piss out of me. I turned on the light to find my daughter still clutching her teddy bears. If spies wanted to be more stealthy, they could simply wear footy pajamas. She asked if I was going to work early. I told her that was my plan. She then told me that she heard a sound and was worried that I was going to work......"I had to get up, because I wanted a snuggle today instead of a note." Where do kids come up with this stuff. There is more guilt potential in that statement than in an army of Jewish mothers. I went to say something, but found myself a little too choked up to get the words out. Instead of speaking, I just picked Emma up and bear hugged her.

After I put her down, I turned and flipped on the coffee maker and reached into the cupboard for a cup. When I turned back around Emma was standing there holding the game Connect 4. I realized that the travel mug I had just retrieved from the cupboard was unnecessary.....Emma had other plans.

"We should play a game until Jack get's up.....He probably wants a snuggle too." she said with the same confident sly smile, that her mother still drives me crazy with.

So I sat in the kitchen and played connect 4 with my daughter. She in her footy pajamas and me in my boxers and undershirt. I enjoyed a hot cup of coffee while we split the first 2 games. The fourth game was abandoned, when Jack noisily made his way downstairs. I got dressed while they ransacked the advent calendar. They showed me their latest prizes and gave me long hugs and kisses as I readied to leave.

I still ended up getting to work a little early and both kids received the snuggles they wanted. I keep reminding myself to grab these little opportunities, before I become the one holding the Connect 4 watching my teenage daughter shun me, as she runs out the door.

'Tis the Season

2011-12-05T17:26:00.000-05:00

It is easy to see Christmas as something ugly. Everyone who pushes past you in a mall or rejects even the smallest amount of courtesy, helps tarnish the season. The stores that start decorating in August or the ones the open on Brown Thursday, try to convince us it is just about consumerism (Seriously! What marketing lunatic came up with Brown Thursday?) I admit that the treatment of Christmas, by America at large, can be a little depressing. Luckily, I have children.......and the only place where the spirit of Christmas remains untarnished is in the hearts of children. For them Christmas doesn't start until December and when it does it is real and magical. Fortunately it is December and Emma and Jack spent the last four Days refreshing that magic within me.

I finished decorating the outside of the house well ahead of my December 1st deadline. Both kids were disappointed to find that we weren't going to light the house up until the Thursday. I guess this arbitrary rule is my way of confining Christmas to its proper place and keeping pressure off the other husbands in the neighborhood. Though December 1st was only three days away, to my kids.....it could have been a year.

That night my wife began coordinating our other December 1st traditions, The beginning of the advent calendar, and a scavenger hunt for the kids which concludes with the kids finding Christmas themed shirts and a gingerbread house. Jack wasn't willing to wait until December 1st and initiated his own tradition which he tirelessly continues. Each night after going to bed, Jack lays in his darkened room and belts out Christmas Carols. He gleefully sings about Frosty's big blong bipe and his ears made out of coal. He goes on about the ramifications of Santa coming to town. He crescendos to a point where it becomes impossible to sleep or think and we have to ask him to do it more quietly. This results in a few more minutes of whispered carols, before sleep wins out. On Tuesday Jack's caroling went a little too long and I made the mistake of trying to stop it. I peaked in his door and said "Jack you need to go to sleep....remember Santa is watching." Without a second of thought he delivered the perfect comeback "Daddy...He's watching you too." As if to say "Santa just saw you try to stop a four year old from gleefully singing about him, so you can pound it". Unfortunately, Jack's nightly performances were about to collide with Emma's excitement for the advent calendar.

On December 1st I was awakened by the sound of children downstairs. It was dark and only 5:05 in the morning. I let the fact that they were up so early go, as it was the first day of the advent calendar. I only let it go until breakfast, because the morning had been a disaster up to that point. The combination of Jack's late caroling and Emma's early wake up call, left Jack unable to cope with the stresses of getting ready for the day. Though we begged Emma to let Jack sleep until he woke up on his own, she continued to wake him up early (This was mostly due to Jack's behind the scenes insistence). This finally came to a head on Saturday morning, where once again both kids were up at 5 AM and making enough noise to wake incredibly tired adults. An entire day of terrible Jack and a forced nap was enough to break the cycle. To say the least, Sunday was incredibly pleasant.

The spirit of Christmas finally struck me Sunday night, as we decorated our tree. Emma drifted around the tree delicately placing ornaments in snowman footy pajamas. She was unfazed by the contrast of her brother quickly and ferociously over decorating the bottom three feet of the tree. Periodically Emma would stop and draw our attention to an ornament that she found particularly interesting, but otherwise she kept focused on her decorating. I stopped my wife and motioned toward Emma. We both smiled at possibly the cutest thing we had ever seen. There was our daughter completely engulfed in the Christmas spirit, placing a glass ball on the tree while she quietly hummed jingle bells to herself. How could I help, but allow the spirit of Christmas to swell within me.

The Art of War

2011-11-27T10:02:00.001-05:00

Other than all the sugar and spice stuff, kids are best at testing you and the rules you've laid down. They do this almost constantly, but sometimes these tests are leveled against some of your foundations of parenting - the rules that have never wavered and have always been in place. They probably do this to test whether you have gone soft or to see if they can still trust your decision making. These tests are the most crucial. You cannot blink. Even if it all hinges on a single bite of quiche.

As I have been recovering from surgery, I have returned to my happy place, the kitchen. I love cooking, in fact it is the only place where I can turn off my brain and just be. My refrigerator was stocked with everything I needed to make quiche....shallots, bacon, heavy cream, gruyere cheese, eggs, and left over pie crust. This seemed the perfect solution for feeding my son's addiction to eggs and my desire to whisk something.

Yada yada yada, an hour later and I was icing my knee while the quiche cooled.

We convened for breakfast and I could see from my daughter's face that a storm was brewing. She was sitting across from me not making eye contact. Instead of serving her a pie made from cheese, cream, and bacon I was about to slide a slice of the most disgusting thing her mind could envision. My wife saw this too and we both knew a battle was coming. As a first grader Emma has started to stretch her wings mentally and completely withdraw from the culinary foundation that my wife and I had thought was firmly established. Gone is the once joyful adventurous eater, only to be replaced with a sullen shell, only willing to be filled with nuggets and hotdogs. One thing is certain, a war over the dinner table has been brewing for several months.

As everyone dug into the quiche, I was lauded with high praise for its quality. Jack rushed through his first piece, making mouthful negotiations for his second helping. He worried out loud that he wouldn't finish in time before others could take his share. Through all this, Emma sat quietly with an almost visible cloud of discontent hanging over her. My wife and I both inquired about her feelings only to be rebuffed by unintelligible mumbles. Finally, she spoke the obvious, "I don't like quiche." We asked how she could know if she still hadn't tried a thank you bite. To this my wife reached over and cut her a reasonable-sized bite. She pushed the bite back as if trying to reform it to the parent slice. Then she, as if pushed by unknown forces, took a stand "I don't like it, I am not having a thank bite." She sheepishly raised her eyes to make sure her message registered and I imagine hoping that we would acquiesce and say "Oh, OK, then you can have ice cream." Instead my wife went all in "In that case, go to your room for 15 minutes and then you can come down and have the thank you bite." Emma. stood, head bowed and headed for the stairs.

I caught her before she hit the first stair. "Emma is this really how you want this to go? Mommy and I are not going to allow you to break a house rule, you know that. So that thank you bite will be there waiting for you no matter how much you protest. Seriously, it is one little bite." She returned to her seat and choked down her small thank you bite and washed it back with a mouthful of milk. This was in stark contrast to her brother who was completing the demolition of his second piece.

At a later, more relaxed time, I pulled Emma aside and sat with her in the office. I asked why she had recently stopped eating her school lunches and began refusing to eat anything for dinner. This and my follow-up questions were all answered with shrugs. I then asked "Are there certain foods that the kids at school think are cool?" Suddenly the real culprit was revealed, I wasn't at war with my daughter, I was at war with her friends. I came to understand that kids make fun of her for taking a salad to school or even a tuna fish sandwich, both of which were her requests. She went on to say that the day that she lied about ordering salad and instead bought a hot dog was a result of her friends telling her "We are all having hotdogs, if you want to be our friend.....you'll have one too." I did my best to explain about peer pressure, but knew I had used up my words for this conversation. I also needed to regroup with my wife, a new war was beginning and we needed a strategy. I wonder what Sun Tzu's take on school lunch would be.

Sugar and Spice

2011-11-14T09:02:00.001-05:00

Maybe it was a harbinger of things to come, who can be certain? When I found out my wife and I were having Emma, my buddy told me "Look, it is not that hard, just make sure you give her a name that won't drive her to exotic dancing or adult movies, you know like, Cinnamon" Are words really that powerful? Could this have caused some disturbance in the energy around my wife, which in turn impacted my yet to be born daughter? Of course I am kidding, like he was, but it seems strange that a trip to IKEA would have caused me to recall that exchange.

As we entered the elevator we all unconsciously smiled and inhaled. Not because we have a love for the lingering smells of elevators, but because the whole of IKEA was fragrant with fresh cinnamon rolls. I have only met one person in my life who doesn't love the smell of cinnamon rolls, fresh from the oven. She happened to be standing next to me with her head buried in the neck of her down vest. Though the down muffled her words, they were still clear enough for recognition "Ugh, it smells disgusting!" Emma said furrowing her brow. Even Jack thought she was being dramatic "You're crazy, Emma...I love that smell"

Was she being dramatic? Maybe. The truth is, she has not wavered in her disdain for cinnamon. It doesn't matter how I use it...sweet...savory...teaspoon...or a pinch....It is all the same, she will not eat it. Sometimes her nose catches before her taste buds have to suffer, but she always knows. The list of things she won't eat is now long and amazing. It includes such wonders as sticky buns, apple pie, coffee cake, squash, Indian food, and cider. Initially we tried to fight her on this, but that never seemed quite right. So we took a different approach and made do. Squash with butter, brown sugar and cinnamon may be great, but if I remove the cinnamon, she eats 2 helpings, otherwise she won't touch it. When we have cinnamon rolls, is it really that hard to buy her a croissant?

I am constantly amazed at what small things, like the preferences of a child's olfactory nerve, can teach me about family and parenting. In it's simplest form a family is a group of very similar, yet different beings trying to coexist. To add complication to this, my children are expanding their minds and developing their own identities. In order for happiness and unity to prevail, it is critical that rigidity be used sparingly. I am constantly reminding myself (When I forget My wife helps) that I am not a dictator and that a little flexibility can go along way in providing an environment where my children feel safe to be themselves. In the end, my daughter and I may share the joys of cinnamon rolls or maybe we won't. What I really hope is, that I provided an upbringing where my children feel loved and accepted regardless of their different tastes.

The Office

2011-11-10T17:26:00.001-05:00

If nothing else, when you have kids and a busy life, flexibility is key. Especially when public schools randomly take whole days off for cryptic reasons like in-service days. Tuesday provided the perfect combination of busy diverging schedules, school closure, and a child caught in the middle. The only solution provided the perfect opportunity for father-daughter bonding and blog content.

Over dinner Monday, I initiated the conversation with Emma about coming to work with me for a half day. I only got far enough to say "Tomorrow", before Emma took over and finished the conversation. Apparently, coming to work with me is really exciting. We agreed that after dinner she would pack her backpack with her homework and other activities. Jack wanted to come as well, not so much because coming to my job is fun, but because he didn't want to miss out on the free hot chocolate available in the cafeteria. Also, he feels my company has "fancy potties" which he encouraged Emma to visit.....as if she would miss an opportunity to visit a new public restroom.

The next morning we dropped Jack at daycare and started our commute. It was possibly the best part of the day, at least for me. Emma spent the whole drive talking about first grade and why she likes it. It was great to finally hear all the details that she has held back during our dinner inquisitions. Once in the parking lot, Emma became a little nervous and held tightly to my arm as we walked to the building. She wondered aloud if my boss was going to mean like mommie's old boss. I reminded her that she'd met her before and that she was nice. This seemed to relax her a bit.

Once in the building my colleagues greeted Emma with smiles, each asking her name. With each greeting she smiled more broadly and loosened her grip a little more. It didn't hurt that my office mates offered her free range of their candy. As we entered my office, Emma went right to work erasing my white board in preparation for her first work of art. Half way through a giant ocean scene, my boss entered my office to ask for something.....she ended up drawing sharks with my daughter. After she left, Emma declared her "very nice and a good drawer." Finally Emma couldn't wait any longer and needed to see what the hot chocolate and bathrooms were all about. she sat at my desk slurping marshmallows and hot chocolate from a spoon. if any other person sat at my desk slurping hot chocolate, it would drive me mad, but the sound of Emma doing it was slightly pleasing.

After the hot chocolate, Emma got to work on her math and spelling, which gave way to a massive craft project that used all my tape and paper clips. All told she spent about 4 hours in my office, happily busying herself with various self directed activities. On the ride in, I'd resigned my self to the fact that it would likely be a wasted morning. Quite the opposite, I actually finished my departmental goals and budget for 2012. At lunch with my wife, Emma expressed disappointment that she couldn't return to the office with me. It was great to have the time together and better yet it was a nice experience for both of us.

Sick Ward

2011-11-06T12:18:00.000-05:00

I used to think I could shelter my kids from the things in life that are difficult or don't go as planned. I am learning that sheltering them from anything is both difficult and wrong. Children, like anyone else, need to know what is coming so that they can wrap their brains around it. Whether it is some D-Bag trying to lure children into his windowless conversion van, or an upcoming knee surgery, kids need the information....maybe not all of it, but enough to process it in their own minds and form the dozens of questions necessary for understanding. As usual, life happened and I had the opportunity to put my ever shaping opinions to the test.

I left the doctors office and texted my wife. [The results are in.... Partial tears 2 MCL & ACL, Arthro Surgery B4 Tgiving]. Other than the obvious text conversation, this put in motion a series of events that I wouldn't be aware of until I arrived home later that night.

As I walked into the kitchen, after a rather stressful day, I was greeted with hugs. Both kids were carrying stuffed animals which had pieces of construction paper taped to and around various parts of their bodies. Before I could ask, Emma explained that her ugly doll just had surgery on it's eye. She immediately assured me that BEBO was OK, because he has two more. Jack confirmed that his bear was recovering from leg surgery. This was not one of their usual games. I looked at my wife and she raised her eyebrows and smirked. We have reached the point where we can sometimes communicate without talking.......Her look said "I told Emma you were having surgery...she told jack...and now they are doing what kids do to deal with things, playing about it.

Many studies have shown that children deal with fear and trauma through play. If you are ever uncertain about what's on your child's mind, just look at the theme of their play.

The kids pulled me to their playroom to show me the full extent of their anxiety. All over the playroom were folded blankets of every size (Beds). On each makeshift bed lay a stuffed animal with various bandages (construction paper and tape). Emma and jack explained that this was a hospital and that all the toys had surgery and they were taking care of them. They then pushed me out because the patients needed quiet and they had to get back to caring for them. I returned to the kitchen to make dinner. My wife confirmed what her look already told me. She went on to explain that the kids were concerned and that my upcoming surgery was scary for them.

My kids never directly brought up my surgery, so after dinner I did. I showed them on my knee where the injuries were and allowed them to push on the tender areas. Both pushed as they watched my face for distress. I then put their hands on my knee so that they could feel the grinding. Jack then asked if he could see my bones. Emma wanted to see them too. We went to the office to view my MRI results. This led to more questions and soon a diagram of a knee was on the screen. This was followed by more questions and pictures of Arthroscopic knee surgeries. Jack scoured the pictures for blood, pointing out even the tiniest amount. Emma unconsciously rubbed my shoulder......I imagine in an effort to sooth us both. I allowed the discussion to run its course, answering every question, while trying to calm every fear. Eventually the kids ran out of questions and I believe reached a level of comfort in the understanding that I would be OK. Their self directed play therapy lasted another day. Hopefully my recovery goes as smoothly and quickly as their process for preparing themselves for it.

Egg Breaker

2011-11-03T15:50:00.003-04:00

If you don't have kids you get the freedom of less accountability. If you do have kids they expect you to be true to your word. Everything you say may not be that important to you, but to them you are a deity. That is some pretty heavy shit. Think about it..... I am not just talking about the big decisions, but even the little things carry an importance that you may not realize. This came home for me this morning, as I was making my plans for a smooth early getaway.

As my wife entered the bathroom I asked "Do you mind if I get out of here early this morning and get into the office before the rush?" She responded that she didn't mind and then paused and recalled "....but remember you promised Jack you would make him rolled up eggs and toast." I had already started to increase the speed in which I was getting ready before the second half of her statement was comprehended by my brain. I suddenly stopped. I knew I wasn't leaving early, in fact I would be lucky to make it to work before my meeting at 8:30.

I should pause and for the record state that rolled up eggs and toast is Jack's favorite meal. It consists of buttered toast and a plain, eggs only, omelet rolled several times into a tight tube. That's all I can offer. He loves it and always wants it and I have no idea why.

I left our room to wake the kids up. As I entered the hall, Jack exited his room. He was visibly unstable and sleepy, rubbing his eyes. I met him with a "Good Morning Buddy! How did you sleep?" To this he responded groggily "Gooood...you promised to make me rolled up eggs and toast. Remember?" I couldn't believe that those were his first words of the day. It was as if he and my wife had planned it. I assured him that I was on my way down stairs to get breakfast started. This news seemed to fortify him and he was suddenly awake. A huge smiled stretched across his face "I knew you would remember." he said simply.

It is incredible that following through on a seemingly inconsequential promise can have such an effect. Thankfully my wife reminded me and thus saved our son from years of therapy. The bottom line is....as a parent don't promise unless you can deliver. Kids see us as something better than we actually are. That's a great thing, but with it comes tremendous responsibility. Maybe I am overstating it......but if I have a chance to become a God in my sons eyes by doing nothing more than making a plain omelet.....I'm taking that chance.

To The Finish

2011-10-24T14:19:00.000-04:00

My wife decided to name our son Jack after me, with a play on my first name. The combination of his first and middle names sounds like a rough and tumble cowboy from a Louis L'amour novel. Unfortunately, he acts every bit the part......half Clint Eastwood and half Kung Fu Panda. If we had swinging saloon doors, he or his sister would come flying through them every 10 minutes. Until this weekend, I was a little unclear on the motivation for all their fighting, but he cleared that up.

"En-Chill-Lota Kick!" Jack yelled, as he flew through the air in an attempt to kick his sister. I made enchiladas for dinner and apparently they were the inspiration his latest finishing move. Several more attempts were made at delivering the deadly enchilada kick, before hand to hand combat erupted in the playroom. Grunting and laughter continued until Jack emerged crying......it was a fake cry, one that only the guilty try to pull off. Of course he was hard selling it and trying to get us to side with him. "Emma kicked me in the face." he wailed. His face was red from where her foot connected, but he was fine. I explained that if he fights with people he is going to get hit and kicked and he is going to have to deal with it. He stomped back to the playroom and informed Emma of his anger at being kicked.

A solid half hour went by before they ran into the living room and collided in the center. Jack was giving his sister everything she could handle, until she remembered her advantage of size. Back and fourth it went....grunting...laughing...screaming for air. Suddenly Jack rolled away and ran to the entry way. He then ran back toward Emma, yelling an extended version of Enchilada, ending with the word kick, which was synchronized with a leg extended jump in the air. Emma, laying on her back, extended her leg and struck a perfect shot to his tenders. Jack crumbled to the floor as Emma laughed. All he could say was "Emma! I don't like that!" Emma reminded him that he started it and that she has to fight back. The argument started to escalate in volume and whining. I stepped in to ensure a peaceful resolution was achieved.

I sat down between them and began reiterating my message about fighting. Emma protested and said that she has to fight because Jack won't stop chasing her. I told her that if she doesn't want Jack to chase and fight with her, she can go to the table and color or take a toy to her room and play by herself. Before I finished Jack chimed in. "Emma, I have to fight you, I need the practice for when I am a professional Kung Fu Fighter." It was the first time I had heard this and found myself more surprised than I should have been. "You want to be a professional fighter?" I questioned. "Yes...I am not old enough for lessons, so I have to practice on Emma" Emma just raised her eyebrows and shrugged, non-verbally communicating how crazy she thinks her brother is. Before I could explain that beating on his sister was unacceptable Emma astutely assessed "But Jack, if you practice on me then I am practicing on you and I will get better too." I was impressed with this analysis and said so.

Jack ignored his sister and whined "When can I take fighting lessons for real?", as if we were neglecting his only desire. I gave some non committal "Dad" answer that ended the conflict and would allow me to regroup with my wife. Apparently it is high noon and ducking him is no longer going to work. Who is to say where this will end, but I think one thing is certain, I need to figure out how to hang a heavy bag in the basement.

Better Than Cake

2011-10-20T16:54:00.000-04:00

The other day I turned 42. I used to love my birthday. A single day devoted to me.....and the Millions of other people born that day. I am kidding of course, but birthdays used to be a lot of fun. As I've gotten older my birthday has ceased to hold much significance. Though insignificant to me, my children hold the day in high regard. I thought this was due to the availability of cake, but the gift I received on my birthday set me straight.

Several weeks before my birthday, my kids did something weird. They allowed my wife and I to have a conversation. We didn't even have to ask, they just left and went to their playroom. At the time this played as a relief more than a curiosity. Even with the hindsight of current events, I doubt I would have guessed that they were embroiled in an important and private discussion. After a good amount of time they reappeared in the kitchen and asked me to leave. "We need some privacy with Mommy" I was told. As I mounted the stairs, I could hear their excited whispers, but could not make out their words.

After the kids were in bed, my wife finally revealed the source of the evening's suspense. The kids had gone to their playroom to determine my birthday gift. Once decided, it became immediately important to get my wife on board. The interesting thing is, this all transpired without coaxing or reminders. As my wife described the conversation, she was both excited and amazed at what they had come up with. She never revealed the gift, but I felt confident that the kids couldn't keep the cat in the bag for the remaining three weeks.

Surprisingly.....I was wrong and the gift remained a mystery until I unwrapped it on the night of my Birthday. In fact, Jack remained vigilant in his refusal to even let me see the present before the time to unwrap arrived. When that time finally came, the kids were exploding with excitement. It was too much and I was going to slow, so they snatched the gift away and finished the job. I opened the unwrapped box and found a new Patriots shirt inside. It was the perfect size and, as Jack immediately pointed out, soft. Emma added that I could wear it while we watched the Patriots game as a family. They both concluded that it was also perfect for snuggles, because of its softness.

I would later find out, that they actually defined the type of shirt and then picked out the color and design. My wife said they were certain of what they wanted. I remain astounded that they remembered, formulated a plan, picked a great gift, and even more significantly, kept it a surprise. How extraordinary it is to be more important than cake to a couple of little kids.

Funny side story......when we actually got to the cake my son actually ate his piece slowly with a fork....enjoying every bite. This is significant because he generally ignores the use of silverware and eats like a lion. But not cake, apparently cake should be savored and enjoyed with a fork. I imagine little kid logic will remain a mystery to me, but one thing's for certain, cake is still pretty special.

Win Column

2011-10-16T13:10:00.000-04:00

I am completely unsure how it has come to be that competition, adversity, and winning/losing are all bad concepts. Kids want competition. Kids need competition. At some point, kids will need to know how to deal with adversity and loss. Coaching first grade girls soccer has submerged me directly into the role of Mr. Nice Guy where everything must be fair, equal, and happy. Ha ha ha...I am laughing as I write that - if you believe that I have adopted that persona then I have some land to sell you in the wetlands.

The kids' position on winning and losing was clearly conveyed as I sat in a circle with my team preparing for our first game. The majority of the girls on my team are completely passive girly girls. They are more likely to let play come to a complete halt in order to watch a hot air balloon, then break away and score. Perhaps that is why the first question from the girls was such a surprise.

"Will you tell us if we win or lose?" Ashleigh asked without making eye contact with me. Suddenly the other girls joined in. Apparently the group was upset that their parents and previous coaches stuck to the company line, that all events end in a tie. I promised to tell them the truth. Riley then added that they wouldn't be sad if they lost and would just do better next time. As the circle broke and we prepared to play, my assistant stopped me and explained that we aren't supposed to keep score and that the league is just for fun. I guess I neglected to read that part in the coaches package.

Ironically enough the first game ended in a legitimate tie, four all. Luckily I was able to keep my promise over the next 2 games which resulted in a win and a loss. The best part was that the girls handled all the outcomes without rubbing it in the other teams face or spiraling into a pit of despair. They were just happy to have a snack, drink and a bit of honesty. This will to win also provided the motivation I needed to have the girls buy into practice and breaking from the norm known as gravity ball. Everything was going well, we had an OK record, Each child was getting their playing time, and we were having fun. Of course the league commissioner couldn't leave well enough alone.

On Wednesday I received an email from the commissioner that was an instruction for coaches on keeping the outcomes of the game "equitable." His email spoke about not keeping score but remaining mindful of it so that you could ensure that the result was as close to a tie as possible. He provided tips like removing your best player and changing your lines so that the majority of your players stayed back on defense. I read it several times and even in recounting it, I find myself amazed. Why is winning and losing so bad? Isn't life about enjoying victories honorably while using dignified defeat as motivation to improve. Don't get me wrong I don't believe that winning is everything and I absolutely don't believe in parenting kids to be hyper-competitive. I simply believe in playing sport for the love of the game and competition. That being said, winning and losing provide great teachable moments and prepare kids for the challenges of adulthood. I guess, like all things, the answer is in taking a balanced approach.

The Atlantic had a great article in line with this topic.

Duly Noted

2011-10-14T09:14:00.000-04:00

As I wrote in the original Gone Daddy Gone, my children feel that saying goodbye is critical. I thought I understood the extent, apparently I didn't. Luckily my kids weren't shy about laying out the rest of the rules.

As we were driving home Wednesday evening, I was reminded, thanks to my blackberry, that I was needed in the office, well before the kids would awake on Thursday. I decided that telling the kids at that moment would pay greater dividends, then waiting until bed time. I wasn't expecting the discussion that ensued.

"Emma and Jack.....I have to go to work very early tomorrow, so I won't be able to say goodbye, because you will be sleeping. I promise I will give you a kiss and a snuggle before I leave."

Emma was first to speak and she was not pleased with what I had told her......"I don't want that, you need to wake me up and say good bye and then we can have a kiss and a snuggle, that way I remember it." Jack supported this position and said he wanted the same thing.

Suddenly my wife jumped into the fray "I don't want Daddy waking you up. You need your sleep and if you wake up too early you will be tired and grumpy." Both kids protested in vain. My wife then came up with a resolution. "What if Daddy, gives you a kiss and snuggle while you sleep and then writes you a note that says good bye?" Both kids agreed, but felt like I needed additional instruction.

Again Emma was the first to speak "Daddy...I have an idea for your note.....it should say Emma and Jack I had to leave without saying goodbye, I'm sorry. I hope you have a great day. Love Daddy."

I thanked her for the idea, while simultaneously being interrupted by Jack saying "Daddy!" repeatedly. I finally acknowledged him and he began to give me his two cents.

I could see his eyebrows raise, which matched his sly smile nicely. Then he spoke......"ORrrrrrrr, you could write a note...Emma and Jack, I hope you have a nice day.......when I get home we will do something special.....then you could write....something....like.....we will go out for ice cream..or...another treat..like....or it could say.....I will take you to the carnival (He pronounces it Incarnible, which I think is a play on incredible).....would that be nice surprise?"

Before I could answer, Emma delightedly threw her support behind Jack's version of the note, though she added the caveat that I could also take them to buy a toy.

My wife was now useless...doubled over in the passenger seat, quietly laughing herself to tears. I was now alone in my fight to bring sensibility to the situation. I again thanked them for their great ideas and agreed to leave a note for them. With regard to their other demands, I said that if I planned on taking them for a treat, I would include that in the note. This was met with actual cheers from the back seat. I added that a treat wouldn't be given every time I had to leave early. Unfortunately, this was less popular and was met with groans. But isn't that the way of good negotiating and family unity....both parties give a little and nobody gets exactly what they want.

Gone Daddy Gone

2011-10-09T12:25:00.000-04:00

Recently, the current of our lives got to the point where we were going constantly. Some days I left for work before the kids got up and some days it was my wife. On top of that, we overlaid additional responsibilities, soccer games, business dinners, etc. and we ended up just going all the time. The trap in all this was that the emotional side of the parent/child relationship was getting squeezed out of the picture. In fact, I left several times, in the recent weeks, without giving the family proper goodbyes. Thankfully we raised kids who aren't afraid to communicate.

I arrived home late after the kids went to bed. My wife said the scariest words a woman can say to a man ...... We need to talk. These four words have never resulted in the most pleasant conversations. No one ever says "we need to talk......I don't think you play golf enough." I said, fine and then tried to choke back the trepidation that was swelling inside of me.

My wife went onto explain that Emma had been an emotional wreck that morning, because I left for work without saying goodbye. I was confused, I thought I left before they woke up. She recounted that Emma was in the bathroom when she heard me leave. Apparently I also left for tennis the preceding week without properly saying goodbye. She further explained, that these instances coupled with not making it home before bed time, resulted in Emma and Jack telling her that it makes them very sad when I leave without giving them hugs and kisses and that I do it too much. This left me speechless and a little sad and embarrassed. While silently admonishing myself, I left the kitchen and headed upstairs to hug and kiss my sleeping kids.

Jack was out cold under a pile of stuffed puppies and blankets. I kissed him and felt the sting of disappointing someone I truly loved. I quietly shut his door and entered Emma's room. The coward in me felt a sense of relief in finding her asleep. I pulled her blanket up and kissed her cheek. She immediately opened her eyes and said "Daddy, I don't like it when you leave without saying goodbye to me...it makes me feel sad." I started to explain myself, but stopped. I probably couldn't have gotten the words out any way. I apologized and said that I would always say goodbye even if she's asleep. She said OK and made me pinky promise. We hugged again and then she skewered my heart. "If you don't say goodbye, it makes me feel sad when you are away." Luckily it was dark in her room and she didn't notice the crack in my voice when I said I loved her and kissed her goodnight.

Chillin

2011-10-06T10:51:00.002-04:00

Sometimes you can go days without a moment of connection with your kids. It can be the pace of the combined schedules or a phase of bad behavior brought on by unknown forces. Either way, these times can really strain and frustrate a family. That's why I remind myself to cherish even the smallest simplest connection.

Jack started coughing at about five in the morning. we tried to sleep through it, but eventually gave up. My wife grabbed the first shower and I headed down the hall to check on Jack. I walked toward his room rubbing my eyes. I nearly tripped over him as he stood silently in the hall. Our kids have a crazy way of seeming like movie style specters and scaring the shit out of my wife and I. He simply extended his arms and said "snuggles". I picked him up and hugged him tightly. he nestled his head into my neck and pointed to our bed.

I put him on my wife's side and tucked him in. He patted the bed next to him and again said snuggles. I climbed into bed with him and he pressed into my chest. He let out a long sigh and said that he loved me in a voice that was so quiet it was hardly a whisper. We laid there for a long time. The strange thing is he didn't move a muscle, which is extraordinarily unlike Jack. Finally he became restless and seemed to be struggling with the pillow. I asked him what was wrong. "Cold" he said "I like cold pillows." I laughed at this and asked, flipping the pillow, "You like the cool side of the pillow?" He sunk into the cool side and sighed "that's nice". I told him that I agreed. To this he lifted his head and smiled......you know the type of smile you give when you have something in common. He patted the pillow and told me to "lay here". I laid down as he watched my face. I smiled and said that's nice. he smiled at me and we just laid there chillin on the cool side together. Such a simple silly moment.....But moments like that are essential and make dealing with the difficult stuff more bearable.

Edgy

2011-10-06T10:01:00.000-04:00

A very good friend and blogger has helped me tremendously with my foray into blogging. He's done everything from setting up my page, to editing, to directing traffic. Last weekend he told me something that brought me to a complete stop and sent me deep into my own brain and motivations. He told me that I needed to find an edge or an angle and without it I will never be successful as a blogger. He had a point.

After much deliberation and soul searching, I could not come up with an edge or an angle. Honestly, I did not want the angle to drive the content. I felt like supporting the angle would become more important than chronicling my kids childhood and my struggles at being a good father.

As far as success goes, I really don't care if I end up a professional blogger. Success for me, is measured by achieving a couple things. I hope to give my kids the output of this blog so they see that they mattered to me. Really mattered. I would also like to give my family and its extended members a glimpse into my kids lives, so they don't feel estranged. Lastly, I would like to reach other readers and make them laugh from time to time, or at least give them the feeling that we all share the struggles of raising kids.

I guess my only angle is that the blog is an open love letter to my kids. I know that sounds cheesy and maybe less than masculine, but I don't care. I was given the feeling, as a boy, that I and my siblings had ruined my father's life. That had a profound and lasting impact on my life. I don't want my kids to feel that. I want them to see that I wanted them, cared for them, and struggled to do the right things. I hope they see that I would have much rather hugged then punished........I often wanted to overindulge them, but chose what I thought was best.........That all the decisions I made as a father, weighed on me, because I wanted them to be happy, independent, productive adults. I want them to know that they made my life better, certainly more challenging, but better.

Fair Fairy

2011-09-26T12:25:00.001-04:00

Sometimes I am astounded at how much pressure a parent can feel over a seemingly small event. I wonder if this is self imposed or how society works. I guess it doesn't matter, it is there and it gets more attention than it deserves. I guess at some point I will stop being surprised that things like the loss of a first tooth can bring on stress and much discussion.

My daughter has had a long love/hate relationship with the loss of her first tooth. She wanted it to happen so she could keep up with her friends. She was feeling the pressure of not being the same. This anticipatory stress was coupled with her anxiety over how much it was going to hurt. Emma is many wonderful things, but her irrational consuming fear of pain is a massive challenge. To put it in perspective, removing a band-aid usually takes twenty minutes and two parents. I can't even begin to describe the shit show surrounding the removal of a splinter. We have spent a good amount of time talking about when and if it would happen. She constantly quizzes us on how much it will hurt and bleed.

2 weeks ago Emma came running down the stairs yelling. "My tooth is wiggling! It's wiggling! My front tooth is loose!" My initial response was to comfort her fears, but when she rounded the corner I could see she was overjoyed. She confirmed this by shouting "My friends are going to be so excited! I am finally going to loose a tooth!" Unfortunately her initial joy was short lived. I made the terrible mistake of trying to inspect the tooth. "NO! It's going to hurt! No! It's not ready!, It's Not Ready!" she shrieked covering her face. I retreated, coaxing her back to reality. Some battles aren't worth fighting.

For the next 2 weeks she gave us updates on how wiggly the tooth was. During this time, she kept reminding us that is was not ready and it would eventually fall out when it was. On Friday Nana came to visit. Emma was so excited to show Nana her wiggly tooth. She proudly opened her mouth and pointed to the location of the tooth. Nana looked in and said "Emma it's not there anymore." Emma looked concerned and confused "What?!? It was there this morning, I checked it this morning", she then reached into her mouth to find that what Nana was telling the truth. Emma smiled broadly and said "Hey everyone, I lost my first tooth.....and it didn't even hurt" ........

Then the realization set in that without a tooth, the tooth fairy would not visit and leave money. The look on her face was shear panic. I anticipated this moment and quickly stepped in...."Emma write a note for the tooth fairy. She will know that you are telling the truth and will probably leave you money." This made sense to her and she hurriedly collected paper and pencil. she carefully constructed the note and then ran upstairs to put it under her pillow.

On the surface all seemed fine but more anxiety was to come.

My wife and I bid Nana and the kids goodbye and left for a night out. Our conversation to and from the restaurant centered around the current tooth fairy rates. Emma recently brought word from school, that a girl in her class received a hundred dollar bill for her first tooth. My wife added, that her friend gave his son a twenty for the first and five for each subsequent tooth. I told my wife, that at a hundred a tooth, I would have been yanking out my own with pliers. Back and fourth we went with different options. Luckily we both erred on the side of fiscal responsibility. In the end we found it funny that financing tooth loss, was causing us such anxiety. We decided that we would give the kids two, one dollar coins, for each tooth. Luckily we had an old sleeve of the coins in our office. The next morning our decision was rewarded with two overjoyed children. Emma for receiving the coins and Jack in anticipation of his first lost tooth. Perhaps the realization that the tooth fairy was real, made up for the fact that we refused to match the inflation caused by the current parenting trend towards overindulgence.

Mirror Image

2011-09-22T15:33:00.000-04:00

Kids are a mirror that reflects everything parents' do - whether it is right or wrong. For instance, if I am prejudiced, my children also may be. If I lie and forget promises, then my kids will be infected with dishonesty. The same is true for all the good stuff too. These truths were on display earlier this week when a trip to and from school highlighted the various extremes of my parenting.

I was desperately trying to get Jack to school so that I would have time to turn around and return to my neighborhood in time to drop Emma at the bus stop. This is the routine my wife and I have developed when one of us is out of town. In its written description it sounds insane, but from a timing perspective, it get's us to work the earliest. I was weaving in an out of traffic trying to obey as many laws as possible. Emma kept asking if I was above the speed limit. Her brother on the other hand kept yelling out "Zoom Zoom!" mixed with the occasional "GO! GO!" I avoided every light and I made the final turn to the school in record time. As I turned, I found a mini van, in front of me, going half the speed limit. I hit the brakes early to avoid tailgating. Jack let out an exasperated exhale, which he followed with "Oh....Come On Dopey.....Drive!" First I laughed to myself and then reflected on the thousand times I said the very same thing. I have to admit I was proud that it wasn't something worse. It is a minor miracle and one of my greatest accomplishments that I have been able to keep my kids from swearing.

Later that day, I picked up both kids from their schools and was heading home to make dinner and help with homework. I asked Emma if she found the special treat I packed for her (chocolate pudding). "The pudding? I found it. Thank you." she responded. I asked her if she liked it. "I didn't eat it.", she said. I was shocked at this and quizzed her on whether she wanted a different kind, or if pudding had fallen out of favor. "I wanted to eat it." she said in a way that would ensure that it showed up in her lunch box again, "but I didn't have a lot of time for lunch and I ate all the healthy stuff first." I was absolutely astounded at this response. It was like a vindication of all the lessons my wife had taught on eating. I told her I was so proud of her for making such a good decision. To this she said "well I knew I was going to have a busy day and my body was hungry for good things. My body needed energy." She said it like it was a completely normal thing for a six year old to say. I found myself laughing quietly again. The truth is I felt pretty proud of her and myself. Hopefully in 15 years I will feel the same way.

Simple Life

2011-09-19T07:21:00.000-04:00

It is so easy to get captured in the day in, day out routine. Hurrying here hurrying there. But if you can just find the time and stop and do something small with your kids, which is a break from the routine, you might just have one of those moments that makes all you do for them worthwhile.

My wife packed a lunch, while I did yard work. The kids were busy playing with their friends next door. All morning Jack told everyone we saw that we were going on a "Nature Hunt." We were actually going on a picnic to a local lake, which just happens to be fifteen minutes from our house.

Within 20 minutes of leaving our house, we had stretched out the picnic blanket, picked our spots and and my wife was handing out sandwiches. It was a breezy, sunny, mild day. The lake was loaded with sailboats. we all sat, mesmerized by all that went on in front of us, enjoying our sandwiches. There was no bickering or talking, just silence and the beautiful setting. That was when the moment happened.

My son was on the end of the blanket and my wife was to his right. He had a half of a sandwich in his hand. Jack worked at it, but eventually removed his shoes without using his hands. The he laid back placing his head on my wife's leg and crossed his legs. Jack finished what he wanted of his sandwich and then let out a long sigh that ended with an extended "Yes". He closed his eyes and let out another sigh. My wife looked over at me and smiled. Emma soon joined him and rested in the fetal position with her head on my leg. We sat there silently for a long time, just enjoying the slow movement of the sailboats, the combination of warm sun with cool breeze, and the temporary break from everyday life.

Jumping Jack

2011-09-15T15:19:00.000-04:00

So many things I've read have conveyed the importance of raising kids in a balanced and nurturing environment. An environment that allows them to explore their natural curiosity. I get it....I really do. We hardly kid proofed our house when they were toddlers. The kids have always had a high level of freedom, while getting clear boundaries. This has resulted in both Emma and Jack being relatively self assured and independent. The majority of the time this independence pays tremendous dividends.

It was 10 minutes until 8:00am. the kids had exited through the garage and were playing in the front of the house. I was running around like a lunatic trying to finish getting dressed, clean up from breakfast, organize Emma's backpack, and exit with all my belongings. For the life of me, I couldn't find my keys and then I heard my horn blare twice. Then twice more......then twice (Well you get the point). I one shoed it to the door to find out who had my keys. Jack was in the driver seat with a big stupid grin on his face. I yelled for him to get out the car and stop screwing with my keys. I turned to put on my shoe and the horn beeped again. I gave him the Dad stare, that 4 years ago I didn't know I had. He peered back at me through the windshield with the fight or flight face. He slowly exited the car and apologized.

Ten minutes later I was finished in the house and ready to take the kids to school. I emerged from the house to find my keys in the middle of the driveway. After getting both kids buckled, I got in the car and found the battery totally dead. After holding in the stress, to the point of being light headed, I exhaled. I turned and looked at Jack, who looked back at me sheepishly. "Jack, how many times did you push the button on the keys?" He held up his right hand, fingers extended, and with his left hand tucked his pinky finger under his thumb. I could tell from the look on his face, that both of us knew this was a lie.

I exited the car and walked to my neighbors house. Luckily he was home and pulled his truck into the driveway. I opened the back hatch to grab my jumper cables. Jack turned in his seat and asked if I was mad at him. I said I wasn't, but I was frustrated that he pushed the button enough to kill the battery. He said he was sorry and I said that I appreciated him trying to help, but that playing with the car is not acceptable. He apologized again and I told him it was fine. I closed the hatch and felt good for not losing it the way my dad would have.

The car jumped easily and we were off to school. I dropped Jack off last, As he and I walked through the door to his class he shouted "Hello Every Buddy!" (He does this everywhere we go, to rave reviews). The kids turned to meet his greeting. "Sorry I'm late, my Daddy broke his car this morning." He then gave me a devilish look and asked for a hug. I envisioned shaking him but gave him a big hug instead. When I got back in the car I realized that he had drained the battery so much that the stereo had activated the anti-theft lock. I rode to work in silence, which gave me time to remind myself that everyday is a blessing

Sick Pup

2011-09-11T13:48:00.000-04:00

Life with kids is constant motion and acceleration. Animators captured it perfectly in old cartoons when they showed days flying off a calendar. This is especially true if the daily routine is going to plan. In this scenario, 6 months of your life can be gone in the blink of an eye. The only thing that grinds all this to a halt is a sick kid.

Our weekend was right around the corner and we were looking forward to a relaxing camping trip away from the break neck pace of our life. luckily flooding prevented us from going. I say luckily because both Jack and my cold came to a head Friday night. His peaked at a neighbor's impromptu barbecue at about 9 o'clock, when he grabbed his ear and folded into my wife's arms. Suddenly the self reliant terror was a clingy sobbing mess. We hastily said our goodbyes and I carried Jack home. I know I am probably wrong, but I don't remember him holding on to me that tight before. He was obviously in a good amount of pain.

Once home I helped him into his PJ's, as my wife arrived with Tylenol. After he drank it down, I tucked him into bed. As I turned to leave, he said he needed snuggles. I obliged and bent down and hugged him and kissed his forehead again. This was obviously not what he wanted, "No, I need big snuggles", with this he folded back the covers. I laid down on the bed next to him and wrapped him in my arms. He said nothing more, but "that's nice." All I know is, one second I was laying there comforting him and the next it was two in the morning. I slid off his bed, doing my best not to wake him. I tucked him in and stumbled through the pitch black house to my room.

When Jack woke in the morning, his ear was still bothering him. I took him to the doctor to get antibiotics. The doctor confirmed that he had an ear infection. She also suggested that he get a flu shot. She told him not to worry because she had the tiniest needles they make. She then added that if he doesn't cry he can get a sticker. I said out loud that I should go and get a flu shot at some point. The doctor perked up "Oh I can give you one too, no problem." (ugh, perfect). She administered Jack's shot. He was perfectly brave.....not a single flinch or tear, in fact he hardly gripped my hand. I told him I was proud of him. The doctor then said it was my turn. Jack must have missed our exchange earlier, because he was visibly shocked by this. As she prepared a larger needle for me, Jack patted my leg and said "don't worry it doesn't hurt very bad." As she approached, Jack took a hold of my hand, as I had done for him. I got a little choked up at this gesture, luckily I was able to hold back the tears. In a second she was done and removed the needle. Jack scanned my face to make sure I was ok. As the doctor placed the band aid on my arm, Jack asked "My Daddy didn't cry either. Can he have a sticker too?" The doctor laughed at this and let him pick out stickers for both of us. Jack quickly found 2 stickers he liked. He place one on his shirt over his heart and then placed one on my shirt in same location. "Hey, we're twins" He said, smiling.

After a couple doses of antibiotic Jack was back to normal and the pace in our household began to accelerate again. It was nice, at least for a short time to let our life wait and focus on comforting and healing Jack.

Bike Day

2011-09-08T17:53:00.000-04:00

I think one of my primary goals for being a father is to be involved and not miss those key moments. That being said, I need to do more than just be present. I need to make sure I don't get in the way of how my kids remember those moments. Unfortunately, while Jack was on the precipice of one of those moments, I was there to play the role of impatient ogre. As I eluded to in the post Helping Hand, I should have taken a lesson from my daughter on patience.

Jack came in the house to inform me that the training wheel on his bike was broken. I grabbed some tools and headed into the garage. I told jack that I would have his bike fixed in just a second. As I bent down over the bike he stopped me to say "Take off the training wheels, I am ready for two wheels, like Emma." After the wheels were off, He spent a good amount of time in the backyard with my wife making test runs on the grass. After mastering this at rapid speed, we all believed he was ready for the big time (a large empty parking lot with plenty of straight away).

The only problem was, I had set my expectations too high. for some reason I expected Jack to attack the parking lot, like he does most things.....without fear. This was obviously flawed thinking and led to much more frustration than was needed. The other mistake I made, was not explaining to him how to turn. Another failed assumption that would bite me in the ass.

We made it to the parking lot and had removed the bikes from the van and installed the helmets on both children. Emma immediately took off and yelled back for Jack to watch her. He did and wanted nothing more than to get on his bike and catch up. He straddled his bike and took a massive deep breath. I should have recognized his nervousness, but I missed it. He told me he was ready and I gave him a push. He immediately caught his balance and rode forward with ease. Unfortunately he kept riding straight without veering from his course, that is, until he encountered a curb and crashed. My wife ran to him and helped him up. We told him he was fine...I don't think he believed us. He was fine, at least physically, but he was scared. I didn't let that stop me from pushing him to get back on. Once back on, I admonished him for not turning. Luckily my wife stepped in and softly took over as the good cop. In an instant I felt like a monster, especially when he explained that he didn't know how to turn. Turning with training wheels involves more leaning and less turning apparently. I felt like I had let him down. Luckily, I had time to start over. My wife turned to me and said, "take it easy, you need to relax a little." This reinforced what I was already feeling.

I immediately changed my approach and followed my wife's lead. Though I remained a little more firm than my wife, I emphasized encouragement, love and pride. This new approach definitely worked......Especially in conjunction with following him on my rollerblades. By following him, I was able to hold him by the seat and talk/navigate him through the directional changes. This worked much better than me taking the approach of father who throws his kid in the pool to teach swimming. The day ended with Jack doing several laps by himself and executing turns like a champ. It also ended with me feeling like we had accomplished something as a family.

Jack was so proud of himself, that for several days, he told everyone that he could ride on two wheels. Hopefully he will reflect on learning to ride his bike as a pleasant event, not one spoiled by an overbearing tyrant. For me, learning to take a more gentle approach with my son was invaluable and will be my go to approach when the next teachable moment comes along.

Helping Hand

2011-09-04T23:16:00.000-04:00

I only hope that I am doing this parenting thing right, at least some of the time. The truth is I am horrified of screwing my kids up. I am not horrified enough to be a total push over, but still scared enough to think and re-think every decision. It sure is nice to get little reminders that we may be doing some things right.

My wife and I were upstairs getting ready to take the kids to a huge parking lot, so Jack could learn to ride his bike without training wheels. For a change, I was dressed first, so I headed down to get the kids ready. They were no where to be found. Luckily they had left a clue by leaving the front door wide open. I emerged from the front door to find Emma and Jack across the street. They didn't see me so I sat near by and observed. I was pleasantly surprised at what I would witness.

Jack and Emma both had their helmets on. Jack was straddling his bike (I had removed his training wheels earlier). Emma was behind him holding onto his seat. She spoke to him, encouraging him to be brave and reminding him, that with a little push, he could do it on his own. I sat there amazed at the tender guidance she was offering him. suddenly she started moving forward still holding his seat. In unison he began pedaling. they moved too slowly for Jack to maintain his balance. After a few wobbly steps, they stopped. They repeated this several times. Each time Emma offered more encouragement and even more helpful hints. She really wanted Jack to be successful.

Finally she gave him enough of a push to really get going. Unfortunately, Jack panicked and crashed onto the neighbors grass. Jack erupted into crocodile tears. He was completely fine, but really playing it up. I watched as Emma soothed her brother and then told him to wait while she got help. I ducked back inside the house ( I am not sure why I did this). Emma came running into the kitchen. She informed me that Jack had fallen, but not to worry because he was "fine, just scared." I was so proud of her, but didn't want to let on that I had been watching the whole time. It was so rewarding to see her treat her brother like that, even when my wife and I weren't there. I don't feel comfortable taking credit for what Emma did, I can only hope that in some way it is a byproduct of how we are raising her. The truth is, I could learn a thing or two from her on being patient with Jack. A lesson that would come in handy later that day (Tune-In Thursday For Bike Day).

Lost

2011-09-01T21:26:00.000-04:00

The last couple weeks have had a familiar theme.....Get Emma Ready For First Grade. You would think this would have been an easy task. It wasn't. Not because of Emma, but because of how difficult it was to make our schedules work. I swear I don't know how people manage. The funny thing was.....what went wrong the first day, was one of the things we feared the most.

It was Emma's first day of first grade. The morning went pretty much like clockwork. My wife even had time to snap a few photos of Emma in her new pink dress. She made it to the bus stop on time, found a neighborhood friend to be her bus buddy and departed without a single hesitation.

Throughout her first day I kept wondering how she was doing, if she was overwhelmed, if she enjoyed her first brown bag lunch, if the teacher was nice, did she make friends. It seems silly to write those words now but they were definitely the thoughts that drifted in and out of my head throughout my day. Truthfully though, our biggest fear was whether or not Emma would successfully take the correct bus to the aftercare program that we signed up for through the YMCA. My wife alerted the neighbors, in case Emma accidentally caught the bus home instead. My wife even waited in a nearby parking lot and tried to tail the aftercare bus but followed the wrong one. Since she hadn't come home and we didn't hear anything from the school, we accepted that no news was good news.

I met my wife at home at 4:30pm, so that we could pick up Emma from aftercare together. As we drove to the aftercare school, my phone rang. The young woman from the YMCA then proceeded to punch me directly in the brain.

"Mr. Everyday Father, do you have your daughter?"

Before I could answer or begin yelling, the phone was out of my hand and pressed to my wife's face. Suddenly my wife transformed into an angry bear protecting her cub. I could hear the young girl stumbling on the other end of the line. She had obviously called with little information and not nearly enough protection. I was trying to reassure my wife as my own heart did its best to force its way through my chest. Finally my wife had had enough.

"What the hell do you mean she didn't get off the bus at the right place? She is only 6 years old and it is her first day of school! I want to know how this could happen! Don't you have procedures and checklists!"

Suddenly the director was on the phone, telling my wife that they had an Emma at the YMCA instead of the aftercare school (where she was supposed to be). They put my wife on hold so they could go to the playground and check if that Emma was our Emma. It was. My wife relaxed, well, only slightly. We were only 30 seconds from the aftercare school so we continued, knowing Emma was not there. I wasn't sure if it was to check for Emma or so that the entire chain of command could get a dose of the momma bear now inhabiting the passenger seat. My wife was amazingly calm but in a scary "which one of you is responsible for losing my child" kind of way. She approached the person in charge and said that she was there to pick up her daughter, Emma. Just as panic came across their face, noticing that they didn't have an Emma at the aftercare school, the director pulled up. She was out of the car within 2 seconds and ran to reassure my wife that she had found Emma (and the other child that was misplaced) and that there were, in fact, procedures in place. She kept reiterating that it was an "inexcusable mistake that wouldn't be repeated."

Suddenly we were back in the car, leaving the aftercare staff shell shocked, if not viciously mauled. As we arrived at the YMCA, we both saw our daughter on the playground. My wife ran to my daughter, hugging her before turning again toward the defenseless staff. Again checklist and procedures were verified and apologies were heaped on my wife. Honestly, my wife handled it better than I would have. I have a tendency to lose diplomacy when my family is threatened. That being said, I am certain that my daughter will be the most well cared for child in the program.

As we drove home, Emma was unaware of all that had gone on and happily described a wonderful first day of school filled with kind teachers, new friends, and great first experiences. When asked why she didn't get off the bus at the aftercare school she simply said "They didn't seem to know what they were doing, and never called my name. Since my name tag said YMCA, I thought it would be better to just stay on the bus, because they said the next stop was the YMCA." Apparently Emma dislikes disorganization and chaos as much as my wife.

Ice breaker II

2011-08-28T09:33:00.000-04:00

This is a continuation of the theme from Ice Breaker, about breaking down barriers as only a kid can. This story also belies Jack's absolute fearlessness.

We finish up in the outdoor cafe.....Jack and I head into the restaurant to pay. As I stand at the hostess stand trying to complete the transaction, jack drifts into the bar area, which is mostly empty except a biker. The biker is wearing a bandana and decked out in leather chaps and vest. He looks like a bad ass, though knowing the area, he is probably a cardiologist. Of course, Jack walks directly up to him, ignoring my requests for him to come back.

Using his tough guy voice, Jack addresses the biker "Is that your motorcycle out there?" Jack turns and looks out the window still pointing. Jack never sees the man turn to look him in the face, or his smile as he let his gaze drop to where Jack's face actually was. This must have taken longer than Jack was expecting, because he turned back before the man could answer and asked "Is It?"

The man chuckled and answer that it was his bike. A devilish smile crept across Jack's face "What kind of motorcycle is it?" before the man could answer, Jack turned back to stare at the bike as his questioning continued. After the biker answered that it was a Harley, Jack asked him "Is that a Good Motorcycle?" Again the biker chuckled "The best made bike in Ameri...." Before he could get out the "ca" in America, Jack was on to his next question "Is it super fast?" Jack turned back to the biker to hear his answer "It is very fast." ( I think the biker realized that he should keep his answers as short as possible)

I could tell from Jack's face that he was excited. "Do you go really fast?" Jack asked squinting and leaning forward, as if he were studying the man's face to judge the truthfulness of his response. "Sometimes" the biker said. "How fast do you go?" Jack asked, still studying. The biker seemed amused by the tiny bike enthusiast standing in front of him "I've been over a hundred." Jack was now delighted and exclaimed "Wow! a hundred, you went a hundred" Jack turned to me his eyebrows as high as they could go "He went a hundred on the motorcycle" I imagined that If Jack's response had come from a grown man instead of a 4 year old a bar clearing brawl would have started. Jack just kept shaking his head and repeating "wow". Jack turned back to the biker "I am going to get a motorcycle when I am six....have a nice day" Jack turned and began walking to the front door. The biker and I smiled at each other. "He isn't too shy, is he?" the biker asked rhetorically. I thanked him for his time and kindness, then raced after Jack before he could mount the man's bike"

Ice Breaker

2011-08-24T23:27:00.000-04:00

I wonder if we were all a little less withdrawn, would America return to being a friendlier place. The only people who seem to be willing to strike up a conversation are little kids. Nothing like a dose of my tiny extravert to break down barriers.

We had just finished eating ice cream at the local dairy and we were heading home to give the kids showers. Jack was electrified with energy, following his small cup of chocolate brownie ice cream. He galloped and hopped his way to the van. I trailed two steps behind. Suddenly he turned ninety degrees in the air and landed right in front of a woman in a wheel chair. She was wearing a cast on her right leg. This happened so suddenly that I almost tackled jack and the woman. Completely transfixed, he crouched and gave her leg a hard look.

Finally making eye contact, he exclaimed "Wow! what happened to you?"

The woman explained that she hurt her leg and can't walk. She then asked his name and age. Holding up 4 fingers he responded "Jack...how did you hurt it?" she said that she had fallen. Jack crouched down again, giving her leg another probing look. Shaking his head, he looked up "You need to be careful...OK" I doubt he heard her or her family's laughter as he galloped down the sidewalk. I apologized for the intrusion. She smiled and said she didn't mind at all. Thanks to Jack I am meeting all kinds of people from all walks of life.

Berry Nostagic - Grandma's View

2011-08-23T10:23:00.001-04:00

Part of the reason I started this blog was so our relatives, who are scattered here and there, can have a view of my children's life. It also gives the grandparents things to talk to the kids about when they Skype......God knows kids are not always the most willing conversationalists. So it makes me feel tremendous when I hear that our relatives are reading and especially when they take the time to respond to my posts. Luckily the Everyday Grandma took the time to add her take on Berry Nostalgic.

OK...Where do I begin? Yes, I did take the Everyday Father to orchards to pick fruit. But because I had the misfortune of picking raspberries and blackcaps when I was a kid on the ranch, I never forced that event on my children. Being allergic to everything under the sun, you can only imagine how puffed up my hands, arms, and face were, not to mention my tongue and eyes. So fun!

What we did and what you remember are many hours in the orchards of Emmett and the grape fields in Nampa picking apples, peaches, pears, and truckloads of asparagus, all of which was canned or frozen so we could enjoy the tastiness through the winter. We all came home tired, but full of the wonderful fresh fruit we ate while working. So, just wait a few weeks and try again to have this fun! Leave the berry picking to the pros and enjoy the view from the top of a fruit tree like you did when you were a boy! (I’ll just bet Jack can climb as high as his grandmother can.)

(Please share this with my grand kids so they don’t think I was a monster and you are a crazy person.)

Berry Nostalgic

2011-08-21T07:41:00.000-04:00

I am convinced that some of the good times I had as a kid, that are now nostalgic memories, were probably, in some way, miserable for both me and my parents. The reason I think this, is we keep dragging our kids on outings convinced that it is going to be a joyful bonding experience, only to find, that though some bonding and smiling occurs, it is also a sweaty, itchy, miserable, shit show. We used our family's Saturday morning to inflict another bonding experience on our children so that they can one day look back blissfully on their childhood.

We were out of the house by 8:15 this morning. we made it to our favorite diner and had a wonderfully civilized breakfast with our usually uncivilized children. We then did some shopping for school clothes and then piled back in the car to drive into the country to check out a future campsite. As we neared our destination I spied a local orchard with a sign declaring fresh pie. I have a few weaknesses and pie just happens to be one of them. we spun the van around and headed back to the orchard. My wife and I made the mistake of noticing and announcing the option of picking your own fruit. I was immediately transported back to a simpler time when, as a boy, my mom would take us fruit picking. All it took was Jack asking to pick raspberries and I was in.

I had high hopes as we collected our baskets and entered rows of raspberry bushes. Within moments my wife had enough of the darting bees, but she soldiered on, arms swinging wildly at the tiny combatants. Every time a bee went past Jack would yell "I see a bee bottom" and he and Emma would laugh like a couple of idiots. Within a half an hour we had 2 containers of raspberries. Jack was bright red and sweaty. His arms hung limply from his shoulders and he kept repeating that he was "so tired". Truthfully my wife was cooked too and we hadn't even collected the blackberries she was craving.

After climbing around in the blackberry bushes, I was done too, I was drenched, itchy, sticky, did I mention itchy.....ridiculously so. We all began the forced march (my wife's words, not mine) back to the car. Both kids were hunched over at the waist, in an effort to drive home how tired they were. Every few steps one would remind us that they were so itchy. I paid for the privilege of picking our own berries, while my wife put the kids in the car and handed out large squirts of hand sanitizer. As I walked to the car to join them, I thought about all the trips I had taken with mom to various orchards and wondered if I had been as whiny and exhausted as my kids. We stopped for some ice cream, which will likely be the reason, my kids remember the whole of the experience fondly. Both kids fell asleep seconds after we hit the road and then spent the rest of the day being whiny, argumentative, irrational, over tired kids. All I can hope for is we made them tired enough to sleep in tomorrow and that these little adventures cause them to grow up thinking they had a happy childhood.

New Posting Days

2011-08-20T17:39:00.000-04:00

From tomorrow forward I will be posting on Sunday and Thursday. Thank you for your readership and continued support.

Perfection

2011-08-18T12:01:00.000-04:00

Children are constantly looking at the world through a cataloging lens. It is how the human mind works, we just sort people into their categories and move on. The important part is for us, the parents, not to put our own prejudices or baggage on the categories. Often times this means softening your stance on the things about yourself that you don't like.

When Jack eats something he likes, he eats like a shark....frenzied, with his eyes rolled back in his head, and then there is that wierd smirk that sharks seem to have. He had just kobayashi'd his second hot dog, when he laid back in his chair, rubbed his belly and released a satiated sigh........"I would eat hot dogs and ice cream everyday"

"You can't eat ice cream and hot dogs everyday...it's not good for you" Emma asserted.

"Don't Boss me, Emma" Jack responded

I stepped in "Emma don't boss your brother.....and Jack, Emma is right you have to eat more than just hot dogs and ice cream. Your body needs fruit, vegetables and milk to stay healthy"

I turned back to do the dishes, but apparently the conversation was just getting started and I was about to become the center of the discussion.

"Daddy, will you get fat if you eat just hot dogs and ice cream?" Emma asked

I responded that it depended on how much of it you ate, combined with how fast your body burns the food that you eat. I also added that eventually that a diet of hot dogs and ice cream will make your body unhealthy and it would likely cause you to have extra fat. I concluded by reminding them that how people look doesn't matter nearly as much as what kind of person they are on the inside. Again, I made the mistake of thinking the conversation was over.

"Daddy, you are little bit fat, aren't you?" Emma asked

Jack quickly added "Emma it's OK to be fat"

"I know! Jack!" Emma fired back

This initiated a back and fourth discussion about why I am "a little bit" fat, that included everything from portion control to genetics. The conversation concluded with both kids reassuring me that it doesn't matter to them, because, apparently, they consider me the best daddy. I turned back to the dishes feeling great about how I handled a discussion that, at points in the past, would have left me feeling pretty self conscious. Unfortunately, the discussion wasn't over and one final question had to be answered. "Daddy, is mommy perfect because she eats all the right things?" Emma inquired. All I could say was yes.

All Wet

2011-08-13T11:00:00.000-04:00

Sometimes, there are moments when everything in my house is at peace. My wife was at work and both kids were still in bed. It was like heaven....not a sound, reading the news, enjoying a hot cup of coffee. I probably had a smile on my face, but who can be sure. Then I heard the first sounds of life. Emma entered the bathroom above me and I knew the chaos of the day would slowly descend on me. Unfortunately it descended like a hammer instead of the anticipated feather.

"Jack, no!....NO!....NO!....NOOOOoooooo!" Emma screamed somewhere above me.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. I imagine this was a pre-programmed coping mechanism for dealing with children. As I reached a point of mental stability, Emma appeared next to me, tears on her face, and naked from the waist down. Before I could question her, she spoke.

"I have to tell you something so bad....something very bad that Jack did. I was going potty and Jack told me he had to go potty. Then he pee'd on me while I was sitting on the potty."

"What!!?!?!?!" I said in shock

"Daddy he really did, feel my pajamas [holding out her wet shirt]...he took out his penis and pee'd on me."

"Wow...ok...um...go upstairs and get in the shower." I said as a dizzying combination of disbelief, surrealism, and pure unbridled rage swirled within my brain.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. I counted to ten. Then I counted to ten again and again......and again. Then I picked up the phone and called my wife. Somehow talking her through her own feelings of disbelief and anger helped. I hung up and headed upstairs. As I walked up the stairs, Jack waited for me with a look of remorse and foreboding...his eyes remained locked with mine. As I neared the top he turned and ran. He dove into his bed and quickly hid under his covers and pillows. After calling his name several times, two eyes finally emerged. I then asked him why he pee'd on his sister. To his credit he admitted that he did, in fact, pee on his sister and explained that he had to go and she wouldn't move. I explained that it was a terrible thing to do and totally disrespectful. I then took away his favorite stuffed animals, TV privileges, computer privileges, and gave him a half hour in his room. However, first he needed to clean up the mess in the bathroom. His only response was "But, I said I was sorry." I explained that saying your sorry is hardly adequate and led him into the bathroom and handed him the Clorox wipes.

It took him 3 tries to clean the toilet, floor and wall before it was acceptable. He eventually gave Emma a really heartfelt apology and the house returned to an ordinary level of chaos. Having kids is like being on a spinning log roll, in the middle of a pool of chaos...you can run and run, but you're going to get wet.

Set It Off

2011-08-11T00:30:00.001-04:00

Before I had kids, I always felt busy. The truth is I was never busy, not really......in fact there was plenty of time to get stuff around the house done and have all the time I needed for selfish pursuits. Now that I have kids, there never seems to be enough time to get all the chores done. I can get so wrapped up in being task oriented, that I actually forget to interact with my kids. They need more from me, then just being able to watch me cook and straighten up. They need me to periodically say fuck it and just set it off.

"Daddy, come to the dance party" Emma yelled over the Taio Cruz hit Dynamite,while dodging another of Jack's flying-handstand-donkey-kicks. I was just about to say I need to finish cleaning the kitchen, when I thought "You know, my kids are only going to want me to dance with them for a couple more years." Instead I dropped my dish rag and dusted off my rusty club moves. As I slid into the living room both kids lost it. Both grabbed an arm and began jumping in unison.

As the base kept bumping, we laughed and sweated our way through Jack's combat style of break dancing and Emma's fall on the floor hilarious version of the robot. I taught them the sprinkler and few other choice classics. It was great to just be a big silly kid for awhile. After an hour and a half of dancing, I realized that it was also a hell of a workout and a guaranteed easy bed time. As 8:30 hit both, kids were exhausted and making their way to bed with little protest. By 8:40 both kids were sound asleep.

If you don't take the chance to impress your kids with the few moves you have, they will soon realize you are an embarrassment and beg you to remain hidden. The dishes can wait, because my kids are growing up in a blur and I don't want to be dancing with Emma on her wedding day thinking, "damn I should have danced with her more often when I had the chance."

Balancing Act

2011-08-07T00:41:00.000-04:00

As a parent I struggle with how honest I should be with my kids. Then I watch something like American Idol and I see young adults, who absolutely can't sing, run from the truth into the arms of their overindulgent parents. What will prepare a child more for society.....filling their heads with lies or the occasional dose of truth? I have always opted for truth, balanced with encouragement. Unfortunately, honesty can leave you with a solid case of parental guilt.

As we sat around the breakfast table this morning mapping out our day, my kids reminded me for the twelve hundredth time that they had a birthday party to attend. Jack asked if it were at a local moon bounce place. I explained that it was at a gymnastics gym and that they would be doing various gymnastics related activities. Both of the kids seemed happy about this. Emma added that she would like to be a gymnast and thought she should start taking gymnastics lessons. I thought for a second and then dropped some knowledge. I explained to her that she could take lessons and may find it fun, but she needs to understand that she will likely never be a gymnast. She looked up from her toast, furrowed her brow and asked why.

I immediately admonished myself for being so quick to respond. I did this, as I attempted to formulate an answer that wouldn't forever demotivate her. I then explained that her way above average height and inherited genetics would prevent her from going very far in gymnastics. I explained that coaches look for very small kids who also have a good amount of strength and then focus on training them instead of the kids who don't fit the mold. She responded that she is very strong. I agreed and then said her body type is much more suited to sports like tennis, swimming and volleyball. To my surprise, this seemed to make perfect sense to her and she returned to her breakfast.

I felt like I had succeeded in explaining it to her, without making her feel bad ........ but I still felt a good amount of self doubt. Then my wife stopped me in the hall and said I had handled it well. She added, smiling, "At least you left off the part about her being too clumsy." I agreed and added that there is such a thing as too much honesty.

My hope is, that being honest with my kids about their strengths and weaknesses will pay greater dividends than lying to them about how great they are at everything.

The First Law

2011-08-03T21:43:00.001-04:00

My son is the living personification of Newton's first law. He basically remains in motion unless he is acted upon by another object like a curb, wall, or exhausted parent. I have never encountered anything like it.....it is as if he has reached his resonant frequency. One game of Trouble and I postulated that his level of energy is only heightened by my level of exhaustion. I am still working out the equation.

One would assume that he has a tiny attention span, quite the opposite. He will listen to a story, play a game, or even do a puzzle, but he must stay in constant motion. This was excruciatingly evident as Emma, Jack and I played Trouble. The whole time he spun on his back, bounced up and down, shook his arms above his head, and oscillated back and fourth. Stranger still, was his ability to time his motion so that his weight came down on the dice bubble at exactly the right time.

As the game drug on, Jack stayed in motion, which resulted in several game fouls, including the kicking and slapping of game pieces here and there....only to be trumped by an ill timed forward roll, that sent all the pieces scattering about. Thankfully Emma won before I had to go back on my word to never shake him. I have never been so happy to see a game end. I asked the kids to get their pajamas on so we could read stories.

Jack began hopping like a rabbit as he searched the house for pajamas. I thought he was upstairs, but suddenly found him galloping down the hall, as if he were an unbreakable wild horse. He flung himself into the living room and spun and whirled his way into nudity. I watched, amazed, as he continued to spin and vibrate his way into his pajamas and then spring to his feet. He then hopped away down the hall and up the stairs. Emma must have observed the bewildered look on my face, because she answered it with her own theory "When you are young you have a lot of energy and then you get more and more tired. You are getting old, so you don't have much energy." She then ran off down the hall in an effort to beat her brother up the stairs. No one noticed, but I stood speechless and stunned like a confused old man.

Crushed

2011-07-30T20:33:00.000-04:00

As the father of a daughter, I pray that she stays a kid as long as possible. My brain can't process the idea of her becoming a tween, teen, or heaven forbid, a young woman. I thought I had kept her safe but one Justin Bieber DVD later and we were fully immersed in her first crush.

When we popped in Never Say Never, I was pretty sure it would be short lived. A DVD based on Justin Bieber's last concert tour with lots of talking and bits of concert footage. There was no way that she would last 2 hours watching this.....or was there.

I couldn't have been more wrong. There she laid on the couch hardly blinking, taking in every moment. She was even unfazed by Jack jumping back and fourth over her on the couch. My wife and I, amused by her Bieberized trance, even tried asking her questions about the movie. If we got a response, it was just a nod. She laid there, hardly moving, through every minute. Periodically she would form a heart with her hands and hold it up to the screen. She waved and clapped and even mouthed the words to the songs. She was totally engrossed. it was so cute to see her smile sweetly when Justin was singing. It was if he was singing to her, at least that is what her face reflected.

I guess I can think of worse things than my daughter having a crush on Justin Bieber. I mean, earlier in the day Jack told me that he was going to jump motorcycles in the x-games. Honestly, Jack is more likely to try that on his bike tomorrow than Emma is to hitch a ride to where ever Justin Bieber is. I think my family would be better served by me preventing Jack from crushing his skull, than worrying about my little girls crush on Justin Bieber.

Red Cross

2011-07-27T17:51:00.000-04:00

I don't know how it happened or where it comes from, but somewhere in my wife and my cynical genetic coding is the formula for a ridiculously compassionate child. I know this, because we managed to create exactly that, in our daughter Emma. It is a good thing, because after the weekend I had, compassion was exactly what I needed.

On Sunday, while cooking dinner, I cut myself worse than I have ever cut myself. 3 hour later I was still bleeding and was being driven to the emergency room by my wonderful wife. There was nothing they could do for the tip of my finger, now missing, except cauterize. hours later I was awoken by a terrible pain emanating from somewhere far from my finger. I mean real pain, the kind that makes you dizzy, nauseous and gives you the drenching sweats. Back to the emergency room I went, where an unexpected surgery awaited me.

As I laid on the bed, trying to ignore the multiple areas of pain. Emma came up to the bed and rubbed my arm she asked me dozens of questions about my condition and the procedures performed on me. All the while her face glowed of caring and compassion. She asked if she could climb on the bed and snuggle me, because she said it would make me feel better. After hugging me, she patted my forehead and then apologized for having to go and play with her brother. she would come back twice more, to check on me and rub my arm. She probably has no idea how much her compassion soothed me.

The next day, as I sat in the bath, Emma came in and asked if I were alright. I said I was doing fine. she asked why I was in the bath, because I never take baths. I told her that the doctor told me to take a bath after I go potty. She raised her eye brows in confusion and said "Does the doctor know how many baths you're going to have to take? Because you go potty....a lot!" I wanted to laugh harder but it hurt too much. After my laughter subsided, Emma patted my arm again and left, presumably to play with her brother. About an hour later, she returned with a card. it said that she was sorry that I was hurt. She pointed out that it had a red cross for the doctor and an ice cream cone for when I feel better. Sometimes having kids really kicks ass.

Flying Solo

2011-07-23T15:49:00.000-04:00

I feel bad saying this, but I would rather hang out with my kids individually than with both of them at the same time. It is magic just hanging with my daughter or son, as they somehow transform into totally pleasant, agreeable, miniaturized human beings. I was lucky to get a little taste of this on our "boy's morning" today.

Emma had an early morning birthday party, which gave "the boys" some time to go have fun together. It also gave my wife the rare opportunity to sleep until she felt rested. After dropping Emma off, Jack and I headed out to execute my plan. I found a new store that has an entire wall of super hero t-shirts. There is nothing that Jack likes more than super hero t-shirts. So much so, that our washer has a tough time keeping up with the demand for the two that he currently owns. In addition to the super hero shop, I found a conveniently located go-cart track and moon bounce. To say we were going to have a kick ass boy's day was a serious understatement.

I timed it perfectly and we arrived at the shop just as the front door was being unlocked. Jack was entranced by the giant models of Batman, Spiderman, and Ironman. He then started to explain to me all about each of their powers as if he hadn't explained this to me 500 times before. For a kid who has never read a comic or seen a super hero show, he knows a shocking amount about each one. As he talked on, I became increasingly aware that, although they carried a hundred different t-shirt designs, none came in youth sizes. Just then a massive ponytailed man waddled up next to me and selected a 3x t-shirt, with the Flash symbol on the front. I wonder if he was aware of the irony of his selection. Jack and I ended up leaving the store empty handed. What was amazing though, is he didn't seem to care. In fact, he told me it was OK before going on to the next topic that popped into his brain.

As we drove to the go-kart place Jack quizzed me on who would win between a bear and shark. Then he went on to tell me that beavers live in dams. He concluded our discussion about wildlife by advising me to never lay down in a field and close my eyes, because vultures will assume I am dead and eat me. He even added an extra warning "seriously Daddy, they really will...don't try it." Jack and I were heartbroken to find that the go-kart track was closed. Apparently someone had rented the whole facility for the whole day..... I guess 4 straight weeks of heat is pushing people to extremes in the pursuit of indoor entertainment.

Boy's morning was rapidly disintegrating. As a consolation Jack and I decided to catch the new Winnie the Pooh movie. It was terrible, but Jack enjoyed it. The best part was.....the theater was so cold that Jack spent the whole movie on my lap, snuggling his back into me for extra warmth. As we drove home I was feeling kind of bummed that my original plan hadn't worked out. Jack interrupted my thoughts to say "Thank you Daddy, for the special boy's morning." Apparently he wanted to remind me that it doesn't matter what we do as long as we do it together....just the boys.

Communication Breakthrough

2011-07-20T18:57:00.001-04:00

Like every couple, my wife and I periodically struggle with communication. The classic stuff like why I don't listen and the assumption that both of us know what the other is thinking and feeling.....though in reality, neither of us have any idea. This stuff has only gotten worse since having kids, because the opportunities to talk become fewer with the two attention hogs. I guess that is why a wake-up call from my daughter was so appropriate and, quite frankly, a wonderful moment.

The other day Emma was being bossy and kind of shitty to her brother. Jack was getting frustrated and had finally had enough. He took a swing at Emma, but missed. This led to Emma whining. Not to be outdone, Jack quickly joined in. Both children were whining over each other in a power struggle to gain the upper hand. I tried to ignore it and not intervene. Finally I had enough and dropped the hammer.

"Knock it off! Both of you! Please work it out without fighting and whining."

Emma responded by telling me that Jack tried to hit her. Jack jumped in by informing me that Emma wouldn't let him set the table. Rather than listen to this nonsense any longer, I decided I would solve the situation instead. I told Jack that trying to hit his sister is wrong and should never be done under any circumstance. I let Emma know that bossing her brother and taking things from him is wrong and she needs to let Jack do his own things. Jack acquiesced, but Emma fought on. Finally I had enough and said...

"Emma I saw you boss Jack around and then you took the silverware from him because you thought you could do it better than him, now stop it."

I turned back around and continued to cook. Then Emma laid the final blow....."Daddy, you do not live inside of me! Only I live inside of me and only I know what I think!"

It was like she hit me in the back of the knees with a bat. I turned around in time to catch both her deadly serious look and my wife escaping to the laundry room with her hand over her mouth. I responded to Emma's point by telling her that I understood and wouldn't tell her what she was thinking. Then I went to find my wife. There she was, in the laundry room, hunched over the washer. The irony of the situation had caused her to laugh herself into tears. She simply looked up and through breathless laughter said "that was awesome" then as if exhausted, returned to laughing herself silly.

Sad Sundae

2011-07-16T09:42:00.000-04:00

We have all had those birthdays....the ones that don't go as planned, or that just plain suck. All it took was a canceled field trip, an inept waitress, and perfectly timed poop to cause Emma's birthday happiness to hang over a caldera of molten sadness.

Emma's birthday fell on a Thursday and her party wasn't for 2 weeks. Emma was still off-the-charts excited, because her class was taking a field trip and we were taking her out for dinner. Her class field trip entailed a two mile hike from their school to Dairy Queen. It turned out to be 97 degrees so the field trip was canceled. At least we still had dinner plans.

Emma asked for tacos. I over thought this request and picked a chain restaurant instead of the really good authentic local option. My reasoning was so flawed. The decision was completely based on my belief that the chain restaurant would make the birthday song a spectacle. Total lapse in judgement. It was easily twice as expensive and the food was hardly passable as Mexican. Mexican's don't ladle four different types of sauces over the top of everything. Regardless of the terrible food, I was feeling confident....I had an ace in the hole. Before my wife and kids arrived, I had primed the waitress....she convinced me she was on board and would do something special for Emma. As the dinner went on, I grew less and less convinced that she would pull it off. I tried to convince myself otherwise....she'd even given me the cheesy smile / double point, toward the end of dinner.... that's the classic sign for "I've got this and it is going to rock."

Moments after the double point, the busboy cleared the last dish. Jack let out a long sigh and rubbed his belly and said "I need to go potty." As he and my wife left the table, the first bit of anxiety began. My brain was dizzy with all the ways this could go wrong. Suddenly the waitress appeared with two of the saddest sundaes I have ever seen. They were served in a small ramekin and had already began there transformation from solid to liquid. On top of Emma's was a saggy candle that looked like it had been whittled down from a better more majestic candle. There was no fanfare, clapping, or annoying customized half-assed birthday song. The waitress merely leaned over patted my daughter's head and said "happy birthday, little girl." Then she looked at me and gave me a smile that said "you're welcome...I nailed it....perfect birthday thanks to me."

Emma's smile began to fade, as she looked around for Jack and her Mom. I told her she should blow out the candle and I would sing her happy birthday. She didn't want that, so she sat there watching the sad little candle burn. Sensing that the end was near, I asked her again to blow out the candle. She declined and said she'd rather wait and "celebrate as a family" The candle gave up with a tiny gasp of smoke. She crumbled into my arms as Jack arrived at the table and announced "I had a big big poopy!" Emma was crushed and my wife moved quickly to console her. I was able to get an employee's attention and asked for another candle. For some reason I held out hope. No candle was to be had...... apparently we had received the last candle in the restaurant. Emma seemed to recover enough to have one spoonful of her soup like sundae. On the way home I stopped and picked up some cupcakes and candles. We ended the day celebrating as a family, which seemed to be just enough to save Emma's birthday.

Tour De Frustration

2011-07-13T17:03:00.002-04:00

There is a phenomenon associated with helping kids develop that no one informed me of. Apparently the first time kids learn something they will completely forget that they learned it in the first place. I am starting to believe that this is in proportion to how excruciating the process was the first time. I have also found that if you were patient and understanding the first time, it will easily be a thousand times harder to achieve that level of patience and understanding the second time around. These theories were definitely put to the test when we broke Emma's bike out for her first Spring ride. These theories don't hold true if your kids over hear you swearing...any curse they hear will stick like glue.

With both bikes digging into my shoulders, I ascended the hill from the basement to the front of the house. As I turned the corner, I found Jack jumping with excitement, helmet already on his head. I barely had his bike on the ground and he was mounting the seat. He tore out of the driveway and pedaled as fast as he could to the bottom of the hill. Emma, on the other hand, stood on the other side of the driveway, without her helmet on and refused to make eye contact. Obviously something was wrong.

After several inquiries, Emma finally confessed that she didn't want to ride her bike. My cross examination highlighted other details as well......she admitted that she was scared and wanted her training wheels back on. I reminded her that she rode her bike last summer without them and did a great job. She acquiesced, but would only ride her bike at the bottom of the hill and not without help. After counting to ten, I carried her bike to the bottom of the hill so she could ride it.

After a massive amount of counting and coaxing and more (stress relieving) counting, she finally agreed to go. After saying "ready..set....go" literally a hundred more times, we achieved lift off and I breathed a sigh of relief. She made one pass around the cul-de-sac, before displaying her panicked face. Unfortunately, didn't pick up on this until after she passed me. I moved to intervene, but couldn't reach her. She let out a groan, wobbled, and then lifted her arms and fell straight back off her bike. Apparently this was her answer to dismounting instead of simply using her brakes. She let out a loud wale and started crying....more from fear than injury. She refused to try again, because of a "huge boo boo" on her elbow (1/2 inch circumference). I explained that our rule was you have to get back on, which she was well aware. She finally re-mouted the bike after even more counting, but only for about 10 feet at which point she did the very same thing.....this time I caught her.

Her refusal to ride her bike went on for weeks with too many failures to count. Finally after missing several bike days at school and many parental frustration tests, we had a break through. One morning, as we drove to school, we talked optimistically about riding her bike. As we passed a familiar landmark, I asked her to remember riding her bike there last summer. I could tell more from her face than her answer that she didn't remember doing it. She had completely forgotten her biggest triumph from just a year earlier. That very weekend we returned to the large parking lot, where we had originally learned, and started from scratch. After an hour, she was riding like a champ. Our day concluded with her asking to ride around the parking lot three more times. As we drove home, she asked if she could be a bike racer when she gets older. I never stop being amazed at the constant challenges of being father, every time I think I have things all figured out, I get blind sided by the unexpected, but I imagine that is what makes being a father so great.

Personal best

2011-07-10T08:02:00.002-04:00

Kids are blessed with the awesome combination of wonder and a lack of self censorship. This leads to those moments that make having kids so much fun. My wife and I have accepted it and encourage our kids to come to us with everything in order to foster a life time of strong communication. Even with that in mind, I was completely caught off guard by what happened the other morning.

My wife and I were in the kitchen reading and finishing up breakfast. The kids were playing and doing there own thing. The tranquility of the moment was in an instant banished as my daughter excitedly ran into the room. "Mommy.....Daddy you have to come see this, you won't believe it."

"What is it honey" I said, as I began to stand. I definitely had a sense of reluctance as I stood from the table.......preparing to see either the biggest spider ever or the most beautiful, prism inspired, rainbow on the carpet.

"You won't believe it! I just had my longest poop ever!....AND!.....It looks just like a heart!" Emma pridefully explained.

My wife's eyes closed as her head slumped forward in disbelief. Emma stood in front of me beaming with pride. "Come on guys! You have to see this!" she pleaded.

"Emma, it sounds awesome, but it is important to keep what happens in the bathroom private. OK?"

"OK." She said, turning to leave the room.

She seemed dejected as she left to flush her creation. I, on the other hand felt a pang of guilt, as I second guessed my decision not to share in her excitement. My wife looked up from her magazine and smirked "Well, it looks like she isn't all me.....she has a little of you in her too."

In The Face!

2011-07-06T11:56:00.001-04:00

It is tough not to turn this blog into a written version of "Kids Say the Darndest Things" that being said, the kids don't come up with the funny things they say all on their own. My own unguarded words, pop culture and my friends, end up giving them much of their material.

My son has two favorite phrases "in the face" and "smell it...smell it... now take it". The truth is both are pretty much my fault. The first one I yelled out, while we played Wii boxing, following a particularly vicious knockout. The second he learned from me, when I jokingly said it, while we wrestled two years ago. He says both with the appropriate inflections and accents and unfortunately it always makes me laugh. let's also be clear I didn't go out of my way to teach these. Much like the song Iron Man, all he had to do was hear it once and it was his new catch phrase.

I was reminded of his flawless use of "In the Face" as we watched soccer on Saturday. This is by far his favorite phrase and he uses it for every situation imaginable. The US player received the pass and drilled the ball in the net, for a goal. My daughter and I cheered. Just as our cheers began to subside.....Jack yelled out "In the Face!" Perfect comedic timing.....as it coincided with the camera zooming in on the Columbian goal keeper's face. Emma and I both laughed at his flawless execution. To thank us for our laughter he said it six more times in a row and then maybe thirty more times during the match. Kids don't believe that a joke can get worn out.

His other favorite phrase is a little more insidious, though totally appropriate and completely hilarious when used while wrestling. Recently Nana was over and was sitting on the couch with the kids. she was tickling Jack and he was laughing. The play stopped as they focused in on the movie they were watching. A few minutes went by and then I heard "Smelllll it.." I looked up from my work in the kitchen just in time to catch the second "smell it..." there was a tiny foot poised next to Nana's unsuspecting head. Luckily I was able to stop the action before she had to take it. I had to pull Jack aside and explain that it is OK to play that way with me, but not with Nana. As usual, these words didn't stick and Nana will likely have to "Smell it...Smell it, Now take it!", sometime during her next visit.

Dragon Tears

2011-07-02T01:00:00.013-04:00

The kids and I were winding down from an afternoon at the pool. We had just finished dinner and showers and were watching How to Train your Dragon. The main character had disappointed his father, the king of the Vikings, and at that moment, the king threw his son to the floor and shouted "you are not one of us.....you are not my son!" Since this was not the first time we watched the movie, what happened over the next hours was astonishing.

"That is not nice, you never say things like that." Jack said with a level of seriousness, that was comical coming from a boy his age.

"No that wasn't nice." I agreed

"Daddy, would you say that to me?" Jack asked, not taking his eyes off the movie.

"No, I will never say anything like that to you.....I think that is the worst thing a father can say to his child."

Jack climbed on my lap and sunk into me as if he was hugging me with his back so that he wouldn't miss the movie. I was beginning to enjoy the surprise benefits of the King's rage, when Emma sprung from her lying position on the other side of the couch. As she sat up, I noticed that she was weeping. Her face was red and covered in tears. She flung herself on me and wrapped her arms around my neck. I could soon feel the wetness of her tears on my neck as she sobbed. She finally answered my pleas, to know what was wrong. Through halted broken words she said "If you ever tell me I am not your daughter.....I will be so sad, because your my daddy and you can never say that." Seriously, I was done. Every shitty thing that my dad ever said to me flooded into my head. I promised her I would never say anything like that to her. She squeezed my neck and extended her pinky "pinky promise?", she sobbed. We locked pinkies and the promise was sealed. I thought that would end it, but she stayed wrapped around my neck until the end of the movie.

As I tucked her into her bed later that night I hugged her. I told her, honestly, that she is one of the best things that ever happened to me and that she will always be my daughter. She said she loved me and then asked if I would trade her for a mountain of gold. I said I wouldn't because I couldn't buy another one of her....even for all the money in the world. Look you're allowed to be sappy and cheesy with your little girl. It's not like I say these things to my tennis partners or the people at the office. She responded by asking "What about a beautiful beach, where it is always sunny?" I almost burst out laughing, it was such an unexpected and random thing to say. I promised I wouldn't trade her for anything. She smiled and simply responded "Thank you, Daddy."..... As if the importance of the father daughter relationship weren't already crystal clear

Fish Tales

2011-06-29T22:55:00.002-04:00

Who knew that a sharing a couple soft serve cones with the kids by the lake would be parlayed into my kids trying to convince me to eat road kill.

As we sat by the lake eating our cones, we talked about the boats that floated by. In the split second between boat passes, Jack managed to cover his whole face and his arms with ice cream. On the other hand, Emma finished her cone without getting a single smudge on her face and hands. The way Emma eats things, while trying not to be messy, so reminds me of her mother and the way I fell in love with watching her eat wings like she was aristocracy. I imagine genetics will never cease to amaze me.

After finishing our cones, we went for a short walk near the lake's edge in search of feathers and sticks. We stopped next to a outcropping of cat tails. Emma pointed out that they were called cat tails. Then she asked "Why do they call them cat tails?" I said it is either because of the way they look or the way they feel. They both asked to feel one. Feeling the soft texture was a revelation and both kids eyes lit up as they laughed and took multiple turns feeling it. Emma made the assertion that they are called cat tails because they feel like cats. Jack had already lost interest and was calling us over to look at a snake. Our approach spooked the snake and it escaped across the water. As our eyes followed the snake, we discovered a dead fish. Jack crouched down to inspect the dead sunny, as Emma asked me a dozen compassionate minded questions. At the conclusion of her questioning Jack asked "Can I poke it in the eye with my stick."

We continued our walk until we heard a fisherman yelling for his friends to come see what he had caught. Jack instinctively took off running as if he were one of the group of fishermen. He wasn't stopping, so Emma and I gave chase. We arrived seconds after Jack. There he stood huddled around the fish with the other men. The man held up a juvenile musky of about 18 inches long. Both kids were amazed at the fish. Jack was entranced by the sharp teeth lining its mouth. Neither kid would touch it and deemed it "Too Slimy!" After a few minutes of inspection, the man returned the fish to the lake.

As we continued our walk, we talked about the fish. Emma wanted to know why he had set it free. I explained that many fisherman release their catch so that they can have a chance to catch the fish again. She thought this was nice because the fish could then return to its family and play with its friends. Jack proclaimed "You have to eat what you kill" This completely caught me by surprise, as I don't remember that in the list of family mottoes. I explained that eating the fish is also an option. This provided the perfect segue for Jack to discuss one of his favorite topics.....The time (3 years ago) I hit a deer with my car. This monopolized the remainder of our walk. Both kids agreed that I should have eaten the deer. I couldn't really disagree and promised that if I kill any more animals, we will eat them. To this Jack responded "What if you kill a skunk." Both kids laughed like jackals. Now I just have to figure out how to bring home a dead de-scented skunk.

Friends

2011-06-26T00:13:00.001-04:00

I was struggling with what to write about. My week had been pretty ordinary. Both kids had moments of shining behavior and total meltdowns. Even though they were given an opportunity to see Cars 2, neither one earned enough stars to make it happen. I really couldn't bring myself to write my blog about nothing. Then today happened and nothing extraordinary happened other than I had the opportunity to see one of my oldest friends bond with my kids.

Twenty years ago I met a kid, I was 22 at the time. I played baseball with his dad and for various reasons we became friends. Over the years we played various roles in each others lives. I started off as his whipping boy for the latest video game. Later I helped him study for his SAT's. Once in college, I would visit and make sure he and his roommates got a couple decent meals. It hasn't been one sided. He took me to my first Red Sox Game. He was also instrumental in getting my brother to my wedding. Most recently he has helped me establish this blog along with being a very honest critic and editor. This weekend he came for a visit and to say the kids were ecstatic, would be an under statement.

The kids were so excited that they were up an hour earlier than normal. It took all the self control they could muster to keep from barging into the guest room at 6:00AM. By 7:30, they had made enough noise to wake the whole house and his door finally opened. Jack's first words to him were "Wow, You slept for a long time." To this he laughed and said "It sure doesn't feel like it." From that moment until about 9:00PM tonight the kids demanded and got the majority of his attention. He wrestled with Jack and colored with Emma. We played football, soccer, frisbee, baseball, kickball and board games. All the while, he was what so few people without kids are, patient and kind. You can't imagine how much kids appreciate an adult who will get down to their level and just be a kid.

After getting the kids to bed we were both looking forward to having a beer and catching up, while watching the fights. Unfortunately, he doesn't have kid stamina and I found him sound asleep on my couch. He woke up briefly and said "I'm back! I just needed a cat nap." Five minutes later he was snoring again. That is the definition of a good friend....someone who is willing to give all the energy they have just to make your kids happy.

Free Ride

2011-06-23T12:40:00.001-04:00

Many times as parents we feel the need to buy our kids this and that. We feel the pressure from our peers as well as their peers. Yes even 4 year olds will refuse to wear their favorite Buzz Lightyear shirt, because someone made fun of it and it isn't as cool as Batman. That's why an amazing experience that doesn't cost a dime can be both refreshing and enlightening. With that in mind, neither my wife nor I, were that enthusiastic about taking in our town's "Block Party".

After finishing dinner, we headed down to the center of our tiny town. There we found, on a single street, my worst nightmare.......crowds of people in combination with trying to keep my kids safe. Crowds with children just seems to give me anxiety. At the entrance to the gauntlet, I took a deep breath and lead my family into the madness. Once inside it became impossible for me to hold jack's hand while he galloped wildly from one Emergency vehicle to the next. Emma, on the other hand, stayed close to my wife. This gave me the freedom to try and corral my Tasmanian devil like son. Jack stopped in front of a real Police motorcycle. The policeman asked if he would like to sit on it. The look on Jack's face was one of pure elation. When he got to turn on the motorcycle's emergency lights, may have been the happiest moment in his four year life. Shortly though, the real excitement was going to start

The sun was barely hanging on, so we headed to the grassy knoll to find a place with a decent view of the sky. With the blanket spread, we all took our places. It never ceases to amaze me how much room two squirmy kids take up. The sun finally set and Emma's face took on a look of foreboding. She placed her fingers in her ears and furrowed her brow. Jack, on the other hand, shook up in down with excitement.

In the distance a strobe light went off...simultaneously so did Jack "THIS IS GOING TO BE SOOOO AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!!" Emma dug her fingers deeper into her ears.........then the sky exploded.

Jack raised his arms in triumph and just started screaming louder with each explosion. It was insane. Emma removed her fingers from her ears and started to join in. As each firework burst, she shouted out the shapes and colors of each display. The fireworks kept going for the next half hour. Jack's excitement kept ramping to the point where he started yelling random things "I WILL NEVER SLEEP AGAIN...TONIGHT IS THE GREATEST NIGHT OF ALL TIME...etc." My wife and I looked at each other, laughing at the ridiculousness of the whole spectacle. I have really never seen my kids more wrapped up in an event and for that matter, more happy.

As we walked to the car, both kids were still buzzing. Luckily they crashed from their firework high by the time we got home. Jack sleepily told me his three favorite things were fireworks, police motorcycle, and fireworks. Emma told me that she was definitely dreaming about fireworks ".... Because if something makes me sooo happy...then I dream about it." All in all, it was a night that will be remembered and if you don't count taxes....it didn't cost us a thing.

Statuesque

2011-06-18T22:44:00.000-04:00

I imagine in the back of every parents' brain is the outside hope of greatness. I know I have been guilty of having visions of greatness where my children are concerned. The first time Jack cracked a ball off the tee with his bottom loaded stance, my brain immediately saw a 3 year old version of Dustin Pedroia. In spite of myself, my mind blissfully wandered into a Fenway inspired daydream. Expectations can be dangerous and, honestly, can do reality a disservice. Today was Emma's first attempt at competitive tennis and I thought I had kept my expectations subdued.

Two weeks ago, I asked Emma if she wanted to play in a 6 and under tennis tournament. I expected her to say no, but to my surprise she she said yes. Not only did she say yes, she was excited, really excited. She participated in extra clinics to prepare and was doing well. Especially compared to the other kids in her tennis school. Emma and I had boiled the whole experience down to three points that she needed to remember during the match; 1) have fun, 2) ready position, and 3) watch the ball. By the day the tennis tournament came around, she would repeat this mantra with the irritable tone of a child who was effectively badgered by her father. Jack wasn't helping matters, as he added "....and Emma, be confidant!"

Emma and I warmed up on one of the courts before her first match. Her serves and forehands were good and her backhand was in need of help, but I can't talk, because so is mine. I really felt like she would do ok. Then I saw her competition. On an adjacent court a 6 year old girl in an expensive tennis outfit with matching $100 dollar Adidas tennis shoes was blasting tennis balls. This little girl had great footwork and all the shots. I sheepishly asked her mom how old she was, only to find out she was only 6 months older than Emma. My only hope was that Emma wouldn't have to play that girl.

Emma's first match was called and she walked to the court. Suddenly the bubbly, energetic Emma disappeared. She stood there emotionless as she warmed up with a girl, that was clearly going to beat her. After a couple hits, the whistle blew and the match began. Emma served first and both of her first serves were in (good start). That is about all that was good about the match. Emma never moved from the center of the baseline. Her racket hung at her side until the last second when she would flail it at each passing shot. I made sure I was smiling everytime she looked over. I didn't want her to pick up on my frustration. My wife put her hand on my shoulder and said "this is killing you isn't it?"

"Yes, a little....why isn't she moving, what is wrong with her, she isn't even putting forth an effort."

I wasn't disappointed in her, I was just dumbfounded. In what seemed like the blink of an eye, Emma was done 7-0 7-0 (Best of three games, games to 7). The most frustrating thing about it was that if she had merely taken a step in any direction she would have likely won several more points and maybe even a game. As she shuffled over, I hugged her and offered encouragement. My wife stepped forward and explained that she needed to move to the ball. "You won't win any points waiting for the ball to come to you." She instructed. I thought it registered, but her next match was a repeat of the first. This time she again went into statue mode and lost to a girl who was not better, just more lively.

I went to the court to meet her and brought some water. She wasn't speaking and I knew she was upset. I asked her what was wrong. She said nothing and continued to stare at the ground. I got down on a knee and saw the tears. I asked her what she was feeling. "Sad" she responded. I asked why she was sad and she explained "I want to win a game and I am losing every time." I wanted to say "well no shit, you haven't moved a foot in 4 games", but I decided against that. Instead I told her that it was her first tournament and she needs to keep practicing. I also told her that we were proud of her for coming out to the tournament and trying something new. I concluded by telling her that by not moving she was letting the kids beat her. This seemed to register and she looked at me with curious probing look. "Why?" was all she said.

"If you don't move to where the ball is, the other kid's shots will always count as points and you have no chance of returning them. You have to run to where the ball is and get the ball back so that they have to hit another shot. Just try a little harder and you will win points and then games."

"OK, I will try harder" she said.

She went on to lose her next match as well. Though a loss, it was very different than her other two matches. The first game was much closer at 7-4 and the next, was a step in the right direction. She fought to a 6-6 tie and lost the last point. When she came off the court she was smiling. "I lost again, but I tried harder and it was fun" she said. I told her that I was proud of how she tried that last game and I liked the way she moved more. My wife added "remember when I first started playing tennis? I didn't win for the whole first year." Emma quickly responded "Yeah, and then you beat Daddy and you were so happy." My wife giggled at this "Right....the point is you have to keep practicing to get better."

As we walked to the car we held hands. I told her that I will do a better job of helping her practice, so she is more prepared for her next match. She thanked me and then said "I don't have a very good backhand, we need to work on that first." Her frank assessment made me laugh. "OK....OK, but we also need to work on footwork." I added. Maybe Emma won't be great at tennis...maybe she will. Either way, if we continue to have that type of dialogue, it will never really matter.

Father of the Year

2011-06-15T11:24:00.002-04:00

I promised myself that if I had kids, I would be completely committed to it. I can't say that it hasn't been hard to be more unselfish and put their needs before mine, but I think I have done a pretty good job. I really began to feel like I had completed my transition to legit family man. That was until a single mistake put all my hard work in jeopardy.

I successfully made it to daycare in the nick of time. I should really stop writing about how I barely make it places......in the future, please assume that I am late and driving like a lunatic. It was a beautiful spring night and there would be plenty of sun for the kids to play in the backyard. Our drive home was uneventful. This was mostly due to the zip lock bags full of peanuts that the kids had started that morning and left in the backseat. The kids happily snacked on their peanuts as I listened to the radio. The kids don't like to talk on the ride home. I guess they need the space to decompress from their day as well.

We hit the driveway and the kids jumped from the car and headed to the backyard to play. I grabbed my briefcase from the passenger seat and headed into the house to make dinner. About fifteen minutes later, my wife walked into kitchen. "Where are the kids?" she asked, casually. "They are playing outside" I responded, not looking up from the cutting board. At that moment, Jack walked through the backdoor. In unison, he and my wife asked each other the same question "Where's Emma?" I looked up from the cutting board to find them both staring at me. I saw the look on my wife's face. You know the look, the look all modern parents get the moment they lose sight of their child. It goes along with this thought "OH GOD! SHE"S BEEN KIDNAPPED!" I responded to the look, while suppressing my own fears "She is just outside, let's go find her"

As the three of us exited the front door, we instantly began calling her. I descended the front steps as my car alarm erupted. A shaken, crying Emma emerged from around the front of the car and ran to my wife's waiting arms. It may be impossible to describe the look on my wife's face as she glared at me, but if you take the emotions of fear, anger, disappointment, bewilderment, and contempt and put them in a blender, you will get a delicious shake and a close facsimile. I imagine the look on my face matched my own feelings of shock and confusion. I kept expecting David Blaine to appear or even Ashton Kuchar. I felt like I had been punk'd. The combination of my own search for answers.....Emma's need to understand why I locked her in the car......and my wife's rapid fire questioning, was quite literally too much. The next few moments remain a blur, I actually think my brain stopped functioning for a few seconds.

The long and short of it?.........Emma wanted to finish her snack and was quietly doing so as Jack and I exited the vehicle. She was hunched forward getting peanuts from her bag, so I didn't see her over the front seat. There she stayed until she heard us calling for her. She then pulled up the lock and exited the car, thus setting off the alarm and scaring the hell out of her. Sufficed to say, I will not be nominated or in the running for father of the year.

Half Pint

2011-06-11T21:33:00.001-04:00

A lifetime is made of mostly small inconsequential moments. Who is to say which will stay with you and which will not. I certainly wasn't thinking that taking my daughter to lunch with my tennis buddies would amount to much. I imagine that is what makes parenting so great and treacherous at the same time.

Due to a crazy Saturday schedule, my wife and Jack ended up at a bowling party. My daughter ended up with me, heading to a restaurant to have lunch with the guys from my tennis team. As we congregated at the usual table, in the corner of the bar. My friends each introduced themselves to my daughter and she politely shook their hands. As she spread out her activity book and opened her zip lock bag of crayons, the bartender asked her what she was having. I jokingly asked her if she wanted a beer. To this she curled up her nose and said "No daddy...I don't like beer.......may I please have some milk." He laughed at this and thanked her for her manners.

She sat quietly coloring and doing activities, as my friends and I rehashed the match and laughed at tired inside jokes and fish tales. I kept asking Emma if she was doing OK and to see if she was ready to go. She kept telling me she was fine and was having fun. After 2 hours we broke camp and headed for our cars. Each of my friends made a point of telling Emma what a nice girl she was. She smiled and thanked each of them.

After getting in the car, I told Emma that I really appreciated her good behavior.

"I wanted you to be proud of me" She said

"Of course I am proud of you"

"Thank you" She said and then sighed "It was fun seeing you with your friends"

"Really? Why?"

"You smile and laugh a lot" she said, smiling herself

"I do?"

"Yes, I like it.......it makes me happy" she turned and looked out the window.

"I am glad you had a good time"

"Hey look at that little yellow bird" she said pointing ......

Suddenly the exchange was over and we began talking about the goldfinch that zipped by. I would be surprised if that small inconsequential moment isn't still with me some years from now.

The Graduate

2011-06-09T12:14:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago an Outlook meeting invite popped up on my computer. "Emma's Kindergarten Graduation" Yes my wife is that Type A, but it works for us. I stared at the screen caught in a swirl of emotions. It was if my brain was battling my heart. My heart was saying "Ahhhh, my little angels all grown up" All this to the counterpoint of my brain saying "Seriously, Kindergarten graduation....this is tantamount to the pussification/every gets a trophy/tae kwan do'ing of America." Luckily I settled on a 60/40 split in favor of seeing my little girl graduate.

As the event neared, it continued to grow in significance. Not in scope, but in how important it was to Emma. She talked about it constantly with a huge smile stretched across her face. Each Day she would look at the calendar and announce the days remaining until she graduated. "10 days until I graduate and become a 1st Grader!" she would yell. In spite of my earlier grumblings, I also began to think that this was a good thing.

As the day arrived Emma was over the top excited. She asked my wife several times when we would get there and if Nana was still coming. She couldn't wait to get to school that morning so she could put on her cap and gown. She even practiced her lines for the small play the students would be doing. On the drive to school, she suddenly began to feel nervous. She explained to my wife that she had never been in front of that many people and she was very nervous. My wife told her to find us and look at us and that would help her not feel nervous.

I ended up being stuck at the office, which led to me driving like a crazy person to get to the graduation in time. Luckily I made it in time to see the director push play on the boombox, which started the opening chords of Pomp and Circumstance. I laughed to myself at the absurdity, until I saw Emma in her tiny cap and gown. My aloofness for the event immediately and forever changed. I found myself with a knot in my throat and the tingling around my eyes. Emma nervously searched the crowd, until her eyes landed on my wife and I. You could see the relief register in her face. She sat up in her chair and beamed with confidence. She spoke loudly and clearly during the play and sang very loudly. In the end I laughed not at the event, but at myself for being so grumpy. I need to be more than 60/40, even for events which would be all together preposterous to anyone, other than a parent or grandparent.

Crazy Train

2011-06-05T00:19:00.001-04:00

Having children begins a new book in one's life. It isn't a chapter because the story line is so different. Even if you could have a taste of your old life you would be too tired or too out of practice to enjoy it. I really like my kids and I have fully bought in to being a father. That being said, I would kill for a day where peace and quiet were only interrupted by the sound of a cold beer being opened. A day that I spent laying on my bed watching golf in between naps. Usually I only think about that blissful departure when I have a day like today.

There is nothing like hearing your kids say "daddy" for the first time. But after hearing it 1000 times before 9AM, I would have traded that name for just about anything. Who can blame them though, they just learned how to play the name game....and today, they figured out that if they start with Daddy you eventually get to Fatty and then they can laugh their tiny little asses off. Trust me on this...... in a child's mind there are no stale jokes and every punchline is even more funny the hundredth time.

After breakfast, the kids had pretty much laughed themselves out, on turning Daddy into Fatty and had moved onto something even more annoying. I heard it from the playroom and had no idea how it would make my day unbearable. Suddenly Jack's shrill little voice echoed through the house "I am ironman nana nana nana nuh na-nuh nahhhhh" Jack heard this song a couple weeks ago on the radio, once....why his brain decided to have a recall this morning is anyone's guess. After the fourth time through he began explaining to Emma how to sing the song and that it was about the superhero Ironman. My wife and I were in the kitchen trying to have a conversation, as they entered their thirtieth time through. She looked at me with the "are you shitting me?" face. I shrugged and explained that they had only heard it once and I have no idea how Jack remembered it.

The constant drone of Ironman gave way to wrestling which led to whining which led to frustration and lunch. Thankfully nap time came and I was looking forward to two to three hours of silent bliss. Unfortunately, naps lasted only about forty minutes, which meant that the afternoon would actually be worse. After running through the house yelling food orders to each other (they were playing "Fast Restaurant" Don't ask... I have no idea) and another unbearable reprisal of the Ironman ear punch, my wife and I banished the kids to the backyard. Once outside, they stood at the backdoor staring in. They yelled through the glass that there was nothing to do. My wife told them to play on one of the 3 playgrounds....or just run around yelling like they had in the house all day. They weren't buying it. I finally lost it and told them that they couldn't come inside until they ran fifteen laps around the backyard. They made it seven before they felt a raindrop. We allowed them to come in after more whining about rain.

After another meltdown we acquiesced and offered them a movie. This led to a giant fight where Emma went totally ballistic over Jack getting to pick the movie. She is finishing her tantrum in her room where she will likely end up taking the nap she refused earlier. Jack is quietly watching the movie. All I can say at this point is I can understand why parents let their kids watch TV or play video games all day. I am not saying I agree with it, but I can definitely understand.

There's always a catch

2011-06-01T16:53:00.001-04:00

The perfect moment can happen at the most unperfect or unexpected time. You have to be willing to seize the moment or you could miss out on something truly intimate and quite frankly extraordinary. Drenched with sweat, arms covered in mud I was presented with that very decision.

I had a 5 gallon bucket of fertilizer and water in one muddy hand. In my other muddy hand, was a rake and a hoe. Over my back, stretched across my chest and tucked under my arm was an equally muddy hose. As I gingerly walked down the hill to the struggling maple in my back yard, I saw my son skulking across the back yard. His head was hung forward and he was dragging a bat behind him. I knew that something was wrong.....I had seen him pout too many times. I will admit that the dialogue in my head was one of annoyance. He and his sister had been bickering more than usual and they had made there way to my last nerve. I asked him what was wrong, though I was already annoyed at an answer I hadn't yet heard.

He said something that was whiny and unintelligible. I told him to stop whining and speak up so I could understand him. He looked up and I immediately identified the tracks from still falling tears. After internally beating myself up for being a dick, I asked him again, with more urgency and caring in my voice, what was wrong. "I can't find Emma.....She's gone." He said with a sadness and tone that could break anyone's heart. Using a combination of arms, leg, and gardening supplies, I pulled him closer to me..."Don't worry buddy, she is upstairs on the computer." All he said was "Oh." After solving that problem, I made my way over to the tree and went to work. After the first couple swipes of the hoe, I noticed that Jack hadn't moved. He was still standing there holding the bat. I took two more swipes and couldn't ignore his presence. "Jack, what is wrong?" Without looking up he responded "No one will play baseball with me." His words hung there as my internal dialogue went to work. There were many reasons why, at that moment, I couldn't play baseball, but honestly not one of them was worth a damn.

"Go get us a ball"

I used the hose to clean myself up, as he disappeared into the basement for equipment. He returned with a golf ball and both of my gloves. I was surprised to see him with a ball and gloves. We had never had a catch with a baseball or even used a glove. His experience with baseball had been hitting plastic balls off a tee with a huge bat. My glove looked so massive next to his little body that he could have easily used it as a chest protector. "Why don't we go get some equipment that is better suited for playing catch?" His smile let me know that making the right choice, had made him incredibly happy. We dug through rubbermaid bins, until we found our smallest glove and a soft baseball. He looked at the glove and said "that looks like a good size for me." I showed him how to put his glove on and how to open and close it. We returned to the backyard for our first catch as a father and son. Is there a more monumental moment between a father and his son?

We took our places ten feet from each other. I underhand tossed the ball to his outstretched glove. "That was close" I said, as the ball careened off the heal. "Move your hands together and watch the ball until it goes into the glove." I said as I demonstrated the proper technique. He is a much better thrower than he is a catcher and ten feet didn't feel like a very safe distance. As he fired one toss five feet high and five feet wide, he sheepishly said "that was close." After several more attempts, I managed to toss the ball perfectly enough to nestle into his glove. His first catch with a baseball glove. He immediately looked startled, then searched my face for approval. Once he saw my smile and heard the encouragement, he absolutely beamed. It was like he was shining with joy and pride.

We continued playing catch for an hour. Seriously, a whole hour. I found myself wondering whether, at this stage, is it the father or the son that loses patience. Finally the heat got to him and he asked if he could go get a drink. He never returned and I went back to taking care of my tree. He probably has no idea that we shared a moment that will likely be remembered for both of our lifetimes.

Waters...Tested

2011-05-28T22:34:00.001-04:00

Raising kids is a lot like swimming against the current. You fight and fight to move forward and then suddenly find yourself out of energy and drifting backwards. This only lasts long enough to reach deep within yourself and start fighting the current again. Rarely do you find yourself floating comfortably on your back, being carried forward by the current. When this does happen.....get ready for a rip tide.

After the star excercise, Jack has been on cruise control. Manners for days...listening like a wiretap....helping like an army of volunteers. He has been an absolute joy. I started to believe he was doing this, not just for an opportunity to go to KungFu Panda 2, but because he saw the value in being a contributor in our family.

Today, we made our weekly pilgrimage to the grocery store. Jack was in rare form, meaning the trip was flawless. Jack helped in every way possible and was a solid citizen the whole way around an overly crowded and grumpy market. It didn't hurt that it was blueberry day, Jack's favorite. There were samples all over the store.....everything from halibut with blueberry compote to storemade blueberry water ice. Jack's tongue was completely blue by the time we checked out.

I became so accustomed to Jack's new behaviour that I didn't even second guess it. We arrived home and began unloading. Instead of running off to his own pursuits, he stayed and ferried load after load of groceries into the kitchen. After every trip he asked that I check his muscles to see if they were getting bigger. After the groceries were unloaded Jack and Emma began coloring. I decided to finish mulching the front flowerbeds, while my wife put away the groceries. At that moment, my life felt a little too calm.

Through the open windows, I heard the first sounds of discontent. Jack was refusing to listen to my wife and her patience was beginning to thin. Then the it happened....the rip tide, I should have been weary of. Jack shouted at my wife "You are a bad mommy!" My wife calmly responded "That may be true, but you are going to help with the dishes or you are going to lose a star." I instinctively took a step to intervene, but liked the distance and serenity of my lonely task outdoors. I had just returned to my work when Jack brought a new weapon to bear on his conflict with his mother. "You are not the boss! Daddy is the only boss in this house!" Seriously! Wasn't I minding my own business? How could a 4 year old devise such a devious comeback? He completely stomach punched me and my wife in the same retort.

After that master stroke, all hell broke loose and Jack was ushered to his room. I could almost hear my wife erasing the star from the family calendar. I waited patiently in the garden for the front door to open. As expected it did and I found myself looking up my wife's slight flushed face. "Did you hear what your son just said to me ?" He is always my son in situations like this.....I guess it makes sense, he is 85% me. I assured her both that I had...and that I had nothing to do with it.

She closed the door and I went back to my work. As I spread the mulch, I found myself trying to understand how Jack came to his rebuttal. Suddenly it hit me....last week when my wife was traveling....Jack had told me that I was bad and that he only listens to mommy. My response......"I am the boss and you will listen to me" Talk about a change in current. I found myself impressed with his ability to recall my words and shift them to work for his argument. He may be a head strong pain in the ass but at least he is smart.

Biggest Fan

2011-05-25T23:55:00.000-04:00

The intangibles of parenting may be the best part. To my kids I am the strongest, fastest, smartest....... None of it is true of course, but it does kick ass that 2 people in this world think I could fight a bear and win. It is also amazingly gratifying to have little cheerleaders follow you around. That cheering section was just what I needed Saturday.

I was playing a USTA tennis match and was too amped to control my game. I was spraying balls everywhere. My usually dependable serve, was running on adrenaline and missing long. I had just muscled a sloppy forehand way long and was walking back to the baseline head hung, scolding myself, when I heard tapping above me. I looked up, expecting to see the other teams players cheering on their team, by mocking my inept shot making. Instead, there was Jack arms raised, fist clenched, punching at the sky, with a huge smile on his face. I don't know what it was, but seeing him cheer me on gave me a total sense of calm and happiness. Luckily he is only 4 and has no idea how bad I had been playing or that ripping a ball into the back curtain is not ideal. I hit a few more bad shots, but he gave me just the boost I needed to dial in most of my shots. After we closed out the other team, I noticed Jack and my wife had left.

The best part wasn't seeing Jack there, it was coming home and him running to greet me. He wanted to know if I saw him cheering for me. I told him I had and that it made me so happy. He asked if I had won. When I told him I had, he started jumping around throwing his hands in the air. He kept yelling, in his tough guy voice, "yeah! yeah! you did it!" He then went on to tell me that he saw me hit the ball so hard. he then swung his arms this way and that acting out forehands and backhands. All the while yelling the appropriate onomatopoeia for his pantomimed shots. He was so animated and excited, I couldn't help but laugh.

It is all kind of silly, but it really feels amazing being his dad. Is there a greater feeling then being someone's hero? I can't think of any. It makes me want to live up to his adoration. I can only hope, that someday he looks up to see me cheering for him........and he feels what I feel, every time he cheers for me.

Shapes and Sizes

2011-05-21T21:36:00.000-04:00

You never know when a teachable moment will present itself and when it does, you have to be ready to teach whatever the lesson is. The problem is, sometimes the topics are so huge that explaining them to a 4 and 5 year old is beyond everyone's capabilities. Who knew a simple trip to the market could present so many challenges.

The kids and I were thirty minutes into our weekly trip to the market when we entered the cereal aisle. Standing there looking at muesli and granola was an old man whose body looked like randomly assembled parts. He had an elongated head, giant hairy ears, a long body, short legs, long arms and gigantic hands. All of that amounted to an odd-looking, five-foot, human. His back was to me as I looked for Crispix. Suddenly I was aware that Jack wasn't next to me. I spun around with the panicked motions of a parent. The man was reaching for something on the top shelf as Jack wedged in between him and the cereal. The man stopped and looked down at Jack. Time seemed to stop and I felt as if I were in one of those dreams where you are stuck in slow motion. Then Jack cocked his head to the side and said "Awwww...aren't you a cute little man." Time seemed to accelerate almost instantly as I managed to pull Jack away. The man turned and scowled at me. The look on his face told of a lifetime of ball-breaking. "I am sorry that he bothered you," I said. The man grunted in disgust. Jack interrupted the awkwardness by plaintively adding "He is a cute little man." I pulled my family down the aisle, not wanting to look back at the man who did not find Jack the least bit cute or amusing. We stopped in the next aisle and I explained about personal space and how people sometimes don't like to be bothered. I didn't have the energy to explain the wonders of genetics to my 4 year old.

I got off my knee and noticed that Emma was standing rigid staring at a Muslim woman dressed head to toe in a black Hijab. Only her hands and eyes were exposed. She was in stark contrast to her husband who was dressed in blue plaid shorts and a teal polo shirt. "Emma please stop staring." I whispered. Emma took one more look and turned back to me. "What is wrong with her" she asked, looking concerned. "Nothing is wrong with her, she is a Muslim and must wear that because it is required for her beliefs." Emma looked back over her shoulder again and then back at me. "It looks hot. I would not like to wear that." I was feeling quite fortunate that I didn't have to explain beliefs, Muslims, Islam, etc. "It is made from very light cotton, I am sure she isn't too hot." I offered trying to reassure her. The look of concern returned to Emma's face "Wait, how come the man gets to wear shorts." Wow what a loaded question.... "That is just how their beliefs work, everyone is different and that's ok." somehow that took care of it and Emma didn't ask any other questions.

As we walked to the meat department I was feeling pretty good about how it all went down. I was looking at fish and asked the kids if they would try salmon again. I was expecting to hear "EWWWW...no way" but I heard nothing. I turned and found both kids staring at a little person. I was waiting for the dateline crew to come out from behind the counter and announce that I was on some set-up special. "Emma, Jack" (I whisper/yelled). Neither budged. She then turned, smiled at the kids and said "Hi" Both kids were frozen in place, both had their mouths wide open, and neither was blinking. I said hello to her and smiled apologetically. She smiled at me and said "It happens all the time, don't worry about it." I smiled back and said "Thanks, I hope you have a great weekend." The kids eyes followed her as she walked away. Once out of sight, I was able to snap the kids out of it, sort of. I loaded our groceries on the checked out conveyor, as the kids asked questions and argued about whether she was a leprechaun...or magic...or one of the seven dwarf's sisters.

As we headed home, I began explaining how genetics work. I explained how my wife and I were able to have children with both blond hair and brown hair and why their cousin has red hair. I felt that I had covered all the bases with my intention to show that that people are all different in their own way.

Jack interrupted and said "Yeah that cute little man was mean and the cute little woman was nice."

"Exactly......but think of it this way Ms. Jenn has brown hair and is very small and skinny and Ms. Sara has brown hair but is....."

Emma interrupted "Not as small and skinny as Ms. Jenn.....but hey Daddy, they are both really nice!"

"Right, that is exactly right...people are all very different. What matters is what kind of people they are inside, not what they look like."

Apparently teachable moments come in all shapes and sizes as well.

All In (Update)

2011-05-21T16:16:00.000-04:00

Jack worked his little butt off and amassed 7 stars by Friday. This worked so well, that we are talking about using the star system during the week to get the kids to help. I wonder if making them earn tv time every week, is the right way to go. I will say that it was a very pleasant couple of days. jack was both helpful and well behaved. Anything that maintains that reality can't be bad.

My wife disagrees, that telling Jack that his behavior makes the family look bad, was the right message. She doesn't want the kids to think keeping up appearances is overly important to us. I explained that the reason I used that message, was to convey that our family is very important and we don't want to impact it in a bad way. She definitely has a good point and I agree that behaving your best, because it is the right thing to do and the right way to treat others, is the most important message.

All In

2011-05-18T19:52:00.001-04:00

For several weeks I was lulled, by my son, into a false sense of security. I was elated that I would no longer have to see the full meltdown with the big lip. I was glad I would no longer hear that he thought I was bad or that he was not my friend. I was pretty sure we had reached a turning point with Jacks behavior, but man was I wrong. With kids, nothing is for certain. For one thing they are tiny individuals and will always exert their independence.

It was one of those mornings. I was late and Jack had no interest in getting out of bed, getting dressed, or for that matter cooperating in any way. Getting him to the main floor in front of his shoe basket had been tantamount to the allies push across Europe. I know this is an exaggeration...World War II was obviously worse than my morning, I doubt I even felt guilty when I wistfully looked forward to dropping him off at daycare. I was asking for the 3rd time for him to put on his shoes when Emma (A little too pleased with herself) made her strategic move.

"This is what he did to Haley last night." Emma said, trying to conceal a smile (Haley is the babysitter from across the street)

"What?!?!? Jack you were mean to Haley last night?" I didn't need his answer. The wide eyed-slack jawed look on his face was all the evidence I needed. He didn't say a thing, he just sat there staring at me. Finally his head shook, affirming his bad behavior. Suddenly, he wanted to be a daycare just as badly as I wanted him there.

I was boiling, after 2 days of him treating his mother badly, this was too much. I forced myself to count to ten and then just kept counting until we were in the car. Jack didn't take his eyes off of me. Finally I spoke. I admonished Jack for his bad behavior. I then took away his television privileges for the week. Surprisingly he didn't protest. I think he knew he had crossed a line. I let him know that when he is disrespectful to Daddy and Mommy he makes himself look bad. When he is bad to his teachers and babysitters, he makes the whole family look bad. As we arrived at school, I hugged the kids and headed for work. My drive gave me more than enough time to replay the scene a hundred times over in my head. I felt like I had handled the situation well, but parental guilt can make even the most justified position seem unjustifiable.

Later that day, as I picked up the kids from school, Jack's teacher informed me that jack had behaved very well all day. I thanked Jack for his good behavior. He smiled and asked if he could watch shows when we got home. I reminded him of his punishment and let him know that he would have chores to do once we arrived home. Again, he surprised me by not pouting and then unloading the dishwasher without asking for help or complaining. All in all, he was putting on quite a show. I just couldn't get a read on him. It was like he was slow playing the perfect hand

The next morning he got up and asked for my help picking out clothes. I pulled an absolute dad move and picked shorts that weren't his favorite. He again called my bluff and wore them without complaining. He then brushed his teeth and was the first one to put on his shoes. to be honest, all this exceptionally good behavior had me shaking my head. I couldn't shake the feeling of getting bluffed. If we had been playing poker, he would have already had my chips. I had to give in a little, to let him know I had noticed.

"Jack, how about I let you out of your punishment, if you continue to have good behavior?"

Jack spun around and studied my face "OK?"

"Every time you have good behavior or help, you will get a star. After you get ten stars you can watch tv again. Is that a deal?"

He quickly saw me and raised me "How about after one star?"

I almost laughed out loud "That is too few, you need more than just one star."

He thought for a moment and raised his eyebrows "How about three stars?"

"Closer, buddy......how about eight?" I responded

He looked at me for a long time and I could see he was thinking "OK, how about.....seven stars" He said, anticipation all over his face

I agreed and we shook on it. Two days in and he has earned four stars. I feel like I gave him a good punishment, but I also gave him a way to save face and work his way out of it. Hopefully the lesson will stick and he will turn the corner for good.

Loose Lips

2011-05-14T19:44:00.000-04:00

They are listening....They are always watching and listening. As a parent you can never be too careful, because if you have dirty laundry.....your kids are sharing it. whether you yell too much, burp too loud, or stink everyone out with your trips to the bathroom....your kids are telling the tale. Don't believe me, just ask a teacher or caregiver. They will tell you whose a screamer and who smokes funny smelling cigarettes after the kids are supposedly asleep. I, on the other hand, was in the clear or so I thought.

As I left Emma at her friends house for a play date, I couldn't help but feel great. The parents had asked for a 3 hour play date. This is a gift and I was free to do what I wanted for a few hours. I went to the nursery and looked at plants....stopped in at the bank......and then to the market for a few essentials. I know to the ordinary person this doesn't sound like free time, but trust me it was great. Time away from the kids, with the radio as loud as I want, not having to answer question after question...is nothing short of heaven.

After running errands, I still had enough time to get home, take a shower, pick up Jack and make it back in time to pick up Emma. As I arrived home, I found Jack in the bath and my wife doing yoga. My jokes about couples downward dog were quickly rebuked and I returned to my original plan of showering and rounding up Jack. Jack and I emerged from the bath and shower at the same time. Jack hopped around the bathroom, completely naked, tiny johnson in hand. Jack has recently developed a very real fondness for his penis and he spends most of his naked time holding, stretching and playing with it. My wife and I continue to remind him that these activities are best done in his room, though our guidance has yet to catch on. Finally we were able to get Jack in clothes. I follow suit. Jack and I jump in the car and head out to get Emma.

I am pleased with my self, as we pull up at exactly 4 PM. As I enter the house, Emma's Friend's Mother hands me a Tupperware full of fresh cookies. Emma and her friend run down the stairs and Emma starts putting on her shoes. I ask if Emma was well behaved and I am rewarded with the response I was hoping for. Emma was a good helper and had exhibited "such wonderful manners". I was feeling great and filled with pride. The mother giggled and said "Oh .... Emma says you can burp really loud........Aren't kids wonderful?" I couldn't believe it. I mean, how do you even respond to that? "Hey do you have a coke? Because I can actually rock the foundation of your house, if you like." Instead I just stood there like a dope, wondering what else Emma had shared. Just then the Dad emerged from the kitchen. He looked at me and said " don't worry about it....it was my burp that started the whole discussion." We both laughed and the awkwardness of the moment was gone. Kids are great, but they are absolutely the worst at keeping things secret...they will dime you out in a second. Thank God burping is the worst thing I do. If you believe that.......

Slam Dunk

2011-05-11T15:38:00.000-04:00

Sometimes the lessons you teach your kids stick a little too well. Then there are the lessons that you didn't mean to teach at all. Often these hidden life lessons are the ones that bite you in the ass. That moment, almost always happens when you least expect it, or when you are sharing a beer with your neighbors.

In an earlier blog post I wrote about a seminar held by the local police. Since then, my kids and I have had a healthy running discussion about creepy people and bad men. This has been boiled down to a couple of rules: don't go in strangers houses or cars; no one has kittens or puppies for you; if you feel weird....run. These rules were working and I felt like Dad of the year, then Jack asked one question.

"What if a bad man grabs me?"

I cavalierly answered "Well....You have to do whatever you can to get away, scratch their eyes, yell loudly, and you can kick them in the penis." This resulted in the 3 of us laughing. I mean really laughing. Jack had tears in his eyes and my daughter fell on the floor laughing. I wonder if the laughter was from the release of tension or if it was my use of the word "penis" Either way it was a great connected moment.

Weeks later on a rainy Sunday the kids were playing the Wii. As Jack boxed his computer foe, he landed a devastating body blow and the animated combatant literally flipped in the air. Jack has scary Wii Boxing skills I can't even beat him and neither can the computer. At his opponents crumpled state, Jack yelled "Ohhh! I punched him in the penis" Of course I admonished this statement, though first I had to choke back a massive wave of laughter ready to surge from my body. I can't say for sure if the link between the 2 events registered.

Over the next months the phrase kept coming up. This was always Jack's response to my wife or my warnings about staying safe while playing outside. He would say "Don't worry, if any bad men come up......I will kick them in the penis." My wife and I kept reminding Jack that this was a last resort and that he should run first. He seemed to listen, but who can be sure when up against the attention span of a four year old boy.

Fast forward to Sunday.

It was a beautiful spring evening. we joined our neighbors for a beer while the kids played. Jack was not interested in drawing on the driveway with chalk and began shooting baskets on an eight foot basketball hoop. Jack was making every fourth shot and was the toast of the fathers. We all took turns rebounding the ball and feeding it to him. One of my neighbors grabbed the ball and juked Jack, making a lay-up and snatching up the ball on its first bounce. Jack chased him as he dribbled. He then picked up his dribble and held the ball high with both hands. He looked down at Jack and asked laughingly "How are you going to get it now?" Jack seemed amused, as he tried one more futile jump for the ball. Then somewhere in his tiny brain he solved the problem. He knew exactly how to get the ball back. I had a moment of recognition, just as Jack's little fist made an audibly perfect impact on my neighbor's testicle. Everyone but me turned to conceal their laughter, as the ball fell to Jack's level and my neighbor crumpled to a self soothing position. My neighbor was great and held no grudge against the tiny terror who just dropped him. I removed Jack from the situation and tried to explain the right and wrong time to use a punch to the yam bag. Though, I guess, inside, I was still laughing and maybe just a little proud of his problem solving skills.

Leap of Faith

2011-05-07T01:00:00.008-04:00

It is staggering how the seemingly most insignificant event can become such a huge problem that it takes an entire family to solve it. So was the case with Emma and swimming. Not actually swimming but jumping off a three foot high racing block at the deep end of the pool. She had repeated the Eel Class, at the YMCA, three times and had just two classes left once we returned from our vacation to Florida. Hopefully something would give and she would get past this last hurdle.

In the weeks leading up to the vacation, we tried everything to get Emma to make the leap from the block. We tried positive imagery, encouragement, rewards....quite frankly we probably went a little overboard. It was obvious that we had pushed too far, as Emma had started to suffer butterflies on the 10 minute drive to swimming. This culminated in a full meltdown on the block complete with paralysis. I had to pull her off of the block to let her classmates jump. As I picked her up, she screamed "please don't throw me in!" She panicked and while grabbing for me, deeply scratched my neck. After that, my wife and I panicked ourselves, spending a good amount of time talking and searching for answers. If only we had known, that a trip to Florida and a small in-ground pool could be just what we all needed.

Five seconds after we arrived at Meme and Papa's house in Florida, the kids were asking to be in the pool. How could we say no, we had just left a prolonged winter and landed in the Florida sun. The kid's stripped and donned their swim gear. Both of them were overjoyed to find that they could stand and still have their head above water, in half of the pool. As Jack jumped and splashed, Emma started feeling out the rest of the pool. She wanted to understand the depth and quick exit points. I could see her establishing a comfort zone. Once her zone of safety was in place she started swimming around the pool using a noodle. She and Jack swam all day..stopping only for food and a nap. As the afternoon session drew to a close, Emma swam without a noodle from the stairs to a bench on the opposite side of the pool. She spun around to see if we were watching....we were...and she beamed with pride. She did it two more times before the sun's retreat drove us out.

Over the next couple days, both of the kids water confidence grew, as did their swimming ability. That being said, Emma still refused to practice jumping in. By the last day, she abandoned the noodle completely and was swimming around the pool with ease. She even made a few trips into the deep corner of the pool. On the last day, Papa finally convinced her to give it a try. After watching Jack jump in a thousand times, she was finally convinced it was safe. Papa started by letting her jump to the noodle two feet from the side. He kept increasing the distance until she jumped and missed. Instead of freaking out, she just kept swimming to the other side. It is impossible to describe the pride and happiness stretched across her face. Then she did it several more times without the noodle. She was ready. With Papa's encouragement she jumped in the deep end and swam across the pool. We quickly grabbed a step stool. After a little coaxing she made successful jumps from both steps. She had done it....she had conquered her fear. As I looked around the pool it was obvious that this tiny event had an emotional impact on everyone.

After arriving Home from Florida, Emma's dread about swim class turned to anticipation and excitement. Sunday finally arrived and Emma couldn't wait to jump off the block and put her fears behind her for good. "Remember the camera, Daddy! I am jumping off the block today." On the drive to swim lessons, I was amazed at Emma's transformation. Gone was the somber petrified little girl. Emma was instead chatty, happy and filled with confidence. Her class was a revelation...she swam with purpose.....she dunked her head without fear..... she even swam on her back for the first time....it was literally amazing. Then the moment of truth arrived............

Nothing puts a knot in your throat or tears in your eyes quite like watching your child accomplish something that they struggled with so mightily. After hugging her I asked "How do you feel?" She smiled and said "I feel so happy..............and proud of myself." That one little leap swept away months of anxiety and taught us all how much a family can accomplish together.

The Secret Garden

2011-05-06T15:36:00.000-04:00

Back to Nature was picked up and commented on by National Wildlife Federation. Their communications manager joined us on the Hike. He wrote a different yet enjoyable perspective on the hike. Please check it out through this link to the The Secret Garden

Back to Nature

2011-05-04T07:02:00.002-04:00

It is very easy to allow technology to raise our kids. Lives are incredibly busy and the Disney channel will keep a kid occupied for hours. Ironically, "smart" phones allow us to watch TV or be entertained no matter where we are. Every minute spent in front of the TV, MAC, or Wii is a minute not spent outside just being a kid. Last week, the National Wildlife Federation even went to the Surgeon General with a call to action. This was supported by recent studies that show the average kid only spends four minutes a day in unstructured outdoor play, while packing in an average of eight hours a day in front of some form of media. Not wanting to become part of the statistics the Green Miles (Fellow Blogger) and I decided to take the kids on a hike.

I don't know what I was expecting, but I guess excited wasn't on the list......but that exactly what the kids were. After finishing breakfast, both kids became more and more eager to get on the trail. We headed a few miles from the house and selected a paved trail that ran next to a creek. As soon as Jack's feet hit the path he was off running. He kept yelling over his shoulder "I need to get some energy!" Emma corrected him and stated, that he was in fact using up his energy......as if, Jack using up his energy was even possible.

Surprisingly, the path was lined with hundreds of poison ivy shoots. I immediately saw my first teaching moment of the day. Bringing Jack and Emma close, I showed them the poison Ivy. We talked about why the leaves are shiny and what happens to your skin if the oil from the plant gets on it. Jack immediately reached for it, after re-asserting that he isn't afraid of anything. At this point I taught them the rhyme "Leaves of three....leave it be." For the remainder of the hike we all worked together finding poison ivy shoots.

After a short walk, we departed the paved trail and followed a winding dirt trail through the woods and closer to the creek. We stopped and watched a man fly fish. While answering a slew of questions, two Canadian geese flew just feet from our faces. Jack found a stick, which he planned on using to protect us "If I see a shark or an alligator, I will stab it." As we walked through the woods, we talked about ferns and hostas. The kids laughed at my assertion that hostas are a perfect toilet paper substitute, "if you have to poop in the woods". The moment was broken up by Jack's discovery of dinosaur tracks (deer & dog). The Green Miles agreed and assessed them to be from a T-Rex. This caused Jack to hold his stick at the ready.

Our hike led us to a rocky beach along the creek. Both kids ran to the nearest rock deposit and began hurling stones into the creek. Jack nearly hit each of us with his rapid errant throws. We showed the kids how to skip rocks. Emma was elated when she finally got one to skip. We found a trout minnow and followed it with our fingers until Jack shouted "I see it! I see it! Ahhhhh, it's so tiny." After throwing, the negotiated for, two more rocks....we headed up the trail. The kids kept stopping to point out ferns, nests, and tiny wild flowers. Jack picked a purple wild flower for Emma, because she loves purple and it is a "girl flower". I found myself reconnecting with my childhood and all the time I spent in the woods. My thoughts were pleasantly interrupted by Emma saying, to no one in particular, "I like the peace and quiet of the hike." It was an unexpected thing to hear.

The trail intersected the paved path and we headed back to the car. All in all we spent a good two hours exploring nature. The hike resulted in a three hour nap and was listed in their favorite things at the end of the day. They also recounted all of the adventures for their mother, including the rocks, geese, minnow, and how to spot poison ivy. Both kids also told my wife how nice and peaceful it was. Apparently even they enjoyed the return to nature and the departure from the stresses of life.

A little less

2011-04-30T02:26:00.000-04:00

You push and you prod your kids toward self sufficiency. Teachers commend your efforts and society will silently thank you. Yet the right path can sometimes be lonely.

As I sit typing this, my daughter has banished me from the room so that she can read Jack their bedtime stories. My pride in her continued efforts to become a better reader is suddenly met with the pains of loss. This is dismissed, when I hear Emma reading from a, likely memorized, favorite. She stops at the right points and reads with the rhythm that comes from hearing a story a hundred times. I hear Jack laugh as Emma finishes the first funny part of the book. I know I am not needed, at least not right now.

As I walked downstairs the realization hits me that recently I have been a little less everyday father. As Jack rounded 3 and half, the kids became more and more independent. They now spend larges blocks of time playing together and making their own activities. I, in some ways have been relegated to cook and chauffeur. They no longer need me to push them on the swings or stand close while they ride their scooters. I don't mean to sound whiny, we still spend plenty of time together , but today I saw a noticeable change in the hour glass and in shocked me a bit.

being a parent is in many ways a continuous realization that the time is fleeting. Pride in your children's abilities is often accompanied by twinge of pain as each accomplishment moves you a fraction closer to their full independence and the eventuality of them starting their own life. It is an odd mix emotion.....You know in your heart that you have to push forward but the self serving need to hold them in time is ever present. Well these thoughts can wait I have to go read "Aliens Love Underpants" it makes Emma laugh too hard and she can't read it. I might read it a little slower tonight.

Favorite Things

2011-04-28T00:51:00.001-04:00

No matter how good I think I may be getting at being a father, I find I can always learn more and do a better job. This of course neglects the fact that if I am slipping, my kids will remind me. Even if I am just going through motions, it can be enough to be the best part of their day.

Recently my wife finished and I began reading the book Raising Happiness. I recommend it as an easy practical approach to parenting and also an enjoyable read. Anyway, the book says you should ask your kids, after you tuck them in for the night, what their 3 favorite things about their day were. This is done to end their day on a positive note, show them that you care, and also get them in the right frame of mind for a restful sleep, filled with happy dreams. Who is to say the last part actually works, but our kids really like telling us the 3 things and have started reminding us if we forget. So after only a couple weeks the practice is here to stay.

The best part about it for me is their answers always surprise me. It also highlights the differences in their personalities and motivations. For instance, Jack will always add to his favorite things how he enjoyed eating "pepperoni and pizza" or "french fries and ketchup". He will also never miss the opportunity to mention finding and touching worms and bugs or random sightings of moving construction equipment, especially if he sees them "toot out smoke". He also never misses a chance to talk about playing outside. Jack is a boy of simple pleasures. He is also the first one to remind us if we forget to ask about their three favorite things.

Emma on the other hand comes at the three things very differently. She almost never mentions food, unless we went somewhere fancy (a restaurant with a salad bar). She always mentions things that she learned or projects that she did in school. Family also plays a significant role in her favorite things, whether it be a family meal, playing a game, or even ...... rubbing aloe vera on my sunburned back while my wife was out of town. She said it was in her favorites list because it made me feel better.

The funny thing is, reading stories will make it in, even if we just read the stories quickly to get them to bed. Even though we don't perform every task with conviction, it still means a lot to them. sometimes I will think "Oh not another game of Sorry...it takes forever" but then just playing that game leaves a lasting impression. I am glad that we started this tradition, because one of my favorite things is hearing how all the little things add up.

The Dark Knight

2011-04-23T16:10:00.001-04:00

You can't expect life with kids to be predictable. You even get to a point where the unpredictability becomes predictable. Yet even this comfort zone can be compromised by the guile of a 4 year old boy.

"Jack! Seriously, we need to go to the grocery store!" My son wasn't answering and wasn't coming downstairs. Finally his bedroom door opened and a tiny version of Batman emerged. Under his half mask a joker style smile stretched across my son's face. his cape was fastened as a belt and his utility belt hung like a pageant sash from his shoulder.

"Is that what you're wearing to the store?"

He just stood there for a moment and then simply shook his head yes. "Alright then, Batman, Get your shoes on and let me fix your cape and belt." With his disguise in place and his light up shoes on his feet, we pulled out of the driveway. Time to make the suburbs safe from the escaped criminally insane of the Arkham Asylum.

As we entered the farmers market, the buzz over fresh produce turned toward the three and half foot tall batman. I don't think Jack was ready for the attention his costume would bring. Old ladies giggled, several people said "hello Batman", a young guy, who was probably still impaired from a wake and bake, yelled a little to loudly to his girlfriend "Yo! it's fuckin Batman!" He immediately apologized. As we were grabbing our produce, the woman next to us leaned down and asked Jack if he were there to protect us. Jack responded, as if coached "Yes, I'm Batman." As we left with our bags, I noticed Jack walking a little taller and maybe strutting a little.

Our next stop was the super market. Jack received more of the same. Many people asked where Robin was....to this he just shrugged. He road through the supermarket on the side of the cart, asking me to go faster. He said he wanted his cape to look like he was flying. As we sped through the market Jack waved to anyone who said hello. He managed to shop for 2 hours and never break character...not once did the mask come off. we loaded our groceries and jumped in the car. Jack took off his mask and sighed as if he were a celebrity slumping in the back of a limo, happy to be away from his fans. As we pulled out of the parking lot, Jack looked out the window and said "Daddy... A lot of people like Batman." True, but people probably enjoyed the unpredictability of a 4 yr old breaking up the predictability of their weekend errands a little more.

Book Smart

2011-04-21T07:21:00.001-04:00

It is interesting and fun to raise someone who at their core is so different from me. In ways, it has helped me understand my wife. I even find my self, at times, envious of them both for their laser focus and diligence. she is definitely my wife's daughter. This was completely clear on Saturday, when she showed up in the office with a stack of construction paper.....maybe 10 sheets.

"Daddy, I am writing a book." Emma said matter of factly

"I thought you were taking a nap?"

"No, I am Done with my nap... I was dreaming and now I need to write a book." She said holding out the papers

"Well, how can I help?"

"I need you to staple these pages together like a book....down the edge here" She said running her finger down the expected staple zone.

I complied and put 3 well spaced and aligned staples down the long edge of the paper. "How is that?" She smiled as she complimented me on my work. Those are the things you don't find out about until you have children....the little smiles that show their love and admiration for you. It is nice to feel that little ego bump even if it is just for stapling in a straight line.

Before she could leave the office, I asked what the book was about. She told me that it was a surprise and then she whispered "I will tell you a secret....It has a jaguar in it" She said this with a raise of her eyebrows and a sly smile. It took all I had not to burst out laughing. She left the office and went to work at the kitchen table.

After about an hour, I went to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee and there she was still at the table. She was coloring feverishly. "How is the book coming?" She responded without looking up or putting down her crayon, "Good." She then went on to tell me her strategy for completing her masterwork,
"I am drawing all the pictures first and coloring the pages.....then I am going to add the words so that you can read the story."

After another hour, Jack woke from his nap and the air of the house took on an electricity that only my son can provide. Needless to say, Jack does not create an atmosphere that is not conducive to scholarly pursuits....plus it was snack time. Jack and I entered the kitchen and began rummaging through the pantry for snacks. Emma let out a sigh (a sigh of completion, not frustration). I looked out from the pantry and saw Emma packing up her crayons and her book. "Is it done..can I see it?" I asked, walking toward her. "No, not yet!" She said clutching it to her chest "I need to add the story, the words."

She did not revisit the book for the rest of the day. I looked at it that night and sure enough each page had a picture of a jaguar with a different background and setting. The Cover had a Jaguar and a big flower, it read "THE JAGRU....By EMMA FITZgeraLD" The "gerald" part curled around and down the edge of the page. I laughed at this, because it always frustrated me as a kid that my name was long and I would often run out of space in the very same way

As Sunday came, I expected to find her working away on it, downstairs. But she wasn't...she and Jack were playing a game with their action figures. In fact, she didn't mention the book or work on it until she woke from her nap. She came down stairs from her nap, walked passed the living room, where I was watching golf, assembled her materials and went to work. I tried to engage her, but she would have none of it. "Daddy, I am not talking, because I am trying to Consatrate" she said stumbling over concentrate.

After more than an hour, she finished the book. She brought it to me in the living room, along with a massive prideful smile. "Look, I finished it." she said holding it out for me. I took the book congratulated and hugged her. She asked me to read it, as I opened it to the first page. A wave of panic rushed over me as a looked at a jumble of letters that formed only a few words that I recognized...Jagru (Jaguar) being one of them. "Wow, this is great....Will you read it to me, instead?" I asked trying not to sound desperate. She smiled, grabbed the book and hopped onto the couch next to me. As she read to me, I found myself feeling immense amounts of pride. Her story was about how jaguar, who became lost while picking flowers, and came to live at our house, with our "happy" family. All and all a very cool experience. As she read, I sat there in awe of her ability to plan and execute the project....not to mention, staying focused on it until it was finished. Just then my son came bounding into the room completely naked and began shaking his butt, and his obvious genetic legacy, in our faces. What is that cliche' about apples and trees?.......oh well, he is definitely all mine.

Little Piggies

2011-04-16T10:06:00.003-04:00

A very polarizing event occurred this week. No not the war, the price of gas, or even the budget debate. No, something even more insidious happened. J.Crew, in a print ad, tried to change all our boys into girls, or something even more horrible like gays. (Hold On! That was sarcasm..I promise) The ad simply depicted a mother and her 5 year old son laughing about his pink toe nails. Seriously! That's it. That being said, it made a lot of people angry. Some even went so far as to call it transgender propaganda. Is there really such a thing? When I saw the ad the first thing that popped into my head was "if I could just find a 2XT sun dress and a pair of size 15 flats, I would definitely sashay my pretty little ass around the town square." After I banished the thoughts of me in a sun dress, I put the issue to bed. Or so I thought.

"Daddy..... Daddy, look" Both kids ran to me and held out their feet. I got home from work late and apparently my wife had launched her own grassroots protest against the ridiculousness.

I looked down as Emma described her toenails as "sparkly pink." Jack immediately asked that I look at his because they were "sooo pretty." Jack's nails were painted a sparkly purple. He was so excited that he began jumping in circles. I looked to my wife, who had a devilishly defiant look that spoke to how pleased she was with herself. "A little family bonding," she said coyly.

I love when my wife is rebellious, because it is such a surprise and such a departure from the honor role, team captain, super woman that she is.

The bottom line is.... who really cares (obviously a lot of people). But, will this event immediately turn my son "queer"? No. Not any more than it will turn my daughter into Polly Prissy Pants or Fancy Nancy. What it will likely do is give them a fond memory of the day their mother gently painted their toenails and they all laughed together. As I type this my son is fighting with my wife over wearing his New England Patriots jersey again. He is never going to find shoes to match that sparkly silver jersey.

The truth is, that if my son is gay, I hope we have a strong enough relationship that he can come to me and I can be his safe harbor in the storm.

Nursing Home

2011-04-13T23:12:00.002-04:00

I always find myself wondering when I am going to run out of things to write about. Luckily kids give you more than enough topics with the random things that happen in the course of everyday life. What I find so interesting is that even the most mundane life event can take on added humor or importance when you add your children to the mix.

I forgot to tell my children that a nurse was coming to the house. She was going to perform an exam for my life insurance. The door bell rang and I suddenly remembered the appointment, as the kids ran from the kitchen for the front door. Both kids flung open the door and I heard the nurse say hi and then ask if she could come in. Both kids did nothing but stand there and stare.

They continued to stare, as I reached the door. They both wanted to know why a nurse was at our house. I told them that she was going to do some tests. As I answered the remaining 400 questions, I helped the nurse into the formal dining room (we might as well use it for something). I pulled out a chair for the nurse and turned around to take the chair next to her, at the end of the table. Unfortunately, both kids were already seated and staring at the nurse as she unpacked her kit. She looked at them and then at me, then handed me a sample cup...."Well since they aren't going to let you sit, go ahead and fill this up." Both kids eyes followed the cup from her hand to my hand. Emma, without taking her eyes off the cup, asked "What do you have to fill it with?" I have to fill it with urine. "Yurmin?...what's yurmin?" Jack said scrunching up his nose. I answered and both kids let out a strange combo of sounds showing their disgust and amusement.

As I brought back the cup, I found that the nurse had fully unpacked and was explaining each part of her kit. Jack looked at the cup and then in his best scared voice said "EM-MA, that cup is full of Daddy's Pee.......Ewwwwww" The nurse took the cup from me in her gloved hand, to the squealing delight of my children. Jack added "Oh....you just touched his pee" She set it to the side on a plastic sheet and added "that's what the gloves are for." As she began completing her paperwork, both Emma and Jack's eyes never left the cup. As the interview continued, Emma left the table but Jack remained laser-focused on the cup. I found myself wondering what he was thinking.

The nurse moved on to my blood pressure and pulse. Jack yelled for Emma to come back....."The nurse is doing more stuff to Daddy!" Next came my height and weight. At least the nurse was a good sport and each kid was given their measurements. Finally it was time for her to take my blood. She turned to the kids and told them that they shouldn't move and definitely not bump the table. Jack obliged by giving the table a good bump. The nurse shot him a look that froze him in his place for the remainder of the procedure. The nurse unsheathed the needle and Jack covered his face, peering out from between his fingers. Emma put her hand on my other arm and told me not to worry. She watched on as the needle entered my skin, though her expression never changed, she gripped my arm more tightly. Jack let out a deep breath and took on a compassionate look "Oh, I am sorry you have to have a needle, Daddy." Before I could reassure him, Emma did... "Don't worry Jack, Daddy is fine." Even the no-nonsense nurse looked up, enjoying the dialogue. The nurse removed the needle and added a Band-Aid. The nurse packed up and asked the kids to watch after me. Emma did just that, asking me every few minutes if I were OK and if I was still wearing the Band-Aid. Jack informed me that he would never be a nurse because he is not touching anyone's pee.

Tangled

2011-04-09T08:43:00.002-04:00

Before you become a parent you don't realize, or are completely blind to the marketing/mind control juggernaut that is Disney. I kept thinking that we would have to be wary of McDonalds, but completely neglected to see the insidiousness of Disney and how it had bored its way deep into the American Psyche. McDonalds is easily defeated, if you don't let your kids watch commercials on television. Seriously, when was the last time you saw Ronald McDonald Grimace or the Hamburglar on a box of diapers (though Grimace would be strangely appropriately)? Disney on the other hand, is in every aisle of the grocery store, properly placed 2 to 3 feet off the ground ......... you have no chance.

As we planned our trip to the gulf coast of Florida, the pressure to make the 2 hour drive to Disney kept mounting. We were constantly besieged by inquiries into our plans to visit the Magic Kingdom. The drum beat grew so loud that we actually began considering a 3+ hour round trip across the state. Finally my wife and I agreed that it was too much and that our kids needed to be older and have skin in the game. By this I mean, as a family we need to sacrifice and save for a trip to Disney.

During our weekly family meeting, my wife and I broke the news to the kids that we weren't going to Disney on this trip. We told them it was too expensive and we needed to save up. We devised a plan to collect all our change for a year. We added, that every time we are under budget on eating out and entertainment, the extra money will go into the Disney fund. Surprisingly enough, the kids completely bought into the plan, with little disappointment. To say my wife and I had agonized about this conversation, would be an understatement.

Though the decision had been made, this pressure and guilt didn't stop. Literally every person who found out we were going to Florida asked and then questioned our decision not to go to Disney........."but its the magic kingdom!?!" Even the kids seemed to get tired of the inquiries. At the airport, the gate agent asked Emma and jack if they were going to Disney and in unison they both said "no". There response was a little too direct and caught the agent by surprise. Emma caught on to this, as Jack pushed by, and she said "we are saving up for next time." The look of confusion on the guys face was more than enough justice for me.

The pressure subsided once we got to Florida. Apparently no one on the gulf coast gives a damn if you go to Disney or not. Even more surprising is......we stayed 9 days in Florida, spent virtually no money, yet had a very fun vacation. better yet there were no long lines, frustration or stuffed mouse stripping my pockets of money for hours on end. Unfortunately I developed a false sense of security and let my guard down. Hours before our flight was to depart, I purchased Tangled for the kids to watch on the trip home.

I was enjoying a perfectly quiet flight, reading my book and loving my purchase. We were nearing the point when electronic devices have to be turned off....I turned to see where the kids were in the movie....I was just in time to see Disney's decisive victory. There in Rapunzel's arms the hero lay....my daughter's face reflected the tragedy of the moment....From Rapunzel's eye a single tear fell......in unison my daughter's eyelids became heavy with her own tears......Rapunzel's tear landed on the hero's cheek and exploded into brilliant light and the hero was saved.......Emma took a deep breath, exhaled, tilted her head to the side and the look of a compassionate "ahhhhh" engulfed her face. Right there, Disney's fangs sunk in deep, forever making her a believer. The moral of the story.......The mouse is going to get you, one way or another

Accidents Happen

2011-04-06T14:59:00.001-04:00

When you become a father you can only hope that you have had enough experience to guide your child. Sometimes the experience needed is one that you chalk up to being too embarrassing to ever share. That being said, a look from your daughter's tear streaked face can unearth even the most suppressed and hidden gem.

The kids were in the bedroom laughing hysterically at a book their Meme was reading. The sound of a child's pure uncontrolled laughter should be bottled and sold as an antidepressant. Suddenly, Emma emerged from the room with a panicked look on her face. "I have to go", she said holding herself and shifting her weight from foot to foot. She then ran to the nearest bathroom. Before we knew it, she was back in the room, laughing along with Jack to the conclusion of the story.

After the story the kids piled out of the bedroom looking for goodnight hugs. That is when I noticed that the crotch of Emma's PJ's were wet. Without making a big deal of it.....I told her to go to Mommy's room....I hoped to spare her some embarrassment. I hugged Jack, handed him off to his Papa, and then went to find my wife and daughter. I found my, visibly embarrassed, daughter in the bathroom with my wife. My wife was on her knees hugging Emma, while explaining that everyone has accidents. Emma sadly said that she "was laughing too hard and had tried to hurry...but a little got out".

"Emma, mommy is right, we all have accidents."

"You don't have accidents." Emma said looking up at me with tears in her eyes

"Actually, sometimes I do. One time when my tummy was sick, I sneezed really hard and pooped my pants"

Emma giggled at this and responded "Yeah, but you were a baby"

"No, it was only 2 years, ago"

"Really?!?" Emma smiled and searched my face to ensure I wasn't lying

"Really."

"See Emma, everyone has accidents" My wife said smiling at me.

Emma, feeling better hugged me and said "Thank you, daddy". She then rushed past me to get her goodnight hugs from her grandparents. My wife stood up, handed me Emma's wet PJ's and said "I bet you don't put that in your blog"

Life's a Beach

2011-04-02T09:39:00.000-04:00

Anyone who has owned a dog knows that moment when, standing on a beach, you unclip the leash. The dog literally explodes from your grasp, unlocking expressions of joy that self conscious adults are incapable of connecting with. The dog bounds down the beach, literally running in the air, feet incapable of touching the ground in any sort of rhythm. Their tail wags so violently that it takes control of their back end, throwing it this way and that. Whether you believe in a dog smile or not, you find yourself hard pressed to argue against the look stretched across its face, tongue hanging, devil may care to one side. I realized on our trip to the beach that little boys and dogs are not so different.

"Emma, There's the beach!....There's the beach!......THERE'S...THE...BEACH!"

Jack was vibrating with excitement. Emma was excited too, but had experienced the beach before. Just as I guided the car into the parking spot, Jack exploded from his seat belt and hopped up and down in the space between the front and back seats. Once out of the car, the skill of keeping him from running through the parking lot, while trying to unload the cooler, beach chairs, toys, and towels, put my Kung Fu skills to the test. Luckily my wife, always the planner, put sunscreen on the kids before we left, freeing us from the impossible task of putting sunscreen on our constantly moving, over excited 4 year old boy.

Jack hopped and twisted and wiggled his way across the parking lot while holding my hand.....testing the limits of my shoulder strength and flexibility. As we entered the beach I experienced that same moment I had decades earlier with my first dog. Jack exploded from my hand and headed for the surf. Emma too, full of excitement, followed. Both leaping between random combination of steps. Shear unbridled joy is one of the most beautiful things to witness and seems to be the domain of dogs and children. As the children reached the surf both screamed with delight as the water rushed over and receded under their feet. Jack began jumping up and down trying to clear the waves while trying to create an ever larger splash.

Emma settled in to making sand castles as my wife and I settled into our beach chairs. Jack on the other hand galloped back in fourth in a 40 yard section of beach and surf. I turned to my wife and said doesn't he look just like a dog...just running and running....too much energy and excitement to stop. We both agreed and laughed as we watched him gallop. For 3 hours we stayed on the beach, the kids never fought, never got bored, never whined, and no Disney characters showed up to strip my wallet of money. The next day we went back to the beach where we dug for shells and where the same displays of joy and excitement were repeated. I will be hard pressed not to include the beach in all of our vacations.

Hiatus

2011-03-17T12:06:00.000-04:00

Every Day Father needs to take a brief hiatus. I will return on April 2nd with more crazy tales. I appreciate your readership.

Small World

2011-03-12T15:11:00.000-05:00

Technology drives my life in many ways....adding stress and of course convenience. Technology also gives me the opportunity to be a better father. Gone are the days of searching for answers in encyclopedias or as many parents did just making up stuff. Thanks to google earth I was able to share an amazing time with my kids.

I was in the office watching tsunami footage, when Jack came in and forced his way onto my lap. He watched the video of the unstoppable wave making its way across the Japanese landscape. He exclaimed "Oh" as each house crumbled and each car was swept up. He even commented on the juxtoposition of planes, boats, and cars all tumbling along together. He wanted to know "why" in as many ways as he could postulate with his 4 year old brain. I explained that an earthquake had disrupted the ocean and caused the massive wave to come ashore. He was immediately off my lap and running to find his sister.

"Emma, hurry! A tsunami in Japan! You have to see it!"

Soon both Emma and Jack stormed into the office. Jack instructed me to play the video again. I was again overwhelmed by a flurry of "whys". This time it was Emma with all the questions. What was amazement in Jack manifested as fear in Emma. Where Jack saw automobiles, Emma saw helpless vessels containing human beings.

"Honey, she is scared" My wife said from her desk

I clicked off the video as Emma asked if the tsunami could get us. I told her no and explained that we live very far away and in an area that is not very active from a plate tectonics perspective. I actually heard my wife's eye rolling As I explained Plate tectonics and the cause of earthquakes and tsunamis.

I then launched Google Earth. I typed in our address and the earth spun to our location and then zoomed in on our house. Both kids yelled "Whoa" as if riding a roller coaster. I explained that this is where we live and then keyed in Honshu Japan. The program elevated and rotated away from our home. The earth spun until it reached Honshu. I showed them the point in the ocean where the earthquake epicenter was located. The program clearly showed where the 2 plates collided, along with the underwater geography that they created. Emma relaxed and was visibly less concerned....at least for our safety.

"Can we see where Meme and Papa live?" Emma asked

The globe was again spinning. Both kids asked that I zoom until they can see their grandparents. Both were bummed that their request wasn't possible. Via Google Earth we jumped around the country visiting relatives. Emma then ask that I "tell it to go to Arizona." My wife asked he why she wanted to go to Arizona. Emma responded "Because I have never been there before" Tough to argue with that logic. Emma thought that Arizona looked dry.

"I Know! I know!" Jack shouted "Make it go to the North Pole"

Emma quickly interrupted "Yeah where Santa lives!"

I keyed in the North Pole and readied my brain for an explanation that would keep their belief alive..... at least for a couple more years. The earth spun and then unfocused on a swirl of blue. Both kids wanted to know where his house was.

"Well, Santa's house is hidden and no one knows for sure where it is. I guess not even computers can find it."

"That makes sense...if people knew where Santa lived, everyone would go there and ask for toys and Santa wouldn't get anything done" Emma reasoned.

Thanks to technology I spent time with my kids, exploring the globe in a way that wouldn't have been possible less than 10 years ago.

Sticks and Stones

2011-03-09T20:55:00.002-05:00

Just when you think you have being a father on lock...you don't. In fact, I am starting to believe that having fatherhood figured out is impossible. Last night, Jack and I went for hair cuts and then out to dinner together. Even the few moments of tension were easily handled and resolved without incident. I felt like we had hit our stride and found our sweet spot. That all changed ten minutes after Jack woke up this morning.

I exited my room to check on the kids and make sure they were getting ready for school. Emma was quietly getting ready in her room. Jack was already downstairs. The sounds of crashing cars told me he was busy in his play room. I inquired as to whether he was ready for school or not. I got my answer, though not the answer or tone I was hoping for.

"I am not getting dressed...I....DON'T.... WANT ..... TO .... GO .... TO ..... SCHOOL!" Jack over pronounced each word to help me understand its importance.

I explained that he needed to go to school and that he could have some time to himself but then he needed to come upstairs and get dressed. He answered my balanced tone by screaming "NO" at me. I finished getting dressed and finished metrosexualizing my hair. This gave him an extra 20 minutes to play in his playroom. I made the mistake of feeling proud of how well I handled his earlier outburst.

"Jack can you come up and help me pick out your clothes for the day?"

"I....DON'T.... WANT ..... TO .... GO .... TO ..... SCHOOL!" Jack reiterated his earlier position.....in case I had forgotten.

The funny thing is there is no reason for Jack not wanting to go to school other than his solid desire to control his own reality. Often when we pick him up from school he doesn't want to go home. I believe he wishes that my wife and I were nothing more than his indentured servants.

Jack, I am going to count it down and then you will begin losing privileges...starting with TV."

He turned the corner with his head down and arms hanging slack in front of him....the classic child defiance walk. After an excruciatingly long time he made it to the top of the stairs and informed me that he was not looking at me. I began helping him out of his pajamas, while he pretended not to have bones or muscle control. I spent the extra time thinking about the "Do Not Shake" contract I signed before bringing him home from the nursery after his birth. I also realized that getting clothes off a boy without bones is a hell of alot easier than getting them on. He was finally dressed and displaying a big giant pouty lower lip. Once again his arms hung in front of him as he descended the stairs.

I gathered my belongings and met the kids in the kitchen. As Emma put on her boots, without looking up, she informed me that Jack was in the pantry. I opened the door to the darkened pantry and found Jack trying to be invisible....scrunched up in the corner and not looking my way.

"Alright Jack, I have had enough of this behavior. It is time to go to school. Please put on your shoes."

I reached down and tried to get him to his feet. He began his loud melodramatic fake cry. The he dropped a bombshell.

"You're a mean Daddy and I am never going on a boys night with you again" he said with as much conviction as a 4 year old can.

I counted to 10 and then counted to 10 again. I let him know that he had lost any privileges for the night and then put his shoes on. He didn't speak to me the whole way to school and did not say good by to me after I dropped him off. I felt like hell all day. I replayed the situation a dozen times in my head throughout the day. Each time I came away feeling like I handled the situation pretty well. When I finally saw Jack at home tonight, I asked him if he wanted to say something to me about his behavior this morning....he looked at me, thoughtfully, and then he spoke.

"I forgive you for your bad behavior this morning and I still love you." The little shit said this with a completely straight face and never broke eye contact. I let him know that I appreciated his forgiveness, but that he owed me an apology. He apologized and I went back to making dinner. As I made stir fry, I heard Joe Pesci's voice in my head "Whoa!...You believe the stones on this kid?"

Left to Their Own Devices

2011-03-05T11:03:00.003-05:00

The real advantage of having 2 children is not realized until about 3 1/2 years after the second one is born. The first 3 years involve a lot of attention balancing and refereeing of combatants (This never really goes away). At some point the magic happens and the second one advances enough that they begin interacting and playing together. Also the older one begins to enjoy the adoration of the younger sibling, which suddenly provides the extra ego boost needed to fill the attention vacuum caused by number two's arrival. Emma and Jack have recently reached this point. Their ability to play together has provided some unexpected benefits, over the last couple weekends.

It was 7:15 and I was surprised. First, that it was 7:15 (for the longest time weekends meant getting up at 6 and watching Emma and Jack) and second, that I could hear Jack and Emma playing together in their play room. Recently their play had involved a huge amount of dialogue, with both Emma and Jack providing input into the plot and staging for each play session. This morning they were involved in a debate over Batman and Spiderman. They both agreed that Spiderman had super powers, but could not agree on Batman's abilities. The funny thing is, neither one has ever watched a Spiderman or Batman cartoon. Their strong opinions have been shaped by playground discussions, with children whose parents are less strict about programming.

Jack vehemently supported his position that Batman can fly, "he has a cape......why would he have a cape, if he couldn't fly?" You have to love little kid logic. Emma took the correct position, that Batman did not have super powers and relied on a "super cool tool belt" that supplied him with whatever he needed. This continued until they were both standing next to my bed.

"Daddy, Emma says Batman can't fly...." Jack said plaintively

"Sorry buddy, Batman can't fly he doesn't have super powers. He relies on the gadgets in his utility belt to fight bad guys."

"Told you, Jack" Emma fires off, before I finish

The crazy thing is I am having this serious conversation about two fantasy characters while half asleep......yet another untold joy of parenting

"But....Batman's cape is so special that it will allow him to fly for short distance and jump from high places"

"See Emma, he can fly" Jack counters

"No Jack, we were both right" Emma corrects Jack and they disappear back downstairs.

I drifted off to sleep thinking about my brother and the times we had the very same type of conversations. The times we argued, while playing, about which models of car were faster, which super heroes could beat each other We once even had a heated debate over which song was better....Rawhide or The Gambler.....clearly Rawhide.

It was 7:45 and I was awoken for good. This time they were engaged in a debate that involved ever increasing iterations of infinity (my guy is as strong as infinity plus 100.....). I was immediately struck by the juxtaposition of Jack's 4 year old's voice and the word infinity. At least he was concentrating on using his numbers, for a change.

From the Heart

2011-03-02T22:21:00.000-05:00

Much of raising kids is about giving. I won't list all the ways in which children put demands on their parents but I can say that I was initially unprepared for the demands of the job. Through all the taking of resources there are those moments that remind you that the struggle is worth it.

I returned to my office from a meeting and reached into my shirt pocket to remove my business cards. Free from my pocket, the cards jettisoned a pink piece of paper that landed on my desk. Upon closer inspection I found that it was a quarter sized heart made from pink craft paper. I lifted the tiny heart in my fingers and felt the tickle in my tonsils reminiscent of the best days of my life. This was soon joined by the sensation of tears welling along my eyelids. Choking back the unexpected surge of emotion, I was slightly thrown by the power of the tiny little heart. A simple gesture in the form of a fragile pink symbol, was able to convey so much.

I wonder how many small gestures like this go forgotten in the craziness of raising kids. These small, almost fleeting moments are the reason I write and why our parents have boxes and boxes of slides slowly yellowing under the weight of time.

As the day got later and later, I realized that my obligations at work would keep me until after Emma's bedtime. Luckily her gift stayed in sight throughout the day.....a tiny reminder of a little girls love for her father. As I pulled in the driveway, I found that the light in Emma's room was off. A little disappointed, I retrieved the garbage cans from the street. As I turned back toward the house, with the first can, Emma's light came on.....seconds later her blinds exploded upward. She stood in the window waving and I imagine she was smiling too.

Both kids met me at the back door as I entered the house. Both jumping around me, jockeying for attention while downloading their adventures from the day. As I walked them back to bed, I thanked Emma for the heart and told her that it had made me so happy. She slyly smiled, giggled, and said it wasn't her, but that I was welcome. There was no use trying to explain the significance of the gift to her at that time, she will know someday.....when her own child returns the favor.

Bragging Rights

2011-02-26T09:55:00.000-05:00

Psychologists have proven that men are harder on their sons, compared to their daughters. This is definitely true for me. It is completely subconscious. My wife and I are both mindful of it and try to maintain a balanced approach. She is forever reminding me, and rightly so, that he is only 3 (now, 4) and I should ease up. On Saturday he proved that he was doing fine and that maybe I should just chill. He is, in fact, developing at a good pace.

Jack has been taking an introduction to sports class at the YMCA. (This is basically a college-aged girl trying to control eight 3-4 year olds while trying to show them everything from gymnastics to baseball....in other words a total shit show) My wife had taken my son the first 4 weeks and now I had to go, just to see how ridiculous the whole thing was.

As I entered the gym, the first thing I noticed was a 4 year old boy drinking a Vitamin Water XXX. Not something I would give a kid with infinite stores of energy, but what do I know. The teacher called all the kids to the opposite side of the gym. Surprisingly, Jack listened and ran to the teacher. The remaining kids trailed behind. One boy ran while holding his mothers hand. I didn't realize it at the time, but she would participate in the whole class and would spend 80% of it holding her son's hand. Another child made it half way across the gym and collapsed against a side wall.......he would go on to inch worm around the perimeter while his dad blackberried and giggled to himself. Jack's only competition was a 4 year old girl, Sammy, who seemed to listen and posses a good level of coordination.

The class began with the kids throwing a tennis ball, chasing it down, and then repeating. The inch worm kept inching. Vitamin water boy returned to his father for another drink every couple minutes. The mother and son combo were putting on quite a show, as they took turns throwing the ball and chasing after it hand in hand. All the while she leaned over and whispered constant encouragement. Sammy kept hanging in there and was giving Jack a run for his money.

The teacher then tried to introduce baseball. Jack helped lay out the bases and was continuing an amazing level of listening and focus. The inch work was actually pushing a ball with his face and had yet to participate in any activities. The teacher had the kids run, as a group, to each consecutive base. There was hardly enough room for the kids, but the addition of the mother/son combination resulted in chaos. It took everything I had not to go and remove her from the class. Vitamin water boy couldn't complete a trip around the bases without a pit stop. Even Sammy revealed herself as an over-endulged monster. If she wasn't allowed to bat or retrieve each ball that was hit, she would scream and run to her mother. Her mother would then promise treats and gifts. She would hug and apologize profusely to her daughter until Sammy returned to the action.

Each kid took turns batting, except the inch worm. Vitamin water boy followed suit and hit a dribbler and then ran through first and continued across the gym to finish off his XXX. Finally it was Jack's turn at the plate. I was filled with anticipation and an unexpected welling of hope for him to crush the %^$# out of the ball. Jack got in a stance, he loaded his legs, released his hips, trailed his hands and blasted a screamer across the gym. I hadn't taught him that...that came from his own abilities...I was just as amazed as the other parents now staring at me. I couldn't have felt more pride. Jack went on to repeat the feat three more times. Even the blackberry dad took notice.

As we drove home I kept telling Jack how awesome his hits and behavior were. I also found myself day dreaming about the Bigs and thinking about private hitting coaches. Luckily, I came to my senses and admonished myself for the ridiculousness of my folly. I learned something important that day....... Jack is, in fact, doing just fine, especially compared to his contemporaries.

Everything In Its Place

2011-02-23T15:40:00.001-05:00

A huge part of being a parent is trying to decipher what your kids need. This is sometimes an impossibility and almost always a thoroughly frustrating endeavor. Even Sherlock Holmes would find it difficult to solve the mysteries posed by my 4 year old. I imagine an adept child translator would make a bazillion dollars. A translator is exactly what I needed when Jack showed up in my bathroom wearing nothing but his skivvies (He was fully dressed a mere 5 minutes earlier)

"What happened to your clothes? We need to leave for school soon."

He went on to whine, fingers in his mouth, through a convoluted explanation about not being comfortable and not wanting to go to school.

"Jack, come on...let's get dressed maybe we can find something more comfortable"

That was not what he wanted to hear. I was confused now.....hadn't I just given him an out. He began tugging at his underwear. I deduced, through more whining, that he wasn't comfortable because of his underwear. He didn't like them because they were twisted. I looked at them and they weren't twisted and everything seemed to be in order. I reached down and straightened his boxer briefs just for good measure.

"There, now they aren't twisted."

"Yes......they ....... are!" he yelled grabbing and pulling at the crotch of his briefs

"Alright, let me have a look"

On first inspection, nothing was out of the ordinary. I asked him to show me exactly what the problem was.

"My penis needs to be in the middle (Pointing to the center of his briefs) and the twisty thing pushes it to the side (Pointing to the seam, which on this pair of underwear runs across the center)! I am never wearing this underwear again!"

"Let's go get a new pair" I felt like I had just unlocked the Da Vinci code.

I began walking toward his room. I then noticed he wasn't following, but was instead a crumpled, crying mound on the floor.

"Wait....wait....what is wrong? I said you can wear different underwear."

After another excruciatingly long tantrum conversation, he revealed that this was his last pair. Once I explained that more underwear was available in the laundry room, he retook his feet and followed me downstairs. In the laundry room we found a clean pair of underwear, as well as a welcome dose of serenity. He slipped on the underwear and verified the proper placement of his penis among the crisscrossing seams. Finding everything to his liking, he transformed back into a completely rational creature. I, on the other hand, was exhausted, half dressed and completely late for work.

Lion's Share

2011-02-19T10:26:00.000-05:00

Sometimes as parents you feel like you are beating your head against the wall. Always instructing and correcting your kids, with little in return, but resistance and frustration. Then, every once in a while, you get the pay off. That one action that tells you all your work may eventually amount to something.

It is Jack's Birthday and he is "Hungry like a lion." He hammers his french toast in to his mouth, as if we hadn't fed him the night before. He drinks his milk down in one gulp and then asks if he can get down to wash his hands. We agree and he runs down the hall.

Moments later he returns and climbs back into his seat. He stares at his plate and at everyone else's plate........."Hey, who ate all my french toast?" My wife and I both assure him that he ate all his french toast. He doesn't believe us. Emma doesn't help by adding "No, I think he had a little left." We are out of French toast and only seconds from the first melt down of the weekend.

"Jack you ate all your french toast and there isn't any left....you can have some fruit." I say trying to prevent the storm I see building behind his eyes.

"No....Someone....Ate.....My.....Break....fast." Jack says in the halting tone of someone who is going to unleash the fury

"Jack! I can't eat all my french toast. Would you like to share with me?" Emma says stepping in at the last moment.

A smile stretches across jack's face as he responds "Oh, Thank you Emma."

"Your welcome Jack." Emma says, as she hand selects the pieces of french toast for Jack's plate

In a simple act of kindness Emma prevented certain tragedy and fortified us as parents

Butt of the Joke

2011-02-16T17:37:00.001-05:00

I am cursed/blessed with a 4 year old that has same sense of humor that I have. He is a ball breaker, a prankster, and a lover of physical comedy. He also has good comedic timing, which is only hampered by his ability to take the joke a couple iterations too far.

Tuesday night I barely made it to day care before they started charging me a $10 per minute late fee. Getting the kids to the van helped me understand the herding cats analogy. Finally in the family truckster, we were off to the grocery store to pick up the components needed to assemble dinner.

As we walked through the super market my kids kept giggling and laughing. This continued until I would turn around and stare them down. When I did this they would both stop by covering their mouths or extending their lips over their uncontrolled smiles. I let this go for about 15 minutes, until we reached the frozen food aisle, where the laughter got to the point where I started feeling self conscious. I feared that my pants were split or wondered whether I had sat in something that would elicit this level of hilarity.

I turned quickly and asked Emma what is so funny. Again she said, "nothing." I pressed and she finally answered "Jack is joking around." I looked at Jack and he reflexively said "Nuffin."

"OK...knock it off, you guys are driving me crazy."

I turned back around, opened the freezer door and reached for the pot pies. Again the laughter started and then I felt a tickling on my butt. I reflexively jerked upward jamming my head into one of the shelves. I spun around ready for blood, but found the two of them uncontrollably laughing. My rage evaporated.

"Seriously, what's going on? Is something wrong with my pants?"

Emma regained her composure and answered "Jack keeps pointing at your bottom and I can't look at a bottom without laughing."

Jack through his laughter added "Yeah, your butt is funny."

"It is not nice to laugh at peoples butts." (Another sentence I never thought I'd say)

What could I do? I just finished my shopping and let them laugh. All I can hope for is that the minor indignities of fatherhood are trumped by the unexpected outbreaks of juvenile comedy.

Baby Daddy

2011-02-12T01:37:00.005-05:00

My role as father is to ensure that my kids are prepared for life. A little like a general who is willing to hug his men. There are times when I wince at the thought of uttering one more correction or instruction. In these moments I find it important to show my kids that I am not a 24/7 hard ass but capable of bending the rules and not taking myself too seriously.

As the kids ate dinner last night, my wife and I shared some wine and conversation around the island in our kitchen. I finished telling my wife a story while speaking with an Irish accent. From the table Jack called me out. "Daddy, you sound like a baby."

"What are you talking about......I don't sound like a baby"

"Yes....when you talk like that you sound like a baby....are you a little baby, Daddy?" Jack said

"Yes Jack...I am a big baby and I am wearing a diaper"

EWWWWW! Both kids yelled. Jack starts laughing so hard he can't talk. Emma chimed in.

"Daddy you can't wear a diaper, your poops would be too big" Emma says struggling through her laughter.

Jack returning from his laughing fit added "I will not change any baby's diapers."

"Oh no!!! I just pooped in my diaper!"

My wife steps in (time for the straight man) "Well I am not changing any diapers either, you kids change it."

This is greeted by feigned disgust and unbridled laughter. Jack was bright red and laughing so hard that noise had ceased to accompany his convulsions. Emma's head was on the table and her shoulders were visibly shaking. Apparently there is nothing quite as funny to kids their age as poop and diapers.

The scene concluded with an all too inappropriate conversation about how big my poops could be. Each took turns comparing my poops to the size of the kitchen table, mountains, cows and really, anything large that popped into their heads.

Laughter is cathartic and so important for families to share. More importantly, it is critical for my kids to see me not as a humorless overlord, but someone who enjoys a good laugh.......even at himself.

Yin and Yang

2011-02-09T11:35:00.001-05:00

Parenthood is truly a journey of discovery. Each day we find new traces of our genetics in our tiny miracles. Jack has glove foot like my wife, while Emma has mitten foot like me (Glove foot means you can move all your toes individually and mitten foot....well you get the picture) Emma is organized and a planner like my wife and Jack is a tiny wild man just like my previous unrefined self. These little nuances extend to taste and even sweating patterns. This was shockingly apparent this morning.

My wife entered our bedroom and told me that Emma had sequestered herself in her closet, because she doesn't like being naked in front of people. My wife had gone into her room to see if she was progressing towards being ready for school. She startled Emma in the process of getting her underwear on and Emma had rapidly retreated to her closet and shut the door. From her closet she asked my wife to leave and said that she could return once she had finished dressing.

"How weird is that" my wife said. I laughed and told her that it sounded exactly like her. "We have been together for 16 years and if it weren't for the all glass shower, I'd never even get a peak at you." My wife furrowed her brow as if she was having that 'ah ha' moment. Before she could say another word, the sounds of crazy laughter and running feet made us turn to the hall.

Down the hall in all his laughing, bounding, jiggling glory came our buck naked son. Half way to our room he yelled "who wants naked hugs!?!?!!" He didn't wait for an answer and crashed lovingly into my wife. before she could respond, the naked devil was on my leg. This wild assault lasted only seconds. Just as suddenly, he was bounding back down the hall, his laugh like his naked little bottom trailed behind him.

My wife turned, coyly exposing her shoulder from her robe and closed the bathroom door behind her. Just before the door shut, I heard her say "and Jack.......is exactly like you."

Betrayed

2011-02-05T12:40:00.000-05:00

Emma and Jack were born into it, as they say in Boston. One of Jack's first phrases was "Yankees bad". Both kids know the team colors and mascots of all the Boston teams. We are a Boston sports family (period). That is why Emma's question the other night was a surprise and a stomach punch.

"Is it OK if we root for other teams?" Emma said, sheepishly

I turned to give her the bad news and was met with my wife's raised eyebrows. Her eyes still fixed on me she answered.

"Of course, who do you want to root for?" my wife said, sweetly

"The Steelers," Emma answered.

My head was spinning I used the counter to keep from falling over.

"Mommy, they are my favorite colors ... yellow and black," Emma said, arguing her case

"Wait, wait, pink and purple are your favorite colors." I had to step in. "What is Mark's favorite team?"

Mark is Emma's best friend at school and they refer to each other as brother and sister.

"The Steelers," she said in a whisper.

"Sure you can root for the Steelers in the Super Bowl, but you can't root for them when they play the Patriots"

"Thanks daddy, the Patriots are my first team ... but the Steelers are really good, they have won the Super Bowl 6 times. The Patriots only won 3 times."

My wife laughed out loud. My 5 year old, suddenly breaking balls like a pro.

Legendary Battle

2011-02-02T09:39:00.001-05:00

"Emma, I am the snow leopard and it is time to fight" Jack said taking a karate stance.

"I am the Tiger ....wait Jack.... we are fighting on the bridge" Emma said mirroring Jack's stance.

"You are the last fighter, because I already beat the other fighters" Jack responded setting the scene.

I recognized this immediately as their favorite part of Kung Fu Panda. They often act out this scene in slightly rough pantomime. Lately the play fighting has amped in regularity and intensity. This has been accompanied by Jack asking on a weekly basis to begin Kung fu class.

The kids began circling each other. Emma and Jack took turns verbally enhancing the scene and expanding on their already legendary abilities. Suddenly Jack lunged at Emma throwing half hearted punches that bashed into nothing but air. Emma recoiled waving her hands as if to block each off targeted, short falling punch. They returned to circling each other and explaining the next upcoming bout of action. Jack quickly mounted the foot stool.

I should have been more actively parenting the situation at this point (no feet on the furniture...stop fighting), but I found myself somewhat mesmerized by the wonderful combination of their reenactment and the fresh brewed cup of coffee in my hand. Plus, like my children, I get sick of hearing my voice.

Jack reared to his back foot, bared his teeth and let out his rendition of a snow leopard snarl. Suddenly he was air born. His right fist was extended and he was perfectly positioned to deliver a superman punch. Emma side stepped Jacks attack and circled to his right. After crashing to the floor and doing some strange ground fighting / break dancing moves, he returned to his karate stance. Jack extended his arms above his head and again snarled. Just as Jack's snarl reached a crescendo Emma threw a vicious leg kick that buried itself in the meat of Jack's thigh. Joe Rogan's voice would have cracked with leg kick excitement had he been present. Jack literally flipped....landing as a crumpled heap on the floor.

As the wail began to escape from Jacks lips I rushed from the kitchen to the family room. Emma was standing there with a weird look on her face, limply repeating "I am sorry Jack". Jack was hurt and you could easily tell from his cry. As I reached the living room, my peripheral vision caught my wife emerging from our bedroom. I scooped Jack up and soothed his damaged leg and ego. Within moments Jack was fine and I was the one facing an angry snow leopard.

My wife had made it down stairs and immediately began piecing together the details, like a member of CSI. After much interrogation, my role as bystander and incompetent parent was fully revealed. We both agreed that a love of fresh coffee combined with combat was neither an adequate excuse or a defensible alibi. I retreated as her attention turned to the mini combatants. They fared no better than I.

Soon order was returned, yet the biggest bombshell was yet to explode.

My wife and I stood in the kitchen, both with fresh cups in hand. She began pondering aloud "if all the violence that the kids see is on cartoons and can be explained as fantasy....do they really understand what can happen in a fight?"

I agreed that this was a good point. I also reminded her that I had explained many times that they can get hurt fighting. (I imagine, I was still weakly trying to support the case for me not being an inept father)

She continued "Maybe we need to let them watch a fight.......a real fight?"

I saw my opening "There is a UFC fight on Saturday...I could record it.?.?.?"

"That might be a good idea...let me think about it" she said pondering.

Life, if nothing else, is always unexpected.

Peace Keeper

2011-01-29T21:43:00.000-05:00

"Do you have to have this conversation again? You have already talked about this three times" said Emma, clearly displaying her frustration.

My wife and I had just come off a day of not being on the same page. We had butted heads over the nonsense that couples spend their time arguing about. Perhaps even Emma could see that we were saying the same things and not listening to each other; just content to rehash the same topics without finding the understanding we both needed.

"Why don't you come and play games with me instead of having that conversation?" Emma said, in her happily optimistic voice.

I looked at my wife and she looked back at me and suddenly a sense of unity returned. I looked at her as the mother of my children and had the bizarre feeling that I had been talking to someone other than the person that had suddenly materialized. We had been so wrapped up in convincing the other of the superiority of our position that we had not noticed the presence of our children. This brave little girl had just ended our conflict in two simple sentences. I suddenly felt a heavy combination of extreme self awareness and embarrassment. Judging from my wife's face she was dealing with some of the same feelings.

"We need to remember that they are always listening" my wife said.

"True....we could do more listening ourselves" I said, with a guilty smile.

Almost simultaneously, we found ourselves surprised and proud that Emma felt comfortable enough to reach out to us and speak her mind. In the midst of the turbulence we found something we had done right ..... we realized that in raising Emma we had fostered in her a sense of confidence. Her small protest had reinforced our belief that raising confident, self reliant, children is paramount.

Emma pulled us to the living room where we found Sorry set up and ready to go. Ironically a game of Sorry was just the distraction we needed to apologetically soften our positions. Later, through rational discourse we would find peace and some much needed understanding.

Common Ground

2011-01-26T21:22:00.002-05:00

I was having a conversation with a childhood friend 18 months after Jack was born. We were talking about our fathers and how they influenced us as parents. I said jokingly "before every situation I think WWMDD and then I just do the opposite." He was puzzled and finally asked what WWMDD meant. "What Would My Dad Do" I replied. We both laughed. He said that based on his memories of my dad, that it probably wasn't a bad philosophy.

The strange thing is, the longer I spend as a father, the more I come to understand my dad. He was raised by a harsh father who passed away while my dad was still a young father. He and my mother had children very young, by today's standards. He gave up his aspirations of college to provide for his family. He spent his life as a salesman and for a good part of our lives was the primary bread winner. I am not making excuses, but I think these facts may have been the reason he ended up so full of regret and resentment.

I can imagine that my father spent a great deal of my childhood wondering if he was going to make his commissions and knowing that he had a family at home that relied on his every penny. I can see why wasting toilet paper or not finishing our dinners made him furious. When you have children, money leaks from your household like water through colander. Children are fickle and at times are impossible to understand or please. One minute they will convince you to buy them green sneakers then a week later, green is no longer cool and you are a tyrant for making them wear them.

I sometimes hear him in my voice. I swear he stares back at me from the mirror, now that the stress of fatherhood has grayed my sideburns. Sometimes the pressure can be a bit overwhelming and I know he felt overwhelmed. I am sure we struggled under the same realization that your children need your best and they need it everyday. Maybe that realization was too great a burden for him. I imagine he saw years falling from the calendar like leaves, just like I do. If I were a younger man, I may also feel the regrets of not being afforded the selfishness of youth.

My father and I are thousands of miles apart geographically, but also philosophically and emotionally. This distance has grown over the years for no single reason other than we have grown apart and we no longer care to force a relationship that isn't there. I forgave him for his mistakes a long time ago, but I also owe him some credit. Not in the traditional sense and not for being a shining example of fatherhood, but for giving me an example...an example in which I can use to temper my frustration with kindness and my disappointments with encouragement for the benefit of my own children. I also owe him for putting a roof over my head, food in my mouth and for straining under his burdens, which until now I never fully understood or appreciated.

Snow Day

2011-01-22T10:04:00.003-05:00

Jack sat in front of me as we roared down the hill. His laughter and excitement were infectious. We cleared the first jump and my lower back reminded me of my age and the folly of my actions. Moments later, we reached the bottom of the hill. Emma's run ended a split second later, 10 feet from us. She flipped from her sled and began making snow angels. Jack sprung from our sled and joined in. Soon we were all on our backs making snow angels. There was a joyousness in the air that I haven't experienced since I was a kid. This intangible energy would propel the kids up and down the hill for an astounding 2 hours.

An hour earlier I had packed the kids in the van and told them we were going in search of good sledding. Though I was outwardly optimistic, I could not shake the memories of all the snow adventures that had ended moments after exiting the house. Nothing ends sledding faster then snow on unweathered skin. This day would prove a trend breaker. Even though it took us over an hour to find the right road to the sled hill, there was little or no complaining. Once we arrived, both kids were excited about the massive hill below us and it took surprisingly no coaxing to get Emma ready to sled.

Run after run we flew down the hills. I, acting as Sherpa, carried the sleds back up the hill, as the kids ascended like oxygen starved millionaires trying to summit Everest. Each run was preceded by the kids offering a new strategy for attacking the hill in order to maximize jumps, speed, and distance.

As the day was drawing to a close, I stood at the top of the hill waiting for Jack and Emma to join me. The older woman next to me took notice of Jack, and said to the young girl next to her "Look at that little boy, he is so cute." She made reference to his cuteness four more times as he approached. In his hands he carried a massive snow ball. On his face he displayed the look of a boy up to no good. As Jack approached he said "I have a surprise for you" lifting the snowball. The woman cocked her head and smiled as if she were saying "Ohhhhh, how sweet". Jack threw the snowball, obviously trying for my face, but hitting the area right below my middle age ponch. The woman's smile grew as Jack laughed and I feigned distress. "I hit you right in the penis" Jack shouted through his laughter. The woman's smile vanished as she stepped sideways to distance herself from us. He may be cute, but he is definitely all boy.

Emma joined us at the top of the hill for what we agreed would be our last run. Jack added that we should "go down as a family" (too bad the woman hadn't stuck around for that overly cute gem). We all piled in the sled and headed down the hill. The combined weight propelled us down at a blistering pace. We caught air on the first jump and I had to act quickly to keep Jack in the sled. As the sled came to rest the laughter continued just as it had on the first run.

Thirty minutes later we were sitting side by side at the counter of a diner. We were laughing at each others hot chocolate mustaches. The kids were excitedly recounting the runs, jumps and crashes. I was struck by how similar this moment was to those moments I had shared with friends at the lodge bar after skiing. somehow experiencing this with my children made it feel much more significant. It is amazing to get to relive these moments as a parent, while feeding off their youthful exuberance

The Special Day

2011-01-19T12:54:00.001-05:00

"Jack you need to go to school, I am sick and so I get to have a special day." Emma said, speaking in her best motherly tone

"I want to stay home and watch movie too" Jack whining...followed closely by him flopping to the floor in protest.

"Look, Jack you are going to school and Emma is not watching movies all day. Emma, I will get your school work from miss Andrea. You need to make sure you don't fall behind."

Emma looked surprised and more than a little annoyed with me. She ended the conversation without a response. Jack just looked devilishly pleased. Both piled into the van for the ride to school. Emma was not happy with me and spent the ride ignoring Jack and staring out the window.

After delivering Jack to his classroom and getting the lowdown from Emma's teacher, I returned to the van with a stack of school work. Emma turned to look at me as I opened the van door. She saw my hands filled with paper and turned back toward the window.

"Emma, is something wrong?"

Emma let out all that she had been storing on the ride to school "It is not fair that Jack got to have a special day when he was sick. He watched movies all day and I get to watch none."

"OK Emma, look. Jack is younger than you and he is also not in school. Also, this is your second day home and you are feeling better."

"I am not better and I want to rest and watch movies" Emma sounding fierce and angry

"Well, I understand that. The fact is you have a bit of school work to do. If you get it done and get it done well, there will be plenty of time for a movie. If you fight me on it, you will be miserable and there will be no privileges for you."

"OK" she said, sounding angry and defeated

As we entered the house, I asked if she wanted to work in the kitchen or in the office with me. She chose to work in the office and I obliged by moving her desk from the kitchen. We then went over each of her homework sheets. This was not difficult stuff. She had to correctly identify the missing vowel from 10 words; draw and describe a bad dream; build a puzzle then draw and describe a picture of an element from the puzzle; lastly, she had to color a book and then read it.

After going over her homework, she settled in. And by settled in, I mean transformed into a tiny version of my wife. She devoured each task and stayed laser focused until it was complete. The only sounds that came from her were pencil and crayon interacting with paper. amazingly enough she didn't hurry through the activities, but took her time. I found myself looking at her out of the corner of my eye, jealous of her ability to focus, so absolutely, on a task.

after working for 3 and half hours, I noticed that she had completed her school work and had moved on to a coloring project of her own design. I sat there trying to figure how this little machine had come from my gene pool.

We broke for lunch and a nap. When she awoke from her nap, I asked if she would like to watch a movie. She said she would, but that she needed to finish her coloring first. She then returned to the office and continued where she left off. Thirty minutes later she was finished and ready for her special day to start.

Walk the Walk

2011-01-15T16:15:00.001-05:00

My wife and her mother (Nana) are in London for the weekend. Today was Nana's birthday so the kids were going to skype with her and sing happy birthday. Apparently, Nana woke up, turned to my wife, in the next bed, and said sing me the birthday song. My wife said "you can have the kids do it."

the kids and I headed down stairs and into the office for some cross Atlantic electronic wizardry. After quickly connecting to the video feed of my wife and Nana, Jack began to sing the birthday song. This was quickly followed by the version that includes her smelling like a monkey.

That is when I noticed that Emma had disappeared. I called for her and was met with no answer. I found her in her closet with Lilly.

"Emma, what are you doing"

"I am organizing Lilly's room" she said with an air of disinterest

"It is Nana's birthday and I want you to come down and wish her a happy birthday."

"I don't want to, I don't feel like talking to her." She responded

"Emma that is ridiculous, come on......you wouldn't like it if we didn't acknowledge your birthday"

"Fine" She said

We rejoined Jack in the office, or so I thought. Again Emma had disappeared. I found her in the hallway looking at the floor.

"Seriously Emma, come on, I don't like your behavior"

"Fine, I will" Her response tinged with willfulness

She made it to the edge of the door before I had to goad her again. She skulked her way in front of the computer and looked at the camera.

"Happy birthday Nana...will you please come and visit us more often" she said in a completely deadpan delivery

I stood there in disbelief. I even readied myself for a smack, as if I were a boy and my father had been standing there. Instead Nana responded perfectly, wisely and compassionately.

"Oh honey, I will, I will try to visit more often, plus we will have a sleep over....ok" Nana said emotion already evident in her voice

"Thank you, Nana....I would like that" Emma responded joyfully

I found out later, from my wife, that Nana had been brought to tears (Happy Birthday!!). I also learned that Emma had been talking to my wife for the last couple months about her need to have Nana come over more often. My wife had been encouraging Emma to talk with Nana about her feelings.

It has been difficult for the kids to understand that though Nana lives in the same town, she works a good amount and like everyone, needs some time to herself and time to recuperate from her demanding job.

I think the lesson about being assertive has definitely sunk in. Now we need to teach timing and delivery.

Talk the Talk

2011-01-15T15:18:00.000-05:00

"I don't like what we have for snacks at school. We always have cookies and never have fruit or vegetables" said Emma plaintively

"Have you ever said anything to anyone" My wife questioned

"No" Emma said sheepishly

"Well, you can't change things if you don't speak up. We can talk to Ms. Stephanie tomorrow. Would you like that?" my wife offered

"Yes" Emma suddenly happier

The next day at school, my wife walked Emma to the principal's office and stood outside. Emma clung to her leg and wouldn't go further. After some encouragement, Emma tentatively stepped forward like a foal on newborn legs. Her head was down and she was visibly uncomfortable. My wife put her hand on her shoulder and reminded her to be confident. A painfully long process ended with Emma mumbling something to Ms. Stephanie. Ms. Stephanie encouraged Emma to speak louder and reminded her that she could say anything she needed to say. Emma lifted her head and looked at Ms. Stephanie for a moment. She must have assessed the situation as safe, because she began speaking.

"Ms. Stephanie, we have cookies too many times as a snack. I don't like cookies all the time. We should have other choices that are good for us. We could have carrots or apples or we could choose either cookies or a fruit or a vegetable"

Ms. Stephanie looked surprised and then pleased. "OK Emma I will talk to the cook and we will make that change."

Emma turned to my wife and smiled, her face was filled with relief and a pinch of pride. My wife explained that she was proud of Emma and told her she was also very happy that she offered a solution as well. Emma said "Thank you mommy, I am proud of myself too." She turned and skipped to her classroom.

My wife and I have been encouraging the kids to talk and use their words to solve situations that trouble them. Our hope is that someday the use of speech will replace the use of whining (this has not happened yet, but we can hope). Additionally we hope it will result in our children being problem solvers. Hopefully time will prove us correct.

Reflections of a Good Mother

2011-01-12T13:09:00.002-05:00

Emma, looking worried and slightly frantic, is looking for something. I am just about to inquire as she turns and asks me if I know where Lilly has gone.

Lilly is Emma's doll, who laid fairly dormant for a year. 6 months ago she came to life and joined our family. She is 1 year younger than Emma and celebrates her birthday on the same day. Meme bought Lilly for Emma along with a wardrobe, desk, and bedroom set. The doll has nicer furniture than I did for the first 20 years as an adult.

"I took her upstairs"

"Why?!?!" she said

"It is clean up night and she was laying on the couch....."

Where did you put her?" Again looking worried

"In your room, in her bed"

"Oh good" then pausing and spinning to look at the clock....she then sighed "6:30? That is a little early for her bed time."

"It is"

"Her bed time is between 7 and 7:30pm If she doesn't go to bed on time she can be grumpy." She said instructively, in a perfect motherly tone

"I am sorry....I didn't know"

"It is ok, she can go to bed at the right time tomorrow. Schedules are very important for girls Lilly's age."

"I know....I will try to remember."

"Thank you, daddy" Emma said leaving the room

Apparently Emma has adopted my wife's mothering techniques as well.

The Humble Servant

2011-01-12T12:22:00.001-05:00

Emma emerged from her room holding her wounded stuffed Giraffe. Its body lay in her left hand as its nearly severed limb dangled across her right. From the look on her face you would have thought it was a real giraffe and that blood, instead of pillowy white stuffing, had been spilled.

"Daddy can you please fix him? Can you please sew his leg back on?" she said in a whimper.

"Sure, I can sew it back on" I said, as I took the giraffe from her hands.

Her mood suddenly brightened, her face took on the look of invention. In an instant her face showed surprise, pleasure and a sense of pride.

"Daddy, I know........we can add this to our family meeting" she said

"The giraffe?"

"No (looking at me as if I were simpleton) .... All the things you need to do for us" she replied, beeming

"Nice"

"It will be great! We can remind you of the toys that are broken and need to be fixed and clothes that need to sewn, and anything that needs batteries or new light bulbs...... that way you don't forget" She said all this with the same wicked enthusiasm that my wife has when she identifies a new item for the honey-do list.

"That sounds like a great idea"

"I know" she said pridefully

She turned and skipped back into her room and began talking to lilly (her doll). I stood there in the hall looking at the giraffe. I swear he was smirking at me.

We The People

2011-01-08T08:58:00.003-05:00

We ran our first family meeting this week. This idea first came to us from Emma's Kindergarten teacher. She runs a "Democratic Classroom", which puts more responsibility on the children. That being said, we didn't act upon the idea until I had this exchange with Emma.

[Me] "Mommy said that you said you felt like we don't do enough family stuff together."

[Emma] "Yes, I wish that we could play more games together."

[Me] "We could do that. Do you want to have a game night?"

[Emma] "Yes and we need to have a family meeting."

[Me] "Umm OK, why do we need a family meeting?"

[Emma] "We need to get together and decide things.......like what are we having for dinner.....movie night....game night....ummm."

[Me] "OK, OK. How about we have a family meeting and we decide the menu for the week and you and Jack can pick what we have for dinner one night, each?"

[Emma] "Yes!....That's what I wanted."

[Me] "We can also look at the weeks schedule and pick a game night and a movie night. How about we also decide the jobs that you and Jack will do for the week."

[Emma] "OK, what Jobs?"

[Me] "We can find some little things for you and Jack to do to help around the house. Things that will help keep the house clean."

[Emma] "OK, we also need to talk about things......like things that bother me.......when you make us rush....when you made me go back to bed on Christmas..."

[Me] "OK, OK, we can talk about those things too"

Obviously she had given this some thought. I conferred with my wife and we agreed that is was a good idea. We pulled the kids together and convened our first family meeting.

We started by going over the rules for the family meeting. Everyone agreed. Emma started by saying that Friday should be movie night because she doesn't have homework on Friday. We flipped a coin to see who would pick the movie Jack won the coin toss and rejoiced by jumping around. Menu planning went smoothly, with Emma picking Thai stir fry and Jack wanting tacos. Wednesday became game night. Emma was picked to clean up after dinner and Jack was chosen as table setter. Both kids were assigned to unload the dishwasher.

The last order of business was the airing of grievances. Jack told me that he doesn't like me being rough with him when I pick him up off the ground and make him put his coat on. I acknowledged this and we agreed that I would be more patient and he would put his coat on prior to me asking 10 times. Emma's turn was next and I wondered what injustice I would be made to answer for. Surprisingly she wanted to talk about how to handle a frustrating situation at school. My wife and I asked both kids for better listening and to begin getting ready for school a bit earlier, to reduce the amount of rushing in the morning. The meeting concluded with hugs.

This week was easier as a result of our first meeting. We are all looking forward to our next meeting on Sunday. It is true what my wife has always said "A little communication goes a long way"

As a follow-up, Emma and I talked about Christmas and I apologized for the Christmas morning debacle. I asked if she forgave me. She asked what "forgive" means. I explained......then she thought for a while and then she said she forgives me. Though, I am not sure I have forgiven myself yet.

Booty Call

2011-01-05T07:54:00.001-05:00

I wake to the sound of little feet and whispered voices. The kids are on some covert mission. I open one eye and see my kids peeking through the bathroom doors. They pull back from the opening and giggle before throwing open the french doors and launching their attack.

"Ahh Hah!!!....We see your bottom!!!!" the kids yell, through their laughter.

My wife is powerless trapped in our glass shower. The one feature of our house that she would change in a second.

"Hey! get out of here!" My wife says with a sound of playfulness in her voice.

"AHHHH! Run!" The kids yell as they retreat.

The whispering begins again somewhere in the darkened hall. Suddenly the second salvo is launched and the tiny running footsteps hasten toward the bathroom. They run through the door.

"We see your bottom!" Emma yells....Jack is laughing too hard to say anything.

Just as Emma get's to the mmm in bottom, my wife spins her head and orders the kids out. Both kids throw their arms in the air and retreat again.

Her voice still has the sound of happiness but I don't know how long it will last. My wife loves nice peaceful showers almost as much as privacy and the kid's devilish game threatens both. She playfully endures three more strafing runs. She then reaches the "enough" point, as Jack climbs around the side of the shower to get another peek at her bottom.

"Alright that's enough....Let me finish my shower....Go get ready for school" she says firmly enough to get the kids to retreat for a last time.

Our room is suddenly quiet except for the shower. I close my eyes and enjoy the last moments of rest before my turn in the glass cell. This respite is short lived as our room is again besieged by the tiny trouble makers.

"What are you doing?!?!?! Put those away!" my wife shouts..sounding surprised, amused, and mildly annoyed all at the same time.

This is met with much wild laughter from my kids. I lift my head from the pillow to find the little monsters mooning my wife. Not really what I was expecting from my morning....but a welcome departure nonetheless.

This is is the underlying greatness of having kids. They are forever challenging your individual limits. If you are completely spontaneous....you become a little more rigid. If you are a bit reserved and enjoy your privacy....suddenly, little naked children will be laughing at your ass. Children force you from your comfort zone and in doing so, I believe a family is created.