Uncool or Just Very Specific?

Dear Most Lovely People,

How do I miss thee...

Yours,

Ev



So it's been a while. I'm am not angry or upset. The simple fact is that the addition of Bonus Baby to the house for about 9 hours a day has not presented me with much free time. So much so, that when it happens I tend to find things I really need to catch up on. Like showering.

I was fortunate enough to catch a little bit of a break last week when my mom came into town for a visit. I love when she comes to town. She's one of those type of guests that requires very little entertaining. She's there for the grandkids, and that's as much as she asks for really. That and vegetables to be in the house. Fair enough.

Along with her annual visit, Melissa and I get a date night or two. It's become such a rare thing that it's almost as if we've started dating all over again. While this might seem sort of romantic or maybe even a chance to renew the spark that tends to settle when you find yourself with only a handful of hours alone each night, for me it puts a lot of pressure into the evening.

Here's what I mean - We planned two nights out together, and while we were given no guidelines or time limits, we set up my mom as best we could. Meaning, we fed the kids and tried to get them in a state that they would have about an hour to wind down before bedtime. Nice, easy evening for my mom.

We approached both nights with the same conversation:

Anything you want to do?
Nope, you?
No...

The topic went in circles over where to eat and what we might do afterwards. We both agreed that there didn't seem to be any movies playing that we had the slightest desire to go see, and I made the point that seeing something just for the sake of seeing something had a strong chance of ending with me falling asleep, not that I'd complain. So both evenings would find me driving aimlessly toward nothing, and Melissa would get irritated over the feeling that I was putting the pressure on her to come up with some fantastical idea for us to act out. She was partially right on that notion.

Then, like many parents, we hit the big question:

 Are we uncool now? Have our kids made us uncool?

Let me first answer that question with, no. It's easy to let that idea creep in, though. We found ourselves with an amazing opportunity to get out of the house and do anything at all. Anything. Yet we drew a blank until it became a valid idea to go pick up some last minute groceries. It's a frustrating thing to have some freedom and no clue what to do with it.

Then it dawned on me that cool-status was not the issue. It was expectations.

I spend a lot of time looking outside. I wonder what's going on out there. Most importantly, I spend a lot of time thinking about what I would do if I could be like those people out there. Walking around without even thinking about what a gift it is just to be out there walking around. Being a stay-at-home parent is a very important job. A job unlike any other. However, it often carries with it a sacrifice that few outside the circle can understand. So when that rare chance at freedom comes along, we want, no, it must be perfect. It must be magical. When it comes to dinner, a chance at something new sounds great! Unless the food is bad, because the food can't be bad on that most rare of occasions out of the house. A movie? Sure, but it can't be one of those movies that would work just as well on the TV a few months later. It has to be something that can't be missed on that big screen. As the sun begins to set, we can go for a walk. It just can't be through an area filled with spiderwebs or graffiti or a ton of dirt, because when we kiss I don't want to open my eyes and see I've been standing in the local dog's latest work. I want several months of magic in an evening, because it often needs to tide us over that long.

Perhaps this is a venting of sorts. Perhaps it is a reminder to get out more. Either way, I'd argue that we are not the least bit uncool. We or I, however, have very specific expectations for any evening we are out together. That's what can make date night so stressful.

I Did a Good Job - Proof Inside

This past week was really stressful for me. The addition of Bonus Baby has challenged everything I "know" about parenting. Really. I have come to a point where I question if I'm ever doing anything right. I feel as though I'm gaining a little more control each day. As if I'm understanding how a 4 month old fits into the already organized chaos of the house. I'm somewhat sure they have been using the Jurassic Park idea of testing the fence for weak spots, and some days I worry that they've figured out how to get Newman out of the park with the stolen DNA samples. I'll say that at the very least, I have a new found level of respect for single parents and parents with lots of kids. I don't know how they do it and keep their sanity. Three kids instead of two. It doesn't seem like there should be that much of a difference.

I was stressed, and I needed a good weekend to recharge. I got it.

First off, for those who kept up with my last post. The performance in Ontario went fantastic. The audience turnout was great and easily 90% of the people in attendance had been there the day of the accident. In particular, the 91 year old woman who was badly injured showed us all how resilient people can be. After two broken knees, another shattered bone in her leg, and several other internal injuries, she walked in to the bleacher area. WALKED. She had a cane, but that was it. After the car had hit her, she was in a great deal of shock. As the ambulance was making it's way in, she was sitting with a member of the band saying, "But...I'll miss the rest of the performance." She was overjoyed to have been given a chance to finish the performance, as was the band. For many people, emotions were running high.

For more, go here: http://www.ktvb.com/news/Ontario-moves-forward-after-crash-at-festival-169924566.html


It was a long day, and I was intent to spend most of my Sunday catching my breath in anticipation for the week. My safety net, Melissa, would no longer be there for my extra pair of hands. They would be replaced by the small, less helpful hands of Bonus Baby. Yep. Good luck prying me off the couch. Well, plans have a way of changing. I find I tend to fall into the category of "a plan is just a list of shit that isn't gonna happen." I'm so glad it went that way.

For those of you who might wonder if I'm in the very stereotypical category of "cheap Scotsman" well, let's just say that six months ago I noted that it was time to get new shoes. So I went shopped on Sunday. I decided that it would be a nice change if I took Carter out and let Melissa and William stay at home. I think kids like a little one on one sometimes. Even though I know the boys and I need time apart, getting out alone really changes things. Carter and I had a good morning, but I didn't find any shoes that I was willing to buy, and by "willing to buy" I mean shoes that fell into my mythical criteria of being really great shoes that were under $40. See "cheap Scotsman." After coming home for lunch and getting a fairly insistent reminder from Melissa that it was okay for me to spend more than $40 because A) I really needed to get new shoes. B) I was going to wear the shoes for roughly 50 years so the money kind of spreads out. See "cheap Scotsman."

I decided to switch things up after lunch, and took William out with me. Mostly because it was Carter's nap time, but also mostly to switch things up. I wanted to take a slightly different approach than normal with William. Those of you who've been reading for a while will remember that William was late to really start talking, and perhaps that has led Melissa and I to be hesitant with helping him to progress in other areas. I see parents with kids who have to be William's age, who don't have to worry about letting go of their child's hand for a moment without risking the immediate sprinting of said child to the most dangerous object in the area. I see parents who can avert their gaze for more than half a second without the worry of their child seeing that as an opportunity to create havoc. I decided that William and I were going to join those ranks, and he went above and beyond my expectations.

First off, in keeping with the "here's the plan, let's mess it up" theme of the day, it went from quick run to check a different shoe store, to an almost three hour trip all over town. Home Depot (not-so-fun-time project post in the future?!!!), and three different shoes stores. Did I mention that I really hate shopping?

William decided to be my little slice of redemption. From the start, I made sure to give him a little freedom when I could. Walking down the isle at Home Depot? "Just stay close, buddy," I'd whisper to him. Sure enough, as we made our way through the store he followed along by my side. Occasionally he'd stop to look at an interesting tool or sheet of plywood. At one point he stopped at big metal beam that ran up to the ceiling, and began knocking on it. He figured out that it was hollow and turned to me saying, "Open, daddy, open!" My kid thinks I can rip open metal with my bare hands....how was your Sunday?

The little extra space and freedom continued through the shoe stores, and by the time we arrived at the final location I think we were both ready to just fall asleep. We had landed at DSW, a place I had never been to because it had not opened a store in my living room. A bit rude. William had started to get antsy to be home, but since he was tired, I was able to give him an alternative to running away from me and putting every shoe in the store into one large pile. Sitting! I would put him on one of the seats they provide for people to try on shoes in whatever area I was in, and bring him my latest choice. Which brings me to my over-the-top cute moment for this post.

In an effort to keep him engaged and still in each spot I went to, I included him in the process. I'd hand him the box, and I would take out one shoe, handing him the other to inspect. Then I'd simply try it on, without making a big fuss over him. Sometimes he'd take one of his shoes off to try the new one on like daddy, and other times he'd just pull out that wad of paper they always stuff into the shoes to...eh...keep their shape? Anyhow, everything was working so well! I can't put it into words how nice it was to have him sit down, and put my attention on finding the right size, glancing over to always find him in the same place. He was behaving so well. Someone was getting a chocolate chip cookie on the way home.

The thing that floored me though, was whenever I'd try on a shoe, and it had to actually be on my foot, William would give me a once over and say, "Cool shoes, daddy. Cooool shoes. Good job!" I don't know where that came from, especially considering he only did it at DSW, after two other shoe stores. All I know is that it was awesome, I appreciated the feedback, and I wanted to try on lots of shoes to keep hearing him say it.

Lots of hugs and a cookies were had before we went home.

And for the record, my new shoes are cool. I did a good job.

BroboCop

So right off the bat I want to say that I'm not 100% okay with the title of this post. I wanted to make a funny play on word with the movie RoboCop involving some sort of dad to dad tie that will make much more sense after you read the actual story. The best thing I could come up with was "RoboPop" which feels more like a nod to the idea of a robot father. I have nothing against robots or robot fathers and just in case a robot overlord reads this in the future, I want to add that I LOVE ROBOTS, but this story involves dads and cops, so that title didn't really seem to work either. After some thought, the officer involved in the following story was being a bit of a bro, so the title stands. Enjoy.

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It can't be overstated. When you are an at-home parent, getting out of the house is a must. You need to find adult connections, and have adult conversations. If that means meeting for coffee with a friend once a week, that's better than nothing. Most of the time though, I'd recommend something a bit more lengthy. The first full year of being home after William was born, I found I had done all the normal things to keep my mind occupied. I had made detailed lists of smudges on the wall from dirty kid hands. I had found all the places in the carpeting that was trampled down to make a recognizable shape. I began the process of diving far too deep into the world of the cartoons that William liked and created back stories which lent themselves to the interactions of the characters on screen.

What I wasn't doing was keeping up relationships with real people over the age of one year old. It's something I still struggle with doing. I even feel a little self-conscious talking to adults lately because I'm not sure I remember how exactly to interact. After that initial year, I was concerned that while I may not be losing my intelligence (for whatever that's worth), I was losing the ability to communicate adult thought with adult words.

Eventually, Melissa was very aware that I needed a break. So we came up with a plan for me to take an extended period of time to get out into the country and relax. The idea was for me to take a few days to get out and go camping. I was going to be joined by one other friend, and after two days of camping and exploring Idaho, we'd meet up with our wives and kids at another friend's cabin in the beautiful city of McCall. After another night away from real life, we were going to head back as a happy, relaxed group. A great plan. This would be where I say something like, "What could go wrong?"

After a whirlwind, two day tour of the mid-area of Idaho, we made our way to McCall, anxious to see our friends and family. I tried my best to shut out the world while we were out exploring, but after a year of nothing but William, I already missed him. Our reunion was bitter-sweet in a way. I was excited to be with my family, but I was instantly back in my role of dad. Don't get me wrong, I understand that, in a way, you give up the right to be truly selfish when you begin your life as a parent, but I had not quite cleared my head after two days. C'est la vie.

Bedtime for William came quickly that night. A sudden realization for me that before I knew it, we'd all be back in reality. I had no clue how true that was. William was situated in our room in the upstairs of a little cabin. We had brought along his "Pack N' Play" for him to sleep in, which he had done several times without any issues. We put him down, said our good nights, and listened as the cries and fussing turned to quiet. We spent a few more hours with everyone before making our own way up to the room. There, quite happy, was William. Wide awake and playing games that babies play when they're alone. As we entered the room as quiet as we could, he saw us instantly and began to make a lot of noise.

The next few hours were painful. He grew louder in protest to the fact that we had not engaged him and joined in his baby games. So, we tried to rock him back to sleep, nothing. We put him in bed with us, which made him all the more riled up. William, it seemed, was far to excited about his new surroundings to simply go to sleep. I'm sure if he had been able to talk at the time there would have been a great deal of, "Dad! Did you see this lamp?! This isn't our lamp! I like it! Knock it over Dad! Dad! Mom! Did you see how this room isn't one of our rooms in our house?! Where are we?! I like this room! Let's scream at the walls and see if they make different noises than our walls! YAY!"

As the hours passed, and people had definitely gone to their rooms to try and sleep through the noisy little boy upstairs, we began to feel very self-conscious. No one had said anything and no one came to check on us, but we couldn't help feeling like this situation was going to keep everyone up through the night. At 3am we decided to pull the plug. I packed everything up and loaded the car, while Melissa dressed William and put him in his car seat where he instantly proceeded to cry. We said very brief good-byes and began the two hour trip back home.

McCall is a very small town. Small enough that the speed limit on the main street is, I think, 25 miles per hour. At three in the morning, with a screaming child in the backseat, and exhaustion setting in from the past three days, I just wasn't paying attention. In the sea of darkness, very suddenly we were illuminated by color. Red and blue. I look behind me to see a police car in tow, and check my speed, only to realize I was doing almost 40. This was gonna hurt.

I'm sure he heard William before he was able to see much of anything in the car. He surveyed the car's interior with his flashlight before asking politely for my licence and registration. Without much of a glance he asked what was going on. I explained that we had made an attempt to stay with friends at their cabin in the area, but our little boy was just a little too overwhelmed with the exciting new surroundings of McCall to go to sleep, and that mom and dad were too tired to keep the party going.

Keeping in mind that all he had done with my licence and registration was hold them, he turned back at William and smiled a little. I wish I knew exactly what he said at that point, and I wish I had grabbed a photo with him because it was one of those moments you think should happen all the time. He looked at me and told me that he knew exactly what we were going through. He was a father of two kids and had to make the early am trip a few times over the years. He reminded us that we have especially precious cargo now, so to remember the need to be extra cautious since we would be heading along a dark road that runs by a nasty river. He made sure that I was with it enough to last for the two hour drive home and sent us on our way without so much as the typical, "Watch your speed, now."

I didn't get his name, and I'll never be able to let him know that he did a really great thing that night. It's not about skipping the ticket. If he had given me a ticket, I certainly couldn't have argued against it. Parents need to be there for other parents sometimes. Offer a reminder to slow down and collect yourself. Parents need to have each other's back a little more instead of judgemental comparing of what you think you do better. I hope, really, that someday I can pay it forward. Maybe this blog will allow me to do that for someone. Maybe it will be as simple as offering a hand to the frazzled parent on the playground.

We've all been there, and we will all be there again. Tired and stressed. Hopeful for a little slack from people. So when we're on the outside, we all have to decide if we're gonna be the people who roll our eyes and say, "Too bad, I got through it with no help" or be the BroboCop who knows that even a few thoughtful words might get that mom and dad back on the right track.

I fricken love robots.

The Most Amazing Six Year Old I Know

Now 32 years old, I've become a little jaded to my birthday. I haven't really "celebrated" my birthday in a long time. I've had people come over or go out for dinner, but I avoid much of a fuss. As you'd expect, it was a different story when I was little. I demanded wanted a big show. I wanted lots of people because that meant lots of gifts. I wanted a celebration of me! It's an important thing to celebrate.

If you have never heard Patton Oswalt's musings on when you should recognize a person's birthday, go find clips. In short, he has joked that through your life, there is really a short list of birthdays you should be allowed to celebrate. I really like it, partly because it falls into my own mindset of, "I turned 32...so?"

Very much on the list are the young birthdays. Ages 1-10 where you are a little kid growing up. These are ages where you expect to see a kid begging for a party with loads of friends. You expect trips to Chuck E. Cheese, bowling alleys, parks, or even backyards. You might cringe at the idea of what you need to put into the favor bags so that when the kids all see each other at school next, your child hasn't lost any favor in the eyes of the other kids based on the wrong flavor of lollipop. So certainly for a 6 year old girl, the pressure is on the parents to provide the pony for kids to ride or a slew of princess dresses for a group of little girls to wear for an evening and feel like they are in a Disney movie. For parents Cherie and Shawn Flowers, something very different was requested.

Shawn and Cherie have two kids. Daughter, Mackenzie and son, Brady. Cherie is an amazing photographer and, like any proud mom, loves to take pictures of her kids. These photos tend to make their way across my facebook feed. Which I hate. Let me preface this with, I love my boys and I think they are as adorable as six puppies hugging seven kittens. Additionally I think their little boy is a handsome little fellow, but pictures of Mackenzie are painfully cute. I do not like it, and I do not trust it. As if being cute is not enough for her, Mackenzie decided to also be an astoundingly good person. Not just for a 6 year old, but for anyone.

Imagine what would go through your head if you asked your child what they wanted for their 6th birthday, and they responded with pet food, pet toys, and gift cards to pet stores. I can't help but think I'd go searching for a mystery pet that our kids had been hiding from us. Incredibly, when Mackenzie asked for these things, she was just being a sweet and giving little girl.

Yes, she had her friends over for a party, and yes, she wore a tiara like any little girl might. What set her apart was that she asked that no one bring her a present. What she wanted was for people to bring items that she could donate to the Humane Society. My favorite part about this story is how people began praising Shawn and Cherie for coming up with a great idea. As if they made the decision to withhold presents from their daughter and put her face on some poster campaign to give donations to an organization. In truth, this was all Mackenzie. Why? She loves the heck out of animals.


I'm happy to praise good parenting all day long, and I know that Shawn and Cherie are great parents.  Still, I think this act of generosity surprised them as much as anyone else. Parents spend an amazing amount of time trying to guide the minds of their children in what they hope is the right direction. I think though, this is a great example of where exceptional parenting meets an exceptional heart. I can't imagine how proud they must be of their little girl.

Well done, Mackenzie.

Are We Still Searching for a Better Father?

There's was an obvious level of terror when Melissa and I packed our entire lives into box to move to Idaho. I had been out for a short visit, and all she had to go on was a few pictures and my very detailed description of, "It's pretty!"

Recently I discovered that another gentleman (that seems way too pompous, but I'm gonna allow it), somewhere in Idaho, has been blogging about his experiences here in the "Gem State." While he doesn't seem to be a dad, he often talks about things that speak to me in different ways. Like me, he moved from a much larger city to the slow paced life somewhere in what I assume is the Boise area. Also like me, he seems to be struggling to adapt to certain aspects of being in an area that can feel out of touch with the rest of the world.

Truthfully, some of what he talks about on his website is just untrue. Sadly though, it's easy to convince people that life in Idaho is some form of black and white cartoon centered around a potato. People in Idaho know what the internet is, and I even saw our Governor take what I'm certain was an iPhone out of his straw hat, check the time, and put it in his overalls. Life here is not all that different from them big fancy cities.

One thing does tend to irritate me about many of the people here - sometimes I feel unwelcome. While I find the idea that Idaho needs to "catch up" with the rest of the world to be a little short-sighted, the very concept of a stay-at-home dad is still perplexing to some people in this state. I think much of it comes from religious points of view. The idea that the woman's role is in the household, but there has to be more to it than that.

It doesn't really bother me that people around here find it a little odd that I'm the one at home with the kids. What bothers me is their need to bring attention to it. As a man in an area that does not seem to understand that fathers are also parents, it's hard to find the balance between being offended by people who seem to look down on fatherhood, and not caring at all what they think. It's not okay that people ask Melissa why she is not the one at home. It's not okay that people ask me if I'm having a "day off with the kids" and then give me the most confused look when I explain that I'm a stay-at-home dad. I wish that confusion was limited to this state.

I don't feel a big connection to many of the dad bloggers I've come across, but that has a lot to do with me not trying that hard to make the connections. Still, I've come across some great sites and done a lot of reading and one thing I've seen discussed a lot is that  dads are too often forgotten in the parenting world. There are still people who want to perpetuate the idea that fathers can't be every bit as involved in the lives of their children as mothers. There are still people out there who feel like something must be wrong with Melissa and I because our "roles" are not reversed. There seems to be a nation-wide level of complacency to commercials, clothing, greeting cards, movies, TV shows, and more, all portraying dads as not only less important than mothers to kids, but fundamentally stupid when it comes to our children. We are supposed to be good with a hammer, not a hug. Good with a lawn mower, but not a frying pan. This has sadly become a common ideal in the minds of many people, and I really have to thank the amazing group of dad bloggers who have pushed issues of unbalanced views of fatherhood into the light. People are way too passive about underselling the role of a father.

See, there's not much poking fun at moms going around. That's a good thing, but I do think it's time for people to stop pretending that dads are some sort of mute sidekick when it comes to parenting. Great fathers are everywhere, and I think most people are aware of that. So I'm confused at the companies who make efforts to pretend otherwise. What more can fathers do to stop the negative image for the people come up with this crap? How is it that with many great figures of fatherhood around, people are still searching for a better father?

Fun little exercise, open up your eyes a little wider when shopping, watching TV, or even reading parenting materials. It becomes surprising how many commercials paint a picture of the lost dad who needs mom to save the day. You'll hear things like, "dad-proof" or "mother approved." You'll read that "even dad can get involved with this!" or "you'll be surprised to know that there are things we can learn from dad!" or "it's okay to let dad push the stroller even though he doesn't understand how to dress your child." Let's not forget the amazing "parenting" books that have a "special chapter just for dad." It's quite sad, as a father, to need to defend your commitment to your children to faceless corporations and strangers who have turned fatherhood into a joke. A big thank you to the dads and  parenting blogs out there, fighting for our real place in the lives of our children.

Not every dad is perfect, but that applies to moms as well. Sorry world, but there's a lot of great dads around. Our bad.

Thanks Tigger!

The guys over at 8 Bit Dad said on twitter recently that, "If we don't post everyday, it means we've been putting family first." Man I love that. You wouldn't believe how far I had to scroll back on their twitter feed to find that quote. I am awful at twitter. There's too many hashtags floating around, and I'm never sure if I have to virtual hug the person who talks to me or just move right to the cuddling. So confusing. Sometimes I have to step back a little and remember that blogging is something I've been making an attempt to do for only three months. I've been a parent for more than three years now! Just how parenting came before the words in real life, parenting must continue to be the primary focus over the blog. I put a lot of pressure on myself as a "new guy" in the world of dad bloggers to get a little attention without being in anyone's face about it all. The biggest part of that is posting, and there are moments where I feel bad that I didn't get a chance to finish something on a particular day. I've asked a few people for advice and then quickly left those people alone so they don't feel I'm like the annoying kid brother who just wants to follow them everywhere. I know that guy, I've been that guy, and people want that guy to go away. I even know a few people who do quite well with their own personal blogs, and I refuse to ask for pointless plugs that are apropos of nothing they would ever talk about normally. I'd love a larger audience. I'd love to power through post after post, but in the end I am a dad first and I have a long way to go in this process. Feeling a need to apologize for my parenting getting in the way of a post is a bit stupid.

This week really let me take that idea to heart. I'm gearing up for my new babysitting adventures, which will start on Monday - wish me luck! I'm also making some changes to my diet and exercise program, namely, having a diet and exercise program. I'm tired, I'm busy, and in the middle of all this are my boys. William has finally, finally, found a way to get out of his shell more. He's talking more to us, instead of just near us. He's turning into a boy who wants to do things! It's so exciting, and when he wants to live out his imagination, I'm ready to join him. I really love it.

I made a comment on my facebook page the other day explaining why I might not be getting a new post up, and people seemed to love it. My assumption is that everyone thought it was sweet, and not that people were glad to have a break from me. So I thought I'd expand on our very important search the other day.

Several months ago, it was announced that Disney Junior was going to turn into a full-time channel. Melissa and I were overjoyed with that news. Why? CLEARING THE DVR! So many Mickey, Jake, Manny, and Little Einstein episodes clogging our system. So a full channel devoted to those shows and more, made us a happy pair. Of course, it took a while to be offered in Idaho, but we have it now! Along with all the normal shows that the boys were familiar with, came a few new titles as well as some Disney movies.

One of the movies, which I had never heard of, was "The Tigger Movie." It was released in 2000 and as best as I could find, is the only movies involving the "Winnie the Pooh" characters where Tigger is the main focus. I'm not going to go into the details of the movie, though I will say if your child likes that silly old bear, they will enjoy this story. All you need to know for this is that at a point in the movie, Tigger and Roo are bouncing through the woods looking for Tigger's family by yelling, "Hello? Tigger's family?! Come out, come out, where ever you are!"

For several days, William had been saying something that typed out probably looks like this, "Comeonah iya are!!" Having my minor in toddler linguistics, I really felt like I should be able to figure out what that meant. I had no idea. Till one day we were watching the movie, again, and William joined in at that scene with Tigger and Roo using his gibberish version. That is William's idea of, "Come out, come out where ever you are!" So now it was no longer confusing, just adorable.

With my role as William's playmate becoming more and more involving, it generally means he wants more time playing with puzzles or drawing in coloring books...or any books. This week though, thanks to the folks at Disney, he had something else in mind.

I had just put Carter down for his nap, and William was running around in a mild panic downstairs having finished watching The Tigger Movie...again. While to me it was downstairs, to William it had become the world of his friends from the hundred-acre woods. I'm almost surprised that I was not scolded for tramping on flowers or splashing in puddles as I took that final step off the stairs. Honestly, I was hoping for a moment of rest or a chance to check over the latest post so I could publish it before we dove into play time. Not that day. William reached up for my hand, and I was not going to tell him to wait. For a few moments I wasn't really sure what I was supposed to be doing, then William called out, "Hello? Tigger's Fam-wee? Comeonah iya are!" Ah! We're looking for Tigger's family, and since William was leading me, I assumed he was Tigger which made me Roo. Stick the short guy with the little character. Funny, son.

So we searched. And we searched. I mean, our house is not exactly big so there was a few laps made. We hopped a little and we checked in some of the drawers, but just like in the movie we never did find Tigger's family. All in all, our adventure probably lasted less than 10 minutes, but it was the first time William has ever pulled me into his world. In those moments, time really wasn't the important thing, and running spell check on some goofy write-up wasn't something I was going to worry about when we were working so hard to find a family of Tiggers. I made sure to reiterate a point made in the movie, that Tigger didn't need to go searching for his family, they were right beside him all along. It's true that I will always be here for my kids, but still, I'll go looking for that elusive family tree whenever William is ready to bring me along again. I hope he does.

So yes, if you've found your way to my exit on the internet turnpike, I do hope you'll stay a while. I hope you enjoy what you see, and I even hope you'll recommend me to a friend. Perhaps even lots of friends?

But.

Know that there are days where I'm in search of a huge, striped tree filled with bouncing Tiggers of every color. There are days when I'm sharing a blanket with a special little man to watch Sheetrock Hills put on their brand new play, "Snow White and the Seven Tools." Some days I've just got too much dad life going on, and that has to happen before any of this.

To the next adventure!

Are We Too Safe?

I feel like I don't understand many things that seem to have happened over the 14 (yikes) years since I graduated from high school. I know I've talked about this before, but times have changed. Every generation has probably said that at some point, but I feel there's something particularly relevant about that concept these days. The overexposure to people we have gained from social networking sites in addition to the continued wave of hypersensitive parenting styles, have made what I consider to be a larger than average stride between myself and younger crowds.

People have every right in the world to raise their kids in whatever manner they see fit, so long as they are not putting that child directly in harm's way. The downside of that idea is when a parent makes a decision for their child with every good intention in the world, and it catches on so rapidly that society takes a seemingly harmless idea and forces the world to change around it in a harmful way.

The other day, a friend posted a picture on his facebook page. He, his wife, and their roughly two year old boy had taken some professional family photos. In one of the pictures, he was holding his son upside-down while he and his wife were kissing. Their boy had that kind of kid-smile that is infectious. It was a very sweet picture, but it wasn't long before comments started flying about holding his child upside-down. How it was very dangerous and to consider what might have happened if he was dropped! Then came the attacks on the two of them as parents, of course from total strangers.

Look, if you as a parent decide that it's unsafe to toss your child into the air and let them fall into your arms, or lock hands with them and spin around in a circle, or dip your child upside-down, that's completely your business. Quite frankly, if you hear laughter coming from inside my house during the day I'd caution you to stay out since there's a pretty high chance something like that is happening right at that moment. A higher level of caution when it comes to your kids does not make you a better parent than someone with a little more flexibility in that area. It also does not guarantee your kids unlimited protection from harm. More so, having an opinion on something doesn't mean that every needs to bend to your view, and offering your opinion of what is "safe" is not the same as some blind rage comment on how people who differ from your view are wrong.

So what then? Do we need to put bubble wrap over every object in the house? Ban the sale of tables with pointed instead of rounded corners? How long are we going to hear about Steve Irwin's son feeding crocodiles before we're able to be okay that he's someone who is growing up in a zoo with this lifestyle? Interesting to me, as I grew up in Florida just miles away from an entire park where young kids can come face to face with giant alligators for a price. Safety is really a frame of mind. I, for example, feel much more safe in a car than an airplane though statistics tell me planes are the way to go. So how safe are we? Too safe?

Something bugged me during a recent online search for a trampoline. One of William's favorite movies is the newest "Winnie the Pooh" and while he certainly loves that willy, nilly, silly old bear, Tigger has inspired him to fill moments of his day with bouncing. I'm happy to join in, but that can only last for so long. So I thought, "Hey! He'd bounce for hours on a little trampoline!" A short time into my search I saw this little bundle of joy: http://www.walmart.com/ip/IronKids-Inspiration-250-Fitness-Playground-Metal-Swing-Set/16451443

I love how hard they work to imply that this is not just some fun plaything. It's a fitness center! Complete with fitness slide! Better still is the level to which they have gone to convince people that it's safe. You're basically leaving your child to play with a cloud, while on a cloud. Everything is beautifully soft, rounded, contoured, and padded. There are nets to protect you from swinging too far off course. Best of all, the trampoline has a safety bar! Nothing says, "Have fun kiddo!" like a bar on a trampoline designed to restrict your movement and bounce height. Isn't that why trampolines like this were invented? No springs to pinch skin, seemingly impossible to hit any part of the frame, and better shock absorption than most off-road vehicles. Still fun? Of course, but look at the cost of all that peace-of-mind.

We spend so much time worrying about our kids. Parents try to teach these little life lessons, but learning to pick yourself up is something often overlooked. For a time, William realized that the threat that he might be hurt would get attention. This led to fake injuries with fake emotional responses, something we then had to learn to ignore. When a child is learning to walk, falling is part of that process. Eventually the training wheels need to come off the bike, and falling is part of that process, too. What is it Dory says in Finding Nemo? "Well, you can’t never let anything happen to him. Then nothing would ever happen to him. Not much fun for little Harpo."

Odd that after writing this, I wake up to several announcements regarding this: http://www.cbsnews.com/8301-504763_162-57493536-10391704/bumbo-baby-seats-recalled-again-over-risk-of-falling-skull-fractures/

So perhaps there's a sound logic to a company providing over-the-top safety precautions when there are parents out there who will simply ignore the most basic rules. Even if they are printed out for them, three times. Clearly there needs to be some middle ground established on this matter, and you just can't account for people who will be brazenly careless with their children. We used a Bumbo for a while, it went on the floor and was surrounded by carpet and blankets to fall on. We have knives in the kitchen, we keep them out of their reach.

...and when I buy some little trampoline for William, I won't be telling him to keep the bounces under two inches. Aerosmith taught me to live on the edge.

Don't Concuss at Me

One of the most dangerous things you need to worry about as a parent, is your child. Kids have a seemingly natural tendency to "express their love" by unconventional means. Not all the time. You get the hugs and kisses, sometimes without even asking for them, but there are those times when you also get smacked a little too hard in the back or receive a swift kick to the nuggets. I'm not saying you should feel unsafe at the top of the stairs or at a subway platform when you are alone with a toddler, but I think you should be careful. As a rule. An accident happens by accident so you have to be aware that even your most trusted friend can cause you a great deal of pain without meaning to hurt you.

----------------------

My junior year was my favorite year of high school. I had a very tight-knit group of friends who would get together frequently. From going out to eat to spending hours hanging out at someone's home, we had fun doing simple, harmless things. I can only hope our parents took note of that, because even our most wild night was tame. I developed friendships over that year that have stood the test of time. We would never to anything to hurt each other. Right?

Anyone who is familiar with band nerd protocol is probably aware that before school starts, you go hang out in the band room. Over the course of high school, your band mates are the people you see the most, so it makes sense that the people you form such a strong bond with are also the first people you want to talk to as the day begins. Likewise the band folks who drove to school would try and park as close as possible to the band room door, knowing that it would be the door they would use at the beginning and end of the day.

So it was not surprising that as I pulled into a parking spot very close to our special door one morning, I looked over to see two of my very best friends parked in the next spot. Their eyes were closed, listening to some music and patiently waiting for the doors to be unlocked so we could pile in the band room and regale each other with tales of things that had occurred in the 12 hours since we had last seen each other. Clearly I must have had something to talk about that couldn't wait, because that morning I exited my car and found my way to their driver's side window. I remember wanting to give my friend in the driver's seat a bit of a scare, and so as they both sat there with their eyes closed, I took position with my face close to the window, waiting for his eyes to open to my ugly mug inches from his place of rest.

I don't remember how long I was waiting, but I was willing to put the time in for my little joke. His eyes remained closed, as did his passenger, one of our close female friends. Eventually she opened her eyes and greeted me with a big smile. She began talking, but with their windows up I couldn't hear a thing from inside. I assume she was going on about how I was right outside the window, and how clever and funny that was of me, and how so many girls in school wanted to go out with me, you know, things like that. He remained sitting with his eyes closed and began to grin in an odd way. Evidently at some point she told him to open his door really quickly. My very good friend, who would go on to be the best man in my wedding party, did not question this idea because...well, because boobs. So in complete trust of her advice, he pushed the door open with as much strength as he could gather at that time in the morning.

And then I don't remember things that clearly.

I know I was in the band room getting a very concerning talk from my band director about something on my head. Whatever that means. I know I had a similar conversation during my first class because I couldn't "focus." Then there was some kind of drama involving my mom coming to school to get me and that I was not to be allowed to sleep for more than 30 minutes at a time. Either way, I got a few very nice phone calls that evening asking if I needed anything. Isn't that nice?

A similar incident happened over the weekend with Carter.

Carter has a new favorite toy. It's one of those toys that has an arrow pointing to one of a bunch of different animals, and if you pull the lever on the side you hear something along the lines of, "The cow says, 'moooooo" You all know the one. A speak and say. Carter decided that when he's ready to play with it, he would let me know by slamming it down on my lap with a massive smile on his face. The smile is to make sure I'm aware that it's done in a happy way, not an angry way. Since he has managed to avoid hitting me in the dangle thus far, I have been very tolerant of his method. So all was well and good till this weekend when I was taking a well deserved moment of rest on the couch. William was in a rare mood of actually sitting still to watch some cartoons and Carter was running around playing with whatever struck him in the moment. His sights must have set on his speak and say at some point because I remember seeing the quick flash of a cow and a goat, but it all goes fuzzy afterwards. I know that Melissa said something about a thing on my head, and then she was going on about a doctor's appointment and something my eyes were doing. I don't know, it was hard to focus.

It actually reminds me of this time in high school! A really good friend of mine was sitting in his car with this girl. They were listening to the radio in the morning.....

My point is - Be careful out there parents.

Art to Adorable

In a long list of things we needed to finalize in Florida before we moved to Idaho, I was told very sternly to get into my father's attic and clean out several boxes of random items that had been kept from my childhood. There was an endless pile of drawings from all throughout my life. Melissa insisted I keep a few from my high school art classes, but did not object to getting rid of my detailed blueprints for a spaceship. One unfortunate side effect of divorce, something the psychiatrists won't tell you, is that your childhood scribbles and memorabilia tends to split up as well. While that's all perfectly sensible, parents seem to go through a stage in life where hanging on to a picture of an unidentifiable blue mass is no longer important. So after feeling I'd seen the last odd box containing an MC Hammer concert ticket at my dad's house, I was a little frustrated to start the process over with a steady line of packages sent from my mom.

There was some element of fun in looking through all the drawings and school projects, most of which I had long forgotten. Still, I was not compelled at all to keep any of it and most ended up in the trash. I meant no offense to my parents by it, I'm sure at some point those things held meaning, but I couldn't help but think how long that stuff sat around waiting to be thrown away. I just barely want to show the boys the stuff Melissa made me keep, let alone proclaim, "Yes! Daddy was the one who drew...that."

We have one art project that William did adorning our refrigerator door. He wanted to decorate a cake like daddy does, isn't that sweet? So we found a cake picture from a coloring book and he went nuts with it. Outside of that, the boys are not at an age yet where they've attempted to actually draw anything.

I got to thinking a little bit, and I don't want this to come across as insensitive. I was wondering how long you need to keep something on the fridge before it's acceptable to take it down. Not that I'm saying parents ever get bored with seeing the artistic stages of their children displayed, but seriously, you have to run out of space eventually right? I'm sure not everyone is like us, but we keep a great deal of information on our refrigerator because it is a major focal point. Keeping things like important phone numbers, any number of reminders, or just a nice simple family photo takes up valuable real estate. Of course there's the technology to consider as well. Undoubtedly Apple will come out with the iFridge because we've all been there in the moment when you realize that you can't check facebook while opening the door and getting all the breakfast necessities out for the kiddos. I'm pretty excited. Likely we'll be able to store billions of their pictures in some kind of app, but there's nothing quite as personal as seeing the drawing in real life.

That's what I thought anyway...

Till I saw a feature on one of my favorite websites promoting a company called "Child's Own Studio" and if you're like me, you'll be blown away at what they do. Clearly companies like this have been around for some time, which is sad because I have plenty of friends with kids but I've never seen them mention this type of service. I think this is the type of thing parents love! I looked through a mountain of drawings I had done over my life and felt no spark of attachment, but I think having the one stuffed toy based on a drawing by me, that was special to my parents, would certainly be a bit of a treasured item. Needless to say it would be one of those items that the boys are not allowed to touch until they understand how to not destroy everything.

I became very excited by the prospect of turning artwork into something the boys could hold, sleep next to, and find comfort with. Sadly, with the amazing gallery must have come popularity as described on the studio's contact page saying they are working their way through a backlog of orders and are therefore not accepting new orders at this time. So perhaps even more awesome of Child's Own, they have provided a list of alternative places where you can find this type of service. That's if you're not willing to wait I assume.

I am so very fascinated with this so please, if you have used a place like this before or you, like me, are intrigued and go forth to have a toy made, leave a comment! Let myself and all the readers know how your experience was, and by all means send me a picture of the finished product!

A Therapeutic Note

Every year I go through the phase of "What if I had continued on with my music education degree?" I have no regrets really, because in the end I wanted something that really wasn't being a band director. I wanted to work with bands without administrative red tape. There are jobs within most band programs that fill that idea, but not many, and not full time.

I love music in most forms, and I feel it's a bit of a "cause" for me because of how important it has been in my life, and how I believe it truly helps people. Which is why I was really excited to find that a good friend had taken a route with music that not enough people think about - music therapy. There's a feeling as you approach college as a music student that your options are either to teach music or play music, but that's just not the case. So I'd like to shed a little light on the work done by Metro Music Therapy and while they may not be in your area, perhaps you or someone you know could benefit from the services offered by groups like them to people of all ages.

Music therapy has been around about as long as instruments have. Through the centuries it's been said that music could rid a person of demons, delay madness in mental patients, purify the soul, or even aid with healing of diseases. Modern music therapy really began with veterans from World War I and II. Musicians, some quite famous, were sent to hospitals to play for soldiers suffering from mental and physical trauma as the result of battle. The results of these musical interactions were discussed for years. William Congreve wrote that now famous (often misquoted) line, "Music hath charms to soothe a savage beast..." but did you know it goes on to say, "...to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak." Congreve was on to something there, music takes hold of people in an almost indescribable way.

So what is modern music therapy? From the website, "Music Therapy is the clinical and evidence-based use of music interventions to accomplish individualized goals within a therapeutic relationship by a credentialed professional who has completed an approved music therapy program. It is an established health service similar to occupational therapy and physical therapy and consists of using music therapeutically to address physical, psychological, cognitive and/or social functioning for clients of all ages." In short, music therapists work with people who have any number of disabilities and use music to help in the way they live. If you are a mother who had a special "labor mix" on your iPod, you have used music therapeutically. So this is an idea that many people have used in their life while perhaps not knowing it. I took this opportunity to ask my friend, Mallory Even - who owns and operates Metro Music Therapy, a few questions that go outside the realm of the information provided on the website.

My first question was the one I was most interested to hear the answer. As a former music education major, I'm well aware that music therapy is not an obvious choice to most people. It's something Mallory aims to change for other students.

With so many career choices involving music, what made you choose music therapy?
"I actually thought I wanted to be a band director throughout my time in high school, so I started out as a music education major my freshman year at Florida State. During one of our general music courses, Dr. Jayne Standley came to speak to our class about her work as a music therapist in the NICU. I had never heard of music therapy before,which I now think is sad and have made it a mission of mine to educate high school students about music therapy as a career choice. I was completely amazed that there was a field that combined my love for music and my passion for helping people. That same day, I walked into Dr. Standley’s office and told her I wanted to change my major."

Dr. Standley has done some amazing work with pre-mature babies. Her research and efforts with The Florida State University has found them third in the nation for music therapy programs. You can learn more about Dr. Standley and her work right here.

How would people find out about music therapy groups in their area? Would it be doctor referral, internet/word of mouth searching, little of both? 
"If searching for a music therapist in your area, I would start with either The American Music Therapy Association (www.musictherapy.org) or the Certification Board for Music Therapists (www.cbmt.org) – both have databases to help people find music therapists throughout the United States. A doctor’s referral is always a plus (especially if you are hoping to have insurance coverage for music therapy services), and even speech, occupational or physical therapists in your area can be great resources since a lot of music therapists network with those other therapeutic disciplines. (Of course, the internet/word of mouth is always a good option, too!)"

An important thing to reinforce there is that many insurance companies cover some or all of the costs of these therapy sessions.

I'm sure there are tough days (right?), tell me a story about a good moment that keeps you going.
"Definitely tough days ... not only while working with challenging clients, but also as a small business owner in a field that can still be considered “new” or “different” by the general population. But, the work that we do is so rewarding that it makes it all worth it. One of my favorite moments as a music therapist could have been easily overlooked by an outsider – as a lot of our “it” moments can be – but, luckily my five-year-old client’s mother was in the room during our session that day. This little girl, we’ll call her “Bella”, was hearing impaired and had recently undergone surgery for bilateral cochlear implants – a surgery that is decided upon by a lot of families only after much thought and consideration for their child’s future. As usual, I started our session with the “hello” song (a simple song I had sung so many times before while Bella would look at me and smile, but usually never make a sound) ... “Hello Bella, Hello Bella, Hello Bella, it’s time to say hello!” That morning Bella waved and smiled, but didn’t vocalize anything with me. I told Bella I wanted to sing the song again, and this time I wanted her to try really hard and sing her name with me. “Hello Bella, Hello Bella, Hello Bella, it’s time to say hello!” After I was finished singing that phrase, she looked me straight in the eye and said, “Bel-la.”

“Yea, Bella! That was wonderful!! Let’s do it again!!” And we did. We must have sung the “hello” song ten times that day. Bella’s mother remained very quiet and got very teary-eyed as we continued to sing, and finally looked at me and said, “That is the first time she has ever said her name.”

There are so many touching moments that make up a music therapist’s career. The elderly dementia patient that can’t remember their name, where they live, or who their family members are, but who can sing every word to the song, “You Are My Sunshine,” and who smile for the first time in days because you brought that musical memory to them; the child with Autism who remains isolated and withdrawn in their usual daily activities, but engages in eye contact, close proximity to peers, and appropriate social skills during the instrument-play activity in their weekly music therapy group. The changes evoked through music can sometimes appear to be subtle, but as a whole, music therapists are doing some big things."

Ya know, it's easy to dismiss a profession that traces back to ideas of tribes performing rituals of song and dance to cure illness. Yet, we live in a world that has blamed death and tragedy on music time and time again. It's clear that people know that music is a powerful thing, but I'm not sure people know how beautifully powerful it can become when channeled in the right way. We all have a song that brings a smile to our face, ones that makes us feel calm or remind us of a perfect moment, and using that idea to help people is pretty special. These amazing people design programs for each individual person which can even include instrument lessons. It's clearly rewarding and an industry that deserves a little spotlight.

If you know of someone who might benefit from music therapy. Look into it, please!

Again, check out www.musictherapy.org and www.cbmt.org to find someone in your area and do me the added favor, if you will, of either commenting below or sending Mallory an email to:  mallory@metromusictherapyga.com and let her and her staff know to keep up this great work.

He is Happy!

Lately, William has made bedtime a struggle. I'm not just talking about our little scare the other night, which by the way has not happened again, the new safety door lock is amazing. No, it's much more than that. When we close his door at night, we do so with the understanding that the room we saw as we left will not be there in the morning. William has taken to a variety of tasks before actually falling asleep. Things like putting on extra clothing, flipping his mattress over, or taking the majority of his clothes out of the dresser. In the end, I'll take cleaning up the clothes over finding that he's been playing outside while everyone was asleep, but it would still be nice of him to cut me a break. A little one?

He is growing up, no doubt about that, and with new levels of expectations comes new levels of stressful situations. Potty training is proof of that. When your kids are very young there is always a lot of discussion of milestones or normalcy for their age groups. We as parents are trained, in a way, to expect certain things to occur with our kids within a set time frame. Tonight I was reminded that I've never thought to ask if my son was happy. No one told me at what age I should check into that. I see his smiling face and hear his laughter which indicates happiness, but even though I know William doesn't say very much (although lately he has been kicking that habit), it's only fair that I would ask him at some point.


Tonight while I was washing some dishes, Melissa came downstairs and announced, "You need to come look at your son." Melissa and I have a general rule when it comes to the boys, and I think it's a pretty common thing for parents. Phrases like, "That's my boy" are for when we want to personally take credit for something. On the other hand, "your son" is generally followed by something not necessarily bad, just something we want to pretend doesn't stem from watching us. Considering it was well past the time he should have been asleep, I was assuming it had something to do with dad's inherited "angry sleeping face." Yeah, I sleep with a very displeased face.

I was informed that he had put on a pair of underwear over his pajamas, which really isn't that bad. It was so much better! He had put on six totally different socks, three on each foot. I'll admit that I like to keep the house a little on the cold side, I run hot, but 3 socks per foot seems like overkill. He was in fact wearing underwear over his pajamas...backwards. Awesome. Also my personal favorite, a single sock on his right hand. It's the kind of outfit women think of when the picture that perfect guy. William is way ahead of the curve.

Melissa woke him up, as he had pulled the top mattress off again. We got him all settled in and Melissa walked out of the door, saying good night. I stood for a few moments with a big grin on my face. Stuff like this, is the kind of ridiculous that makes people want to have kids. I believe that. I leaned in, gave him a tight squeeze, and a kiss. With one more stupid grin moment, I turned to leave saying, "You look silly, buddy."

From a rather sleepy face, "I'm HAPPY!"

So I've got that goin' for me...

Angry sleep.

True Fear

"True Fear." That's how Melissa described our morning yesterday on her facebook page. Less than 24 hours after having a great compliment about how amazing we are as parents we found ourselves scared, standing with our mouths open, wide-eyed, and our hearts racing. Why? William had a little adventure time last night.

We have many of these door knob locks around the house. There's a certain level of comfort to them, but in all honesty, they are easy to bypass. With enough of a pull, the two halves will disconnect exposing the door knob and you're a twist away from freedom. William figured that out last night. We learned this as we were snuggled up on the couch watching some evening TV before Melissa turned in for her early bedtime. We were talking and trying, as usual, to clear some of our shows from the DVR, when up strolls William as calm and normal as he would at any point during the day. This, however, was not during the day! William was supposed to be in bed, and the knob safety device was supposed to be keeping him in his room.

We escorted him back upstairs to find the separated halves of the safety lock on the floor. I snapped everything back into place, double checking that it was connected correctly. We said our good night, after explaining that he needed to stay in his room and it was not safe to just run around on his own like that. After ten minutes, Melissa looks upstairs to see William going back and forth between his room and ours. We decide to up the level of protection. I once again attach the "safety lock" and additionally added a safety gate outside his door, hoping that if he decides to get the door open again, he'd be defeated by the gate in the way.

Long after Melissa had gone to bed, William had made no apparent attempt to escape and I decided to call it a night. I peaked into his room once more and found him sleeping soundly which always brings a smile to my face.

I have two alarms in the morning. One goes off as a reminder to make sure Melissa is up and getting ready to leave for work. Hey, sometimes even the best of us have a hard time waking up. The second is my time to start the wake up process and goes off right around the time Melissa is leaving the house. My second alarm began to ring as Melissa was leaning in to give me a kiss goodbye. We're as adorable as two puppies hugging three puppies. She opened the door and began to say something, but was interrupted by William running into the room with a very big smile on his face. Something else was on his face as well. Dirt?

The first thing to note here is that we were greeted by William who was happy and fine, so perhaps the second thing to note is that we were somehow greeted by William! I shot up out of bed with visions of poop-smeared walls or broken items in the house. The reality was much more terrifying. As I entered the hallway, the first thing I saw was the "safety gate" pushed out of the doorway. Let me be clear, I may not be the guy that the ladies want to see shirtless on the beach, but from hours of practicing drums I do have some arm strength. I do not mess around with locking the safety gates. Period. Freedom, it seems, was enough of a motivator for William to knock it out of place.

I turned to look down the stairs and saw several things had been moved around. I raced down, looking for glass on the floor or permanent marker drawings on the table, and that's when I saw it. The sliding glass door was open. I've never seen William make much of an attempt to figure out unlocking the sliding glass door. He does enjoy going outside, and clearly I need to remember my own advice that kids are perceptive beyond what we might give them credit for. Needless to say, my heart dropped and I got that uncomfortable pit in my stomach. As cautious as we try to be, William spent who knows how long, hanging out in the back yard. It might not seem so scary when I add that our yard is totally fenced in and I keep padlocks on the gates due to some issues with neighborhood kids feeling our back yard is a neat short cut to take after school. Just that idea though, of him being outside alone, the idea of having our comfort zone of control visibly ripped from under us was something I can't put into words.

As the day progressed and I waited for Melissa to get home so we could go find new safety measures for the house, William seemed to push on with his new found feeling of freedom. It was a difficult day to say the least, and I found myself a bit shaken in the task of trying to regain control of the household. It was perhaps similar to the idea of a person on say, an Olympic gymnastics team having a poor performance, setting off a chain of events in which other promising gymnasts also have terrible performances which cost them all hope of a medal. Too soon?

When I looked around online for a better door safety option, I was surprised (perhaps I shouldn't have been) to find that in general the standard purchase for door knob safety, the kind pictured above, is regarded as utterly pointless. One customer noted that her one and a half year old was able to separate them with relative ease. How scary is that? In the end we purchased this:

http://www.toysrus.com/product/index.jsp?productId=3812906

While time will tell if it will work, I will say this as a first impression. It seems durable, in the sense of I'm not worried that William will be able to simply pull hard enough on the door and just break it in half to get out. It was extremely easy to attach to the door, taking maybe two minutes. It's a very simple concept of, if he opens the door, it catches on the frame exposing a small crack of space. It also has a finger guard so if he opens the door, it won't close all the way. Eliminating the risk of pinched fingers. For the sliding glass door we purchased some track locks which attach with an allen wrench. Certainly something he won't be able to undo, but a little bit of a hassle as we will need to put them on and take them off every day. It seemed like William would figure out many of the other options. The track locks were cheap and there's just no way to take them off without the wrench. I don't care how many episodes William has seen of "Handy Manny", I don't think he'll figure them out any time soon.

I felt embarrassed that morning. Fortunate, but embarrassed. It's important as a parent to never let your guard down or get too comfortable with the way things are going. Life will smack you right across your mouth and face and chest and headface.


*Answers to questions you might have in your head already. William's door doesn't have a door lock, thus we were unable to turn it around and lock it from the outside. Yes, we will continue to look for other flaws in our safety/child-proofing system. Yes, I will drum for your wedding pending certain factors.

Sharing the Relaxation

When I was a kid I never thought much about what my parents might be going through on vacation. For us kids, the activities that we didn't normally do in Florida was the reason to be on vacation in the first place. Horseback riding, new and exciting theme parks, old historic towns, whatever the distraction was, we wanted to get out there and do stuff in these new places. Until I became a parent, it never dawned on me that there was a pretty high chance that my parents probably wanted to have the occasional day or even moment to just relax and unwind. I hope they found time for that.

I think this idea is really put to the test when you go on vacation with an at-home parent. I have this theory. I think one of the main reasons people go on vacation is to get away from their stressful jobs.  A very valid reason to want a break from the real world. So what then, for the at-home parents? You can't very well take a vacation from your job if your entire company is coming on vacation with you. That's where some real issues can sneak their way into the trip.

I'll use myself as the example, and who knows, maybe I'm the only guilty party in the entire world. Perhaps that makes me seem dangerous and attractive, *wink*.

When we took our big trip to Florida I was very involved with the kids. There was no way to avoid it. In fact the only time it was an issue was at night when we were trying to get the kids to bed after a long day of driving when all they wanted to do was run around. I can't fault them for that, but it is hard to find the will to get up and keep driving when you haven't had enough sleep. Still, overall, our teamwork is what ultimately got us through the trip and allowed us to even have some fun here and there.



The staycation was a different story, and here's where I admit to the world (I assume you've all shared the blog with the entire world) that I was a bit of a selfish jerkface about things. At times. I explained in some part before that the decision to have the staycation was based on the idea that soon I'll be taking on a third child during the day (for a period of time) to help out some friends. In that way I'm a pretty amazing friend. So Melissa had the fantastical idea to take a week off and have some family time before we're just too busy. As our break progressed I would catch myself shutting down and getting a little too comfy. Of course this means that while I'm sitting there with the same level of brain function as any of the Kardashians, Melissa is placed in the position of lone person in charge of the kids. This is a real test for some people, and I wanted to give some perspective on things for people based on mistakes I feel I've made.

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First off, teamwork is not always an option on vacation but this doesn't have to be an issue! The key is finding some understanding and balance. Unfortunately, time on vacation that will be both together and alone is hard to come by, so plan ahead for those days. Ladies, we all know you really love a certain amount of spontaneity, but on vacation, with kids, it's not that simple. Find ways to get things done throughout the day so that once the kids are in bed, you can have an actual evening (or several) together. You are not setting a romantic mood if you need to take an hour to worry about washing dishes or picking up toys. In fact, try not to worry about that stuff...you're on vacation.

Second, remember that decompressing on vacation should be a priority. That sounds a bit obvious, but again, as a parent you can back yourself into a corner trying to ensure that there are activities going on at all times to keep the kids busy and happy. Our staycation was one week long, and we only had four things "planned" to do within that time. Even though any given day with our boys is a busy day, when we both pitch in and have nowhere to be, there is time to relax. Everyone has those moments of going back to work after a vacation and you realize, "I need a vacation to recover from my vacation." My advice is to plan some time for absolutely nothing to occur.

Third, when teamwork is not an option, sacrifice for your spouse. Melissa and I have both seen "The Dark Knight Rises" but separately. Sometimes you have to go solo, and let's face it, that can be nice too. We have been lucky enough to get some very trusted friends to watch the boys so we can have the occasional date night. We know the boys are in safe hands but there's always worry in the back of your mind, even if it's just worry that the kids are behaving. So there is an additional feeling of safety knowing the kids are back with mom or dad, and you can be free to enjoy whatever you might have planned. As a side note on this, should you find yourself in the fortunate position of getting a day to go do whatever you might want - plan, plan, plan ahead. Melissa, who is so amazing about letting me take some time for myself (even if I'm just writing for you lovely people), told me to go out in the world and have some fun a few months ago. I had no idea what I was going to do, but I was very excited about it. I woke up around 7am before anyone was up, and snuck out of the house. Clueless of what to do, I proceeded to go grocery shopping, as the very option of freedom was frightening and confusing. I got us all some breakfast and was back at the house before 9 (in fairness to Melissa, she continued to do the bulk of kid stuff that day). I honestly had no idea how to go out and have some fun. I'm a little bit sad. Now is a good time to feel bad for me. Aww...

Last, don't go total space cadet without talking to your spouse. Again that might seem like a common sense move, but as a party guilty of this action, I can attest that it's easy to get into the mind frame of, "I'm on vacation, let someone else handle it." Everyone deserves some time to enjoy a quiet moment on vacation, but not by sneaking into another room and just tuning out the world. Talk to each other and be understanding that while it is very true that you both deserve a break, you both need to work to get there.

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The typical summer break months are winding down, and so this may be too late to be helpful this year. Just remember that vacations are a time for fun, not fighting.

Happy Vacationing Everyone!

A Father Story

This was my first attempt at a "short" story about my dad that was to be submitted to therealmattdaddy.com for his awesome series of #RealFatherhoodStories. I kept it because I really like this story and obviously it means a lot to me, so while I was happy with the end result, I cut out so much from the version to dwindle it down to around 500 words. A major edit. So here's the original. Enjoy!

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The most recent time I hugged my father was very awkward. I only did it because my wife gave him a hug and I didn't want to be outdone; and perhaps I expected him to make a note that my hugs are like being tucked in between the wings of angels. Prior to that specific incident, I really can't say when we hugged last. My family is not one for showing emotions physically or verbally. Regardless, I never questioned if we loved each other. The saying goes "actions speak louder than words" and I can get behind that, but in retrospect we probably should have been slightly to extremely slightly more outwardly caring with one another.

If I trace back my relationship with my dad, I would say that the moment that solidified my knowledge that he loved me and would do anything for me was the day after my 21st birthday. My brother, who really wanted to bond with me through alcohol, had taken me out drinking. Despite the fact that I am not a drinker, I agreed because that's just what you do when you turn 21. After a long night and a total of two drinks, I drifted off to my happy dreams.

Pain. That's what woke me up after a short four hours of sleep. The kind of pain that numbs your mind to anything but how much pain you're in, and it would not stop. I had this moment of thought that it might be normal. Maybe this is what happens when you drink? Why the hell do people do this to themselves?! As the minutes crept by slow enough to make me question if my clock was working, I decided that what I was experiencing could not possibly be a hangover as 1) I just plain didn't have that much alcohol and 2) I wasn't having the massive light-sensitive headache issues I always heard about. I had pain that wrapped around my mid-section, relentlessly stabbing my senses. Something was really wrong and I needed help.

As I lived alone at the time and had grown accustomed to being able to walk, I had only one phone and it was located in the kitchen. So it was rather surprising when going to stand up that I was quickly met by the floor. I just could not stand up with the level of pain I was having. As I army crawled inch by inch across a floor in desperate need of vacuuming, I had a little giggle in my head thinking that I just wouldn't make it to the phone. I don't know why I found it funny. I just had this notion that this could be what death felt like and hopefully the authorities would figure out the cause so that whoever rented the apartment next would understand how important it is to put a phone closer to the bedroom.

After certainly a long time and with a constant feeling that I was going to black out (maybe I did), I made it to the phone and frantically called my dad. I was really unsure of what state I would be in when he arrived, and my mind kept drifting back to the thought that two alcoholic beverages (both were very girly, one even had the word calypso in the title) would be the death of me. My dad probably bent a few speeding laws getting to my apartment because I don't think it was very long till there was a knock on my door. I was given a strong shoulder to lean on and I hobbled slowly outside to figure out the least painful way to climb into his SUV. I've always been short, but never had I felt so small as those few moments dragging myself into the passenger seat. Then, we set off for our adventure.

Something you need to know about my dad is that he is not cheap and he was very aware that I needed to be seen by a doctor, but he is also very much the type of person who looked at my situation and said, "let's get this done quickly." So while not exactly convenient to the guy squirming in the front seat hoping for any moment of relief, it was perhaps not surprising either that we stopped at two locations in the longest detour ever before finally arriving at the hospital. One was a private doctor's office that was clearly not open at 5 in the morning, a fact which actually infuriated my dad, and the other was one of those limited care places who wanted nothing to do with me after discovering enough blood in my urine to attract a sparkly vampire. So at their insistence, we finally went to the hospital.

In the end it was a fairly nasty kidney stone, but while my situation has garnered some sympathy and/or laughter over the years, it took years to realize the level of dedication my dad possessed that day. My adventures in kidney stones really sums up my dad as a parent. He will always try. He will always be doing everything he can think of to keep his kids happy and healthy, even now that we're all very much adults. He will always believe that he can protect us from everything.

The people in the emergency room initially sent me home with no pain medication and said to sit tight for a few days and see if the pain subsided. I was really excited that they didn't give any pain meds to a person in extreme pain, but they were too busy to actually look for the kidney stone. That's right. The initial diagnosis was, "Meh. *shrug*" After a full day at my dad's house I wanted to go sleep in my own bed, and he begrudgingly agreed. The next morning I was in serious agony yet again, and called my dad to say it was time to head back to the hospital. He actually said to me (yelled at me) that if I had not left his house, I would have been fine. To his very soul, he thinks he has the power to protect all of his children from everything in the world. He will always try to do anything we need of him, and even if his methods include a very pain-filled one hour detour, he does it because he loves us. He tries with every fiber of his being, and I love that about him.

So I don't always get the teary hugs or hear the words "I love you" from my family, and it's always been that way. We do what works for us....

...actions speak louder.

Hat Baby

As a guy, when you announce that you're going to be having a baby, the first thing that happens is that you are furiously pushed out of the way so people can find the mom-to-be. Then, once you navigate through all the initial shock questions like, "Oh my god, were you trying to get pregnant?" and, "Who else knows?! AM I THE FIRST?!" you tend to wind up here....

"Do you want a boy or a girl?"

Most people will answer that question the same way. Something about how it doesn't matter, you just pray for a happy, healthy baby. For me that wasn't enough, I needed a happy, healthy baby girl. Not to fulfill some idea of having "daddy's girl" and it wasn't because I think my wife is stunningly beautiful (scoring points right this second) and I know we'd have a gorgeous little girl together. Tobey McGuire tells us that any story worth telling is about a girl, which seems a bit sexist and is coming from a guy who sported a mullet when he was young. Regardless, this story is about a girl. The adorable little girl who holds the honor of being the one who warmed my icy heart to the idea of having kids.

Her name...get this...is Maya. Isn't that sweet? Doesn't that already make you want to vomit out a glazed sugar cube? A beautiful little girl with very curly hair and the type of attitude that pushes you away while forcing you to be drawn right back in. When she was young was being watched during the day by her aunt, an awesome friend of mine who was a stay-at-home mom for a number of years and did an amazing favor for her brother by watching Maya. Even though it couldn't have been a very big deal. She's so cute I assume she was just placed into a flower basket and carted around while she made little giggles and smiled all the time.

So, because I'm an astonishingly good friend, I would stop by on my way home from work to visit with my friend and give her some company that could actually talk back. Visit after visit, Maya started to warm up to me. Till one day, when I was sitting on the floor, Maya carefully walked over to me and place a number of blankets on my lap. I sat in awe while she created a little nest out of them, tucking and folding to make a comfortable spot in the middle. When she was satisfied, and without a word, she stood up and turned her back to me and...PLOP! She went completely boneless and all her weight snuggled right in to her new home on my lap where she resumed watching TV. I can't say everyone would have been so struck by this moment as I was, but I remember just staring at my friend for several seconds thinking, "a little kid likes me!" It was an amazing feeling! I wanted to race home and put a baby in my wife's belly so my own little girl would sit on my lap.

As my visits continued, my bond with this little girl also grew, and I was reminded of a pretty interesting moment with her during lunch yesterday. Maya loved getting read to, and I was more than happy to go through books with her. She really enjoyed the standard cardboard ones with simple pictures and a word. My favorite picture/word combo was "HAT" that was illustrated with one of those really bad hats that you might see at the Kentucky Derby. No offense if that's your style ladies, I just can't pull them off. Chalk it up to jealousy. When I would say "hat" to her, I would say the "a" sound for way too long, and end with a very sharp "t" at the end. She seemed to find it funny, and before too long she was repeating it back to me. I was on top of the world! I taught a child something!

The word "hat" became a greeting of sorts between us, and she identified me with the word because I always wore a hat to work. I was told at one point that "hat" might have been her first word, which was extra cool for my ego as I walked around thinking I had reshaped the planets by teaching a cute little girl one word. Then this happened...

*phone ring*

"Hello?"

"Ev! I have a funny story for you!" <----Maya's Aunt/Awesome Lady

"What's up?"

"Maya was eating dinner and said 'hat' for her parents finally!"

*laughing* "That's awesome! Someday children across the world will know this word because of my actions!"

"Yeah, but that's not the best part..."

"huh?"

"Well, she was eating cereal and to show what a hat was, she took the full bowl, milk and all, and just flipped it upside down while yelling, 'HAAAAT!"

"...well crap."

Maya's parents were not too upset, but they were less than thrilled with the mess involved. For the record, I did not teach her to do that.

Years later when William was finally born, I knew right away that if he was going to succeed in life, he was gonna need to know how to say "hat." I started his training right away and eventually he learned it quite well. Knowledge he shared at lunch today. As I sat with him at the table, while he ate/smeared peanut butter all over his plate, I waited for my queue to bring out the pretzels. Generally when he's done with his sandwich I get a very insistent, "Pretzels please!"

 Not today.

Today all I heard was, "Hat!" I looked over to see bits of sandwich and a plate covered in peanut butter, all placed nicely over William's head. He had an amazing smile on his face, so proud of his knowledge, and he waited very happily for me to praise his genius level brain. I thought back to Maya's story and did my best to explain to a toddler that even though he is both awesome and correct, I really didn't want him to ever do that again...ever. I cleaned him up and sent him off to play. I felt pretty content about it. I never got my girl (sorry grandparents...no more for us) but it's really okay! The boys give me all the love that made me want to have kids in the first place.

And clearly, boy or girl...there's gonna be food on their head.

Haaaaaaaaaat!