Only Two?

I was asked a really interesting question via facebook the other day. What if you had to put only two things on a baby registry? Two things you just couldn't see yourself living without after the baby was born.

As potential answers started to flood my head, I also became very bothered by the question. See, giving advice on these topics is something I find myself doing on a somewhat regular basis. So it was annoying that I found myself really struggling to provide only two answers. Not because I couldn't think of two viable answers, but because...seriously...two? Perhaps I'm alone, but when I started to look around the house at the editions of things we brought out or was brought over for the mere addition of Bonus Baby during the week, well, there's more than two things.

I guess it was obvious that the couple involved wasn't looking to try and live with only two additional items in their house after the baby was born. I think they were going through the same things many of us go through when trying to prepare the house for a baby. What are the things that are really important? What are the things people tend to buy that could really be done away with? What do you really want to spend those dollars on?

On a short list? I'd absolutely want the following on a registry:

Car Seat and Stroller - Can you live without these items? Of course! You can be like me and almost never leave the house. You can maybe carry your children everywhere instead of letting them ride in style. Do you want to though? I'll say this - I like the car seat/stroller combos, and I don't care about the bells and whistles. I don't care if it has seven cup holders for the adult. I never use the cup holders. Honestly. Melissa used to put her coffee in one of them and go shopping, and it would drive me crazy. Every week there was coffee dips all over the handles or dried up in the bottom. Don't be fooled by the kind of tires on it or the appearance of "shocks," strollers are not 4-wheel-drive, they are you-wheel-drive. Put these on a registry, but don't pay $100 extra on the one that has a "storage space" on the top. Ours has one and we can't fit two iPhones in it.

A Really Good Chair - I've talked a little about my "daddy chair" which is my now, almost 8 year old La-Z-Boy recliner. I mentioned that it turned into our breastfeeding/child rocking/child TV viewing station. Seriously, that chair has become the most important piece of furniture in the house, and it's still my favorite place. Yes, we bought one of those rocking chairs with the rocking ottoman that Babies R Us tells you is a "must have item" and put it right in the nursery, but it hasn't seen a quarter of the use of my chair. So if you don't have one, find a chair that you are comfortable with for the long haul. Of course with a newborn you will find yourself running around all day, but you will also find yourself sitting a lot. Make sure you've given yourself a chair where that isn't such a bad thing. Did you know that some of those chair recline AND swivel? God bless us all.

A Thing That Helps The Baby Sleep - Whatever that means - buy it. We have some very generous people in our lives, and when we were pregnant with William a flood of pricey items came rolling in by mail. So we had an electric rocker that played music and in theory would swing the baby to sleep. We had one of those smaller chairs that would vibrate, and play music, and in theory would soothe the baby to sleep. We had two mobiles, a sleeping wedge, and sleepy music CD's that all promote a nice environment to lull the baby off to sleep. None of those things worked as well as....the car seat. Alton Brown has a rule with kitchen items. No single use items, he likes multi-taskers. I can get behind that in this case. The car seat keeps baby in a comfortable and safe place. It's got that sort of confined space that babies view as soothing, as if they are being held. You can move them without waking them up. Heck it even has a handle! Regardless, find something that works so that you don't feel compelled to confine yourself in holding the baby while he or she is sleeping.

Somewhere to Put Diapers - Regardless of your choice in cloth or disposable diapers, you need a place to put the dirty ones. A diaper genie, diaper elite, diaper pail, crap caddy, turd tacklebox, dookie domicile, you take your pick, but have one. You never realize how much those things help till a bag rips open, or the lid isn't on right. Think poop smells bad? It even less fun smelling a week's worth.

A Thing That Buys Other Things - Yep. Gift cards. In my most humble opinion, gift cards are one of the greatest gifts ever, and on a registry they can really be magic. Again, not to pick on anyone, but two things? Gift cards are the best way to grab all those items that either fall through the cracks, or you'll never get enough of. Diapers, creams, shampoos, wipes, whatever it is - a gift card is there for you. Like that friend you don't talk to, yet you call up one day because your car won't start and you KNOW he'll give you a ride to work even though it's going to be awkward since you haven't really talked in a year. Hug that gift card and know it's a true friend.


Now, equally important in my opinion are the things you should not put on a registry:

Cloth Related Products (exception: diapers) - Clothes, blankets, burp cloths, things of that nature. Why? Because no matter what you do or what you tell people, these items will appear during your baby shower. People love to buy cute outfits, things they think will match your "nursery theme," or items their kids have outgrown. You'll hear things like, "You can never have too many burp cloths!" or, "Socks were only $1 for 5,000!" You'll have friends who have been waiting patiently with boxes of clothing, stalking their friends for the one who seemed ready to have children. Melissa and I didn't need to buy William any clothing until he was three, and even then we probably could have just asked around. You need these items, but putting a pack of washcloths on your registry invites everyone to buy them. It doesn't matter that you specifically asked for one pack.

Wipes Warmer - By the time William actually came home from the hospital, we had acquired two wipes warmers. Makes enough sense I think. I like to think the boys prefer a warm, moist wipe gliding gently across their crap covered crevasse. In truth though, I think wipes dry out a little bit in the warmer. I've also noticed that within three seconds of being exposed to the air, they lose all their warmth. Not to mention that it's another item you have to try and find a place to put the plug. A baby's room only has so many outlets. We still use ours, but really it's out of nothing more than habit. This really is one I'd be happy to be without.

Diaper Bag - I think people act differently toward their diaper bags. Some people, who tend to be women, use it as a purse or backpack. It's a joint bag used by both baby and parent. It has everything from diapers and extra outfits to wallet and cell phone. Some people keep it minimal and only have the things needed to change the baby, perhaps an extra onesie in case of massive diaper blowout. The thing is, you don't know how many hundred's of pockets you need until you decide what kind of relationship you want with your diaper bag. Not to mention that in most hospitals, you'll get two free ones from the two major formula companies. Rest assured those will certainly start you off right till you really figure out how many space you need...or don't need. Remember those gift cards?


So yeah, I don't know that I could pinpoint the two most important items needed on a registry. Lucky for me, I didn't need to either. The list of things you need for a newborn, particularly as new parents can seem endless. True, places like Babies R Us will give you a "list" that you can check off as you make your registry. Those "must have" items. True, some of that is a ploy to get parents to spend additional money on things they don't need. Seriously though, if you let a list tell you to spend your money on a crib, portable crib, bassinet, AND a Pack and Play...well you didn't deserve to call it your money.


So let's hear it, what's your "Must have on a registry" items and the things you feel shouldn't make the cut.

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.

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.

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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!

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.

The Music of the Field

Music has always been a major part of my life. Now that I'm a dad it's funny to think that had it not been for the actions of several parents, I would likely be working as a band director. What might have been.

Now, this post is not to rehash points I have made before but more to highlight a specific event that not only needs support, but showcases the talent that youth of this and many countries possess.

It's no secret that I was in marching band for a long time. I began in high school, attending band camp before school had even started. All tired "American Pie" flute jokes aside, I signed up for band the same way I signed up for any other class, so going to school before any of my friends had even thought about setting their alarms for the first time could have been a real rocky start to high school...had I not loved it so much. I continued marching in college and even instructed for a period of time. I even moved up to the big leagues. Marching band big leagues? Yep, because what the majority of the population doesn't know is that every summer since 1972 marching groups have competed all over the country under the title: Drum Corps.

The competition, known as the World Summer Music Games, operates under the governing body of Drum Corps International. Ask anyone who has marched what "drum corps" is, and you'll get a wide variety of rehearsed answers. Truthfully, it's not that difficult to explain. It's marching band. Though woodwind instruments (clarinet, flute, saxophone, etc.) are not used and it is much more on a professional level. That's it really. An extremely well rehearsed marching band. The problem is...it's so much more than that, so people who have given their time and body to one of the almost 50 current marching groups, don't want to give such a simple answer. In addition, people have a general stigma regarding marching bands which generally stems from underwhelming performances from high school bands during half-time at a football game. So people within the drum corps community try to avoid the marching band label.

I should mention, the people you'll see in a drum corps show are the absolute best of the best within their ages (kids start as young as 10 in some groups and you become ineligible after 21). How so? These people go through rigorous audition processes, which from the start includes an audition fee. As there are not drum corps groups in every state, and people often want to march for a specific group, they pay extensive travel bills just for a chance  to maybe get one of 150 coveted spots. Should you be offered a spot, it comes with a very hefty bill (more on that in a moment) and once a month practices for which you pay more travel bills. After several months, you give up your life for the summer to tour from June to August, culminating in a week of finals competitions.

Why the major bills? Two reasons really. The first is fairly simple to understand. It takes an enormous amount of money to do what these groups do. Once you move in with your group, everything is taken care of for you. You are fed three meals a day, with additional snacks. You are given a place to sleep, which by and large means sleeping on a gym floor of a local high school at whatever city you happen to be in that night. You are provided with world class instructors to help you be the best you can possibly be through countless hours of practicing. You are given a uniform, which is altered for you and cleaned for you. Lastly, they transport you everywhere. If at any point over your summer you notice a large number of charter buses in your area, this could be why. Most performing groups make a little bit of money at every show, but it's nowhere near enough. So in order to march, you pay "dues" which today almost always means a couple thousand dollars. Drink that in. The second reason, is interest. Which is why I'll be asking you all for a favor shortly. The kids who march in these groups are mostly from America, and the tour itself stays within American borders (in past years there was a single stop in Canada), but while groups play throughout the country all summer long, most people who are not tied to marching bands in some way, never hear about it. Advertising is expensive, food for these kids is expensive, this is an expensive activity. So getting the word out, and proving that this is an exciting event to anyone who gives it a chance has proven difficult. However, technology has allowed us a very cool opportunity.

This Thursday, at a theater near you, Drum Corps International is presenting their 9th Big, Loud, and Live event. Live on the big screen, this is the quarter finals for the drum corps community and will showcase the top 12 groups based on scores leading up to the event. This is a chance to see these groups at their peak, and if you're a fan of marching band or even if you just want to support music education and the arts, you'll walk away happy. Check the site, it's almost a guarantee you'll find something in your direct area. With our rough economy and the rising price of keeping these kids safe while on the road, four groups have needed to pull off tour during the season this year due to financial issues. Keep this great organization that has been a dream for many kids, up and running.

Support music!

If you have further questions, leave comments below!

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!

Luck Photography

I'm so new to blogging that as I go through other sites, I'm amazed by things they have probably forgotten all about. The format for most blogs is mostly identical, but the look of my page is something I give a lot of thought. I want to come up with a more professional header which features a logo of some kind. An identifying mark that I can feel proud to have people associate me with. I guess you could say I'm trying to work out how to "brand" myself.

With all these changes on my mind, I found a nice string of compliments over the header picture of the boys. I actually picked it for a reason and even with the blur and simple lettering over it, I love this picture. So for all those with the question, "How did you manage to capture them in that almost perfect sort of way?" You'll be happy to know that the answer is dumb luck.

If you're reading this post, there's a pretty big chance you've never read this one which is the first post I ever made of this incarnation of my blog. Don't feel bad about it, this is not a guilt trip. I know a few people (in real life!) who've had personal and even professional success via blogging, and while I don't think I've ever pressured myself to instantly rise to their level, I continue to push out of my comfort zone and share my life with people. The first big step for me was telling people that I was writing, and that's what that first post was for me. Pressure to keep going. The first four times I started this process I never told a soul and that includes Melissa. Deleting everything became like pressing the reset button on my old Nintendo system, no save points allowed. So if sharing the existence of the blog with people was my "step one" then "step two" was the set up of my facebook page, and to me that was all about the profile and cover picture.

The profile picture idea came right away. Knowing that I had no idea for a logo or brand mark, I wanted it to be a picture of me. After all, regardless of the chance that someday I'll have a manufactured logo for people to identify me with, the identity is still me. So it's just me screaming in that "how long till naptime?" frustrated kind of way, and it's something I hoped parents would get a laugh from but also just "get."

The idea for the cover photo took some real thought. What I decided on was a nice, sweet picture of the boys. I liked the idea that they'd look so sweet and innocent and then there would be the mad man flipping out for seemingly no reason at all. That seems to be how most people get to see the boys. This small glance into our world in which two perfect angels are being watched over by the odd, kind of grimy looking guy who is talking to himself a bit too much.

So I took our camera out (yes, the one William has basically ruined) and put it on a tripod hoping to cut some of the built-in blur that has happened ever since William got a hold of it. Then I moved to the "easy" task of getting the boys to sit next to each other on the stairs for just long enough to take the picture. Over and over I failed. Carter would run after me as I would move back to the camera, and then cry when I put him back next to his brother. William was content to sit on the stairs but wanted space from Carter, so he would move down a row...and up...down...whatever it took to get away. I, of course, was being extremely helpful by saying things like, "William! Get back in frame!" or, "Carter, you really need to keep your chin a little higher!"

I'm a pretty legit photographer.

After a couple of minutes, we had all had enough. We dispersed and I popped over to the computer to get a quick look at everything. Honestly, at that point I just wanted something that even remotely resembled a photo of two cute kids. There were lots of Carter in mid-cry, tops of William's head, just the stairs, and the ever present blur from ill-repaired camera. At first glance, I wasn't very happy with any of the resulting photos. It was my urge to get the facebook page set up quickly that kept me in a "pick anything" mentality. So I took a deep breath and looked again, and there it was.

There's just something truthful about this, ya know? William had his face covered because at the time I was making silly noises in an effort to get them to smile a little. In fact, if you look past the golden blur of Carter, you'll see a little bit of a smirk on his face as he looks to his brother for confirmation that it's okay to laugh at daddy. To me, it has just enough insight that they were laughing at me and not with me. They probably knew I was being a bit stupid and rushed about everything, and that's probably not the best attitude to go in with when trying to get two little boys to pose nicely. It speaks to me about parenting, too. There's a great element of joy, but at the same time it's all out of focus. It may not be perfect, but it's real, and that's a pretty cool concept to me. Real and honest, it's how I want this blog to be and two big qualities I want as a parent. So I may be keeping this photo for a while.

Seriously though, I need to do something about replacing the lettering.