If Jungle Gyms Could Talk . . .

If jungle gyms could talk, I think I know what they would say, "Why is it that no matter where I am, what I'm wearing, with whom I'm interacting, or whether I'm clean or dirty, you feel the need to climb on me--three at a time? I love the attention. Wait. Am I really that much of a push-over? Is it really that hard to take me seriously? Now you're scratching the paint. I think you made a dent. Why is it that when your mommy comes to get you, you suddenly abandon me and run to her? What about repairs? Fine. Good-night. We'll do this again tomorrow."

False Alarms

The past two weeks have been full of false alarms, in potty training that is. It reached an almost unreal level today at church when throughout meetings she would say, "poo poo!" We'd rush out to the bathroom, sit her down, and wait. Two seconds later she'd say, "All done! See!" and look behind her to see if anything happened. Nothing did. I guess I've never contemplated, and obviously don't remember from my own experience, how basic a lesson it is to recognize your own body's signals. She recognizes something, but can't discern whether it is real or just gas. Then again, maybe she can but isn't patient enough to see it through. She just looks back and hopes it happens without having to put in the time or effort. Who knows? This raises the question of whether a two-year old is ready to take such a big step as potty training. A friend told me that in the days of cloth diapers, parents were so ready to be done with them that they potty trained at 18 months. I told him that I heard that kids who potty train early tend to be more organized. Then he told me that parents started putting their kids in pull-ups until 4-5-years old when Dr. Spock came around telling parents that early potty training gave kids complexes. I guess that all depends on how it's done. We know now that it is different with every child. I'm confident that our busy little girl is ready, but we've yet to figure out a way to fit consistent successes into her busy little schedule.

Scary Conclusion

This is the second time we've been through potty training. Just like last time, we wait with bated breath for the time when our daughter can go through the night without getting wet, or through the day for that matter. She had made significant progress in both areas. She goes most days without a single accident, and some nights. She is remarkable, but it is difficult to know how best to teach or discipline her. Remarkable in that she crumbles when she realizes she makes a mistake. This morning she wept over her wet bed. This evening she felt horrible that she had an accident on the couch. She always gets disappointed when she goes potty on the toilet and discovers that she didn't go number two. She is difficult, however, in that the minute we try to talk seriously with her about it, she gets silly. She has repeatedly shown great focus, while at the same time disregarding our guidance. Tonight, I let frustration over her paradoxical nature get the best of me. I was left home alone with the three kids, and my wife and I made painstaking efforts to ensure that the kids were bathed early, that dinner had low mess potential, and that the house was clean. She had even told me that she needed to go potty, but quickly changed her mind. Everything was peaceful, until she wet the couch. I grunted and slammed my fists on the cushion in frustration. I cleaned her up, took the cushions off for cleaning, and went with her between the couch and the bathroom about 10 times asking, "Do you go potty on the couch?" She'd respond, "No." Then I'd say, "Show me where you go potty." That is when she stopped feeling bad and started getting silly. I'm stumped. I know I shouldn't have been so hard on her. She already felt so bad. I tried to make up for it with wrestling, books, her favorite songs before bed, and lots of hugs and kisses. (I also need to figure out how to unteach my son how to react like I did). So, here is my scary conclusion: maybe I should just relax, step back, and trust in my two-year old's understanding a little more, that she already knows how serious this is and wants to succeed at this as much as we do. She has shown so many times that she is a big girl, now I need to be better at treating her like one.

Boys Night

We kept it pretty low key because my son had just gotten over a sickness and passed it to me.  I appreciate all of the great suggestions on what to do from the judge and the chambers.  They are great family people.  After dinner we went to the Red Box to pick out a movie.  We picked the one about the owl guardians.  On our way home we picked up some fruit smoothies to eat during the movie.  We changed into our pajamas when we got home and snuggled up on the couch to the movie and our smoothies.  I think that both of us would agree that although all of that was fun, the best part was the conversation while picking up the movie and smoothies.  What do a 30-year old attorney and a 4-year old dreamer talk about?  You'd be surprised.  We talked about what I would do if my son were a dragon and ate me up (we concluded that we wouldn't be able to wrestle anymore), or if he were a beast with sharp teeth (he told me that I couldn't yell at him because it would make him mad and bite me, so I said I would just feed him lots of meet and get him a bigger toothbrush, which he liked), and about saving up for a truck that is wider than all the rest, taller than all the rest, and longer than the street.  In fact, it would be "so big that the other cars wouldn't be able to stand it."  Coincidentally, we both got excited when we saw the truck he described right outside of the store with the Red Box.  It was a large, white moving van.  It was "exactly" the kind of truck he wanted.  I think he wants a truck that big to push our way through all of the traffic in Maryland.  He was getting pretty anxious to get the movie and smoothies, then anxious to get home and enjoy them.  In his words, there are "at least 100 cars" here.  Whereas, our new home when the clerkship ends will only have "about five cars."  I couldn't get enough of my time with my boy.  So, even though it was already almost two hours past his bedtime, I agreed to read him one long book.

Storms A Brewin'

I mean internal and external--both resulting in heavy downpours.  The external was a snow storm hitting the area and knocking out our power.  It was on and off most of the day.  But it meant taking close to an hour to dig out our minivan to get to the store and buy Saltines and Ginger Ale.  Why risk the roads to get those things at the store?  That brings me to the other storm.  Something was going on inside our two oldest kids today, causing them to downpour vomit throughout the day.  They were pretty miserable.  Our oldest stayed put and rested, like the sensible boy he is.  Our daughter, on the other hand, quickly rebounded after every vomit and ran around stirring her stomach up into rebellion again, like the energetic, carefree, fireball she is.  There are some benefits to having both storms simultaneously.  When either occurs, we generally enjoy snuggling up to movies in the house.  Since we got a double-dose, a triple-dose really, that is what we did almost all day.  When they started to get a bit restless, I went into the backyard, and they watched out the window as I built three little snowman, one for each of them, and then hid behind them as I threw snowballs at the window where they were standing.  They seemed to get a kick out of it, and I got to goof off a bit.  Perhaps the sweetest part of the day, though, was when my wife began to worry that our kids would not get better when the power went out again tonight because the house would get cold again.  She suggested we say a prayer.  Surprisingly, they gathered together nicely, and both of the oldest wanted to pray too.  After all of us took a turn, the power came back on again.  Snuggling with the kids is wonderful enough, but praying with them is truly humbling.

Stopped In My Tracks

Our creative son felt bad today--the 26th, our power went out from a snow storm (it wasn't too big, but it was too much for Maryland's infrastructure), so this post is a day late--about something he did while I was at work.  We help watch a friend's little boy.  Our son, who was feeling creative, found a bean bag and wanted to pretend that the little boy was Quasimodo, from the movie Hunchback of Notre Dame, and that the bean bag was fruit, and throw the bean back at the little boy.  Luckily, my wife was there to counsel him against it.  It must have been weighing on him throughout the day, because at dinner he suddenly told us, "Mommy and Daddy, I will try and be better tomorrow."  I was stunned and began to praise him as the best four-year old I've ever known, when my wife quickly gestured for me to pause.  I was a bit taken aback, not sure what I was doing wrong.  Then my wife wisely asked him, "Why do you think you need to be better?"  Our son proceeded to tell us that he thought that what he wanted to do to that little boy wasn't very nice and that he will try to be nicer to him tomorrow.  I understood then why my wife stopped me.  What would he learn from me praising him every time he felt like he had done something wrong, especially if he really shouldn't feel so bad about it?  Probably nothing.  But my wife's question sparked a conversation that made him think more about what happened, and probably learn more from it.  We're not doing the thinking for him or relieving him of a burden that properly belongs to him.  Brilliant!  I've also seen my wife ask similar evaluative questions when our kids draw a picture or show us other things they've done.  I'm likely to praise it all day long, but my wife asks, "What do you think about it?"  That's what really matters, isn't it.  Sometimes they like it and sometimes they find problems with it.  When they find problems with it, they probably won't believe our praising or trust our opinion when we do, so it's better to see what they think first and go from there.  Again, brilliant!  Those Love and Logic tips are great.

Poo Poo Rocks

I am honored that my daughter wanted to call me at work today to let me know that she made poo poo rocks in the toilet today--that's what she calls them, because she thought they were rocks when she first saw them.  Since the first time she did it during potty training, she's been afraid to do it again.  So her potty training success today was not only learning something new but also overcoming a big fear.  It was a big accomplishment.  The first thing she told my wife when it happened was, "I want to call Daddy and tell him I made poo poo rocks."  It may seems silly, but that call about poo poo made my day.

Spelunking

An article recently came out about Mormon mom blogs.  It simultaneously praised the uplifting nature of those blogs and questioned the high standard these mothers are seeking to achieve, even going so far as to suggest that the high standard has resulted in depression among so many of these moms.  My heart goes out to them, having seen first-hand how overworked and under-appreciated my own wife is.  Fortunately or unfortunately for corporate dads there is no such pressure to excel at being a father first, although the tide is changing.  Either way, I do not wish to portray through this blog a perfect balance of father and lawyer.   It is quite the opposite, I'm often too much lawyer, even when I spend more time at home than the average lawyer.  I can reason my way out of or into almost anything, even playing with my kids.  Even when I submit to requests to play games when I'm tired, I still do it half-heartedly at first sometimes.  Take today, for instance.  First, it's Monday.  Second, our toddler was claiming to need to go potty every five minutes, most of the time resulting in false alarms.  This exhausted my wife all day, and now it was exhausting me.  All the while, my poor son wanted to play spelunking with me in the living room.  A common response came tumbling inadvertently out of my mouth--"I can in a minute"--knowing that it would be longer than that.  After probably 30 minutes of simultaneously trying to feed the baby and handling false potty alarms, I finally submitted to my son's request, you guessed it, half-heartedly.  While carrying the baby in my arms and giving our little girl horsey ride, we followed my son through the living room with the lights off as he led us through caves full of monsters.  Luckily, he had his Nerf sword to protect us.  Strangely, my girls' laughter combined with my son's imagination was too much even for my lawyer heart, and I succumbed to having real fun with it.  The reality of being a corporate dad is that sometimes having fun with the kids is like most other projects--we are afraid to start.  We don't have time, we're too tired, and it's overwhelming.  But, also like most other projects, once you start, you don't want to stop.  That must explain whey, when my wife asked us to set the table for dinner, I again replied, "I can in a minute"--or ten.

When Corporate Dad Needs His Mom . . . and other Mentors

Our kids are growing faster than we can keep up with.  Our oldest is learning how to read, our middle is potty training, our youngest is learning to sleep (resisting really).  We are exhausted.  I say "we" because I've always thought it was important to take a very personal interest in my kids.  That may seem strange, but there are dads out there who think these things are "the wife's job."  That may work for them, but I'm just as interested in my son reading, my daughter moving out of diapers, and my other daughter sleeping as my wife is.  I'm not sure I understand how it can be any other way.  But add to that the reality that this clerkship is really another year of education.  My schedule isn't bad, and our finances are relatively simple.  Next year, however, is full of unknowns.  A young associate is not going to get away with only 40 hours, especially if he must bill by 6 min increments.  We are now house hunting and developing a financial plan based on next year's salary.  We also wonder how involved and scheduled we want our kids to be.  Karate, soccer, art, dancing, music, etc.  How much is too much scheduling of a child?  In sum, we feel a lot of physical, mental, and emotional strain.  So, as my poor exhausted wife was taking a well-deserved nap, I decided to call my mom for advice.  She and my dad raised eight kids from very humble circumstances, managing to raise a close family with a strong foundation of faith and a good moral compass.  I knew she could give a young father of three some perspective.  I wasn't disappointed.  What a great confidant and friend!  I can't imagine a time where I'll never need my mom.  (I'd like to insert here my love and appreciation for my dad, knowing as I do from my own kids that dad's sometimes get overlooked because they are not the comforters of the family).  I turned as well to my mission president--I was a missionary for my church for two years.  He lives in the area, and started in humble circumstances as well.  This exercise taught me that as capable as my wife and I are, our vision gets clouded at times.  We cannot see the forest for the trees.  But turning to wiser people whom I know care for me and whom I trust, help to raise our visions again, especially now when we are just starting out.

Who's Party Is It Anyway?

We love our neighbors!  And I think that when they planned their kids' combined birthday party, they were in for more that they bargained.  Attending this party was a good education for me, and I'm certain it will affect my kids' future birthday parties.  At the outset, I should mention that I was very impressed with how conscious of the children one of the mom's was in planning the snacks and food and, initially, the music and activities.  But as the party went on, there were several indications that the kids may not have been the primary consideration in the planning or at least the execution.  The music switched from Disney and children's music to R&B and Lady Gaga, some of which included swearing, most of which was inappropriate, and all of which was loud enough to rattle windows.  The face painter turned out to be a body painter, whose binder of options that he freely distributed to adults and children alike, included pictures that made at least one mother gasp and send her little boy away.  Luckily, she tipped us off, and our kids didn't want face paint anyway, except for a little butterfly on our daughter's face, which we were able to request without looking at the binder.  Finally, the parent-child ratio in the "play room" quickly diminished as the adults migrated up to another room to drink and talk.  Those of us left interacting with our kids and getting headaches from the bass were left to watch the rest  of the kids change from children to Tasmanian devils pumped up on sugar.  The same mother who gasped before, gasped again as her son got trampled to the ground, and said, "We should just leave."  And she did.  My wife and I looked at each other, grateful that we were not the only ones who questioned whether we were on another planet, decided to leave too.  The hosts weren't around, so we wished the kids happy birthdays, grabbed a few cupcakes, and went home.  When we ate the cupcakes in our quiet home, we sang "Happy Birthday" to honor our neighbor friends, since we were missing the real cake and ice cream at the party.  In the back of my head, I can still hear the faint sound of a sub woofer.  My take-aways from this experience post probably go without saying.

Agenda-itis

One of the common frustrations I have is how many times I have to repeat myself to get a desired result, if I'm lucky.  My commute this morning, however, taught me to be a little more patient with kids.  Upon reaching Union Station, our conductor announced over the intercom that people in the last car needed to step away from the doors so that he could close them.  A minute later, the same announcement accompanied by the threat of deboarding the train if he couldn't close the door.  A minute later, the same announcement and threat with the demand that nobody try to enter or exit the train while he tries to close the door.  At that point a man entered our car, was booed out, then got caught in the door while trying to exit.  The final announcement, "This train is now out of service.  Everyone must exit."  The passengers groaned and piled out onto the platform to await the next train.  Finally, when the next train arrived people packed in as before, and as the doors were closing a woman's backpack got caught in the door.  That's when I decided to walk the rest of the way to work.  After today, the slowest learners I've ever seen are adults driven by their agenda to the exclusion of anyone else's, not to mention the angriest.  How many people have to get stuck in the door before they learn not to pack into the train like that?  It's also true at home.  When my wife or I have agenda-itis, you can be sure we will be slow to listen to each other or the kids and there will be some drama.

Free Spirit

Our two older children could not be more different.  Both have an insatiable curiosity.  However, our oldest is, in the words of his teacher, "four going on forty."  His curiosity is very focused and mature.  Our toddler, however, demonstrates her intelligence and curiosity through cunning, adventure, and thrill seeking.  She is truly a free spirit.  I know that each child is different and that our youngest will likely be just as different from the older two as the older two are from each other.  The challenge this presents right now is that it is easy to encourage my son's curiosity because the risk of encouraging him is very low--he will likely become more engaged in his education, sports, and creative projects--however, it is difficult to encourage my daughter's curiosity because there is a higher risk that she will engage in things that are not so constructive.  Having said that, I don't want to change her personality, I'm certain she came with it because she is meant to do great things that only people with her personality can do.  As with the first child, I'm trying to watch closely for signs of constructive activities in which she takes an interest or shows natural talent.  She is definitely a physically active learner--she loves active games and crafts--and she is a very good mommy to her baby dolls.  She is also an explorer, not afraid to go into or on top of anything, and she is not afraid to touch anything.  In fact, where my son likes to run away when I chase him, my daughter likes to run right at me.  She speaks her mind and won't let other kids push her around.  She is also incredibly advanced in her humor.  So which activities should I encourage that would engage such a bright, sweet, and spunky girl while she is little and exhibiting these characteristics?  Art or dancing? Are there wrestling teams for two-year old girls?  If so, I'm sure mine would do very well.

Father Bear

This afternoon I spoke with my wife regarding her first parent-teacher conference for our oldest.  We are lucky to have a teacher who takes such a personal interest in all of her kids.  She praised very specific attributes about him and demonstrated a great deal of love for him.  I sincerely appreciated that.  My wife then asked her advice about schools when we move on, knowing that our son is not the center-of-attention type.  She responded that we need to be his biggest advocates because many teachers overlook the diligent and quiet kids at this age for the rowdier kids or the kids who struggle more.  When I heard that, a strange sensation came over me and for a moment I viewed all teachers (except for my son's teacher) as mortal enemies.  As a father, aren't I supposed to be the rational one?  I didn't think I would ever feel the "mother bear" instinct, especially over something so benign.  I scared myself a little bit.

The Sweetest Kiss

There have been a lot of changes in our house, most of which have centered on our two-year old daughter and her transition from baby to little girl.  We were feeling like she was ready for us to put some more trust in her.  The first step was the change to a toddler bed, which is always scary, especially if the toddler shares a room with a light-sleeping baby sister.  But, she did well, only fell out once, and only ruined one of her sister's naps.  The next step was potty training.  That is a commitment for the whole family.  It means constant vigilance by the parents, and added responsibility for our four-year old son who jumps in to prevent the baby from climbing up or falling down the stairs while the parent who is home assists the girl on the potty.  Again, she is doing very well.  Interestingly, she seems to rise to the level of trust we place in her.  Not only is she more obedient, but she has greater confidence in using new words and learning new things.  She feels older and bigger and acts how she feels.  Even her humor, which has always been advanced in my opinion, has become more subtle.  After reading a book to me (in her way) and saying her prayer (again in her way), she kissed her mom and brother and hopped into her "big girl bed."  I knelt down next to the bed and sang some songs with her.  Because she is getting into the "my do it" stage, she wanted to sing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" to me all by herself -- "Twinkle twinkle little star, how wa wa wa wa wa are . . ." and so on.  Then I asked for something she always refuses to give me, recoiling and giggling to tease me, a kiss.  After teasing me  a little more, she said, "My do it," and leaned toward my cheek . . . and blew as hard as she could -- a zerbit or raspberry or whatever it's called.  We both started laughing, she because he knew she was tickling my cheek and me because she caught me off guard with her humor (and slobber).  It was a kiss I won't soon forget.

A Law Unto Himself

My day off didn't start so well, because my son and I got into another battle of the prides.  He was getting impatient and angry at my wife and his little sister when he was waiting for breakfast, so I asked him to take a time out.  He, as always, refused to do so.  Even when I picked him up and put him on his bed in his room, he immediately attempted to get up and walk out.  I'd had it.  I sat him back down and gave him a piece of my mind.  I do not understand why our son thinks he is above the rules, above his parents, a law unto himself sometimes.  Once we both got our frustration out, he agreed to take a time-out to calm down before returning to the breakfast table.  I gave myself a time-out too.  The rest of the day went smoothly.  In fact, we had a lot of fun building forts and playing together.  We decided to round out the night with a family movie night, where we snuggle up on the couch with blankets and pillows and watch a movie.  Before starting the movie, I made it clear that it would be late when the movie ended, so it would replace books tonight.  But the second the movie ended our son asked for a book.  No "thank you."  The combination of the effort we put into having nights like this and the fact that we've stressed how important it is to keep commitments, made me almost refuse to ever have movie night again.  I wouldn't even entertain the thought of a book tonight.  This enraged our son again.  But at the same time, he didn't give up hope.  He eagerly got ready for bed then asked his mother for a book.  Of course, she responded, "You need to ask Daddy."  So we had a talk about how hard we work to get ready for movie night and how hard we work after movie night just so we can have a fun activity together.  I then told him that we're only asking that he go straight to bed.  He didn't buy it.  I had to get my point across.  I said, "Fine.  Do you want to clean the kitchen and the living room tonight?"  To my surprise, he said, "Let's go!"  I wasn't sure how to do this, but I didn't want to go too easy on him.  I wanted him to really experience how tired we get cleaning up at night.  He picked up the toys and swept the floors.  Then he scrubbed almost all of the dishes and handed them to me to put in the dish washer.  He did a great job too.  I stopped him a little short, because he more than earned that book.  We read the book and he went to bed happy as a clam.  From my experiences with my son today, I've learned a few lessons:

• I let myself get offended too easily by my children's choice to disobey or ignore their parents.  I need to be careful not to teach them to get easily offended.  As my wife says, we need to teach them that we are capable of being happy regardless of what others do.
• If I threaten something, I need to follow through with it.  It made cleaning the living room and kitchen take 45 minutes longer tonight, but the lessons my son and I learned from it were worth the price.
• Four-year olds are capable of rising to challenges.  In this case, my son stayed up late and did a good job cleaning the dishes, giving his father a slice of humble pie in the process.  Even though he was exhausted, he went to bed glowing with pride knowing that he really earned that extra book.  I think he also knew that he made me very proud.

Un-Manly

This is not the first time this has happened, but my wife has been getting up with our baby every night and has been chasing our toddler around all weekend while she has been potty training.  So, why is it that I am the one who is exhausted and complaining about how tired I am?  I'd like to think that I deserve it because I've taken on extra responsibility with the other two during our toddler's potty training, but even then I'm realizing that I do not have the physical or mental stamina to do all that my wife does. What's worse, my wife's had a cheerful attitude the whole time.  I'm not sure whether that is because she finds it easy and enjoyable or whether she's just patronizing me because she thinks I'm pathetic.

The Man Behind the Scenes

You never know how the other kids will feel when one is singled out for a special day.  For example, today was our toddler's special day alone with Mommy to potty train.  I took the other two with me on some errands, to have some fun, and to have lunch together.  We were back by nap time.  Then, during the afternoon, my wife had to continue focusing on our toddler, while the rest of us figured out other things to do.  Amazingly, our four-year old did not complain that he did not get much of his mother's attention or special treats and snacks that were being lavished upon our daughter whenever she had a training success.  In fact, he cheered on his little sister's potty training successes.  I thought I'd reward him by taking his chore of setting the table.  After dinner, I cleared most of the table and brought the dirty dishes into the kitchen.  Suddenly, some cups I had missed are placed on the counter beside me, and I turn to see my son walk out of the kitchen.  Nobody asked him to help.  Then, at bedtime, he asked if I could bring him his bathrobe, but was sure to tell me that he had some of Mommy's socks in the pockets that needed to go back in her drawer.  As tired as he was, he wanted to make sure Mommy got her socks back.  He doesn't realize how thoughtful he has been throughout the day.  In fact, he never expected anyone to notice his kind little acts.  He somehow seemed content today just being the man behind the scenes.  Where do kids like these come from?  We feel very blessed to have him sent to us.

Walter Reed

Few experiences bring life into perspective as visiting injured soldiers at the army medical center.  Because the cases we hear involve servicemen and women, we took a trip to visit soldiers who were recently wounded in Afghanistan.  Their experiences were pretty frightening, as most of them were injured by what are called improvised explosive devices or IEDs that are embedded along roads, bridges, and anywhere else an American troop might traverse.  Many of the IEDs are so powerful that they can cause great damage to an armored vehicle and seriously injure everyone inside.  The servicemembers we visited today had broken backs, shrapnel injuries throughout their bodies, broken arms, broken jaws, and amputations.  Despite all of this, they had positive attitudes and were truly inspiring to talk to.  Some had continued desires to serve in the armed forces.  Some were just so happy to be home permanently with their families.  There were two older gentlemen who were non-commissioned officers, like squad leaders, and two younger enlisted men, one of whom was only 20-years old who was still pretty shell-shocked, and the other with a young wife and 5-month old little girl.  We met their families, who amazingly shared those positive attitudes.  The squad leader, in his thick Long Island accent, described being loaded onto a truck from the medical station in Afghanistan prior to shipping out to Germany before coming home.  The young soldier next to him asked what happened.  The squad leader said, "An IED hit our vehicle.  I have a broken back, a broken arm, and shrapnel in my thigh. How about you?"  The young soldier replied, "Same thing, except I stepped on it."  Then he held up what remained of his leg.  The squad leader told us that he no longer thought he had it so bad.  All of his injuries were going to heal.  The young soldier, perhaps sensing this, said, "I feel happy right now, because I know if I can make it to Germany, I can make it home in time to see the birth of my new baby. And, I'll never have to leave them again."  The squad leader felt humbled by the young soldier's attitude.  It was an inspiring story, and almost every soldier we met shared a similar story about a colleague who is worse off but inspires them with their positive attitude.  We went there to thank them for what they've done to protect our country and our families, but the visit almost certainly did me more good than it did them.  I feel truly blessed to have the small challenges that I have, and I feel a deeper sense of gratitude for my beautiful family.  I came home feeling like I had been away from them for several days and missed them terribly.  My experience at Walter Reed is one that I will not soon (hopefully never) forget.  I am still floored to have seen first-hand families who sacrifice their time together and their lives so that we don't have to.  It was an honor to meet these heroes.

Closing Up Shop Together

"Why not, we've been home with the kids all day?"  It's pretty common and pretty understandable when the stay-at-home parent says this.  But I'm convinced it is not that simple.  It is similar to the working parent coming home and saying, "Just let me relax. I've been hard at work all day."  Neither my wife nor I use these phrases, though we've both been encouraged to.  We like to think of ourselves as a family business, a mom-and-pop shop.  Right now, I run the office, while my wife runs the customer service.  My department closes a little earlier than hers and requires no clean-up, while her department closes later and requires a great deal of clean-up.  I don't think it would work out well if I walked out of my office door into my wife's department and relaxed while she mopped up the mess.  I think it would be just as bad if she handed me the mop and said, "Later!"  I grab another mop and we close up shop together.

Boys Night Out

My wife asked me when she could have another girls' night out/dinner and movie with her girl friend.  Unfortunately, we have not made enough time for her to do that more often, but I thought I'd tease her about it anyway.  I said, "You can have another girls' night when I can have a boys' night."  Then I said, "The problem is, I don't have any boys to go out with."  Most of my friends are situational--church and work, etc.  Then, my son piped up, "I'm a boy.  You can have a boys' night out with me."  My wife and I both looked at each other with a smile.  I said, "All right, honey, you can have a girls' night out because I'm going to have a boys' night out with my son."

Value Factor

Tonight I came home with an unusual amount of energy after a long day of work, a long commute, and freezing weather.  Usually that's a recipe for work-lag.  However, I jumped right into getting things ready for dinner, bathing the kids, and wrestling before bed.  I don't remember feeling impatient or tired, nor did I lose my temper with the kids at bedtime--all of which is unusual for me.  I traced my energy level back to my work day, where the energy level was especially high because it was our conference with the judge in preparation for his conference with the other judges.  In this meeting we evaluate the cases that were argued during the week in light of the legal issues we highlighted in our bench memos.  When it came to the cases I was assigned, I felt that I had nailed the issues for the most part and was able to provide valuable counsel the judge on various legal theories.  At one point, the judge told me I'd won him over on a particular issue.  At another point, our commissioner jokingly commented, "Now I understand why we have law clerks."  I'm certain that the value a dad feels at work is a big factor in how he feels when he comes home.

Just a Bucket on the Drop

Our daughter lives by the motto, "Why cry over a little spilled milk, when you can feel better by just dumping the whole thing?"  Last night she spilled some milk down her chin and onto her shirt, so she dumped out the whole bowl onto her tray.  Tonight she dropped a couple of peas, so she dumped the whole bowl onto the floor.  You name it, if she's spilled a little, she dumps the whole thing--water, rice, milk, peas, crayons, paper clips, etc.  I'm still not sure what her rationale is.  Maybe she thinks that the pieces she dropped will get lonely.  Maybe it's her way of saying, "What's the point?"  Maybe she just likes to see how we react.  Or maybe she thinks its cool and will go undetected if she dumps the rest where she's already made a mess.  What she doesn't understand is that she is not just adding a drop to the bucket.  She is dumping the bucket on the drop.

Shifting the Blame

Shortly after coming home and playing with the kids I smelled something, and I knew it could only be one thing.  Usually that particular odor triggers an immediate response of tackling her to the ground and changing her diaper as quickly as I can.  In my mind I think, "I don't want to smell this any longer," and "I can't let her play like that or that diaper will explode all over the floor."  But she was being so nonchalant about it, perhaps hoping to fly under my radar undetected.  So, I decided to humor her.  I asked my little girl if someone went poo poo.  She said, "Brother, poo poo."  I asked, "Did your brother go poo poo?"  She said, "yes."  Thinking this was fun, she then blamed her baby sister, and a similar conversation ensued.   Then she suggested it was Mommy, and, finally, she blamed me.  Then she walked away with her saggy diaper bouncing against the back of her knees.  She wasn't foolin' anyone.  Then I tackled her to the floor and changed her.

First Public Speech

Few people understand the analysis that goes into preparing your four-year old for his first public speech.  I'm convinced that parents put presidential speech writers to shame.  Having learned during his last birthday that if we build up our son's participation in something then he becomes painfully shy.  For example, when his birthday was coming up we kept reminding him that the Primary children at church were going to sing to him--he missed his friends from our last home and didn't always want to go to Primary.  Instead of getting him excited to be there, he began to scream uncontrollably for everyone to stop singing and we had to take him out into the hallway.  He wouldn't go back in until we promised him they wouldn't sing to him anymore.  Similarly, we built up meeting Santa at a Christmas party so much that when he was next in line to sit on his lap he did the same thing, and yelled at the Bishop's wife for encouraging him forward (though he apologized after calming down).  When he was assigned to speak in Primary, we knew right away that the best thing to do would be to treat it like no big deal.  Our strategy seemed to work pretty well throughout the week.  We'd ask him questions about the topic and mention the talk, then write down his answers and say nothing more.  We compiled his answers into a talk and practiced a couple of times on Saturday, with pictures and me standing next to him whispering the words to him.  Then, when my wife came home from the store, we did a practice run in front of an audience.  The big day finally came, and our son repeated throughout the morning, "I don't want to talk in church!"  I thought our plans were foiled.  I was tempted to resort to bribery or worse.  By worse, I mean something along the lines of what I read in an article about how Chinese moms are superior.  The woman wrote about the extreme pressure she put on her kids.  Her philosophy is that it is important to override a child's wants and make them do things that are difficult because (1) nothing is fun until one is good at it, (2) the only way to become good at something is to work at it, and (3) children gain confidence when they see what they've accomplished.  She believes that Western parents are too happy with mediocrity and show a lack of faith in their kids by giving up too easily, and that the Chinese style of teaching shows greater confidence in a child's abilities because you don't give up, you persist until they do it then you celebrate.  Eventually we agreed that we would get up together while I gave the talk.  Little did he know I was planning on purposefully getting things wrong, knowing he would correct me and thus be giving part of his talk.  My plan was obviously neither Western or Eastern.  It was probably from another planet where parents encourage their kids through passive-aggressive behavior.  Luckily, I didn't have to take any of those tactics.  When the general meeting ended, our son asked, "what about my talk?"  I realized he was only afraid of talking in front of the whole congregation, not the Primary.  When we got to Primary, he went right up to his seat on the stand.  When it was his turn to give his talk, he did it perfectly.  My wife and I were so proud.  I guess we should have been more clear about where he was giving his talk.  Then again, it may be a good tactic to keep in mind for the future--i.e. under-promise and over-deliver--I mean it worked with my wife and kids in law school.  Does this much thought go into presidential speeches?

Why We Give

There are many reasons parents give to their children.  Of course we love them and want them to have the best of everything, including sleep on a new toddler bed.  Tonight, my wife wanted me to get one of the baby dolls for our toddler to sleep with because she loves to sleep with her babies.  I thought, "brilliant!" but not for the noble reasons my wife mentioned.  Worried that she would be tempted to keep getting up from her toddler bed, I was excited to have something to threaten to take away if she didn't stay in bed.  

Stuck in the Middle

The debate at home right now is what to do with our two-year old girl.  We feel like we should show more trust in her, do things that would make her feel more like a big girl, but we're not exactly sure how.  Our son is four and has his own room, a big boy bed, and the tortoise and fish.  He has pictures on his walls and a bookshelf full of books to read.  We could put her with our son, but he's done with naps and we wouldn't have a place for him to have quiet time.  Apart from our room, the only room left is the girls' room.  Our two-year old rarely gets to go into her room because the baby is always napping.  Right now, we can't have the baby nap in the master bedroom because the little boy we watch naps there.  Our little girl is literally stuck in the middle.  That worries us because she is so smart and we don't want to get into the habit of letting the exciting progress of our oldest or the neediness of our youngest overshadow the personality, talents, and needs of our girl in the middle.  We will soon potty train her and put her in a toddler bed.  When we finish watching the other little boy, we can have the baby nap in our room, and make the girls' room more like our son's room so that our toddler can feel more like a big girl.  I believe what has been said about labels.  The young tend to conform to the labels placed upon them.  I feel that it applies more poignantly when dealing with the labels parents place on their children.  My hope is that we can give her the right labels: "trusted," "big girl," "smart," "beautiful."  The last two are a piece of cake.  Our daughter is a bit restless, so the first two are going to be a bit of a leap of faith.  But our experience has been that kids love to rise to the challenge.

Sick Sense of Pride

This morning, just after I walked out the door, my wife called me back because my two-year old daughter was crying for me.  She wanted to say one last good-bye before I left and had been calling my name as I walked out the door (she wanted to go outside too, but that's beside the point).  Even as I held my crying, broken-hearted little girl, I admit I should have felt more sympathetic and compassionate, but I couldn't overcome the sick sense of pride I felt in seeing how much of a daddy's girl she is. But, she knows she has me wrapped around her finger.

Early To Bed, Early To Rise . . .

. . . makes a father groggy and grumpy, with a glaze in his eyes.  Our baby girl is by far the worst sleeper yet.  As noble as I've tried to be by getting up at 4 am to feed the baby and put her back to bed, I was grateful when my wife told me this morning that she's going to get up with the baby from now on because, "the baby doesn't like it when you put her to sleep.  She won't go to sleep for you."   It's a good thing that my wife took over because I would get up to feed the baby and bump into walls along the way.  I've heard people in the medical profession say, "sleep is over-rated."  That may be true physiologically, but it still takes several hours on mornings like this to convince my body of that.  

The Mistake That Broke The Bank

What do you get when you mix a heavy metal door stop, a hardwood floor, and a four-year old with a lot of pent up energy?  Thankfully, the damage wasn't too bad.  I didn't even notice it when I came home from work.  My wife came in to tell me as I was reading books to my son before bed.  He knew what was coming and couldn't look at me or tell me himself what happened.  We pay our son a weekly allowance for his chores, and when he breaks something he has to help pay for it from his allowance.  It's usually not much.  He has been very diligent in saving his money.  I usually spent my allowances the moment I got them.  He's been so good at saving, in fact, that over time he had to have saved quite a bit of money by any four-year old standard.  Tonight, however, was pretty serious.  We took about half of what he had saved, partly because it would be expensive to repair, and partly to indicate to him the seriousness of the mistake.  The disappointment on his face when we showed him how much of his savings he lost indicated that the point was taken.  On the one hand, it was heartbreaking for us to take that much, knowing how hard he'd been saving.  On the other hand, he seemed relieved that he could do something to remedy a huge mistake that was probably weighing on him all day.  Tough lesson for all of us to learn.

Empathy for Mommy, Why Are You Crying, Three In the Bath

Empathy for Mommy--Costco was closed on New Year's Day.  They have holiday hours posted all over the store, but for some reason they chose not to open for this particular holiday.  Either way, that meant we needed to go today.  I came home early so that my wife could go, and I was all to happy to take care of things for a couple of hours on my own.  Little did I know the chaos that my wife lives through just before dinner time each day.  Our son's quiet time is over by 2 pm or so, so he is back in the family room looking for things to do.  I was looking forward to doing some activities together--we did manage to squeeze in cutting a beard out of paper for him to wear, complete with pipe cleaners to fasten them over his ears--but the girls woke up from their naps, and they woke up grumpy and clingy.  I was able to get our little girl to go back to sleep for a little while and took the baby down for a bottle.  She wouldn't let me do anything but hold her, and my poor son was trying to get my attention too.  When our little girl woke up, I put a show on for the two oldest, strapped the baby in a high chair with veggie puffs, and began making dinner.  All of this was a piece of cake compared to getting my son to set the table, getting my kids sat down to eat, and getting the food cut for the kids.  Food is a very serious thing at my house, and not even the adults can stand to wait.  Miraculously, the actual meal was peaceful, and although I was sweating by the time my wife came home, I felt a much greater appreciation for what she does in the afternoons alone and a much greater empathy for the feeling she sometimes gets that she isn't able to give the kids the attention they need, especially our little girl in the middle.  Of course, she does more than meet their needs, because she's learned to let things go.  I, on the other hand, would not survive long because I don't let anything go, which meant that by the time my wife came back home tonight, I felt like a piece of gum that had been chewed up and blown into a bubble so thin that I could have popped at any moment.

Why Are You Crying?--One thing--of many--that I'm having a hard time understanding is why our kids have evenings where they cry at the littlest things or nothing at all.  Both of our girls were like that after their naps today.  My son and I could hardly do anything without setting off our two little hair-trigger mines--of course, our son sometimes likes to push their buttons on purpose.  It was clear that neither slept well, but neither would go back to bed.  That's what I would do, but again, logic must be left at the door.  What made it all worse was that when my wife came home they instantaneously flipped from grumpy to giddy.  Of course, my wife has that effect on my too.

Three In A Bath--I don't know why, but something about having the three kids in the bath at once that made me nostalgic.  It may be that seeing the three together was clear proof of how quickly they grow from infants to little boys and girls.  The way they play together was also touching.  They are so different developmentally, but they know how to have fun with each other and connect with each other despite that.  Watching their three different sizes, personalities, and tendencies--our four-year old engineering with cups and water, our two-year old (2/3 the size of our four-year old) wreaking havoc, and our baby (1/2 the size of our two-year old) winding around with insatiable curiosity on her hands and knees in-between the older kids grabbing and biting everything she can lay her hands on--stopped me in my tracks as I was washing them.  I couldn't help but enjoy the moment.

What To Do When She Is Two?

Distract Now, Explain Later--Our wonderful two-year old daughter asked for snacks today while we were in our seats waiting for church to begin.  We couldn't give them to her yet, because we need to save our ammo for when she started to get really restless.  As usual, I took the wrong approach, and my wife taught me the right approach.  I tried to explain, "Honey, church hasn't even started yet.  We can give them to you later."  This resulting in my little girl looking up at me and saying, "Can I have a snack?"  Obviously, my words missed their intended target.  My wife, on the other hand, said, "Honey, look at this?" and my daughter forgot about snacks for the time being.  Brilliant!  I learned then and there an important lesson: although explanation is good, when they're willing to hear it, when they're not, it's sometimes better to just distract them.

Growing Out of Naps--How can you fault a little girl who is growing out of her naps for singing "Twinkle Little Star" or otherwise chatting with herself in her crib?  The complication in our situation is that she shares a room with her baby sister, who naps at the same time, so she needs to be quiet.  Another complication is that she is not yet ready to skip naps, because doing that makes her grumpy for the whole afternoon.  She adores her baby dolls, however, and is usually compliant with our demand to be quiet and go to sleep when we threaten to take them away.  But today, it didn't work.  We had to stick her in the pack-and-play in our room.  Of course, nothing changed.  We were unwilling to bring her back down with us in the hopes that she would sleep a little.  She doesn't have a room in which to have quiet time, like our son, nor would she be quiet during quiet time anyway.  We are hopeful, however, because her moments of focus, communication, and obedience have come on more frequently.  So, with no other options available at this point, left her in the pack-and-play and enjoyed her entertaining little conversations with herself over the monitor.

The Good Unseen and Unsung

I discovered part of the reason that our son takes so long in the bathroom.  After he brushes his teeth in the morning or at night, he carefully cleans the toothpaste dispenser.  I don't know whether he actually gets toothpaste on the dispenser when he brushes.  What I do know is that we often give him a hard time for taking so long in the bathroom.  As usual, my wife was the first to take a better approach, which was to take the time to  thank him for cleaning the dispenser and compliment him on what a good job he did.  Since then, I've tried to keep an eye out for similar behavior and take time to say thank you or offer a compliment.  For example, after lunch my son threw his water bottle in the sink.  I was tempted to say, "Hey, this is still clean.  It goes in the fridge."  He also kept an unchewed piece of gum in his sock, because he didn't have any pockets (he wanted to wear his Spiderman costume today).  My wife and I wanted to tell him not to do that, especially because he had taken the wrapper off before he put it in his sock.  Instead, we complimented him on coming up with such a smart solution to having no pockets and suggested he keep the wrapper on should he do that in the future.  Our daughter also picked up trash in our car on the way into the house, then got distracted and threw the trash on our kitchen floor.  Although I had her pick it up and put it in the trash, I did thank her and compliment her for picking up hers and her brother's trash in the car without being asked.  This has actually been a pretty entertaining exercise--the things they do are very cute and very sweet.  We don't notice what our kids do for us because we don't need it or they don't do it right.  But taking the time to notice really confirms to me how good they really are.  They do a lot for us, but we just didn't see it.

Having said that, I can understand times when they do something right in conjunction with something wrong, and I skip straight to pointing out what was wrong--today's examples include our oldest asking politely to be excused from the dinner table but also wiggling so much at the table that he kept spilling rice on the floor, our toddler asking politely for more water but actually throwing her rice on the floor, and our oldest washing himself in the bath but overshooting the water he was pouring on his head so that it landed on the floor.  Obviously, I have a thing against messes.  My favorite all-time example is our son running through the hallways at church with arms reverently folded.  One can't go around complimenting all the time and failing to discipline, but one can be quick to compliment and slow to criticize.  One thing that helps a semi-OCD father like myself to keep things in perspective is to think of the confidence level I would like them to have in themselves when it matters most.  I realize constant criticism, regardless of how often I compliment them, will likely cause long-term damage to their confidence.  As my wife always says, "Choose your battles, but at this point focus on the ones that are life or death--they're just little kids."