Caped Soccer Player

Faster than speeding bullet. More powerful than a locomotive. . . . Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it's my son at his soccer game. Last year soccer was fun for the first few games. Then my son got bored trying to score or take the ball away from other kids. He didn't like that. Then we watched the world cup, and he seemed to have found his place in soccer--goalie. He was the only three-year old I know who dressed for soccer in goalie clothes and gloves and sat in the goal waiting to block other kids' shots. The problem is that at this age, the coaches don't really encourage or allow that very often. Thinking he'd be excited, we signed him up for soccer again this year. Since there are no goalies, our son has once again found a way to make the game his own, this time by wearing a cape. I don't think soccer really interests him much anymore, but since he still has fun doing it he might as well bring into the game his love of super heroes. Although he gets to run a lot and follows whomever has the ball, he tended to get lost today watching his cape flap in the wind. I even caught him striking a superhero pose--hands on hips, chest up, one foot on the soccer ball, cape flapping in the breeze, looking straight at me with an "I really do look like a superhero, don't I?" expression on his face. The first game last season, I was excited to watch him score a goal. Toward the end of last season, I was excited to watch him blocking goals. After a few games watching him looking not very interested--which still irks me a little because he's so good--I felt the same excitement when he added the cape to his soccer uniform today. I'm learning a lot about him and admire his ability, imagination, and creativity to make of his circumstances whatever he has to to love it. He definitely made that soccer game his own today. I'm not sure he even touched the ball when it was in play.

The Kitchen Is Closed

Dinner is sometimes almost as painful as bath time for the simple reason that our kids don't want to eat the food. Well, the two youngest aren't entirely to blame because they are too young to really understand when we say they need to eat everything. Our oldest has a different issue. He understands perfectly, but the minute he sits at the table is mind becomes consumed with thoughts and ideas and questions that he needs to ask. He gets so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn't even begin eating until twenty minutes after we've sat down to eat. By then, the two girls are done. This dilemma leads us to today's dinner-time strategy. Upon sitting down to eat we declared that dinner is over and the kitchen is closed at a certain time. Throughout dinner we would count down at five-minute intervals. Tonight was also movie night, and we told them that in order to get a treat during the movie they had to earn it by eating everything. Unfortunately, everything came to an anti-climactic ending. They didn't earn their treat, and only the baby finished dinner. Our oldest was upset (our toddler didn't care). But, we stuck to our guns and can only hope that this lesson sinks in at some point. Other than that, movie night was a blast as usual.

Lost Documents Does Not Equal Lost Patience

Because my wife was feeling ill yesterday and today, I stayed home from work. Miraculously, I was able to put in almost a full day of work from home and draft a 25-page opinion for the judge. The only problem was that when I went to email it from my home account to my work account, it was gone. I spent close to two hours searching for it--in between visits to my room to pound on the bed as hard as I could--with the hope that it was somewhere in my computer. I know I saved it--multiple times. Being home was exciting for the kids, and for me when I still had my document. But when I lost it, every breath they made felt as though someone had crashed giant cymbals right next to my ears. Everything felt cacophonous and jarring. It took every once of energy not to lose my fragile temper. I moved slowly, spoke cautiously, and although I was not as playful as usual when I am home, I was able to refrain from taking the frustration of that random disaster out on my kids. Once they were successfully in bed, I took a breather, searched again for the document, then outlined what I remember in preparation for rewriting it tomorrow. The closer I was to the loss of the document, the more desperate I was feeling, but as some time intervened and put distance between me and the loss of the document--time not occupied by other things like putting the kids to bed--I could come back to my senses and get back to work. I of course double-checked that the outline was properly saved before I closed it, then emailed it to myself. Now I am fine. Although they say never to bring work home with you, sometimes it requires tremendous effort and you still fail. I think it would be easier to say, "Don't take your work out on your family when you get home." That I can follow.

"Why Can't I Have Everything I Want?"

Tonight at dinner our son asked a question that seems to have been brewing in his mind for some time: "Why can't I have everything that I want?" When you think about it, that is a really good question. I don't know for sue what the right answer is, but my wife and I made some attempts. First, my wife smartly asked him what he thought would happen. He was stumped by his own question. Then we gave it a shot. My wife probably, though not surprisingly, gave the best answer, "If you always got what you wanted, you would never learn to be happy with what you have." The more I think about it, the more I realize that getting what you want also means you don't learn. Without experiencing the have-not moments, its hard to appreciate the have moments or to learn to care for the things you have, because you never have to care much. But, I think that might have been more confusing then helpful to a four-year old.

"Equalizing" the Oldest

I have to admit a special connection with my oldest. He is our only boy, and he's had my individual attention for so long. Because he is older, we can do more together. We love to wrestle, play basketball in the house, and talk about almost anything, and read about almost anything. Now, our middle daughter is starting to take off intellectually, and not even the baby wants to be left out of anything. My son is feeling the adjustment too. He is always asking to play basketball, etc. But some of the games we're used to are games the girls can't play yet, and they feel left out too. So, no matter what I do, someone may feel bad. I am still able to do some things that my son can do that the girls can't, but I have to explain to him more often now that we need to play games that the girls can play too. The hardest part is that they are all too young to understand what I'm trying to do. Maybe this is just one of those parental juggling acts that I can't manage all the time, but may some of the time. I guess in parental terms, that is success.

What Benjamin Franklin Did Wrong

One of my favorite books is the Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin. A printer by trade, he referred to his mistakes as "errata," apparently understanding them to be merely typos in the story of his life that could simply be dismissed as non-substantive and non-detrimental to his character. However, he made the admirable effort to list character traits he wished to develop and track them with a daily chart. His notes indicate that, much like us, he did well some days and poorly other days. It appears from the remainder of his life that his chart was merely a checklist and did not result in his becoming the person he hoped to be. I do not pretend to know the secret to developing a certain character or to becoming the person we seek to become. However, in my efforts to do the same--I keep a journal rather than a checklist--I drill down a little further than the character trait to the habit or actions that prevent me from developing it and make a goal to stop doing that thing or replace it with something better. To me it feels more concrete. It is also more in line with the principle that "thoughts lead to actions, actions lead to habits, habits lead to character." While the broad goal of being kind might work for some, it is easier for me to track a goal like not raising my voice. The reason I raise this issue is that I felt that Easter was a good time for me to make new goals. As I work through this process, I realize more and more the thoughts, words, and actions, that not only hold me back but also provide an incorrect example to those impressionable young minds whose eyes are constantly upon me. It's a lot of pressure, but this at least helps me to keep track of my progress and gives me something to feel good about when I no longer have the urge to raise my voice, etc. Sorry this is a little deeper and less entertaining than previous posts.

Discussing Faith

It seems only appropriate on Easter to share an impression that I felt more deeply today than in the past. Early this morning my wife and I set out various pictures depicting the Biblical account of the Savior's resurrection. While they were eating, I began to explain those pictures and to share with them my personal feeling about the Savior and his resurrection. They appeared to pause and listen and I felt a warm and encouraging sensation that told me that discussing my faith with my children, however personal or awkward/serious that discussion may seem, sinks deep into their hearts. They are sensitive to spiritual things and sensitive to the fact that they are very special to their father. I think part of a corporate dad's responsibility to provide includes providing a spiritual foundation of faith, as well as knowledge of right and wrong, not simply to provide shelter, food, and clothing. It seems like a very challenging time outside our doors, which to me means that families need their fathers at home more often so that their children can watch their fathers discuss and demonstrate their faith.

Why We Sneak In Their Rooms to Check On Them When They're Sleeping

Perhaps I'm the only one who's thought of this. I tend to think pretty abstractly sometimes. Tonight I expressed some frustration with the girls when I put them to bed. They absolutely fight laying down in their beds. I do not know exactly when, but tonight it really bothered me, and I made it crystal clear to them. They eventually laid down to bed, and I left to clean-up a little. But I felt compelled to go back in after a while and check on the girls, half hoping that they were awake still so that I could tuck them in more nicely. But they were sleeping sweetly. I made sure their blankets were on, kissed their little hands and cheeks, and went toward the door to leave. I must have tried to leave two or three times, but I couldn't. I had to stay there for another few seconds to take a last look at them, then another last look, then another. So why do we do it? Given the circumstances of the night, I'd say guilt. It feels better to go back in and make sure they are not traumatized by our grumpiness. And there is that secret hope that they can feel how sorry we are and how much we love them just by our standing there. But I think the reason underlying all the others is that we need to feel the innocence that emanates from them. There is just a purity about them that we long to feel. It's such a comforting feeling that I've been, and was, tempted to just lay on the floor for a while and just soak that feeling in. And though it's true that children are incredibly angelic while they are sleeping, and often less so when awake, I still love being with them because of their innocence and purity. I can just imagine, however, what they might think if they woke up and caught us staring at them. It might give them nightmares. I guess I'd have to quickly pretend that I was in the middle of doing something else. But, being unwilling to stop doing it, I'll just assume they know why we're there and that it helps them feel our love for them.

Turn Coats

My kids turned from gleeful to glum in an instant. I came home from work to the usual excited show-and-tell, then we started getting ready for dinner. My son wanted to keep showing me his dribbling skills with the basketball, and my daughter wanted to do the same thing. At some point I had to say, I want to watch but we need to get ready for dinner. My kids could see me--I know this because they wanted me to watch everything they were doing--but for some reason they couldn't hear me. So, I took the basketball away to get their attention and held it while I explained once again that we need to set the table and get ready for dinner. As I guided my son toward the table, he pushed away and caste a very grumpy look at me. Then my little girl punched me in the arm because I wouldn't let her sit on my lap during dinner. How could they be so excited to see me one minute then treat me like their arch nemesis the next? My wife pulled me into the kitchen and explained that they are so excited to play with me when I get home that they are disappointed when I come home late and don't have time to play before dinner. Since I don't have to work late often, they are accustomed to some play time before dinner. On top of what my wife told me, I knew that I hadn't been playing much with them at all this week. I even told myself on the way home last night to remember to wrestle with them and still didn't do it. It's been a tiring week with a lot of moving stuff to worry about. At any rate, I apologized to them about the way my schedule worked out today and promised them that we'd play after dinner. We did, a lot. I think we all needed that.

Tree Poop and Dinner Deception

Tree Poop--The world of children is full of wonders. The best thing about it is hearing them explain those wonders in their own childish way. After work, the kids and I explored outside while dinner was cooking. We walked through a little tunnel in the line of bushes in front of our house that leads to a hill. Then we went down the hill to a tree with a dark blob of petrified moss near the roots on one side. That's when my son said, "Look, tree poop!" and my daughter repeated, "Wook, twee poop!" It was too much. Sometimes I wish I could explain the world that way. The kids are pretty good at it. Another favorite is, "The car tooted."

Dinner Deception--Our son is truly angelic in almost all circumstances. The only time he's a little stinker is at dinner. Why? Because he refuses to eat anything and makes up not only excuses but outright lies to get out of eating what he doesn't want to eat. He came a picky eater. As he got older, we were able to negotiate so that he would take some bites of what we wanted in exchange for bites of what he wanted. Then we required that he try everything. No matter how much we try to compromise, the battle won't end. Today I laid the guilt on pretty thick by analogizing his refusal to eat with my wife hypothetically throwing away a picture he worked all day to draw for her. He got it, but chose not to do anything about it. What really bothered us though was his dishonesty. He has been sick for a few days, his stomach hurting. Today he was fine but he used the same excuse, modified. "My tummy doesn't feel good. I'm too sick to eat the meat loaf, but I can eat the potatoes and broccoli." Mommy asked him whether he'd be able to eat anything if dinner was German pancakes. He said "yea." Brilliant. We reminded him how serious it was to tell the truth and that what makes us mad is not when he doesn't want to eat the food (we can work around that), but that he tells lies to get out of eating. Later tonight he apologized to my wife, telling her that lying doesn't feel good. I'm grateful that even when my lectures don't work (I'm not sure why), he is sensitive to that still, small voice inside that is teaching him right from wrong. Serious honesty offenders, however, will now be sentenced to bed without books. To the kids, it is as serious as the death penalty (at least they cry like it is).

*By the way, I did show my umbrella to everyone at the office, including the judge, made sure to remember what they said about it, and dutifully reported back to my son. He seemed pleased with that, but it obviously wasn't as big a deal as I thought it was yesterday.

Trouble With Umbrellas

My son recently asked me if I like the umbrella he and my wife bought for me (we lost the last one). I told him that I loved it. I don't think he believed me because I never brought it to work. The reason is that it hasn't been raining on my way to and from work this week. Today I brought my umbrella because the news reported the possibility of rain. My son was excited to hear that when I told him at dinner. He asked if I showed it to my friends at work. I said "yea," meaning I brought it to work and my coworkers probably saw it. Excited, he asked, "What did they say?" I realized that my half-truth just backed me into a corner. I told him that they didn't say anything, but I was sure they liked it. Unfortunately, I think it deflated his excitement a little. Although I tried to talk my way around it, I know that what he heard was, "I didn't really show it to anybody. I'm not that excited about it." The first part is true, but the second part isn't. Had I just been straight forward about the first part, maybe adding that I got to work before they did, that it was under my desk, and that today was so busy that I forgot to show them, then he may not have thought the second part. I think I'm going to have to take my umbrella back to work tomorrow, whether or not it's supposed to rain, and show it to the judge and my coworkers. When am I going to learn not to try to be clever with the kids, just honest. They can see right through it. Imagine if kids were jurors.

Diaper Change Rebellion

This is the third time we have a child old enough to realize, "I don't like getting a diaper change." Now, again, we have to deal with the arched back, the screaming like her arm got cut off, the twisting, tears, and snot, not to mention trying to keep the "mess" in the diaper. The only problem is, this baby is worse than the first two put together. Although it is hard, I just can't wait for her to calm down anymore because it's not going to happen. So, although I'm only changing her diaper, I sometimes feel like I'm torturing her.

Wanting to Be Bigger

Our daughter surprised us today. While the family was gathered in the kitchen after work, I heard some rustling behind me in the dining room. I looked to see my 2-year old setting silverware out on the table (we'd stacked the dinner dishes there). I went over and helped her finish, but she seemed to glow with that "I'm getting bigger!" aura. We let her know we were proud of her. She wants to be older and bigger so badly that, restless as she is, she will even do her older brother's chores. Though I don't mind her doing chores, I'm not sure I want my little girl to grow up that fast.

The Protector

Nothing warms a father's heart like seeing his son protecting his little sister. After having dinner at a friend's house, we talked outside while the kids played. They were taking turns pushing my son on a tricycle. When our friends' boy walked away, our daughter took a turn pushing our son. The little boy saw it and ran back toward my daughter, grabbed her, and tried to tear her away from the tricycle, causing her to scream and cry. The instant my son saw the little boy attacking his little sister, he sprang from the tricycle after the little boy and pushed him away and yelled at him to leave her alone, scaring him away. Not seeing everything that happened, my wife and our friends looked confused, and my wife scolded our son a little for not being kind to the little boy. I explained that he was just protecting his sister, and we couldn't fault him for that. Then I whispered in his ear, "You did the right thing. I'm proud of you for protecting your sister." Interestingly, he acted out a few times later tonight and lost his book privileges. But we wanted him to know how proud we were of him for protecting his sister so we gave him one book back. He seemed to walk a little taller tonight, especially after we told him he was like Captain Moroni in our scripture story tonight.

Movie Night

When my wife and I were engaged, I noticed that my soon-to-be in-laws had a tradition of bringing out all of the cushions and blankets every now and again for a family movie night. The kids loved it, and I could tell it was a tradition that brought them closer together as a family. My now wife and I decided to adopt that tradition right then and there. Our kids are a little younger, so we have to adapt a little, but the kids love it just as much. Tonight's feature was "Kung Fu Panda." My son was so excited that he put on his karate outfit and asked me to put on the karate outfit he made for me. I was a little reluctant at first, but there was no way I could say "no." Just before the move started our neighbor dropped by and saw me. She looked a little confused and asked, "Are you guys doing karate?" I proudly explained that we were dressed up for movie night. The movie was funny, but the best part was that we all played karate after the movie and just before bed. We were just as into it as the kids. No wonder it's so hard to grow up. Anyway, thanks to D & L and family for the idea.

The Toys Outside of the Tub

I couldn't have been more confused when I put the kids in the bath and literally emptied a bag full of bath toys in the middle of all of them. Our 4-year old took a few and played with them on one side of the bath. Our 2-year old took a few and played with them on her side of the bath. Our 1-year old was left in the middle with a pile of the remaining toys floating around her. Yet she could not take her eyes off of the baby soap bottles sitting outside the tub. So much more desirable were those soap bottles than the toys around her that she crawled to the side of the bath, pulled herself up into a standing position, and stretched out to get them from me. This is one of those moments when I think, "What's the point of toys? All they ever want is what you have." Well, you know what they say, the toys are always better on the outside of the tub.

First Family Basketball Game

Imagine a 1-year old, a 2-year old, a 4-year old, and two adults playing basketball. Imagine the mom carrying the 1-year old and the dad carrying the 2-year old (because they only cry when you put them down) throughout the game. Now imagine the dad and the 4-year old vs. the mom. Now picture our basketball game on our back 12 x 8 cement patio with a chalk drawing for a basket. It was more like a big game of keep-away and we couldn't stop laughing. We're grateful the weather is better, and especially grateful for moments like these to play together. The trick is to remember that feeling when you have to bathe them later that night.

Two Baskets

Our dinner guests are gone. Our kids are in bed. Our house is clean. I've worked hard all day. I've showered. I'm ready to relax. But, two baskets of clothes are sitting by the bed. Why is that a problem? My wife is grocery shopping tonight. I'd like to be able to come home to my slippers, newspaper, and recliner. I'd like to watch a soccer game online. But, my wife is grocery shopping tonight. I think more than anything, I'd like to sit and read, enjoy being alone. But, my wife is grocery shopping. I don't have the heart to enjoy myself while she is out grocery shopping. A voice in my head keeps saying, "If she's working while your working, you'd better be working while she's working." I'd better go fold those clothes.

First Set of Stiches

Early this afternoon my wife texted me a picture of my son with a large white bandage around his head. She later informed me that my son tripped down the last few stairs at a friend's house and somehow gashed the side of his head on the way down. The cut was incredibly deep and the EMTs came in response to a 911 call and bandaged him up. My wife took him to the doctor's office to get five stitches. I didn't think I would get so scared, but when my wife showed me a picture of the gash before the stitches were put in, I couldn't stop thinking about how bad it could have been and how little control we really have as parents. My wife told me that he held still for the stitches and was very brave. So, we did what any good parents would do and took him out to buy a little Superman figurine after dinner. He is one tough kid with one gushy father.

Late Bedtime at Dinner

It's getting tougher to get the kids to bed now that days are getting longer. It's even tougher because they are usually so playful after baths and PJs. While playing with the kids and getting caught in the moment, my wife suggested that the kids go to bed later during the summer time. My son dutifully and jubilantly piped up, "Yeah, we can go to bed later during the summer!" In my mind, I roared, "No way! We don't even finish cleaning the kitchen until after 8pm anymore." But I was able to translate my thoughts into something more tame like, "Well, if the kids let us clean the kitchen first then maybe we can stay up later." I'm not sure yet if I really want to go that route. Maybe we could just get darker curtains to taint the windows.

Come on! Let the Kids Have Some Fun!

I'm fun. But my fun has its limits. If it means I have to bathe the kids two nights in a row, I'm not fun anymore. When they asked whether they could roll down the hill outside our front door, I told them as much. Unfortunately, I am alone in this world. My wife was totally on the kids' side, and from the comfort of the childless kitchen, she called out, "Come on! Let the kids have some fun!" I called back, "Okay. I'll also let you bathe the kids!" "Wimp!" she replied. I gave in, and it was so fun watching them roll down the hill laughing on a perfect, cool, breezy day, that I decided to at least dry them off after their baths. I wish I were better, like my wife, at letting the kids have a little more fun, even when it involves dirt and a little extra work cleaning up.

I do give the kids more freedom than I used to. For example, I used to storm into my daughter's room and scold her for playing around when she should have been napping. Now, for the most part, I hear her over the monitor singing and playing and let her fall asleep on her own eventually. Because she can't past the child-proof door knobs, however, I get a little worried when I hear grunting that she may need to go potty. Yesterday, I ran up to her room upon hearing some grunting and saw that she had bent the library books backwards and slipped into the plastic covers. She had one around her legs and another around her torso. She was grunting because she couldn't bend down to get another. It was admittedly hard to be firm putting her back to bed when she did that, because it was so funny. So, I let the kids have fun. Or, I at least forbear from being too firm when they have too much fun.

Blessings and Curses of Soccer

First day of the new soccer season. There is always much to look forward to. One of those things is not being woken up by my son at 6:30 am because he is too excited to sleep any longer. However, I always look forward to his elated expression as he runs his heart out on the field. A new addition this year is his fiercely determined face, which he wears when he's booking it toward the ball. They don't allow goalies yet this season, but our son was able to prevent two goals, one of which he prevented with an awesome steal, the other with a massive kick sending the ball far to the opposite sideline. I have also learned to keep my competitive spirit at bay and just let him have fun. I love playing with my daughter on the side line as we watch the game. And I love the post-game Dad v. the kids game just before we head home. Tonight the kids were as happy as I've ever seen them, except for the baby, of course, who didn't get to play any soccer. We love soccer season despite the occasional unwelcome wake-up intrusions.

Too Many Choices & Soccer

My wife said to my son, "Would you rather have X or Y?" He replied, "Yes." Not five minutes later, my wife asked my daughter, "Would you rather X or Y?" She replied, "No." I wonder if someone tipped them off to the parenting book we're reading about empowering your kids through choices and they conspired to sabotage our efforts. Or maybe my listening skills are rubbing off on my children again.

When exciting things come up in my son's life, we try not to make a big deal of it before it happens. It makes him very anxious and shy about it. So, even though I can't wait until his first soccer game of the season tomorrow, I've been bottling it in. Tonight, when I tucked him in, he told me he was excited about soccer tomorrow. I was tempted to let all my excitement out, but I tried to temper it a little and talk about some of the fun things about soccer other than scoring. He especially loves playing goalie and blocking the ball--at least last year. To be neutral, I thought I'd divert his excitement to getting a new shirt. He can't get stage fright about that, and he is excited about it. The only worry is that he'll get his hopes up for a Buzz Lightyear soccer shirt like the one he has. Last year he cried at his first practice because he had his hopes up to play for the Brazilian soccer team. Can't win 'em all. But I'd rather lose on a T-shirt than on him having fun playing.

Thursdays of Infancy

Since my life revolves around the workweek, I thought I would express my feelings of late about being a father in terms of my workweek.

Sunday (0-1-years old): Just as Sunday is a day of rest and worship, a newborn baby, as much work as it may seem, is somewhat restful compared to later ages. Babies are lighter to carry, somewhat predictable in their schedules and needs, and often snuggly. They cannot yet talk back, and their manipulation skills are still in their own infancy. They may try to wander off a bit, but they are not very fast and they don't get far. Children currently in this category = 0.

Monday (1-2-years old): This is my chance to hit the ground running. My motivation is at its peak. I am well-rested and energetic. I am a fan of good starts. Similarly, a baby at this stage is just beginning to develop her personality, sounds, crawling, and walking. This is an exciting time, and I'm anxious to get off to a good start. Though they are more mobile and better able to manipulate or disagree with you, Monday babies still retain the glow of innocence they brought with them on Sunday. During this stage, I feel a "can-do" attitude. Children currently in this category = 1.

Tuesday (2-3-years old): Just as the excitement of a good Monday wears off as Tuesday progresses, my sympathy and patience begins to wear off as a child moves from two to three. They are fast and furious. What keeps them alive is that they still retain some of the cuteness of babyhood. I can't say innocence, because much of that innocence is feigned when it comes to getting what they want out of us. Yet, they wear their emotions on their sleeves and are obviously still innocent in that they sincerely need us still. Just as Tuesday get busier than Monday, twos get busier than ones. Exploring and experimenting with everything they are supposed to, and everything they are not supposed to. Throughout a Tuesday, I'm really starting to feel the weight of the week, especially during potty training. During the twos, I start to feel similar weight. Children currently in this category = 1.

Wednesday (3-4-years old): It is the middle of the week. I just want to get over this hump. I know that if I can, I can make it through parenthood. If twos are fast and furious, threes are fast and furious times five. More exploring, faster pace, still short attention spans, faster legs, better talking and understanding, more questions, more help to do more things, more picky with food, more disagreements because they can, etc., etc., etc. Threes is a whirlwind, but you tell yourself that when it is over you will be more than halfway through the week. You tell yourself, "just a little bit more." Children currently in this category = 0.

Thursday (4-5-years old): I call it weekend eve. The weight begins to fall off your shoulders as you anticipate that days get better from here on out--the weekend, relaxation, quality time, activities, independence, etc. This seems to be where our babies turn into big kids, and parents anticipate better days to come, greater independence, quality time, relaxation, all of the above. Attention spans grow, self-control develops, independence blossoms into responsibility. I can assign a few chores, enjoy him dressing himself, making his own bed, setting the table, feeding his own fish, cleaning his own messes, brushing his own teeth, saying his own prayers, etc. We can do more activities together, including soccer. He attends school. He communicates well. He uses manners. He is beginning to read and to create instead of merely destroying to making messes. He begins to understand finances (allowance, tithing, spending less than you make, etc.). In short, he is no longer a baby, but a big boy. The only sad part about it is that you are not needed as much. Feelings are guarded, even new feelings you really want to guide him through, like a little crush, insecurity, dealing with bullies, minding manners even when other kids don't, etc. He is really beginning to grow into himself as a child. He is also a sponge, and sparks a great deal of intelligent conversation. Oh, how we are excited for all kids to reach Thursday. And, they hardly need carrying. Children in currently in this category = 1.

After that, the weekend. New challenges arise, but they are much more intellectual and emotional, rather than almost strictly physical and emotional. Monday through Wednesday are exhausting, while Thursday seems to bring new hope and vigor. I have to admit that there are days, like today, when I think, "If I can just get the two youngest over than hump to age four, I'm sure I can do anything."

Nature or Nurture?

What am I doing to my kids? It makes me wonder whether I am too strict or not strict enough. Am I so strict that I drive them to act crazy sometimes? Or, am I such a push-over that I let them do crazy things sometimes? From the frightened look on my son's face after he spilled his bowl of rice all over the floor followed by his elated smile as he proceeded to clean it up by eating and licking it directly off the floor, I would say it was a combination of the two. Obviously he expected me to be angry because I constantly harp on him to face forward and eat over his plate so that he won't spill anymore. I also make him clean up what he spills when dinner is over sometimes. In fact, that is what I asked him to do when he starting eating off the floor. When he started, however, I was so shocked that I decided to give up. I put my elbow on the table and rested my head on my hand while I finished eating. So, perhaps I'm not strict enough. Maybe it's not just our parenting. Knowing me and my wife, he likely inherited the push-me-too-hard-one-way-and-I'll-bolt-the-other personality. Knowing our parents, however, he's probably also inherited the tendency toward random craziness. Whether nature or nurture is responsible for it, All I know is that I have a headache tonight and it won't be my last.

Cowboy Without a Horse

I came home to see my son dressed as a cowboy again, badge and everything. After dinner, my wife took our toddler to run an errand and my son began playing with the baby. So, I was able to quickly clean-up, which, as any parent knows, saves a lot of time at the back end of the night. Perhaps he knew what I was thinking because it wasn't until after I finished that he sweetly asked, "Daddy, can you be my horse?" What kind of father could say "no" to that?

Midnight Moments

Winter has never been friendly to the health of my family. Nor has it been friendly toward our desires for a good night's sleep. The two go hand in hand, since our children's stuffy noses, fevers, coughs, sore throats, etc., disrupt our children's sleep and therefore our sleep. Though it is cute at first to stay up comforting our babies, by the end of winter it is downright infuriating. Such was my feeling not long ago, when our baby not only could not sleep but could not stop crying. Such has been the feeling now that she is sick again. I try to muster up some sympathy for her by thinking about how uncomfortable she feels, how frustrating it is for her not to be able to communicate her needs, or how much it hurts when teeth break through. It works a little. The thing that has rekindled our patience, however, was a talk by a man named Richard G. Scott on families. He told the story of the loss of his infant son to a difficult illness. The baby would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night crying. His condition was such that his heart would race and he would soil the bed clothes. From experience, it is difficult to wake up in the middle of the night to calm a baby and change the baby's clothes and the bed sheets all while feeling groggy. But this man volunteered to give his wife a break and take care of the baby, not knowing that the baby would pass away a short time later. I'm sure he felt peaceful knowing that he appreciated that moment with his son. This had a great impact on my wife and me, and I hope that we can be better at appreciating the midnight moments.

Partners in Crime

As different as our two oldest kids are, they're united in their desires to create a little mischief when Mommy and Daddy are busy with other things. Despite the trouble their conspiracy causes at times, their relationship is heart-warming. They even include the baby where they can and can be heard running and giggling, and often crashing, throughout the house. Purely in self-defense, my wife and I have had to combine forces to conspire against them a little too. We are not above sneaking up behind them and making scary animal noises, chasing them around the house, or subjecting them to tickle torture. It's only fair.

Cinderella Man

No, I did not win any boxing matches. (I really don't stand much of a chance anyway against those Hulk gloves someone gave my kids). When I say Cinderella, I mean like the poor girl who had to clean all the time. I had to clean the whole house today. There was no choice. There was more to do this morning that time in which to do it. We had to divide in order to conquer the tasks of the day or the spell that makes Saturday such a great day would be broken when the clock struck twelve, noon that is. After lunch, we had fun plans. So, if we did not accomplish our morning to-do's then what is supposed to be a relaxing family day could have easily turned into a stressful waste of the one play day I get with my family each week. Between the errands that had to be run and cleaning the house, the lesser of the two evils in my mind was cleaning the house. Thanks to the Berenstein Bears, I was able to clean almost everything before lunch. To be honest, being a man, I did not even realize how necessary it was to clean the house until I could see the anxiety developing in my wife's expression. Though the corporate dad justifiably expects his Saturday to be a relaxing day of fun with the family, he sometimes needs to man-up by getting on his knees and scrubbing the bathroom, etc. In reality, I feel proud of my accomplishment, even to the point of taking the lead role in reminding the kids not to make a mess.

A Little Swim

For our little nephew's birthday party we went swimming at an indoor pool with a kids play area. The pool was amazing. However, our kids wanted to swim in deeper waters (seems to be the story of their little lives). I am glad though, because that meant that they needed me more. They are growing up so fast that while we were in the kid pool they were able to do a lot by themselves, and I kind of missed them. In the deeper water, however, they would jump to me, ride on my back, play games, and goof off with me. Our friendship seemed stronger, and it made me feel like they thought I was pretty cool too. At first I was worried about being able to keep track of both of them at the pool, but, in addition to having family there to help, my kids didn't want to wander off alone. They wanted to be with me. In fact, as far as my son is concerned, that may be why he no longer wanted to play in the kiddie area--because Daddy wasn't allowed to play with him on any of the toys. I'm a lucky dad.