The Bonfire Principle

Evaluation time with the judge today. Instead of touching on things I do well and things I need to work on, our meeting took the form of insightful advice from an experienced practitioner. There was almost a paternal tone to our meeting, especially when he shared with me the bonfire principle, which he first learned as a Marine in training, and later understood after experience as a platoon commander, aid to a prominent senator, counsel to the national security council, and special advisor to the president on national security issues. During a live-fire training exercise in the winter, his training group were freezing while they searched for and attacked various targets. They were approached by a major who asked them why they didn't build a fire to keep warm. The trainees didn't know, they just assumed they couldn't during the training exercise. The major patronizingly asked whether the targets were real. The trainees of course said "no." When the light came on in their minds regarding the major's advice, they took it and built a fire to stay warm. The judge explained that while working in the White House, people's lives depended on the legal advice he offered, and the issues arose nearly around the clock. This meant that he was never able to spend time with his family. He missed birthdays, holidays, and other celebrations--everything. When he became a judge, things changed. There were deadlines, but they weren't a matter of life and death at the appellate level most of the time. So, he took a great deal of time to be with his family. He attends everything, even to the point of coaching his kids' teams and sitting on various committees for their schools and community. In his words, he was no longer at war, so he could build his bonfire and get comfortable. Then he explained that my experience here, though valuable, wasn't real-life. At the firm, partners will drive us much harder and be much more strict. (I always made my deadlines anyway, in case you're wondering). He told me that he is aware of the value I place in my family and thinks that it is right, but that I need to balance that with proving that I am fully invested in the firm next year. I should not be the first to leave, nor be the one continually asking for time off. I need to make a few sacrifices at first, until I've gained greater credibility and report. He said that when I am partner, I should set an example of how to make my family the priority. From what I've seen with my firm, I don't think it will be a big problem. One reason I selected the firm is their emphasis on family. Either way, my wife and I decided to treat the first few years at the law firm as a residency, because that is really what it is in the legal profession. Anyway, I was grateful he took the time to provide such thoughtful counsel. He is not only a good judge, but also a good role model

Becoming Fish

I was a swimmer, so I was excited when our Memorial Day plans included swimming. Two years ago, when we lived in Arizona for an internship, we swam everyday. Our two-year old son was quickly becoming a little fish. Since leaving Arizona, we've only been swimming a few times. Now, our daughter is two and our son is four, and I forgot how basic their swimming skills are. Even so, they both took big steps. My daughter was willing to hold on to my neck while I swam under water. She also went under with me to make faces. My son swam to the bottom with me and touched the bottom at the four-foot depth with both hands. It may seem like a little thing, but for them it was a big deal, and I was a proud dad.

Post-Dinner Games

Sometimes there is so little going on and we are so on schedule with everything and our kids are clean enough to skip baths (usually only on Sundays) that we have time to play games after dinner. Tonight, we started with Simon Says, moved on to Ring Around the Rosie and London Bridges, and ended up, as always, wrestling. I noticed something about each of the kids tonight. First, no matter how hard I tried I could not trick my son in Simon Says. Second, our oldest daughter is able to lead Simon Says. Third, our youngest daughter can now play Ring Around the Rosie, not only that but she threw a fit when we stopped. Most of all, it was a reminder how much I love my family. There is nothing like having nothing to do but laugh and play, though you should see two adults trying to do some of the things Simon said when our two oldest took turns as Simon. We looked pretty goofy and got a good laugh. Too often there is too much to do.

Delight In Torturing Daddy

Our children shrieked with delight when we had a water fight this morning. It was abundantly clear that I did not want to get wet, which only seemed to make getting me wet all the more exciting to them. While all of us were standing in the miniature pool on the back patio, my son finally succeeded in dumping a bucket of water on my shorts. I didn't make a big deal of it, which he seemed to mistake for permission to aim higher. Before I knew it my shirt was wet. I played along for a little while, until he got water on my head and I was bending down to fill my bucket. There was no fear in his eyes, despite making clear my desire to stay dry, only delight. Then it became personal. Water was flying around like a hurricane in that little pool, and though I was dumping far more water on them then they were dumping on me (my daughter was in on this too) they could not stop laughing. Neither could I. I'm glad the kids had the guts to go against my wishes and get me wet this time. It was a clear call for greater participation on my part.

"Are You the Daddy?"

I don't know how this question has passed down through so many generations, because it never works out the way it was intended. I know I will never use it again. At one point during dinner tonight, our daughter decided she was done regardless of how anyone else felt. She declared, "Dinner is over!" I felt differently about it and attempted to tell her by using this useless question, "Are you the daddy?" In response, she simply said, with her usual confidently devious smile, "Yes."

Perhaps we just failed to teach her who daddy really was. Despite our possible failures to teach, my son amazed me today by teaching me his technique for drawing snakes. I tried to follow every move, and our snakes turned out exactly the same. He made periodic inspections of my work and frequently gave me a thumbs up. It was a lot of fun, and he hung them right next to each other. On the other hand, maybe we aren't failing in our teaching as much as it seems sometimes. Our son said some very sophisticated things tonight. When asked whether he would be willing to draw another snake for his little sister, he said, "Surely." He also prayed that he could be respectful in his nightly prayer. Finally, I placed one of his toy snakes on his bed for him to sleep with. Not wanting that particular snake, he set it on the floor and said, "This one is just going to have to sleep on the floor." They are growing too fast!

She Found Her Stride

Our baby girl has been behind on walking due to severe pronation in both of her feet. We were able to get her special braces, but they made her clumsier and she didn't want to walk in them. Because she only practiced walking in the shoes for a short time, I was unsure of how much progress she was able to make, until today. The physical therapist came over to check on her, and, as if she knew she was on stage, she put on a show. Not only that, she continued walking around and cruising all day long. Her confidence is back, and it seems like she's ready to go. I am excited for her and for us, for her because she gets to feel bigger and do more, excited for us because its so much easier doing things with the kids when they can walk on their own.

Two of Each, Talk All Night

Two of Each: Our two eldest are developing the ability to take on responsibilities so quickly now. We continue to make charts for things like chores and reading practice. Our son recently completed his chart for reading practice--two weeks worth. That is difficult for a four-year old. We rewarded him with a toy snake, his favorite animal. It came in the mail today. Frequently, a new toy is a point of contention when only one of the kids have it, even if they both get a new toy at the same time. For some reason, they always want what the other has when the other has it. We were lucky tonight that the contention wasn't serious. In fact, they played most of the evening with our son running from our daughter who was trying to grab the tail. When she did, our son would lead her along to the couch and they would both fall on it. At one point, though, it was too much for our snake-less daughter, and she began to cry from our son's teasing. My wife observed that we should have gotten our daughter her prize at the same time. It seems that is the only solution. Everyone gets the same thing at the same time, whether dolls, cars, Happy Meal toys, etc., regardless of whether they are boys or girls. At this age it doesn't seem to matter. I do have to hand it to the kids, they played so well for so long that we let them play a little longer than usual. Despite the occasional fighting and jealousy, we are grateful they have become such close friends.

Talk All Night: Speaking of friends, it seems that our two girls are becoming good friends too. We can tell because they stay up in their rooms talking and laughing after we put them to bed. We are glad that our baby is old enough to play a little with her big sister because they both tend to sleep in more. My wife joked that she would rather they stay up late talking than put a curtain up between them. I wondered though whether our kids' friendships have been forged in adversity, meaning in the face of strict parents. I thought maybe we should be the ones to put a curtain up when they get a little older, because they will likely rebel, move the curtain, talk all night, and become better friends. In fact, with our kids' inherited stubborn personalities I'm pretty sold on the idea of using these forms of reverse psychology to achieve beneficial results. We've even thought of raising our son with constant warnings to stay away from a little girl we like in the hope that he will want to marry her in the future. I'm sure the same will work for our girls. I'm still not sure how to keep them away from the opposite gender until that time. I'll have to think through it a little more.

Long-sleeve Shirts

Usually I try to write something insightful about being a corporate dad. One thing I've tried to do is pay closer attention to the little things that make the effort at balance worth it. For example, our baby girl was reaching some important benchmarks that I might have missed had I not been looking. She cruised down the small stairs, walking on her feet while holding on to the side of the coach. She played with a toy horse, making it gallop. She knows how to roll a ball back and forth. She is also beginning to say things like, "wawa" and "bubbles." She is discovering things everywhere, including on my forearms when I read to her. At first, it was sweet having her pat and rub my arms while I was reading. Then, she discovered the hair on my arms and began pulling while I was reading. Needless to say, I had to pause a lot to grimace in silence while my arm hair was being pulled. Far be it from me to discourage my daughter from discovering by yelping out loud. Next time I'll just wear long sleeves.

Foresight

When my daughter tries to wiggle out of my arms while I'm standing with her, propels her head backwards in a tantrum while sitting on a hard floor, or arches her back to struggle away while I'm changing her diaper, I can't help feeling tempted to ask her, "Did you think this through?"

Parent's Fault

It's our fault that they threw tantrums. They were too tired. We went to a friend's house and stayed too late, though all of us could have stayed much longer. We didn't realize how tired we were until it was time to confront the first restraining experience of the night: getting buckled into the car seat. Things were up and down from there. We barely survived bath time and getting the kids ready for bed. We divided and conquered for that. I was lucky that I got the baby. She was in a surprisingly good mood after bath. We played a little, read a book, then went to bed. The older two, however, were fighting. Under normal conditions, my wife and I probably would have lost patience, but we knew the blame was with us. They eventually calmed down and went to bed happy. All in all, the extra time with friends was well spent, but the night went off successfully because we looked at the tears, saw the pushing, heard the screaming, and remembered they were just too tired to be rational, and we were to blame.

When Daddy's in Charge

Mommy got a day off for Mother's Day, and she used it today. She loved every minute of it, and deserved every minute of it too. Being in charge of the kids, I quickly realized that I am not as astute in managing the household as my wife. So, I add some fatherly improvisation, meaning ice cream. Yes, the children remain as happy as if Mommy were at home with them.

In the evening, Daddy had to really be in charge, meaning charging, to the rescue. At a BBQ this evening, everything suddenly went quiet except for my wife's voice ringing out, "Run. Our daughter is going to go potty in the grass." I dropped my plate and ran, and as I did, the scene passed by in slow motion. I wondered whether I would make it in time. Just before she got her pants down, I made it and took her to the indoor potty. Her explanation, "I want to go potty like the doggies on the grass."

Bruce Lee Arms

For anyone whose ever seen the classic 80's movie, "The Last Dragon," the image of Bruce Lee's arms flying as quickly as propeller blades. We've implemented a manner jar where we put a bean in the jar for every manner our kids use at the dinner table. Our kids caught on quickly, which means that between dropping beans in the jar, feeding the baby, and trying to eat, I felt like my arms were moving as quickly as Bruce Lee's. You might be asking, "Where was your wife during dinner?" She was there, but I wanted to give her a break. As fast as my arms were moving during dinner, hers move that fast all day.

Daddy Needs Close Supervision

Snake drawing is very serious business. My son knows I am not very good at drawing snakes, but he insists that I draw him one every day. One snake is not too much to ask. To help me along, my son laid open a book with a picture of a copperhead. Then he hung over my shoulder, gently saying, "Now look at the picture," every time I paused to think about what I was doing. Then, when I finished he congratulated me on a great snake. It was very sweet, though it made it a little difficult to concentrate on the picture as he kept trying to help me by reminding me to look at the picture. I jokingly told him, "You're micromanaging me." Now that I've had time to think about it, he reminded me of me, minus the sweetness part. That was all him.

The Bitter and The Sweet

Bitter: The first bitter is family dinner. Whoever did the study finding that the intellectual development of children is most closely correlated with family dinner must have studied only families with children over the age of four. The way our family dinner went tonight, I can hardly see how it could help their development. It is an intense battle between adult and child to eat what they are given while trying to keep in mind that we don't want to be so strict that they hate dinner and us. Despite trying to keep that delicate balance, we usually use every tactic in the book, including those the book tells us not to use, in order to get them to eat. By the end of dinner, we've threatened everything short of the death penalty, but to no avail. Tonight, the kids missed out on our planned ice cream for family night, as well as all but one book before bed. We did (we meaning my wife) come up with a brilliant plan to keep a jar at the dinner table and fill it with one bean for every manner they use at the dinner table. As a bonus, we add two beans for each child who finishes dinner. We'll see if it works. The jar idea was related to our family night lesson, which was, you guessed it, all about manners.

Sweet: Our four-year old son said the family prayer before bed last night. Twice he said, "I forgot something," and we folded our arms again and listened. It was the second amendment to his prayer that really caught my attention: "And please bless Daddy that he can practice drawing his cobras and rattlesnakes." After the prayer was finished, he politely reminded me what he had just prayed for. Who knows what the true motivation was for adding that to his prayer. On the one hand, he knows I need the practice. The last one I drew for his was so bad he laughed at it. On the other hand, I can hardly think of a better way for a child to get his parents to do something than to include it in a prayer. So, before he went to bed I drew a cobra, and it is now hanging in his room. Of course, for his prayer to really be answered I need to keep practicing.

The Difference Between Dads and Moms

This is a matter of serious study. Today, parts of the answer have come to me (with a little help, of course). First, we see money differently. My wife is not allowed to go over budget for food and household items because she is the one who spends the money. But I can for a hobby because I never spend our money. Second, my wife must answer the cell phone when I call, because what I have to say is always important (and I can't multi-task). But when my wife calls me, I don't have to answer because everything I do is always important. Obviously, I'm being sarcastic. But, I'm a little serious too, about my behavior that is. When I realized how unfair I am sometimes, I got a little worried about it. Sorry Honey.

Unexpected Cure

My wife and I have been hit by a serious case of apathy. We are in a holding pattern as far as preparing for our move at the end of the summer. We've also been preoccupied by the minutae of life, including our monthly budget and how to manage the kids at church in a way that somehow maintains some semblance of reverance and yet frees us up enough to enjoy it. We disagree on some points regarding both these issues. I'm sure you can guess that I am the more draconian of the two of us. Either way, we lost much of our desire for anything, including playing with the kids, keeping our goals, and even working as hard at work. We've still done all those things, but only half-heartedly. We talked about it tonight quite a bit before going to bed and decided to pray for the desire to return. Shortly thereafter, our baby woke up crying. We weren't too bothered by it, although we had just started falling asleep. We put her back to bed and laid back down. Then she started crying again. This was a little annoying. My wife went to get her some medicine because she is teething. Next thing I knew, our little girl was sitting on our bed by me, playing with the contents of the medicine basket. She got her medicine, but we couldn't put her back to bed. We just watched her for about thirty minutes. Something about her captured our complete attention. She was pure, innocent, and angelic. Her presence seemed to open our eyes to what was really important, to raise our vision from the minutae to the eternal. We commented back and forth about all of these as we just watched her and talked to her. We only put her back to bed because we had to. She fought going back to bed tooth and nail, but her presence had already provided the cure we needed. We fell asleep and woke up this morning happy and motivated. Our desire was back. The cure, as is often the case with answers to prayer, was unexpected.

The Economics of Perfection

My first impression upon seeing my son laying on his stomach next to a perfectly straight line of open rattlesnake books practicing his rattlesnake drawings. Boy is he determined. Another minute of observing and I began to feel a little bit concerned too. You see, he quickly became unsatisfied with his drawing and tossed it on to a pile of about 20 other discarded drafts. I later discovered he had been at it for close to two hours without feeling satisfied about a single one. The only reason he stopped is that he ran out of paper. I tried to help him find some more, but all we really had left, besides some scraps, was a new ream of printer paper. Suddenly, an image popped into my mind of a discarded draft pile 520 pages high. I wasn't sure what to say or do. On the one hand, I want to encourage him to strive for excellence, not mediocrity. And, if he is self-motivated enough to practice 520 times in one day, he will certainly draw excellent rattlesnakes. On the other hand, a four-year old sure wastes a lot of paper. He only drew one snake per sheet. We already had him use the backs, but you can fit a lot of snakes on each side, especially if it's only practice. For a minute, I was afraid I would altar the future of a little boy destined to be the world's greatest rattlesnake artist. This was a surprisingly tough decision to make. I discouraged him from using the printer paper. Ultimately, after finding some more pieces of scratch paper, I could tell he looked sad. So, I dropped down to his height and asked him what was wrong. He said he wasn't happy with any of his drawings. I told him that it was okay. He was just practicing, and the more he practiced the better he would get until he was happy with them. Finally, I told him I was proud that he was working so hard. He burst into tears and ran to his mother. Apparently, I didn't say the right thing. I was so surprise by his reaction that I sat by to see what my wife would tell him. My wife told him that when she practices something for a long time without taking a little break, she gets worse at it, but that a snack break would give his brain more energy to try again later. Of course, she said the right thing and my son was happy. Until I figure out what what I said was wrong and what she said was right, I hope our son continues to persist. What ever he chooses to do with his life, he will be truly great at it, even if we have to budget for extra paper.

One-Man Band

Now I know how to describe how I feel as a dad when I'm home playing with the kids, like a one-man band. The poor soul who plays a one-man band has to somehow focus every limb on a separate task, while walking and blowing into a horn. I feel the same way. For example, the kids were wrestling with me today, but each was playing a different game. So, with one hand I would hold my daughter who loves to stand on my chest, while with the other hand I was swinging a couch cushion at my son who was practicing his karate punches. With my legs, I bounced the baby, who kept crawling around on my tummy and legs. The girls also used my sides and legs as slides. Of course, with my mouth I was laughing, grunting from being stepped on, and encouraging my son's punches, all at the same time. Pretty good. I guess instead of a one-man band, it is more accurate to call me a one-man play ground.

*This analogy wouldn't work for my wife unless you called it a one-woman symphony orchestra playing all day long and several evenings too.

May 13, 2011--Father/Son Camp Out

The last time we tried this with some friends was a year ago and we got stormed out. Really. We were with friends at the campsite when it happened, and all of our wives were having a party at one of our homes. When we came back at about midnight, our wives made fun of us and didn't believe us until the next morning when the news reported the seriousness of the storm. That didn't stop them from continuing to make fun of us. The weather forecast for this weekend included a high chance of rain, but I was determined to go through with it. My son and I loaded the car up after work and took off for an all-guys camping trip. My daughter was heart-broken that she couldn't come. That made me sad too. Other than that, the trip was one of the best uses of my time with my son I've ever had. Well, I also neglected smores supplies, but my son isn't very attached to those yet. We stopped at McDonald's on the way and talked and joked over dinner, which is a bit of a cop-out, I know, but as we arrived at the campsite and saw other fathers slaving over the fire until 8 pm to finish their Dutch-oven dinners, I felt glad we did. One of those dads said that he had to do it because it was tradition. I joked that I am thinking very carefully about which traditions I want to start. I am happy to start Dutch-oven-dinner-as-long-as-we-get-to-the-campsite-by-noon-and-the-kids-are-old-enough-to-help-me tradition. We set-up the tent and sleeping bags, then played at the playground. We came back before dark to sit in our camp chairs by the fire playing flashlight games and eating snacks. We also brushed our teeth while sitting there and tried to see how far we could spit the rinsing water. That activity resulted in a particularly bright twinkle in my son's eyes. Finally, when he said he was ready for bed we got into the tent and read rattlesnake books (his favorite thing right now) until we were both ready to sleep, though he reminded me we needed to say prayers first. We both woke up at 6 am. He said he had fun and was ready to go home. So, we packed up and drove out of the park. As I was driving, I felt a strong tinge of regret that we didn't go hiking. I asked him if he wanted to, he said he did, and we drove back and went on a beautiful hike through the woods to the river. He reminded me as we walked that I needed to look six feet all around me so that we wouldn't get rattlesnake bites. He was not-so-secretly hoping to see an Eastern Diamondback rattlesnake. In fact, when we arrived at the rocky shore of the river we looked in all of the holes and cracks (from a safe distance, of course). Throughout the camping trip we talked about so many things. He asked questions like, "How do they make gum?" and "Why do they call it a forest?" neither of which I was able to answer. We also talked a lot about rattlesnakes and joked about other things. We also just enjoyed experiencing something fun together. It has been a few months since we've had a boys night, and we needed this time together I think. As the girls get older, they need a little more, and my son and I get less one-on-one time. I am reminded how much I admire him, how good he is, and what a good friend he is. Every father should make time to take his son camping.

May 12, 2011--The Breather

There is always a rush of energy that greets me when I arrive home from work. My children often come screaming and cheering and making me feel like a rock star. The cheering ceases after about 15 seconds and is replaced by clamoring for my attention. There is always something that they made or that they are doing that they want me to see. The two oldest might grab my hands and pull me in two different directions while the baby is on her knees looking up at me with her hands raised and wanting me to pick her up. Somehow I manage to make them wait a minute while I greet my wife, who is grateful to have the herd grazing at my feet instead of hers, yet still plugging away at dinner after a day of non-stop physical labor. Once show and tell is over, it is time to get down to business, which often consists of wrestling prior to dinner. There is no down time, but wrestling seems to help me wind down too. But today there was no time to wrestle. We had to return the library books and one was missing. My wife and son had spent a considerable amount of time looking throughout the house. Then I spend some time doing the same. My wife was also going grocery shopping tonight, so I needed to get our moving paper and boxes out of the back of the van. Before I could get to the van, it was time for dinner. Thankfully my son set the table without being asked multiple times. After dinner it was off to bath. After bath it was off to read, pray, and go to bed. After the kids were in bed, it was time to clean the kitchen and toy room. After that it was time to get out my camping gear for a father/son camp out tomorrow night. I am glad I am doing this daily blog, because it gives me a chance to take a breather.

Vindicated

Diamondback rattlesnakes need diamonds, and since were are now unwilling to draw more than one rattlesnake per day, we needed to teach our son how to draw diamonds. My wife and I had very different approaches. I showed him it was like drawing a square that got tipped over. My wife showed him it was like drawing two Vs facing each other. She also showed him how to connect the dots. At first he had better luck using the Vs approach and the connect-the-dots, and my wife and I chuckled because she is always the one with more practical solutions. Then he got frustrated. So he drew a square, tilted the paper, and said, "Look, a diamond." Yes! (My wife claims my way is cheating).

Will You Draw Another Rattlesnake?

Will you draw another rattlesnake? I now know how it feels to be asked the same question one too many times. The first rattlesnake drawing resulted in tears because it was coiled, not straight. The second one had to be cut out. The third, fourth, and fifth times he asked were during time with the the other kids, dinner, and clean-up. My son could hardly eat he was so anxious for us to draw more rattlesnakes. My son has a passion for rattlesnakes and wants to fill the walls of his room with cut-out rattlesnake drawings. I'm all for it, just not in one night.

Are You Smarter Than a One-Year Old

At first I wanted to write about my struggles with changing our baby girl. She has begun to assert her displeasure much more aggressively, most often when we want her to lie on her back for a diaper change or to hold still to change her clothes. It's funny that in another year she will be like her sister and brother and want to change into new outfits throughout the day, but I guess she is just unhappy that she cannot do it on her own terms like them. But, I realized that I didn't really learn anything from trying to fight her in order to change her except the fact that I forget how little she is and tend to tell her in my mind, "Don't you understand how difficult your life will be if you don't let me change your diaper?" Perhaps I am not smarter than a one-year old if I have to argue with her in my head.

But, I'm not going to write about all of that. Rather, I'm going to write about how a little history lesson taught me something I might need to improve as a father. On the train home I read about how Christian pioneers settled in the Salt Lake Valley and had to learn how to deal with small groups of depraved Indians who were cast out of their own tribes and incessantly stealing from the colonists. At first, several of the pioneers tried to win them over by trying to fit in with them, meaning they stopped washing their faces for several days, etc. But doing so only made the Indians take greater advantage of the pioneers. The leader of the pioneers then told the colonists that the only way to improve life with the Indians was to stand on higher ground. True, it would make them uncomfortable with the colonists for a time, but it would lead to greater respect and a greater ability to improve the Indians' standard of life. I'm not saying that I compromise my values or no longer take showers, but I think fathers tend to be the "toy" parent. I quickly learned that toys don't get a lot of respect--we have a whole corner of the house full of disregarded toys (I'm picturing my face on one of the stuffed animals there). While I have strong desires to play and bend over backwards for the kids during our limited time together each day, they need more than a friend in their father. I facetiously say I need to be smarter than my one-year old, or four-year old or two-year old, but what I really mean is that I recognize that the kids need me to be an adult at times too.

The "R"

Happy Mother's Day! My son had a great idea for a gift for my wife: a CTR ring. I didn't think that trying to get it would be as much fun as it was with the kids. First, we held secret meetings to select the ring, figure out the size, and order it. Second, we created a code word--the "R"--so that my wife wouldn't figure out what her gift was when we needed to make reference to it. Third, when the ring came in the mail, we selected the best hiding place we could find: one of my snow boots. Finally, last night we held another secret meeting to wrap it. We actually wrapped it together. For several days, these kids were giddy with anticipation, as was my wife. We enjoyed every minute of conspiring to surprise her, while my wife tried to figure out what we were doing. Then, when we were finally able to open the ring tonight, my wife was so excited. Later, as she was talking to them and thanking them, she shed some happy tears and gave them much deserved hugs and kisses. I think the kids and I felt very pleased with our effort to make my wife feel how much we love her today. I think Mother's day really brought us closer together this year.

Mean Dad

Although we had a great family day--complete with soccer, flying a kite (or unsuccessfully attempting to do so), dinner at the new Cafe Rio with friends, and ice cream at Cold Stone--I feel like a mean Dad. First, I talked my son out of wearing his Spider Man costume to play soccer, mainly because he was so busy watching his cape flap around at last week's game that he didn't seem to notice he was in the middle if a game. Second, I ran so fast with the kite to try and keep it in the air that my little girl couldn't keep up and began to cry and I ran over my son in the process. Third, as my daughter's ice cream cone was dripping I offered to lick the edges for her, and, just as she handed her cone to me, I dropped it on the ground. Of course, my kids went to bed happy and probably haven't given a second thought to any of this. It seemed that this family day was one of our most fun together, and I tried to make up for any tears caused by my sternness or clumsiness today, but a father's guilt continues to linger sometimes. It did help that we got to work on a little Mother's Day secret tonight, and that I got to read to them and put them to bed. If my kids read this, the'd probably think I was a big mush ball. Who wouldn't be with kids like mine?

Honor Thy Father and Thy Mother . . .

"That thy days may be long upon the land." Now I know why that last part of the scripture is there. Have you ever heard a parent say, "If you want to live to your next birthday, you'd better . . . ." Often, when we try to ask the kids to do something, especially our toddler, we are ignored, fought, screamed at, dead-weighted, or delayed almost to an emotional breaking point. This morning after our baby girl woke our toddler up too early and neither would go back to bed, after our toddler screamed at the top of her soprano lungs about absolutely everything, and after I left my wife alone to get the kids ready for school, I received a text message indicating that today the kids were pushing the line. Luckily, nap time brought sweet reprieve and all was well when I got home. So much so that the kids were even cooperative at dinner. I still don't know how my wife does it. I probably would have snapped. I joked about this with my wife, but it turned out I was the only one who thought this interpretation of the scripture was humorous.

Slow Days, Hard Days

There are days, like today, where work is just slow. On these days I usually come home feeling pretty drained, more drained than on busy days when I have so much to do that I barely have time to eat lunch. I did not have to wonder why that is for very long. I'm reminded of a job interview I had while in law school where the subject of challenging work and balancing family came up. I told the interviewers that I'd rather have the challenge and that it would make me a better husband and father because being challenged not only helps me grow but it also keeps me happy. It is stimulating and invigorating, albeit tiring. I think I'd rather come home tired and fulfilled that just tired. Of course, I recognize that this is the end of the judicial term and that work is slowing down. It seems that legal work will never come at an even pace, it is either drought or monsoon. So, I'm certainly not discouraged. However, it reminds me why I should not seek work based solely on a light schedule or light workload, rather on the personal growth and fulfillment it offers. It may be a little more difficult to leave at 5 pm, but I will be happy. I think that that is something my kids need to see as well. Hard work pays emotionally as well as financially.

Age Check and Fitted Sheets

It was almost dinner time and our son began to whine in anticipation of being forced to eat something he's already forgotten he's tried and liked several times before. That strange feeling of frustration, desperation, impatience, and anxiety mixed together began to simultaneously swell up from my gut and sweep down from my head to ultimately converge in my throat and overflow from my mouth onto that poor boy. But I reminded myself, "He's only four." Then our daughter began to cry at the table because she wanted to get down early and play. My wife was experiencing a headache, and I could tell she was beginning to experience the same feeling I had a minute ago. I said, "Honey, she's only two." Not a few minutes later the baby dropped food on the floor, and that feeling came back--you can tell dinner is a stressful time for us--and my wife reminded me, "She's only one." It's a good thing at least one of us remembers the kids' ages at times like these and can remind the other. Amazingly, no tempers were lost and no voices were raised, except in rejoicing that we made it through dinner.

Perhaps our short fuses, which miraculously did not get burned out at dinner, were the result of staying up too late last night folding a seemingly endless supply of laundry. I am all too happy to help fold almost anything. But when my wife handed me a fitted sheet I threw it back into the basket in frustration and proclaimed, "I do not fold fitted sheets!" It began back when I realized just how overwhelming all of that laundry was, and trying to be a sweet husband, jumped in to lend a hand. I grabbed a fitted sheet and began to fold it, quickly realizing that solving a Rubik's cube would be easier. I made several attempts, determined to face this challenge and conquer it. Each time, I was met by laughter and teasing from my wife as I witnessed her effortless and perfect refolding of the fitted sheet I had just "folded." Eventually, it became too much. I am not a quitter, but I do know when I do not have the mental or physical capacity to do something. Folding a fitted sheet is that something.

Necessity Breeds Greatness

Desperation. There's no other word for it. Desperation is the feeling you get when you are at the dinner table with three very bored and whining kids while Mom brings out the food. Two minutes seems like twenty minutes. They were already on the verge of screaming, and I probably was too, so I decided we should all scream. We did, and the kids stopped whining. They looked at me as if expecting me to do something else fun. I had to think quickly. The only idea that popped into my head was a copycat game. I pointed at my head. They pointed at their heads. I pointed at my nose. They pointed at their noses. I made funny faces. They made funny faces. So intent were they on doing exactly what I was doing that all was blessedly still until dinner was served.

Going Off Script, etc.

Another night of putting the kids to bed myself. My brilliant wife prefers to go shopping at night without the kids. Knowing what she goes through taking the kids shopping with her, I can't blame her a bit. Logistics get tricky, however, because although I can read to all of them together, I have to put them all to bed separately and with a different routine. The baby needs a bottle, the toddler needs to go potty first, and our little boy says his own prayers with us next to him. The trickiest thing is the bottle--I can't feed the baby while I'm reading, and I can't make the other two kids wait for books while I'm feeding the baby. So I tried to improvise. After reading books to all of them, I tried to entertain the older two with silly songs while feeding the baby. To my surprise, it worked. I think part of the reason was that I was willing to move "off script" and play along with them by making up words and sounds that don't belong in the song. We got plenty of laughs, though I had to tolerate a few wrestling matches and other silliness. Knowing my ability to get frustrated when things aren't exactly as I want them, I feel a true sense of accomplishment when I have to put the kids to bed by myself and they go down with smiles on their faces.

*By the way, tonight confirmed that the hardest part of every day for a while will be dinner time. Our baby girl now wants to feed herself, and we want her to learn how. That means food on the floor. Our little girl often tries everything but gets bored and restless quickly. Our son won't even start eating until 20 minutes into dinner, which means that by the time "the kitchen closes," he's missed out on whatever incentive was predicated upon finishing dinner--tonight it was riding bikes outside. Interestingly, he threw a bit of a tantrum, only to be found a minute later playing on the couch and singing happily, "Shew fly, don't bother me." It seems like we have to mentally and emotionally prepare ourselves all day for this moment. It makes bath time and bed time seem like a breeze. I guess the only good side to all this is that my wife makes delicious food, and I get to eat what they leave on their plates.

Guilty Praise, etc.

I would consider myself a very positive person. I am a firm believer in being strict, but not withholding compliments or praise when our kids do positive things. We've raised our kids to be pretty confident I think. Lately we've noticed that our son has become a little too confident in certain things, which ironically presents road block to his progress in various things like reading or obeying. We've complimented him so much about every effort he's made with reading that he started to believe that he can read perfectly. After a great deal of introspection I realized that while complimenting is good and withholding due praise is not, much of the over-praise I give often stems from a little bit of guilt for being too strict, too tired, too busy, or just too scared to provide needed criticism. I also realize that what is important about our children's efforts and what will really build confidence is when they think they are doing a good job, not us. Which means that when they feel they did poorly and hear us lavishing praise, they might feel our praise is insincere and resent it. Or they will simply receive mixed messages (or schizophrenia) from my alternating strictness and praise. My wife and I talked a lot about it last night and tried to be more conscious of it today. Our kids do not need praise, they need sincerity, in constructive criticism as well as in praise, both of which should usually be built on a few questions to them about their feelings: "How did you feel about your game?" "How do you think you did with your reading practice today?" "What do you think about the picture you drew?" My wife is really the one who helped me to do this today. Interestingly, I could be less strict (verbally) today and get a better response from the kids, and there was no guilt to deal with in the end. I felt like I connected better with the kids today, and felt--although it may sound strange when referring to kids 4 and under--mutual respect for each other throughout the day.

*As a side note, I also found it funny today that despite the high standards to which I am held, and hold myself, in an adult setting, I agreed to draw a picture of the biggest billy goat gruff for my son today, knowing it would be mediocre at best. To my surprise, he showed it to my wife and said, "Mommy, look what Daddy drew! Can you hang it up in my room?" It's a wonder to me that dads don't spend more time at home where even their lack of talent is appreciated that much.