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.