Broken Boards

It's been a while since I've written, but I'm staying up late to write this because I can't get it out of my mind. My 5-year old son recently broke his first board in Taekwon Do. Prior to that we had him in the class on a trial basis, with the option of putting him in the class permanently if we were happy with it. There is also the option of participating in the leadership program, which supplements the weekly classes with additional training focused on developing character. Our son knew we were contemplating the leadership class, because he loves it and he is good at it. Not only that, he is truly a good boy. However, I am an impatient father who has gotten used to the high standard my son has set for himself, so I forget just how good he is sometimes. Perhaps just to remind us how good of a boy he his, he surprised his mother this morning by cleaning his room, making his bed, and getting ready all by himself. This past weekend, we already told him we thought putting him in the leadership class was the right thing for him, because he already demonstrates good leadership at home on a regular basis. This just confirmed it, and I came home from work to my son wearing a special belt given to kids in the leadership program. My favorite part was the look in his eyes of self-confidence, which is what every parent hopes to see in their kids. I have to admit, I felt very proud of him and excited with him about this. But things took a turn for the worst at bedtime. He came out of his room several times complaining that he couldn't feel the fan and wanted to be tucked in again. Well, we have a rule that if he gets out of bed he has to tuck himself in. My wife and I just settled down for the makeover edition of Biggest Loser when he came out again. By this time, we'd already sent him back in his room and threatened to take his special belt so he couldn't sleep with it. So, I had to go up and take it away. He came out again. My wife went up. He came out again. This time, he physically resisted my efforts to guide him back to bed. Not sure what to do, and frustrated beyond reason, I carried him to his bed with an angry lecture about how he could have avoided all this by staying in bed. Immediately after leaving his room, I felt it: guilt. He was so good all day, until that moment. He was also so excited about his leadership class and new belt and probably wanted to talk about it with me some more. He was feeling so self-confident today, and I felt like I just crushed it by getting angry at him for the one mistake he made all day. Well, I don't think I know what the right way of handling this was, but I'm sure I didn't do it. I did go back up after cooling down to apologize for getting angry and to talk to him about what happened. Mostly, I wanted to reassure him that although he made a mistake, we still felt like he was a leader and earned the chance to be in the program and that we loved him. I also told him that we make mistakes too. Then he asked if the judge (my recent employer) made mistakes too. My son rightfully looks up to the judge as a leader. I said yes - sorry Judge. I think that made him feel a little better. He was sad to learn that he couldn't have the belt back tonight, but understood that he still has to face the consequences of his choice to get up. I think we both felt better. Then came the real test. He came out once more, this time just to complain about the light coming under the door and keeping him awake. I turned out the light, he went to bed, and my wife and I were able to finish the show in peace. What would have been the right response when he will not obey, but insists on staying up and making a loud fuss, ruining our show and potentially waking up the girls? Who knows. At least he knows that we still believe he earned his opportunities in Tae Kwon Do despite mistakes here and there.

Different Than Before

Coming home from work is one of my favorite things. The baby is usually the first to run up to me, yelling, "Daddy!" I pick her up and get a big hug, then she rubs my hairless head and says, "Head." When she finally lets me put her down--which is just as hard on me as it is on her--I signal to the older kids the excitement they should feel when I come home by yelling enthusiastically, and a bit facetiously, "Daddy's Home!" When the kids are in the kitchen, it's my wife who yells it. That way they go running to find me and let her finish dinner. Either way, I get my smiles and hugs from them too. Then begins "show and tell," where the kids simultaneously tell me about their day and show me tricks on the couch or pictures or crafts they created. I love it all, and no matter how my day is, I try to muster up all the energy I can to engage with them fully while they are showing and telling. Then, they run off to something new and the work begins. Most of the time it's preparing for dinner. Tonight, it was babysitting the children of good friends while they went out, in addition to flying solo with my own kids while my wife went to a meeting. For a while, I thought I was pretty amazing. I got the girls bathed, let the kids play without hovering like I usually do to make sure they share and use manners or anything else I can think of. They seemed to be having fun. Then I put on a brief show for the kids while I put the girls to bed. Man was I efficient. But my four-year old son, the most perceptive and insightful little boy I've ever known, said, "Daddy, your different than before." It took me a moment to digest what he was saying--that's how smart he is. Then I got it. I asked, "Am I being a little grumpy?" He said, "Yeah. You're excited when you get home. Now you're different." I didn't have a response. I think I lamely mumbled something about having to take care of six kids all by myself. But I can't get what he said out of my mind. It seems that what he's saying is that during the short time I am home he wants me to stay engaged, to slow down. Didn't he see how much I got done tonight? Clearly not. What he did see was that I was zooming through the house too quickly to really play with them or even to have our full bedtime routine. Now that they are in bed, I see it too. Going to bed on a night like this feels a little unsatisfying, like running around the office all day without billing any time--there's no value added.

Table Talk

Try this at home: Tonight at dinner I decided to interview my children to see how much they knew about my career.

Me: Do you guys know what Daddy does for work?

Kids: No.

Me: Do you know where Daddy works?

Kids: No.

Me: Do you remember coming to my office?

Kids: Yes.

Me: Let me ask you about my office. What color is my chair?

Kids: Brown.

Me: What pictures do I have up on my wall?

Kids: Pictures of the family and a drawing of a rattlesnake.

Should I be surprised that the things they remember most about my career are the office chair I spun them in, the family pictures they took for Father's Day, and the drawing of a rattlesnake my son drew for me?

The Data Plan and The Family Plan

Have you ever been in a conversation with someone who continually pulls out his or her phone to check emails while you are still talking to them? Believe me, the experience still leaves a sour taste in my mouth. So when I got the job offer at a law firm--a really good law firm, meaning relationship-centered--I thought I could go without a phone with a data plan. I continued under this delusion until two weeks into my job when I realized that in the days leading up to a deal I'm basically on call. Just prior to realizing that I need to succumb to this, the sour taste got a little more sour. I decided to sign-in to my work email from home and check-in throughout the night regarding a deal. There were emails going back and forth until about 9:30 pm. But they were emails that could have waited until the next day. I thought, "if a smart phone requires me to stay up and constantly check and answer these kinds of emails all night, I'm definitely not getting one." I realized that this wasn't entirely realistic. Senior lawyers want things off their plates quickly, so they send them off as they think of them. Not only that, why wouldn't a lawyer answer an email, even one that could wait, during a break in the action at home in the evenings if it meant he could make money doing so (assuming of course that it was related to a client file)? Although I stand by my position that people are too attached to their smart phones--more so than to real people standing in front of them, in some cases--I think I had a chip on my shoulder. This is a good career at a good firm with great people. Starting out at a firm is like a medical residency: it is intense and an important way to ear your spurs as a professional. It is also like starting a business. The other attorneys are my clients for now, until I get clients of my own. You can't beat the training. Also like a residency, sometimes I will be on call. So, what does this have to do with the family plan? Simply put, the family plan, as one partner described it, is that family comes first. Work comes second. Just make it a close second. The way I apply this statement is that an ounce of prevention prevents a pound of trouble. There is no need to work Saturdays or Sundays, as long as I put in extra time during the week. I start a few hours early every day, and planned with my wife to call-in no more than two late nights a week, if necessary, during a normal work week. As to the smart phone: don't let it be smarter than you. I will likely review and answer emails in the evenings or on the weekends, but there is no need to interrupt family dinner or other plans, or a conversation for that matter, to do so. There may be exceptions in certain situations, and we accept that. Our family has definitely had to adjust from life working in the federal government. I sleep less and work more. I miss about two family dinners a week. But, I'm not as much of a stickler about bed time and try to take my time reading to or talking with the kids before they go to bed. I wrestle or swim with them even when I don't have the energy. I help at home without complaining, unless it is after 9:30 pm. And I issue fewer commands. As time together becomes a little more scarce and a lot more valuable, I want my time at home to be as positive as possible. For example, my kids and I frequently discuss the intricacies of their Halloween costumes--a pirate for my son, and a princess for my older daughter (the youngest will be wearing the duck outfit her sister wore last year, but doesn't speak enough or care enough to share her opinion about it). We're still figuring our new life out, but we believe their is a way to achieve that balance. What is interesting is that we all seem happier now. My wife enjoys feeling more independence at home with kids and plans, since I can't be as involved anymore. And I think I am much more patient. The kids seem to be happier too. We are much more conscious of our time with them, and I think they appreciate it. I am also a Scout leader, which takes away another night each week. Maybe it is that our kids appreciate their time with me more than they used to, but they are excited about Scouts and other things that I am doing. They take much more interest in it. Lest anyone think that things are perfect, we just barely threw away our empty boxes after two weeks here. Although the other rooms are mostly set-up, our room is still filled with boxes. Our older daughter has decided she does not want to have to worry about when and where she goes potty, so she is back in pull-ups. She is also phasing out of naps, which raises emotions to whole new level. We are still figuring out what to do about our son's preschool, since people here charge and pay Harvard tuition to prepare their 4-year old kids for Kindergarten. We find at least one cockroach a day in our home. Last night it was on my bath towel, then on me, as I was drying off after a shower. And, we're still unsure about our landlord. Ultimately, the conclusions I've reached over the past few days are the result of a lot of introspection over several difficult weeks of transition. Well, we're only two weeks into actual work (four weeks into life here). They have been tiring weeks, but we are happy and still putting each other first--though work really is a close second right now.

Billing Your Time at Home

I never thought I'd see it, at least not in a four-year old. Unpacking, a new home, a new life, etc., all mean one thing: more rules. There are more things you can't touch. There are more things you must do or not do to make a good impression on our new friends and neighbors or to give your exhausted parents a break. You are forced to go to a new school, a new congregation, a new bedroom (or to share it with your two emotional sisters while your parents paint yours). In short, you are not allowed to be a four-year old until we're ready. You must keep that energy bottled up. But when he got excited, he threw a piece of food. I took the rest and excused him from the table. Then, the look. Brow furrowed, chin down, eyes up and narrowly focused in on me. It didn't scare me, but it shocked me. I immediately began to miss the little boy he was prior to our move. I wondered if he'd ever come back or if the rebellious stage so famously attributed to teenage years really started this young and continued until the kids left home. All day long I thought about it. I really couldn't think about anything else. What had gone so wrong that our little boy could cast such a glance at me? My wife and I talked and decided we'd resent us too if someone had imposed so many rules on us, so many that it was just impossible to be ourselves. It was a good reminder to chill out and make the most of my precious time at home. My wife warned me recently, "Don't bill your time at home." I know that she meant I needed to drop my natural habit to stick to a schedule and a routine and enforce them strictly. But billing time has actually helped me recognize the value of my time. I can't waste a minute at work, yet there have been so many evenings where I chose to relax instead of wrestle, or sulk instead of swim. My greater awareness has prompted me to try and make more time by being less strict about bedtime. In other words, we use the same bed time, but we adjust to the needs of the kids. If they are still restless, we wrestle a little or play a little and maybe skip bath. If they seem like their crying for attention and acting a bit rambunctious or rebellious, we read more, talk more, sing more, and take our time. We let our daughter get out of bed to go potty three or four times, until she's to tired to pretend anymore. I think the necessity of billing so much time at work has actually made us better and improving our time together. It's shorter, but more meaningful. It's tougher, but we are more understanding and less critical. It's later and we're tired, but we have a stronger desire to be together. It's less time to talk, but we make greater efforts to build our relationships (nothing beats relaxing in a back float with your son or playing Motor Boat with the girls in the pool after dinner). It seems that just as sacrifice makes us closer (see previous post), so does the effort to make the most of our precious time. In reality, I do bill time at home, but not in the way my wife thought. If every six minutes is precious at work, they become even more so at home. I need to find a way to use every single one to serve my most important clients, my wife and kids. My bill? Well, it's a closer family. If I do my work right, the clients pay immediately.

Adjusting the Dream

To be honest, I came into this expecting a simple conflict of time: How do I balance demands at work with responsibilities at home? But it took me under 4 days at a law firm to realize it's more complicated than that. During orientation my head was spinning. Not only was there a ton of paperwork to fill out for taxes, parking, insurance, retirement, etc., but there was a parade of pro-work presentations. The message was simple: life at the firm is challenging, fulfilling, and fun, if you put in the time and effort. This included not only billable hours, but firm involvement, business development, community involvement, and pro bono work. Not only that, being new, we know nothing. If I don't spend much of my own time getting myself up to speed on the law I'm practicing, I'm no good. Ultimately, we rely on other attorneys to give us work, and they stop giving work to those who say "no." So, though I met get over subscribed, I need to get over it. I need to be willing to put in the time. During one of the final presentations, my head was spinning, so I finally asked, "How do we do all this and still have time for our families?" The partner, a member of the executive committee and someone for whom I have great respect, responded, "Your family always comes first. Work comes second. But make it a close second. I have two daughters. I never missed an important event in their lives. I wouldn't." I still didn't quite see how it was possible, but I knew he'd been through it too. So, dreams of family dinner every night, time to play every night, Saturdays and Sundays off, buying a home, etc., well, they need to be adjusted. What's really driven the point home was the fact that if I don't grow in this business, my student loan payments, 401(k), preschool tuition (which is ridiculous), etc., will eat away my discretionary income. I need to move up. I need to do what the partners want. But I'm finding there is a way. I won't make it to all family dinners, but I can make it to some or most. I can go in early, a great time to focus and buckle down, and leave around dinner time, then go back if necessary. My wife and I discussed my designating two late nights a week, to be used when the partners needed. We realize Saturdays may get used up. But these sacrifices will preserve our Sundays. We can move the dinner time, playtime, and bedtime schedules back slightly to give me a longer day. We can rent an apartment that is closer to work. It may be smaller, but it has a pool, which the kids love, and the commute is great. Throughout this orientation week, I actually do feel better oriented. Though some dreams may be adjusted, there is one that remains constant and fulfilled daily. We are becoming closer as we make sacrifices for each other. I wake up much earlier in order to work longer without missing the evenings with my family. My family waits a little longer for me to get home. We live closer to work, but in a smaller home. We find a cheaper preschool. Somehow, we love each other more, our commitment to each other grows, our kids learn valuable lessons. Who would have thought that those who have to sacrifice for each other are closer and happier?

Creative Punishment

My two-year old daughter is one of the most stubborn children I have ever met, ever. I tried to put her down for a nap on our bed this afternoon (we do that so she and her sister nap in separate rooms), but she wouldn't have it. So I put her in the room with her sleeping sister because it is darker and the door is harder to open. Then I heard her trying to wake her sister up. I told her not to wake her sister up and she replied, "But I want to wake her up." No matter what I said, she kept repeating her reply. I just gave up and put her back on our bed. Miraculously she fell asleep. On top of all this, there is a baby jumping thing that she keeps getting in. We keep telling her to stay out of it because she is too big and could break it. Oh, and one more thing. She refuses to sit and eat dinner, so we have to excuse her and make her go hungry to bed. But it's no use. She does what she wants, when she wants, especially if it gets us worked up. She takes delight in that. So, I told my wife that I had an idea. What if we put her in a corner if she disobeys and threatened her that she would get a marshmallow each time she got up from her punishment. My wife looked puzzled. My theory was simple. She would likely get up so many times that the marshmallows would make her sick. Then the punishment would serve the dual purpose of getting her to obey and to dislike sugary treats. Or, disobedience might merit sitting the kids on the couch all day with unhealthy snacks and television. If they get up they have to eat more snacks and watch more television. The problem with this second idea is that you'd have to punish them for three or four hours at a minimum, depending on how much television and snacks they normally consume each day (I've heard the total average in American homes for television viewing by children is 6 hours per day! These people will obviously have to make this punishment a weekend event). Luckily (from my wife's perspective) we did not have to put any of these brilliantly visionary punishments into effect. As I said, our daughter fell asleep for nap. Then after dinner, we heard her voice in the other room yelling, "Help! I'm stuck! Please get me out!" She was stuck in the baby bouncing contraption. With the same sick delight with which she punishes us, we smiled and replied, "Not right now, we're eating dinner!" I'm not sure it taught her anything, but it felt so good to say.

The Domestic Dad

My last day of the clerkship in DC was August 11. My first day of work at the law firm is September 12. After two weeks on the road and another living with relatives and looking for an apartment, I can safely say that I am going stir crazy. I have never had such a long vacation and I don't think I like it. Don't get me wrong. I love the time with kids. I love seeing everything that I would otherwise miss at work, especially our girls greeting my son with hugs when he gets home from school. I get a little jealous of him actually. The kids used to do that for me when I came home from work. But I can't complain. They still give me lots of hugs. I've already written of my judge's theory that you need to build a fire to keep you warm when you can. I think that is what I am doing. I take advantage of every opportunity I can to be with and play with the kids. I am fortunate though. Many fathers are out of work right now, even in the law profession. But I am a little jealous of them too. I read that many of them are working hard at home landscaping, making repairs, upgrading, and performing the work that they might otherwise pay someone else to do while they were at work. But there are three big differences between me and them. First, this is not my house. Second, it is over 100 degrees outside and a record-breaking hot summer. Third, I have zero handyman skills. I have helped my father-in-law build a fence--one of my proudest moments was redesigning the gate with the pieces he'd mistakenly cut the wrong size. One the other hand, when my parents built an apartment in the basement for me and my wife when we were newly weds, he and my brother did all the work. Anyhow, I have attempted to keep myself feeling accomplished by honing my skills as a dishwasher, toy picker upper, and a child bather. I still stink at shopping and hold not even an ounce of confidence with my wife in that regard--I don't necessarily see this as a bad thing since she never asks me to go shopping. Instead of the corporate dad, I have been strictly a domestic dad. But, there are many lessons to be learned there as well, such as never discount the work and feelings of the stay-at-home parent. Not only do I understand my wife better, but I am a stay-at-home parent right now.

The Price of Cool

My kids are cool. My two-year old daughter is a fashion designer. Who would have thought to use band-aids to turn a plain shirt into a striped shirt and use head bands to make a colorful neck-warmer? My four-year old son used his preschool hard-work bucks to get a pirate eye patch from the prize box, which he then wore to all of the apartment complexes we visited in the afternoon. He also rolled on the carpet of each apartment we viewed to test out its wrestle-ability. And of course, our baby girl is cool too. Whenever I lay on the floor she's sure to body slam me within minutes of doing so. They also wrestle with each other, and the girls run to hug their older brother when he gets home from school. That is cool. I'd like to take some credit for how cool they are. But being cool has its price. Being cool to little kids means fatigue. If I lift them or swing them in some fun way, it means I must do it over and over and over again in an attempt to quell the continuous, "Do it again Daddy! Again! Again!" For me, the quell is multiplied by three kids and includes a great deal of cutting in line and arguing over who's next. Unfortunately, I cannot quell the demand. It becomes infinitely more exciting each time it is repeated and trying to stop for dinner or bed results in the same kind of screaming you might hear during a medieval amputation procedure. I am hot and sweaty. If being cool doesn't result in fatigue, it results in a mess. We are staying with family while searching for an apartment, and in an attempt to encourage the kids from both families to eat their dinner, I told them that their brains grow bigger with each bite. So they began with little bites, asking me after each bite to look into their ears and see if their brains got bigger. It was fun at first, so I attempted to get them to take bigger bites by telling them that the brain grows only a little bit with little bites but a lot with big bites. Soon, spoonfuls of spaghetti were plopping onto the ground as little hands held their spoons high in the air in failed attempts to show me the big bites of dinner they were about to eat. I promptly apologized to my cousin for the mess and explained my good intentions. Alas, hot on the heels of the mess were little voices chanting, "Again! Again! Again!"

The Big Not So Big Event

I remember when my three-year old son ran triumphantly off the soccer pitch after blocking his first goal. What made it even cooler was that there are no goalies in three-year old soccer, but he insisted on playing the position after watching the World Cup with me. It was hot outside, but he also insisted on wearing a long-sleeve shirt. I have been fortunate to be present for almost every big even in my children's lives, from the first word spoken to the first word read. Now that we are getting settled into a permanent job and a permanent location, and now that our kids are getting bigger, we look forward to many more big events. More soccer. More karate. More ballet or gymnastics. When I was interviewing two years ago with my law firm I was impressed that the partners never missed their children's games, recitals, performances, etc. (Sometimes it gets competitive, like when my son comes home from school with a reading book based on his reading evaluation and I immediately ask how the other kids did. But that's another post.) But today I was reminded of another big event that we often miss simply because we might forget it is a big event. My son arrived home from preschool excited as ever to show me a pirate eye patch he'd earned from the prize box for good work, but I was on the phone. My wife tipped me off to how excited he was to show me with a disappointed scowl and silent head nod in his direction. Taking the queue, I ended the phone conversation and asked my son about his day. Later, he sat silently drawing a pirate treasure map and looking a bit frustrated. I asked what was wrong and he let me know that he wanted to show someone how to draw a pirate treasure map. I volunteered. He took great care teaching me exactly how I could draw the lines wherever I wanted and that the "X" goes where the treasure is buried, so that I know where it is and can dig it back up. I was impressed by how well he explained it to me and how well he communicates with others in general. I am not alone in my willingness to be present at the big events described above. They are clear representations of progress and accomplishment, often marked by honors or trophies or entries in a baby book. I don't know that I am always as willing to sit down for other less tangible big events like a simple conversation, where my son accomplished something extremely important for an adult, let alone a four-year old: he taught me something.

What Are They Putting in Soap These Days?

Everybody knows that when a child says an inappropriate word that means his or her tongue is dirty and needs to be washed with soap. But, since the words have never been very serious or frequent we decided to wait to do that until our son reached the age of four. Surely, having soap rubbed on his tongue would be a strong enough reminder that he should never use those words. So these past few days I've dealt with my son's use of inappropriate words (very infrequent use, I might add) by rubbing bar soap on his tongue. He willingly submitted to the punishment--I mean "solution" to the problem of a dirty tongue--probably thinking that anything was preferable to a boring, long, and repetitive daddy lecture. I rubbed the soap on his tongue. He tasted it. He looked up at me again, un-phased, and said, "It doesn't taste like anything." Then he tasted it again. Wait a minute! When my parents tried it on me the soap was disgusting. That was only a few years ago, or maybe 20. I wouldn't be surprised if soap companies were trying to make their soaps even more attractive by making them tasteless. Thinking that maybe I didn't rub enough soap on his tongue, I did it again until the soap bubbled up and coated his tongue. He tasted it again. Nothing. I was stumped. Was he serious or just beating me at my own game? Maybe both. Now I'm half tempted to taste soap before I use it on him. Maybe that was his plan all along.

Don't Be So Hard

Watching my son run around with his cousins and fighting the natural temptation of a 4-year old to ignore his parents in order to keep doing what the other kids were doing was a learning experience for me. He did ignore us a little, but was mostly well-behaved and obedient. I was a little disappointed in him at first for having such a hard time obeying us, but ended up being more disappointed in myself for not appreciating how obedient he really was in the face of so many fun distractions. In fact, I was pretty hard on him when he disobeyed. I wanted to instill the lesson that you need to listen to your parents no matter what everyone else is doing. But my wonderful wife reminded me that I need to be careful not to teach him that I don't trust him. In certain situations I need to back-off a little more and understand that I should be very careful about when to put my son in the difficult position of choosing between every 4-year old's dream and his parents when it really isn't that important. On the bright side, I have been more sensitive to my son's feelings about getting in trouble in front of other people. He has been incredibly responsive when we quietly go into another room to talk over anything he may have done wrong. I'm learning that a lot of parenting, even with little kids, is respecting their feelings.

She Can't Be Two/Feeling Better

This first experience was too cute to pass up. A cousin hit my son pretty hard. As I was consoling him, our two-year old knelt down beside us, put her arm on my shoulder, and with a concerned look asked, "What happened to him?" Then she listened intently while I explained the situation. Though our daughter definitely exhibits two-year old moments, there are moments like these when I am reminded that she has gifts and traits that are much older than she is and must have developed in her before she came to us.

The second experience is something I noticed throughout our road trip visiting friends and family. No matter how good the parents are, they experience the same parental challenges and react the same way. This may not be a very deep thought, but it reassured me that I am normal. If you want to feel like you're a good father, go stay with friends and family who have children too.

The Move: Days 11 & 12

We're finally here, after two weeks of homelessness. We are happy to be here, even if it is a temporary space in my cousin's house until we find one of our own. This move has taught me a lot. One is that anyone with little sleep, long hours driving cross country, and more whining from my kids than I care to mention is prone to get a little frustrated with his kids. At least saying so makes me feel a little better. So does watching every move my friends and family make as they care for their kids in the hopes that they will lose their tempers with their kids too. Short-tempered fathers like to feel normal. Anyway, I was pretty pushy with my son, the king of delay, at bath time. So pushy that he said, "I want Mommy to bath me tomorrow." I tried to be more kind and patient today, however, and he had no problems with my bathing him. I also slapped my daughter's hand just after she'd hit my son for the hundreth time in a fit of rage then hit me as the rage went on. I couldn't tell her not to hit--I'd be a hypocrite. So, I told her that that is how we feel when she hits. At bedtime, however, all of that seems to disappear. I love putting them to bed. The two oldest were squeezed together again on a queen mattress, the youngest in a pack-n-play. I told them a story that included some daddy humor, which they love now, though I am reminded they will not find funny when they're older. The story also included a grumpy father as my effort to say that I was wrong. I also apologized for being so grumpy and kissed them good night. Alas, their happiness was again shattered when they again had to say good-bye to friends with whom they'd only been able to play for one day. This morning's good-bye was one of the hardest yet, and seemed to be a culmination of the many irregularities, activities, hours of driving, and good-byes our little kids have had to experience over the past twelve days. Our daughter longingly said, "I miss them." And our son and daughter both cried quite a bit. It is true. We will miss everyone we visited. You have helped us so much on our way. We are grateful we could have even one day to visit and introduce our kids to your kids or have them play together. This includes former college roommates, neighbors, family, and other dear friends. As we drove over the Rockies and into the valley, we felt a sense of relief. We could tell our kids did too. They of course bounced off the walls when we got here--this time we cut them some extra slack, especially after how tough I was on them yesterday, but they were also so excited that there is no more driving, nor more changing homes, and especially no more good-byes.