Caped Soccer Player

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

The Kitchen Is Closed

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

Lost Documents Does Not Equal Lost Patience

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

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

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

"Equalizing" the Oldest

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

What Benjamin Franklin Did Wrong

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

Discussing Faith

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

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

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

Turn Coats

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

Tree Poop and Dinner Deception

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

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

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

Trouble With Umbrellas

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

Diaper Change Rebellion

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

Wanting to Be Bigger

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

The Protector

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