RODEO!

by Phil

In my previous post, I ended by pointing out my son's overwhelming cuteness factor. I called attention to how adorable he is. These weren't bold claims. It was (and is) obvious to all who look at him. (Can you tell that I love this kid?)

Awwwwwww. Smiley and cute. That's how he typically looks. Remember that because, from here on out, things get angry.

My wife and I often joke that we have somehow sired a bloodsucking maven of the night. A child nosferatu. A vampyre, if you will. He hates the sun. As much life that the sun bestows on earth, my son wishes it's demise in equal measure. Whenever we step outside on a sunny day, he starts squinting like a drunken pirate while making unhappy grunting sounds. It doesn't matter if we've thrown a blanket over him or not. Sun is getting in and he's not enjoy it.

So when we decided to go to the Rodeo for the first time ever and the weather was overcast, we figured the day would be perfect. The kid likes overcast days.

What we weren't counting on, however, was every other factor in the world conspiring against my son's happiness and, by extension, my wife and I. As soon as we got through the entrance gate, he started getting kind of grumpy.

Proof?

Here you go.

Now, that's a 30 foot (or so) inflatable cow behind him. And it's wearing sunglasses. That inflatable cow thinks it's people. How can you make that face in the presence of that cow?

So we decide to push through. He'll settle down. He's an easy going baby that goes through most events with barely a complaint. This is going to be okay. Right?

Wrong. Here he is in the stands.

At this point, I'm having a grand old time but the kid is not. And when the infant isn't happy, no one is allowed to have a grand old time.

Maybe he's making some sort of moral decision about rodeos. Maybe he's some sort of elitist snob looking down on the sport of the hoi polloi. I sure hope not. It's going to be a long life if he's already acting too good for stuff at seven months old. I didn't father no bourgeois hipster.

It was actually a confluence of several factors that I think led to this result. We folks in the stands were being buffeted by some pretty nasty winds. Then there were the loud speakers that the announcers were yelling over excitedly whenever anything happened. And I mean anything. A rider have a good ride? An excited yell! A rider fall off quickly? An excited yell! And in between each yell, the activity was punctuated by pulsing music. Add to that the cheers from the crowd every few seconds.

All this little kid knows is he's sitting in the wind (which was much worse than the blow dryer from my last post), among a large group of people who keep screaming for some reason. He really didn't care or know about what was happening with the animals.

When he wasn't in the stands but was just wandering around the vendors' area, he was almost his normal happy self. So my wife and I had to keep taking shifts. One of us would watch some rodeo while the other meandered the grounds with the boy. Then we'd switch.

We stayed for all of the kid competition (you haven't lived until you've seen a 4-year old ride a sheep) and a few of the men's events. Eventually, though, he gave us this look that said "Get me out of here now." Like any good parent, we took a picture of it!

So the rodeo was pretty cool. Being there, I can easily understand how people can get into it. I'd never want to watch it on tv or participate in any way but it was fun to sit in the stands and be a part of the cheering crowd. My son, though, may just hate it forever. Later in life, he's going to have some untraceable rage whenever he sees a bucking horse. Whatever. Scarring children for therapists to fix later is the job of every successful parent.

On Discipline

by Doug

Discipline.

Punishment.

These were things I hated when I was a kid. Not that I knew what those terms were at the time, but hated them anyway. All I knew is I hated when i got in trouble.

Why should I get punished for doing something wrong! I said I was sorry and I wouldn't do it again! Why send me to my room, or take away my toys, or (God Forbid!) get a spanking!

I remember the sickness in my stomach I would get when I got busted by my parents. The anger I felt (usually after my parents were out of sight/earshot) when I got punished. It wasn't fair! Why me? If I was a parent, i wouldn't do that to my child!

Fast forward a couple of decades....

Brady doesnt get in trouble much. She's actually a pretty easy kid to deal with. A little insane at times, yes...but that's just being a kid. And compared to some other kids we know...let's just say

Stacey and I consider ourselves very lucky.

But she is a little kid. And this kid will sometimes push the boundary of what she can get away with.

We once had an issue where, instead of doing when she was told and go to bed, she was up and playing.

I went in once, told her to go to bed.

"Okay!"

Ten minutes later, she's up playing.

Stacey goes in, tells her to go to bed. It was a school night, and if she didn't, she was going to get punished.

"Okay!"

Ten minutes later, she's up playing.

Finally, we went in, took away the radio she listens to when she sleeps, and told her enough was enough, and that she was going to bed right now.

You'd have thought she was about to get ten lashes with a belt. Crying! Pitching a fit! Begging! Pleading! "I can't go to sleep without the radio! I'm scared!"

I'll admit, I was starting to soften. But then, something clicked in my head. Negotiating is one thing -- we will sometimes negotiate on things like if she gets to watch one more Tom and Jerry cartoon in exchange for story before bed. Small stuff. But if we didn't put our foot down, she wasn't going to learn that she couldn't always get her way.

I point this out because Stacey actually has to deal with what happens if you don't teach your kids that actions have consequences, on an almost daily basis. She has dealt with students who, because they cheated on a test, would beg, and plead, and pitch a fit until hopefully she would reverse the zero she gave them. They couldn't wrap the notion that their action resulted in an unfavorable consequence, and that was that, around their heads.

I have mentioned that my wife teaches at the collegiate level, right?

So, that was that. We told Brady we loved her.We told her we came in several times asking her to do what she was told, and she ignored us. So, this was her punishment, and she was going to have to accept that.

She wasn't happy. She cried and cried, saying she was sorry, and she won't do it again (promise!). She didn't understand, and I'm sure she was angry at us. Hell, she probably said to herself after we left that she wouldn't do this to her kid.

I get what my parents taught me all those years ago, even though I hated it. At least now as an adult I get it.

And Brady will hopefully as well.

The Universal Language

by Matt

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Can I hear 'Hey-ay'?"

"What?"

"Hey-ay!"

"Oh, yeah. Here it is."

My kids listen to a lot of music. Awhile ago, I was having a conversation with another musician. I mentioned that I was listening to a lot of Disney stuff that day. He was surprised by me having that kids stuff playing. He thought that I would (and that he intended to, when he had kids) listen to just jazz. Some Coltrane, Miles or Mingus. I told him that like most things when it comes to kids, changing plans is the norm.

I started my musical education in jazz, so a lot of my taste lies there. But before that I listened to a lot of Soul, R&B, Hip-Hop, & Motown. My parents listened to a lot of Motown, classic rock, and folk music. My music palette was all over the place as a kid. Like most people, my tastes came from my parents. And the same will happen with my kids, right?

Maybe.

My kids love kids music. Both of them love the Disney princesses, so we have "A Dream Is A Wish" & to echo Phil's earlier post, "Part of That World." They're big fans of the entire Disney catalog, which I can't complain about. It's well written, fun, & I sing along. They like "Here Comes Science" by They Might Be Giants. There's more in that series from TMBG, but we haven't heard the rest. They really like "There Is A Mountain" by Kenny Loggins. ( I do, too. It's super catchy!)

They also pick up on stuff they hear in the general day to day. They heard "Hey, Soul Sister" in a commercial while we having a laundry folding party. The next day, the two of them were running around the house singing "Hey-ay! Hey-ay-ay-ay-ay!" At their Gymboree music class, they heard the Black Eyed Peas "I Gotta Feeling." Within hours, it was downloaded onto the iPod and the kitchen was turned into a kiddie nightclub. Yes, I was the bouncer.

They also like the "Prelude & Main Title March" from Superman: The Movie. The comic book geek in me bursts with pride as they fly around the house to the London Symphony Orchestra yelling "Su-per-MAN!" I also got them into Stevie Wonder, Michael Buble', & a little Miles Davis.

There's stuff they don't get into. They're not really at the stage where they can appreciate John Coltrane's "A Love Supreme." They like some of the new John Legend & the Roots album "Wake Up", but not all of it. Any classical trombone concertos are usually no good to them, but they'll listen to some Mozart. E likes to hear Dora more than the princesses, which L loves.

Music is so important to me, that I want to share it with them. I think that goes for any person/parent. They want the best for their kids, and that includes clapping along to their favorite tunes. (2 & 4, people!) We often define ourselves through the music we listen to and love. Why not let our kids do the same?

[I defy you not to get that Kenny Loggins tune stuck in your head. We're all singing it right now!]

The Christmas Card Incident

by Steve

My wife goes to a lot of trouble every year to make our Christmas cards. They’re very important to her. It’s always a Christmassy picture of our kids. She likes that everyone we don’t get a chance to see, can have them as a sort of record of how our children are growing up. The cards are very important to her.

The actual taking of the picture is a nightmarish scene, at which, my presence is forbidden. Apparently, I can’t seem to offer anything constructive. The other thing that is always absent from the photo shoot is any sort of cooperation from my kids. During the taking of the photo, threats and bribes are thrown about like half-truths on Fox News. My son earns a tidy 10 cents per camera click. All I have to do is get them into the mailbox. The cards are very important to her.

Our post office has 2 old mailboxes painted up all nice for the holiday and the kids love to put the cards in one at a time. It takes forever with 50 cards each, but they have fun.

About halfway into it, I spotted one card in my son’s pile that had no stamp and I snagged it just in time.
“What are you doing?” he snapped.
“Looks like your mother forgot to put a stamp on this one.”
“Oh.”
“Well, she forgot to put a stamp on this one too,” my daughter said.
“Let me see.” I took her pile and as I flipped through, I got a sinking feeling. There were no stamps on any of them.
My son was now jamming in 5 at a time. No stamps.
Right about then I remembered, in my wife’s voice, “They aren’t stamped yet, try to get Christmas stamps.”
Cold sweat… nausea… etc…
They wouldn’t open the mailbox to retrieve them. USPS policy: “Once we’ve got it, it has to go through the process.”
I saved 20 of them.

In the car on the way home, I kept repeating, “Your mother is going to kill me.” The kids have never seen me like this. Scared out of my mind and all. Then my son asked, “What are you going to tell mom?”

Hmmmm, what was I going to tell mom? She’s at work all day. I could let the 80 cards come back to my mailbox, stamp them and get them right back out. They’d arrive late, but how would she ever know? I could get away with this. Pre-children, this is exactly what would have happened. And this is exactly what I wanted to do. So children haven’t exactly made me a better person. But, they have made me at least pretend to be a better person.
So, I told them, “Well, I’m going to tell her the truth of course.” Then I went on and on like I always do, “I did it… blah, blah… responsibility… blah, blah…”
So, when my wife got home (to a clean house and a rib-eye steak) I got everyone together and I just told her. I told her all in one breath, “accident…sorry… accident… so sorry… I’ll fix it.”
She could see the fear, and, I guess, how intently the kids were watching. She sort of smiled, and said “OK.”
Oddly enough, I was uneasy with, “OK.” What about the whole responsibility thing I was trying to demonstrate? How are my kids supposed to watch me take my lumps like a man if she doesn’t freak out? Then it hit me. Ohhhhhh. She’s their example too. Nice one hun!
“What!?” My son said. “That’s it?” I think he was expecting blood (way to have my back pal).
“It was an accident,” she said, “I’m upset (a glare at me) but I’m not going to get mad over an accident. He’ll fix it (another glare at me).”
We got 28 cards back, stamped them and sent them back out. I don’t know what my kids took from this, or what happened to the rest of the cards.

An Adventure!

by Phil

If I've learned anything from life and every form of media, it's that all adventures worth having start with emptying one's bladder. Is that not right? Well, this adventure starts with pee and so it backs up my claim.

It's amazing how involved a 7 month old can be in changing his own diaper. My son doesn't help in any way; he actually makes it much harder by several degrees, but he is involved. As his hands try to grab everything within reach (and I mean everything), many accidents can occur. As it happened yesterday, I pulled off his diaper just as his hands shot downward and he simultaneously unloaded a torrent of urine. In my mind, pee-covered hands and a tendency to chew on those same hands doesn't exactly make for pleasant combination. Based on how difficult it was to keep my kid from eating his hands at that moment, I think he has different ideas about what is acceptable.

So after giving his hands a cursory cleaning with a wipe and getting him into his pajamas for the night, I took him one room over into the bathroom to wash his hands all proper like. What I didn't anticipate was the amount of fun we were about to have.

He was pretty ho-hum about getting his hands cleaned so I wasn't expecting too much when I stopped the drain and filled the basin with water. It was more of an experiment in seeing what he would do. During bathtime he splashes around a bit, kicking his legs and such, but seems more focused on all of the action of getting clean.

So what would he do?

He would splash!

He would splash like the fate of the world depended on it.

We have discovered the fun of playing in the sink.

About 2 minutes in, as water is practically hitting the ceiling, I had a half second of regret. If water is going everywhere, everywhere includes his pajamas and I'm going to have to change him again. But just as quickly as it flashed through my head, I also realized it didn't matter. Who cares? Ninety percent of discovering the world is going to involve some sort of wardrobe change and I never want to stifle real joy and experimentation on my son's part because I'll have to change his clothes. I'm sure there will be a time in the near future where that last sentence is going to come back to haunt me. But when this much fun is involved, how can you not support it?

So after 20 minutes, as we are both pretty soaked through, I have a brilliant idea that only a father can have. It's truly the type of idea that separates me as a dad from my wife as a mother. Instead of changing him, let's at least try drying him off first... with a blow dryer. Now I only put the blow dryer on low so as to not burn him. It may be an admittedly ridiculous idea but I'm not stupid. And he took it really well.

My baby does not mind being blow-dried.

He just sat there stoically looking around as the wind whipped past his arms and legs. But after about 3 minutes, because of a combination of the large amount of water and the setting of air, no real progress was being made. We were just sitting there in the breeze. So I gave up on that and just changed him into new pj's. It was worth a shot.

So while our adventure was only one room over from his bedroom, it felt like we had gone somewhere really great together, to a place that was cover in water, one that wasn't directed by Kevin Cosnter.

"Can we do it again tomorrow, Dad?"

Also....my son is adorable.

Saturday Is The New Thursday

by Matt

I forget stuff a lot these days. I forget the shopping list when I go grocery shopping. I forget to bring the bill with me, when I go to pay it. I forget to call the vet about Krypto's booster shot.

I also forget that I have to post on Thursday.

I didn't realize it until my wife texted me on Friday at about 12:30:

Carrie: No blog yesterday?

Matt: What?

Matt: (long pause, while trying to recollect the name of the day)

Matt: Crap.

My concentration can be shot these days. So much focus is spent on the kids, that I sometimes forget what day it is. It's tough to concentrate on writing this post. I can hear my daughter and my wife working on a cool art project, and there's a movie I'd like to watch on the TV.

I practice downstairs in my basement, usually after dinner. I get some playing time in during the day, but it's mostly to keep my lips loose (I play trombone) and for my kids enjoyment. Sometimes it seems like my house is made of balsa wood, and there's no door on the basement steps. While I'm running some exercises, I hear a WHOMP and then tears. I can't help but stop playing and listen to what's happening. It's hard to turn off the "dad" while I'm being the "musician."

Right now, E is singing in her crib, fighting the nap.

It can be very frustrating to lose concentration. I feel like the guy who's trying to balance and spin the plates on the poles. Too many things in the air, and not enough hands. But it's a work in progress. I'm sure I'll be the zen master of concentration in about 20-25 years.

On Borders (The Store)

by Doug

This week, Borders announced that 200 of their stores will be shutting down, which is about 30 percent of all their stores. This is so they restructure their business after filing for Chapter 11 bankruptcy. Among the stores closing is the one in my town.

This is especially sad for me, as that store, and the people that worked there, helped me out during my first few years of fatherhood.

As I talked about last week, it was hard to get work done when Brady was born because, well, infants are high maintenance. Combined with the cabin fever I was starting to develop after a while, I really needed to get out of the house once in a while.

So, on the days that Stacey could watch Brady, I went out to work. Now, Logan, Utah had been growing quite rapidly, but was still a pretty small town. There weren't many places to just sit and work. However, just as I needed to find a place to work, a Borders store was built.

Good timing, right?

So, I found my corner of the Borders cafe, and did my work. Sometimes for a couple of hours, sometimes for a whole day. And as I worked there, I slowly became friends with the crew working there. Hey, when you show up frequently enough, scribbling away on a laptop and Wacom tablet, you get noticed after a while. They'd ask about my work, and my family. They'd become good friends with me, Stacey, and especially Brady (one thing about my daughter, she has the kind of personality that makes it very hard to ever forget her).

Hell, we celebrated my 30th birthday with many of the employees there.

Going to Borders also kept my social skills somewhat sharp, as it allowed me to have adult conversations once in a while. I didn't realize losing the ability to have adult non-baby conversations could happen as you become a parent. In a way it makes sense; when you're inundated with all things baby 24/7, the Stockholm Syndrome effect that kicks in. You subconsciously become as infatuated with the stuff as your infant is. And soon, that's all you talk about.

So yeah, having the ability to talk to adults about adult things was nice. Especially when you consider that Stacey and I had only been in Utah for two years, had no family nearby, and not many friends yet. Now, because of the friendships I was forming with the folks at Borders, I could go in and talk about topics that didn't include The Wiggles, or Baby Einstein (though they were obviously a great source to get those DVDs).

As years progressed (and Brady got older), it became easier (and cheaper) for me to work at home again. But as far as I was concerned, Borders was still my office away from home.

Tonight, they're closing the cafe for the last time. Three guesses as to who will be there to help them close it down.

Trend Setters

by Steve

For all of it’s problematic, hectic, unpredictable qualities, I still can’t figure out why more men don’t want to do this job.

Do you know what I’ve never heard? I’ve never heard of a boy getting mixed up with a gang because he had too good a relationship with his father. I’ve never heard of a stripper crediting her dad’s encouragement and unwavering support for her career success.
What I have heard… a whole lot, is the term “lack of a positive male role model."

For some reason, I don’t pretend to know why, the role of a man is crucial to how boys and girls turn out. It’s a spot that has to be filled. And if it’s not, they find a way to fill it on their own.

It’s bad for a boy. He needs a role model, and he is going to find one somewhere. If no one is stepping up, he’ll pick another. Usually the wrong one, an older kid that everyone else thinks is cool, but that a good parent would hate. And that is who he’s going to go out of his way to impress. Bad road to go down.

I think it’s worse for a girl though. Instead of seeking out a role model, she’s going to seek out more attention from boys. There is just so much out there connecting an absent or uninvolved father to promiscuity, then sexually aggressive behavior, early pregnancy, bad career choices (described above and worse), bad relationships and all around bad choices in men.

How involved does a father have to be? I don’t know. But I do know that I’ll never have to ask the question, “Was I involved enough?” How the hell could I possibly be more involved? To my kids I’m this thing… this pariah, that won’t go away. Every time they turn around, there I am, being all involved.

But, from what I gather, my kids are likely going to be more self reliant, avoid abusive relationships, perform better academically, have less chance of ever becoming depressed, deal better with authority, assert their opinions, stand up for themselves and resist peer pressure.

Not only that, but as it turns out, how they are parented will likely be how their kids are parented, and so on . We’re trend setters, men, and that sounds like a pretty good trend to set.

I understand that you don’t have to stay at home with the kids to be an involved father. But if an involved dad is like this Rand-McNally guide map for a child’s life, we’re like freaking Google Earth.

"So what did you do all day?"

by Carlos

My wife has stopped asking me this question (from the title). I don't know why, but I'm grateful for it. Now we can have, "How was your day?" conversations, which are much better. I get less defensive.
Not too long ago a husband, whom I think asks the "So what did you do all day?" question to his home making wife, asked me why it's possible to come home and the house looks like nothing got done. I guess he thought another man would give him a straighter answer than his own wife. Personally, I've never really had the privilege of coming home to ask that question, but I think the events of this last Friday may sum it up. Maybe some of you can relate.
To understand, Thursdays are laundry days and Fridays are my put-clothes-away days. It's to ensure that the weekend is clear of any obvious work.
Friday morning, I had already planned to keep Lani home from preschool. She was looking much better from the flu the night before, but I just wanted to give her some extra rest and make sure the bug was beat. When I walked into the girls' room, I could swear I smelled feces. It was faint, but someone crapped their pajamas.
I looked around, but there were no bulges and my littlest one's diaper was flat. Maybe someone just farted. Well, it turned out that I was partly right. Lani had farted in the night and splattered her panties and pajama pants with crap (too graphic?). It was already dried. The panties got thrown away, but I really want to try and save the pants.
No hard choices here, I gotta do more laundry. No problem.
Later, I woke up Lani and Ana from their nap. Ana had pissed all over herself. Since she isn't in the habit of going during her nap, I hadn't put a diaper on her. Ana needed a bath and I added to the laundry list, 1 bed sheet, 1 mattress cover, 1 pillow case, 1 comforter, and 1 set of clothes.
Then, we pick up Damai from preschool and she shows up with 3 packages of gummy bears. I don't know what possessed me to let Lani have that. I knew that her tummy still ached and she didn't fully have her appetite back. Anyway, she threw up in the van.
Laundry list - 1 piddle pad, 1 car seat cover, 1 buckle cover, and 1 set of clothes. You know I had to read the instruction booklet on how to take the seat apart? I had to strike off the car seat cover from the laundry list. That had to go under 'hand wash'.
My girls have started a habit of hitting each other and I mean to put a stop to it. I decided that I would put vinegar in their mouth on every occasion. I hope this info doesn't start an ethics debate... or maybe that's a good topic for another time.
So, Ana hit Damai. As I put the vinegar in her mouth, she's obviously upset, but because I have her on my knee over the sink, she pisses on me! I rush her to the tub. Ana needs another bath. And to the laundry list, I add 1 set of kids' clothes, 1 adult shorts.
"So, what did you do all day?" I had been doing laundry ALL day. On my Friday! At the end of it all, my day was hella busy. I certainly did something! But were the clothes put away from Thursday? NO. In fact, there was a bigger pile to put away.
Also, I accidentally left my keys and remote in my pissed-on shorts when they went through the wash. But after 2 days of air drying the remote still works.
A special thanks to my wife for not asking me silly questions anymore.

Mommy Hook Syndrome

by Phil

Since becoming a father, I've been surprised by some of the generalizations and stereotypes that I've seen propagated in everything from the media to baby products. I'm not talking about the obvious ones, like all stay-at-home parents are women. I didn't get this particular memo, but apparently I'm not supposed to be spending any time with my kid, or rather, I shouldn't until he's old enough to play catch or work on the car with me. That's really sad for him because I'm terrible at sports and (despite having an extremely mechanically inclined father) don't know the first thing about fixing the car.

It's actually very subtle but by watching TV and reading magazines, you'd think that men don't spend time with their infant children. At all. Not even a second. And, boy, have I really screwed up since that's pretty much all I do. Hanging out with babies is woman's work. At least, that what we're being told.

I never noticed this until I became a father myself. But when I look for examples of fathers with babies in the media, they don't really exist.

Around our house, this societal stereotype is called "Mommy Hook Syndrome."

You see, a company ironically named "Mom, Dad and Baby" makes a product called "The Mommy Hook."

It's just a giant carabiner that hooks onto stroller handles to help carry bags and such. As a product, it's a great idea. But why is it branded as "The Mommy Hook"? Do only mothers push strollers? Do only mothers have extra items to carry? Do men not take their infants with them to the mall or store?

Now, I totally understand that the at-home market is still predominantly women. And I don't really have (much of) an issue with products that are to be used at home being directed at woman. Dads at home are a growing but still small segment of the population. I'm not asking for special treatment as a man. However, this product is made for being outside the home; it's supposed to be for anyone spending time with their kid while doing activities. But apparently being out with the kid is solely the job of the female in the house. They've even printed the name of it in bold letters along the side for every passerby to see.

It may seem like I am picking on this one product but my wife and I see this one product as emblematic of an entire issue. It's the reason we've named the problem as a whole after it. It's not called The Parent Hook or The Stroller Hook. You can't exclude men any more than that.

This is going to end up as an irregular series of posts addressing this issue in various aspects of life. There are plenty of examples out there and every now and again, I'm going to be asking "why".

For the record, yes. We bought one. It's amazing. I hate it every time I use it.

On Turning a Frown Upside Down

by Doug

It's easy to get frustrated, I've discovered.

When Brady was born, I got frustrated with the night time feedings. I got frustrated when she was crying constantly, and I couldn't figure out why. I got frustrated with seeing my wife head off to work, while I'd hope to get even a couple of hours of my own work in, and hope that I got some semblance of a comic page done.

I got frustrated when I'd start to get some semblance of momentum going, and then would have to put the brakes on because Brady woke up, and it was time to switch modes. I got frustrated because once she was taken care of (sometimes a long while later), I'd try to get back to drawing, and get nowhere because I was not in the same mindset I was in before (I honestly don't know if other artists have this problem, but I've found it's much easier to switch off Artist Mode than turn it back on. It's like you have to prime the switch or something).

I was frustrated that the life I was accustomed to was gone, while it felt like everryone else's lives were moving along just fine.

I thought that as Brady got older, that things would be easier. And in a way, it did. She was off to day care, and then to Kindergarten, and now First Grade. I had more time to work. But there was house work to be done. And other responsibilities. Commitments. Things piling up. Things that I needed to focus my attention on.

And then there was the guilt. I didn't expect that. The guilt that I wasn't spending the time I should be with Stacey and Brady. So, my work would be put on hold, and I would try to be a good husband and dad. Now there was tug-of-war between frustration about my potential career going nowhere so I could be with my family, and guilt that I was being a bad person because I wanted to pursue my career, and time with my family would be hurt in the process.

Then the self-pity would arrive to go along with the frustration and guilt. I mean, real "Woe is Me" stuff.

Why me? Why are things being such a pain in the ass? Why am I having such a hard time?

Am I even doing a good job with all this? Am I a good enough artist? Am I a good husband? A good father?

And then I get this:

And I would know exactly what the answer is.

It's amazing how effective that can be. How well that can turn me around; both in improving my mood, but also in giving me confidence.

It's the reminder that, yeah, I'm doing okay. Things are good. The comics will get done. My art doesn't suck. The house work will get done. The commitments will get fulfilled. I can do all that, while still being a good husband and father.

And it's a reminder that my daughter loves me.

I have to say: it's a hell of a way to turn a frown upside down.

Laying Down the Law

by Matt

Discipline can be a tough thing to handle. You have to decide what-to, how-to, & when-to. And it's not a solo decision. It's something you need to talk over with your wife/husband/partner/alien overlord.

I have a hard time disciplining my kids. And not because of their cuteness. And not at home either. It's most difficult when I'm out in public.

Mainly, because I'm a man.

Now, I'm not yelling at my kids in the store. And they're not that much trouble. They're still too young to be causing the kind of mischief that would turn my face a different color. But you've got to raise the volume (while lowering the pitch) a little to make your point.

Now, as a parent, there are times that I'm self conscious about my parenting skills and methods. I feel like a lot of it comes from being a man doing a (what is perceived to be, by some) woman's job. I like being able to handle my kids, and the challenges they sometimes bring. I don't like the look or attitude of "Oh, there's Dad, having trouble with the kids again. Better call Mom! She handles it best!" I know that I shouldn't have that attitude, but I can't help it. I have a perpetual chip on my shoulder.

But the looks from I get from disciplining my kids are a little different. There's almost a...caution. Or maybe wariness is a better word? But people look. And they look concerned.

Is it because men seem to be more aggressive? Since I can't play you how it would sound, I can only say that I don't yell. But I have to make sure that my oldest knows she can't keep opening food in the store, or throwing things at her sister to make her cry, or screaming at the top of her lungs.

People actually stop, and kind of peak out of the corner of their eyes. Security is not grabbing me and wrestling me to the ground, but people in the general vicinity will take a look. And I sometimes do the same. When I see a parent disciplining their child, I can't help but take notice. And when it's a dad, I do pay extra attention. Am I afraid he's going to lose it? Is this an after school special, where I'm the one that has to make the call?

A man raising his voice sounds more authoritative. Is it because, while growing up, some of our dads were the disciplinarian? I remember my mom threatening me a few times with, "Wait until your dad gets home." Mom's had most of the authority, but Dad was the guy that laid down the law in my house.

With more dads at home, is this perception going to change? I'm not sure. But I feel very strongly that it's happening. Dad disciplining the kids, everyone's eyes are on him. Mom does, people look a little.

I could just be crazy paranoid. Any other dad's experience this? Especially with the older ones?

Two tricks that made a bad time better

by Steve

Pneumonia sucks. My little girl is just getting over a case of it, and it sucks. My kids are normally very healthy. But when they do come down with something it's really not so bad. I'm prepared. I'm like a pharmaceutical ninja when it comes to all of your basic aches and pains and fevers. Strep goes around a lot, that's an easy one. The issue of finding someone to stay home with them if they can't go to school is never a problem. It really doesn't matter what kind of gross, runny fluids are coming out of where. I can handle it. But pneumonia... ahhhh! I've been out ninja'd.

It's the coughing. She has to cough all of that, junky mucous up and out of her lungs. And you can hear it in there. Every time she exhales there's this little bubbly gurgle. So, it's not like any cough medicine is going to make the coughing go away. She has to do it.

During the day it's not so bad. I think we're all sort of used to it. But at night, when she lays down, it's a nightmare. As a stay at home dad, I think this is my equivalent of a deadline (that's one of those things that working people have to deal with). Project is due, I'm not into it, dead tired, but it's got to get done. Unfortunately, unending, convulsive, phlegm filled coughing doesn't offer postponements. So I get up.

First I try to get her to sleep sitting up on her own. Sure. Then I pick her up and take her downstairs so that she doesn't wake everyone else. Now pay attention, because this works. I prop up on the couch as many pillows as I can find. and I sleep sitting up. She sleeps on my lap, leaning against my chest, while I hold her upright. I forget where I heard this, but it really does work. She gets a better than average night of sleep. She does.

Until she gets back to sleeping through the night I'm the grumpiest bastard alive. I mean, I don't think I'm grouchy. I'm just reacting to everyone around me who, for some reason, waited for this particular time to do and say the dumbest things that they possibly can. Just to get on my nerves. It might come off as grouchy, but it's not me!

On the first night of the anti-biotic, my daughter stood in the kitchen crying between coughs, for about an hour, loudly, because her medicine tastes so bad. "this is the worst day of my life..." "why are you making me do this..." she was being difficult. Being stern wouldn't work. Bribes of candy and money wouldn't work.

Enter Barry the pharmacist. "Let her melt a Hershey's kiss on her tongue. Don't chew it, just let it melt. then give her the medicine. The taste of chocolate is so strong for kids that she'll barely taste the medicine." Barry added another weapon to our black ninja, child sickness combatting, utility belt thing. All hail Barry the Pharmacist.

I guess I should throw in there that you should make sure that a Hershey's kiss isn't a choking hazard for your child. And that my daughter is doing much better.

by Carlos

What is a successful day? I suppose when a salesman makes a sale, that's a good day. I suppose that a doctor gets full satisfaction at helping her patients. What about for me; a homemaker? What do I call a successful day? When is it that I can go to bed and say, "job well done"?
Well, lately I've felt more successful than in a long time.
After my last blog, I realized that I had lost my timing. Some how, at some point in the last few months, I lost my ability to get things done. The laundry was getting out of hand. There were clothes to-be-washed and clothes to-be-put-away and hardly any clothes to-wear. I was slipping on all my tasks that needed to be done on a computer and the grass was in the to-be-cut category for way too long.
I know how to get things done; I need to set aside a time to do it. If there is no scheduled time for it, the task will not get done. So, last week I sat down and wrote down a more specific list of my weekly duties. I knew that Tuesdays and Wednesdays were my girls tumbling class, but now I needed to put in yard duty, office time, laundry time, folding clothes time (they have to be separate times in my house), play date days, and even time to re-organize the house.
I guess it's elementary, but I needed to sit down and DO it.
But I realized something profound. Even though the laundry was done and the house was picked up and the yard was looking better, my wife didn't seem to notice much. I guess I was expecting some great big hug and a "I'm so proud of you!" exclamation. But the profound thing was not that she didn't notice much. My profound realization was that I noticed it A LOT.
After a days worth of really good work, I went to bed so happy. I don't think it was that clothes were washed and put away. I don't think it was that I finally cut half the yard.
I'm not really sure what it was. It could have been that I actually made a plan and executed it. Maybe it was that my to-do list had a bunch of check marks all over it. Maybe it was that I had a day where I wasn't meandering around the house saying to myself, "There's SO much to do, where do I begin?"
What ever it was, I feel happier at the end of the day. Am I a better daddy for it? I have no idea. Shouldn't I feel happier if I spend a lot of time with the kids or feel like I taught them something? I feel a little guilty for the reason of my happiness, but I did learn how to at least feel successful in my days. I'm sure the extreme is when I ignore my kids just to complete some tasks, but finally feeling successful can't be all that bad a thing.
Anyway, Lani is all sick today and throwing up all over the place. And nothing is really getting done on my to-do list. But I guess this is one of those days when success is just making her feel more comfortable.

Calming the Beast

by Phil

After a highly unscientific study that is sure to drive my biologist wife up the wall, I am now able to make some rather bold claims. I performed this research with a limited sample size (n=1) but feel confident I can extrapolate the results to the entire population of infants just under the age of 7 months. Ready for my definitive results?

Babies love music.

Well, okay. That's something that everyone knows already. I didn't say it was groundbreaking research.

Something that I'm not clear on, though, is if every baby loves music as much as my kid does. Because, while I have many nieces and nephews, I have had, until now, limited day-to-day experience interacting with a child, especially to this degree.

I am quite stunned by how much this kid loves music and at how early it started. Right from the beginning we could see a change in his demeanor whenever we put on music. My wife swears that very early he would suck his pacifier to the beat of up-tempo pop music. While I recognize his love and connection to music, I'm not fully convinced of that one. (Sorry, Angie!)

One thing that was apparent when he was just a few weeks old was his strong dislike of any strings-heavy classical music. If it's too violin-y, you've lost him. There was a time when he would start crying. At this point, he just seems to ignore it.

But on the flip side, he can be in a full out cry, oblivious to everything in the world but his own misery and if the right song is played or sung for him, he'll cease his wails and start to smile. For a few months, the song that held the strongest sway was Ariel's Song from Disney's The Little Mermaid. "Look at this stuff/ Isn't it neat/ Wouldn't you think my collection's complete..." My wife would sing that and it was like a flip was switched. He would stare at her wide-eyed and coo. The power of the Little Mermaid seems to have diminished a bit. It's been replaced by the ABC's, of all things. He can't get enough of the ABC's.

He's also enjoying most of Josh Ritter's catalogue, especially the album So Runs the World Away, which I love but must admit am getting a tad tired of because we play it in the car so often. I wake up with that album playing in my head. It's very good but I don't want it in my head at 3 am when I get up to pee. Sorry, Mr. Ritter! Although, it's inevitably better than whatever crazy kid's album he's going to insist on when he is able. I fear for my car's radio when that happens.

He also likes Barenaked Ladies' If I had a Million Dollars, which is kind of like a kid's song to begin with. The upbeat tempo, the repetition, and usage of the list. That wasn't meant to be a disparaging comment either. That album is in my iTunes library because I like it. I'm just saying it's got certain qualities I can see an infant enjoying.

And briefly, he also likes Simon and Garfunkel, Loreena McKennitt, Alicia Keys, Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong, and Manfred Mann's Quinn the Eskimo.

It's really fun to introduce him to all of this music for the first time and see him interact with it. There are tunes that he smiles at from the first few notes and immediately loves. Then there's the stuff that he likes because it's become familiar. I'm excited to watch as his music tastes develop. I'm also scared to see what kind of crappy pop he'll enjoy as he gets older.

Hopefully, though, no matter how old he gets, there will be some song available that will halt any crying fit.

That's possible, right?

On Comic Books, And Making a Special One

by Doug

A couple of years back, in a personal quest to change things up from the endless cycle of Wiggles and Baby Einstein videos that we had been watching, I introduced Brady to the Justice League. Specifically, the Justice League Unlimited series that had been running on Cartoon Network, and had recently been purchased on DVD.

We ended up watching those videos nonstop, but at least I could tolerate that.

Then Brady wanted to read some of my comics. She read some of them, and I got her a few of her own to look through. She couldn't read quite read yet, but she wanted to look at all the pictures and see all of these heroes in action. They say that the best storytellers are the ones that can get the idea across of what was happening, even if there was no dialogue. Needless to say, Brady was able to figure out what was going on, even if she didn't know what they were saying (this would later be rectified by her asking me to read the comics to her, thus fulfilling my secret desire to become a voice actor).

When Brady was about to turn five, I was stuck on what to get her for her birthday. I wanted to give her something special and unique. Then it hit me: What better thing to give her than her very own comic that she was in! And not just any comic; a comic where she got to be with some of her favorite super heroes, and it was she who saved the day!

Now, as a writer, I'm a pretty good artist. So, I talked to my friend and Ten Ton Studios-mate, Kurt Christenson to help flesh out and write this story I had in my head, where she would get to team up with Spider-Man and the Flash. Totally unauthorized, but what the hell...she's the only one who gets a copy. Stacey then helped out by coming up with some true Brady-isms that Kurt and I overlooked, and voila! We have a comic.

Phil was nice enough to help out on this endeavor by painting up a sweet cover for the comic. I printed the whole thing up, bound it, and it was all set to give to her.

Only thing was, her birthday was in March, and we finished the project up several months later. So, it became less of a birthday present, and more of a "Welcome to Kindergarten!" present. Whaddyagonnado?

What was her reaction, you wonder? She had a death grip on that book for a week. She showed it to everyone. At school, at home, to friends, to family. Everyone. She had me and Stacey read it to her (as she started to read more, she would say her lines). She would read it to herself. She even went to bed with it.

I think she liked it.

I was told once that the best presents you can give someone are the ones that you make yourself. After making that one-of-a-kind comic book for my daughter, and seeing her reaction to it, I'd have a hard time disagreeing.

Question

by Matt

"What planet are you from?"

"What do squirrels eat?"

"Where do babies come from?"

So many questions in so little time.

L is almost 4 and the questions come nonstop. It's not that I can't (or won't)answer these questions. It's just that it's not physically possible to answer quick enough before she ask another.

It's not as if she's doing it to annoy me. She's just that inquisitive.

The other day at lunch, she asked what sound a turtle made. Before I could answer, she asked what a turtle looked like. We finished lunch, and headed to the computer. After what became a 15 minute lesson on turtles, she walked away being much more educated on turtles.

She asked me how I play trombone. I told her the process of using air to vibrate my lips into the horn that makes a tone. This ended up with me trying to explain what the diaphragm was. But by the time I got to that, she was already onto something else.

Her capacity for learning is amazing. I wish I could learn & comprehend that much now. If she's a knowledge sponge, I must be a brick.

We take her to the library every week, and she gets new books every two. We're always looking at interesting things on the internet. We watch plenty of shows on Discovery Channel, the History Channel, Science Network, etc. In the summer, we're outside looking at things. In the winter, we spend a lot of time looking out the windows at squirrels, people, & birds. And then we wonder why they're all driving in an ice cream truck together.

I hope that we can keep that going for her. We have memberships to the zoo, and most museums in the area. Our plan is to keep those going and keep taking our kids there, even after we have our 3rd.

I know learning at that rate slows down. But I feel confident that we can keep the curiosity going. I'm still curious about things.

I'm curious as to how my kids can't eat all of their dinner because they're "full", but then need cookies because they're "still hungry."

Actually, I'm not curious about that. I still use that move too.

My Tree House

by Steve

I'm into a project right now that I'm loving. I'm building a tree house. So far I've got 2 posts in the ground and four boards in a tree, so at this stage it's still more of a vision, but the vision is awesome.

The right kind of trees are important. I've got these 2 oak trees about 14 feet apart, tall ones that sway. Halfway between them are two posts for legs. The first platform (the lower one) spans from the legs to the tree on the right. It's about 4 feet off the ground. The other platform goes from the posts to the tree on the left. This one is 8 feet off the ground.

The idea is, a ladder from the ground to the lower platform on the right, then another ladder from there to the upper platform on the left. That's where the house part will be.

Other that the fact that I don't need a permit to build it, the best part of this is that the platforms are connected to the trees by cables (1/4 inch steel rope). They're actually hanging in the trees. So when the trees move and sway with the wind, or even when the kids are moving around on it, the whole tree house moves a little. This way you really get the "up in the trees" feel, but it's super secure at the same time. I found the design in a tree house book that Santa brought with him a few years ago.

At first, working on the tree house was going to be a family thing. I planned on having the kids sawing wood and hammering nails. It'd be a good experience with hard work, family time and a sense of we did it. I was really serious about that too. I made it clear that we either do this together or it doesn't get done.

It didn't quite work out like that We make a list every weekend of things that we need to do and my wife has taken to writing Daddy's Tree House Time on the list. That's kind of what it turned into. It's me in the woods, mostly alone, sitting on a ladder and staring at all of this wood that that I nailed together and hung from a tree.

A few days ago I was sitting on the ladder drinking my tea and Matt's post from last week popped into my head. It seems Matt has been forced into a confined spot in the basement. It contains everything that is Matt.

My in-laws live in my basement. I think I've unwittingly been pushed out of the house and into the woods. My "spot" is about 50 yards behind my house. But it's quiet, there's a stream running right next to the site, deer run by, I love being there.

Now, I really just wanted to write about my tree house. I mean our tree house. But, I think I've decided this tree house isn't going to be finished any time soon. The kids will get to enjoy it some day, But I'm going to put up one board at a time.

I used to Love mornings

by Carlos

Raising three kids that were all under the age of three was daunting. Being a Hawai`i boy in the middle of snow with an infant and two toddlers was grueling. Grocery shopping with three girls took a lot of practice. But through every stage of this job, the Lord has brought me through it. I suffered a lot through it, but none of it lasted for long. I wish I didn't stress out so much while I was going through it, but that's just the way I am, I suppose.
So, I see that I am now in a new stage. This challenge has me worried again. But I can look back and see that it won't last forever. This new challenge is the morning routine. I wake up at 6am and try to get two of my girls ready for school and my third to tag a long. We have until 7:45 to get out of the house, but we almost never make it.
My mornings these days are more stressful than I'd like. In fact, next to dinner, it's the most stressful part of my day. On the bright side, I don't have to be at some job at 7:30 that I had to commute an hour to be there. Now, that's a nice thought.
I really don't know how we don't make it to school on time. My 4-year old, my 3-year old, and my 2-year old can all use the potty, brush their teeth, and get dressed by themselves. But I guess that's only in theory.
What really happens is; Ana, my youngest, gets up and follows me around as I shave and make breakfast. Then, I go to wake up Lani and Damai, but Lani has found herself in the playroom (when they know I said no playroom before school!) and Damai is not sleeping, but like some teenager after a night of partying, she won't open her eyes. I encourage her to get up, then I turn on the lights, then I take her blanket, and finally I pull her out of bed. EVERY morning.
Lani starts crying because she can't play in the play room and I have to pick her up and bring her to the bathroom. After she pees, she calls out to me to wipe her. Then I get crazy because I know she can do it herself. Why did she call herself a big girl because she could use the potty by herself and still ask me to help her use the potty?? I really don't get it.
Ana is now at the sink putting toothpaste on the toothbrush, then she puts the toothbrush in her mouth, then she puts more toothpaste on her toothbrush. When I take the toothpaste away, she cries because there's this tiny space on her toothbrush which she begs to cover with toothpaste. The brand new tube of toothpaste is wasting away down the drain or dribbling down her mouth on to her pajamas.
Now, she's upset because her pajamas are wet and pasty.
Now, I'm upset.
Damai is out of bed and on the floor at the bathroom door saying that she's tired. She has her blanket and is whining. Lani is off the potty and upset because she can't get to the sink with Ana on the stepping stool.
This part is critical. Ana is done brushing her teeth and can get dressed. Lani is ready to move to the sink. I just need to get Damai on the toilet and they're all at different stations. No hold ups. But my system is crashing.
Damai won't get up from in front of the door. Ana is yelling that her "pee pee is coming out". Damn! I forgot to put her on the potty before Lani. I hand Lani her toothbrush, fully loaded, but she says she's gotta wash her hands after using the potty. I wiped her! I had to wash my hands.
My system has crashed, time is ticking away and I can feel it in my temples. This is where I blow my stack.
Damai quickly gets on the potty. Ana runs out of the bathroom, but the wrong way. I'll have to chase her down. Lani takes advantage of the step and washes her hands.
Now, it's changing time. Today, I wasn't quick enough. I didn't grab the clothes I set out the night before and put them outside the bathroom. So, we have to go to their room. I show Ana her clothes, but she wiggles away from my grasp, jumps on her bed and says she wants to wear a dress instead. It's too cold outside, in fact it's too cold inside! to wear a dress.
Lani comes in and begins jumping on the bed too. "Everyone off the bed!" Lani's easier, so I take her shirt off and put the school shirt on the crown of her head. She can do the rest. I pull her pajama pants off a little, so she gets the clue to take them off. Then, I hand her the shorts and grab Ana.
I do the same with Ana, but when I put Ana's shirt on the crown of her head, she begins to run around the house making ghost noises. How did she escape?
Lani is done and Damai walks in. I have two choices now. I can chase after Ana and put her clothes on before she catches a cold or I can get Dami dressed. If I leave, Damai will get back into bed and we'll never get to school. Lani runs back in as I'm thinking this and tells me that Ana is not dressed. Lani leaves after I tell her that I'll get to it. I get Damai dressed and out.
In the hallway Ana is crouched on the ground with her shirt still around her head saying loudly, "I'm hiding, you can't find me!"
Now Damai is yelling at Lani, because she found Lani in the play room playing with her doll.
I won't even say how breakfast goes.
I've switched up the routine, played with different wake up times, made different breakfasts, and I even gave them tasks to complete (like pack their backpacks, feed the fish, or set the table). But I always end up doing every little thing for them and we still don't get to school on time. The thing I'm most worried about is when Ana goes to school next year, I might start substitute teaching, but how will I ever get to work on time if I can't get the kids to school on time?
I wish I could say that I have faith that everything will work out, but I really get worried. That makes mornings even more stressful.
But I can say this much; in the last 4 years, there's always these kind of stages that I have to go through as the kids get older. And the Lord always brings me through alive. So this is just one more stage. I can't wait to see how He does this one.