Sleepy Boy

Have you ever been so tired that you woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t figure out where you were?  It’s a bit unsettling to say the least.  But one fact that you may not know is that it is infinitely hilarious when you get to watch someone else stumble around, trying to operate in that state.

Griffin’s little body has been adjusting to life as a Kindergartener.  On top of that, he had some big days in the last week or so.  Both he and Gage got to stay up late, and it’s been noticeable in their attitudes and actions. 

Like most things, once Griffin decided that he was potty trained, there was no going back.  He went straight from wearing diapers to being able to wake up at night and go to the bathroom.  It was great.  Even now, his body will still wake him up if he needs to go, and that’s where our story begins…

Tamara and I were in the living room watching the end of a recorded Burn Notice, when we heard the boys bedroom door open.  The kids had only been down for an hour or so, and we figured it was Griffin just getting up to use the restroom.  We were right, in a manner of speaking, but our poor boy was having a lot of problems.

First, he couldn’t find the bathroom.  Instead of coming down the hall and turning left to enter the bathroom, he turned right to go out in the living room.  Something in his mind clicked and he knew that wasn’t correct.  He immediately turned and started heading into our bedroom, and again his brain prodded him away from that door but this time it finally supplied the correct direction.

Tamara and I got tickled about it and were busy snickering while the toilet lid was being banged around in the bathroom.  It was all fun and games until the crying started.  I immediately jumped up and shot off toward the bathroom (Tamara doesn’t jump up and shoot off anywhere, being 8 months pregnant).  Evaluating the level of distress in the cry, I was afraid that his little bladder had finally succumbed to the pressure it had built up, and he didn’t make it on the toilet in time.  As I rounded the corner, I saw that things were much worse than that.  He had inadvertently put up both the lid AND the seat and was on a downward course for toilet bowl.

I started shouting, “Wait!  Wait!” and sped off, barely intercepting him before he deposited his entire body into the water of the toilet bowl.  I got the lid down, and got him on the seat just as the flood gates opened.  With eyes barely opened, he sat and finished his business.  I stayed with him, since I wasn’t exactly sure that he was completely functional.  And it’s a good thing I did. 

After he got up and started back out of the bathroom, he again took a wrong turn and started heading toward his old room.  We moved the boys about a month ago, and redecorated their old room as a nursery for baby sister.  In retrospect, I probably should have let him go in and search for his bunk bed.  It would have been a lot of fun, and I doubt he’d remember it anyway.

It’s easy to laugh at.  I’ve been there before.  A while after I moved out of the house and got married, my parents knocked the walls out of my old room and expanded their master bedroom and spare bedroom.  One time, while we were visiting, I got up in the middle of the night to use the restroom, when I finished, I headed down the hallway and walked smack into the wall that now covered my old doorway.  I tell you, it’s a shock to the system to find a wall where your brain told you there shouldn’t be one. 

I’m sure I’m not the only one to ever experience this sort of thing.

You're Doing It Right!

I’ve only been a daddy for a little over five years now.  I’m learning as I go, and I’ve made a lot of mistakes along the way.  I kind of feel sorry for my oldest son because he’s the one that we had to practice on.  Gage gets some of the benefits of his older brother forging a way through childhood.

Often, you wonder if you’re approaching the situation from the right direction.  You wonder if your kids are getting what you’re trying to instill in them.  Then, every once in a while, you get a glimpse that you’re headed in the right direction.

Tamara has been trying to get Gage potty trained.  Part of her training regimen is outright bribery.  Every time he pees in the potty, he gets an M&M.  Early one Saturday morning, we heard Griffin using the bathroom and flushing the potty.  The next thing we hear is Gage’s little voice saying, “You used the potty!  You get an M&M!”  Griffin replied, “I don’t get an M&M for going potty.”  Undeterred, Gage reasserted, “You get an M&M!”  Griffin started to get a little frustrated with his brother and said, “Gage, Mommy and Daddy don’t give me an M&M for going potty, and I have to obey them.”

So, I immediately got up, went to the kitchen, and gave Griffin a whole bag of M&Ms for breakfast.  I know it’s not the healthiest of meals, but when I heard that he was placing more importance on obedience than on something he wanted, I couldn’t let that go unrewarded.  That’s what it’s all about!

If he can grasp the concept that there are people in authority over him, and that he needs to obey them, then we’re preparing him for a whole host of life situations.  He’ll know how to interact with his teachers in school, how to behave when he’s at a friend’s house, how to obey the traffic laws when he begins to drive, and how to be a good employee when he’s got a job. 

Don’t misunderstand.  I’m not trying to create a mindless robot that will blindly follow whatever he’s commanded to do.  We let Griffin respectfully question our decisions, and, on rare occasions, he’s actually offered an alternative solution that we’ve considered and allowed him to do.  After all, independence and decision making are important skills too.

I say none of this to brag or try to push our parenting style onto other people.  Only to celebrate those rare occasions when your kids don’t know you are watching or listening and they make a decision to do the right thing anyway.

I hope there will be many more of these to come.

First Day of School

Well, Griffin’s first day of school has come and gone, and I think we can say that it was a success.  Tamara and the boys walked to school for his first morning, and even though he wasn’t a big fan of that part, he had a good time anyway.

It was the second day that started with a minor hitch.  Instead of walking all the way, mom and the boys drove up to the trailhead that led to the school.  As they were getting out, Griffin’s Spiderman thermos fell out of his backpack and rolled into a deep culvert.  His little heart was broken.  Daddy had found the very last Spiderman thermos at Target, and now it was gone down the drain…literally.

They drove back to the house and got a replacement before heading back to school.  All was well!  I know some people that would have let that ruin their whole day, but I’m glad it didn’t for him.  As soon as he got to school he ran toward the playground without a backwards glance.  I think he’s settling in just fine.

As my Congolese coworker put it, “You can choose to wallow in your sorrow, or you can focus on the good things.”  And I think he’s right.  There are a lot of things in life that you just don’t have control over.  Worry about them is futile.  That’s a lesson I need to take closer to heart.

The only thing Griffin has had a problem with is answering the same question over and over again.  Everyone is so excited for him, and they all want to know, “How did you like school?”  We’re working with him to help him understand that a lot of times you just have to answer the same question over and over again, and not to get upset.  It can be hard though.

I’ve had the same feelings as him before, and I’ve been guilty of doing it to others.  You know how it is, you’re walking by a coworker and you ask them how they’re doing, and you don’t even stop to hear what their answer is.  You didn’t really want to know how they were doing, you were just being polite.  And then there’s the occasion that one of them stops to actually tell you how they’re doing and you get upset about being pulled into a conversation.

I wonder if this isn’t why teens shut down sometimes when parents ask them about school.  It’s the same question over and over.  It doesn’t take much thought to come up with, “How was school.”  Maybe in their young minds, they’re thinking, ‘You don’t really care how school was, you’re just trying to start a conversation.’

I have no idea if that’s actually how it goes.  I’m just throwing it out there.  If there are any teens reading this, maybe they can weigh in.

As for my experience, I’ve found that I get better results when I ask a specific question.  One that shows I’m plugged in and know what’s going on.  I’ve noticed it in my own life too.  I have a much easier time talking with someone who shows a real interest in what we’re discussing.  Chit-chat has never been my forte, and I’m beginning to think it might be a problem for Griffin too.

Life on the Circuit

What in the world is “life on the circuit?”  Well, I’m glad you asked, since I’m about to tell you.  I first noticed it around the time we were graduating college.  Somehow, all of our friends decided that they had reached that point in life where they needed to be hitched.  Wedding invitations began to flow in from diverse places across the country.  They weren’t the kind you could politely turn down and mail the happy couple a wedding gift.  No, they were the kind where you’re in the wedding party and expected to show up in a tux (or a dress in Tamara’s case).  It got to the point where you were going to a wedding on a monthly basis.

After a year or so of this, we’d had all of the wedding scene we could stomach.  We made an executive decision to no longer befriend single people. “That’s so harsh,” you might say.  But, we had good reason.  Single people were just too expensive to drag into the married stage of life.

All seemed to go well for a while, but little did we know we had only changed to a new level.  We had traded the Wedding Circuit for the Newborn Circuit.  There were pros and cons to this new stage of life.  In most cases, it was less expensive.  You were only on the hook for a baby gift, and maybe fixing dinner for the exhausted couple one night.  Babies are fun to hold and sleep a lot, so it’s still possible to visit your friends and get a card game or two in.  On the down side, it began to make some of us (Tamara) think more earnestly about starting a family of our own.  Also, instead of a period of a year or so, we’ve been in this newborn stage for the better part of a decade.

Within the last few months, it has suddenly become apparent to me that we no longer simply exist in a single circuit.  We are now running in two simultaneously.  Our kids have gotten old enough that we’re now on the Birthday Circuit, too.  Again, these are cheaper than weddings, in that you only have to go and bring a gift.  They can also be quite a bit of fun, depending on what activities are going on at the party.  The downside is that the more kids you have, the more parties you are obligated for.  Unless you have twins, each of your children has their own peer group, with each friend in that peer group having their own parties.  It grows exponentially, and that means more gifts on average than you’ve been buying in recent history.

I have a sneaking hunch that if you have a family as big as the Duggers, then you don’t even really need a home anymore.  You simply drift from one birthday party to the next, eating pizza, enjoying the entertainment, and doing it only for the price of a gift.

I’m well aware that this stage could potentially last for decades.  But I’m already thinking ahead.  I believe that there will be more to come.  Some stages that I see, but haven’t experienced are:  the Graduation Circuit, the Empty Nester Circuit, and the Funeral Circuit. 

I joke about the cost of these things, but in reality, if you are spending a lot of time going to weddings, baby showers, birthday parties, graduations, and funerals, then it means you and your family are blessed with a large group of friends.  And I have a feeling that a calendar full of celebrations is much more to be desired than a year full of loneliness and free weekends. 

So, there’s nothing to do but get out there and ride it for all it’s worth.  And should you find yourself coming to our house on the Birthday Circuit, remember that my boys have really been wanting a Garmin.

Gage and the Cave

What was I thinking?  I don’t know.  I guess I let my love for caves overshadow my knowledge of a two year old’s behavior.  He was scared to go in the wooden crawling maze inside the gift shop, so I’m just grateful that we didn’t have any more fear crop up once we started down into the cave itself. 

Gage was my responsibility on this adventure.  You just don’t make a pregnant woman carry a twenty-six pound child down 250 slippery steps.  A pregnant woman probably shouldn’t have been going down in the cave in the first place.  Now, in my opinion, it would have been so cool if she had given birth while we were down there.  How many kids could say that they were born in a cave??  Spelunking would be my little girl’s birthright!  I ran this idea by my wife and she was neither as excited nor as in favor of the suggestion as I was.

I should have known we were in for a ride when the tour guide started off with a ten minute explanation of the history of Talking Rocks.  The only thing that saved me from having more toddler than I could handle is that we sat down next to a cute teenage girl.  He spent the entire introduction flirting with her, and boy did he turn on the charm.

Once the actual tour got started, things got a little rocky (no pun intended).  Let me just say that the boredom of a two year old is a force of nature, not unlike a hurricane or tornado.  You just kind of grab on to them and hold on for the ride.

Our entire tour consisted of climbing or descending stairs, and pausing intermittently for long periods of time while the tour guide pontificated on some odd geological nonsense or other.  I wouldn’t know because I spent these periods of time wrestling with my youngest as he climbed all over me like a rabid spider monkey.  I had to keep a tight watch on him for fear that I’d punt lose him over the side of a seventy-foot drop.  This was made worse by the fact that my arms were tired from the last three days at the water park playing ‘Gage ball’ in the pool.  Add in the little girl who had a panic attack and had to be taken to the surface, which was an extra fifteen minutes of idle standing, and I was absolutely exhausted by the time we got to the bottom.

One great feature of caves is that their temperature remains constant year round.  In the summer it feels nice and cool, in the winter it’s nice and warm.  When grappling with a bored toddler, this has no effect.  It’s sixty degrees year round in this cave, but I had sweat dripping off me in rivulets.

Boredom aside, I’m rather proud of how he handled himself.  We had a couple of close calls, once when the eight year old girl started wailing like a banshee with a saxophone; I could tell he was trying to figure out how to react to it.  Another time, when we made it to the bottom of the chasm and the guide turned all the lights out for way too long, he started to get a little tense, but we passed these experiences with flying colors.

I think I’ve learned an important lesson here, though.  When you put your child in a situation that tests the limits of their behavior, either be patient or be prepared for the consequences. 

Branson Vacation Diary

Thursday, August 12, 2010

                We got started later than I wanted, and stopped by Burger King on the way out of town for dinner.  Can you believe it cost over $20 for the entire family to eat fast food?!?  Oh well, its vacation and even though we’ll get to Branson around 10 p.m., we’re going to have a good time.

Friday, August 13, 2010

                It’s definitely Friday the 13^th.  The kids were almost too excited to go to sleep last night, but that didn’t keep them from waking up at their normal time.  The bed we slept in was different from what we’re used to, but not too uncomfortable.  We all snoozed pretty hard once we finally got to sleep.  We went to IHOP for breakfast this morning.  Who in their right mind pays $40 for breakfast?!?  We should have gone back to Burger King.

                The water park was a blast.  Griffin took to the water slides like an otter.  Gage only wanted to stay in the 3 foot pool with the basket ball goals and shoot.  Problem is, he can’t touch bottom and he wants to be lifted up to shoot the ball in the basket.  Oh, well.  It’s vacation.

                We went to the grocery store and bought food to make lunches.  Ah, yes, that’s more my speed.  After a nap, we dropped Tamara off at Factory Merchants Outlet and I took the boys to Dino Golf.  Even though it was like playing in a blast furnace, the boys had fun.  Gage is pretty decent, and Griffin even got a hole-in-one on the course.  I’ll have to teach them not to walk through other people’s games.  I think we made a family from Idaho mad when Griffin accidentally stopped one of their balls.

                It was a fun day.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

                It can’t be morning already.  Why wouldn’t they go to sleep last night?  Dunkin’ donuts for breakfast; it’s not healthy, but it’s cheap and fast.  Off to the water park again with the boys.  This time, I’m alone.  Mommy is shopping at Tanger, and I’m doing Daddy time with the kids.  Thankfully Griffin is pretty self-reliant.  If I could just strap Gage to my back and stand in the basketball pool, he’d be happy too.  I can only lift him for so long before we have to go do something else.

                After three hours of water fun, we met Tamara back at the hotel room, took showers, and headed to Pizza Hut where we demolished an entire pizza.  We took a nap, and then headed to the Dixie Stampede.  The boys loved it!  Griffin was so transfixed on the show that we had to remind him to eat.  I enjoyed most of the show.  There were a few parts I missed, since I was on bathroom duty.  I’d take Gage, then have to take Griffin, then take Gage back... 

                The Yankees ended up winning, but still, it was a good day.  I’m very tired.

Sunday, August 15, 2010

                I can’t feel my arms.  I don’t know if it’s from doing “Gage presses” in the basketball pool or from this cursed bed.  My spine feels fused and I ache all over.  It’s time for another day at the pool…yeah.

                We went to Cracker Barrel and ate breakfast.  I looked at the ticket and cried.  We should have gone back to IHOP.  After getting back to the hotel and changing, we headed to the pool.  I got to spend most of my time with Griffin today, and it was good.  We played for at least three hours before heading back to the hotel room.  Fuddruckers was on the menu today, and my boys destroyed their food.  Playing in the pool works up an appetite.

                It was too late in the day for a nap, so we played mini-golf at the indoor course.  We had a lot of fun, and Tamara ended up beating us all.  I don’t think that’s ever happened before.

                We turned in really early.

Monday, August 16, 2010 (Last Day)

                We took a long time in getting ready this morning, so we ended up eating brunch at the Grand Country Buffet.  The people there are really nice, and the food is pretty good too.

                We headed out to Talking Rocks Cavern.  It’s a really kid friendly place.  They have a mini-golf course, a place to pan for precious stones in a water sluice, and an indoor and outdoor wooden crawling maze.  Griffin had a blast playing in them.  Gage only eyed them suspiciously and never went beyond the entrance.  Griffin may be my little caver.  It’s still too early to tell with Gage.

                We went down into the cavern on the tour.  Griffin did really well, even though it was one of the more tedious tours that we’ve taken.  Gage, he…well…I’m just not doing that again.  Not until he’s much older.

                The trip home went by pretty fast.  We stopped and ate at Noodles in Fayetteville.  I’ve resolved to quit looking at food receipts while on vacation.  It only gives me heartburn.  We probably should have gone back to Cracker Barrel.

                Around the time we got back to our hometown, I looked at my wife and said, “Why do I feel like I’ve just survived this vacation.”  She smiled and looked at me with pity in her eyes and said, “Did you imagine it was going to go differently?”

                I guess I expected us to have a more relaxing time all the way around, but in the end, I do think fun was had by all.  At the very least, we’ve got some good memories.         

They're Watching You

Griffin is what you might call, a nosy boy.  If there is a conversation going on within his earshot, he wants to know what it’s about and if he’s the subject of it.  He comes by it honestly, though.  His mother is much the same way.  I remember our earlier days of dating, when we’d go to a restaurant and I’d be talking to her only to see a glazed look come over her face, as she eavesdropped on other people’s conversations.  You might be tempted to say that it’s because what I have to say is utterly boring, but since you’re still reading this blog, I’d submit that that simply can’t be the case.

Anyhow, she’s paying for her raising now.  Our little nosy one will listen in and ask questions, even if she’s just talking on the phone with other people.  It’s gotten to irritate her so much that she’s taken to responding like so:

My wife (on the phone): So that’s what we were looking at doing on Tuesday.

Griffin:  What are we doing, Mommy?

My wife: Griffin, I am not talking to you, I am on the phone with Aunt Neen.

Griffin:  Did you say we’re going somewhere?

My wife:  I told you, I’m talking with Aunt Neen.  Is your name Aunt Neen?

Griffin:  No.

My wife:  Okay.  Go on.

And that usually ends things.

Now, for the rest of the story.  A number of months ago, we were on our way to church one bright Sunday Morning.  As we passed by the water department, Griffin spotted a large line of pristinely yellow bulldozers and said, “Hey daddy, look at those.”

I was busy driving, and half paying attention to him, so I didn’t respond in a timely manner, prompting him to repeat himself.

At this point, my wife jumped in and said, “Yeah, honey.  There are a lot of them.”

There was silence for a fraction of a second, and then from the backseat we hear, “Is your name Daddy?”

There’s no feeling quite like being utterly gob smacked from hearing your words issue forth out of a toddlers mouth.  We were speechless, which was also interpreted as an unacceptable response by the boy.  A little more loudly he pressed for an answer, “I said.  Is your name Daddy?”

At this point, our minds began to process rational thought again, and I quickly jumped in to inform him that his words were leaning toward the disrespectful, sassy side of things.  He seemed to grasp the concept, yet still to this day, navigating the words and speech patterns that are deemed too sassy is a very tricky arena.  The only thing I know to do is intercept the situations where he is being disrespectful and show him a better way to express his thoughts and feelings.  I’m hoping with enough practice, his little mind will make the connections.

For now, though, it’s a sobering thought to know that they are listening to everything you say and how you say it.  The old adage is true, “What goes into the well comes up in the bucket.”

Introductions

My good people, I’ve missed my introduction!  I’ve been writing about my kids for a while, so I thought this might be a good time to let you in on the true make-up of their personalities.   We’ll start with the oldest.

Griffin is five years and five months old.  He’s as good of a big brother as we could have hoped for.  He’s constantly concerned with the well-being of his younger sibling, and a very responsible boy.  It’s not surprising for him to see something that needs to be done and just do it on his own without being told (like feeding the dog and letting her out).

If I had to sum him up, though, I’d have to settle on the words ‘Problem Solver’.  I don’t know if it’s inborn or if we fostered this behavior, but this kid is extremely inquisitive and creative.  At a young age, I started teaching him how to use tools to get things he wanted, like using a broom handle to get a ball out from under the couch.  He quickly learned door knobs and handles and could open them from the time he could reach them.  It didn’t dawn on me how much trouble we were in until he picked our bedroom lock one morning.  That’s just not something you want your kid doing at the drop of a hat.

Present him with a problem, and you can instantly see his little mind whir into action, ciphering through all his limited knowledge to come up with at least one solution for you.  Sometimes, they’re really good ideas, too.  He’s a smart one.

Gage, weighing in at two years and ten months, has a few more outstanding features than his older brother.  Where Griffin delights in the occasional round of mischief, Gage absolutely revels in it.  He’s never happier than when he’s being ornery.  He got a generous helping of this gene from both sides of the family, and hopefully we can channel that into light-hearted orneriness instead of mean-spirited.

Gage is also our little athlete.   Before he had even turned two, he could keep control of a soccer ball while running and kicking, he could also shoot a basketball over his brother’s head into their in-room basketball goal, and he could hit anything he was aiming at while throwing a ball.  This caused us a great deal of trouble, since he tended to aim for your face and rarely warned you he was about to throw.

The last feature of his little personality can be summed up into one word, ‘Charmer’.  I don’t know where he gets it from, but he knows how to turn on a smile for the ladies.  He also learned how to wink at a very young age, and has put that to good use.  Speaking from personal experience, it’s a little annoying to have such a lady’s man in the house.  On more than one occasion, Tamara has walked out of the bedroom after getting ready, only to have the youngest pipe up and say, “You look like a Princess!”  Oh, that’s so cute, you might say, but then when your wife turns to you and lifts her eyebrow in anticipation of your response, there’s really nothing left for you to bring to the plate.  “Yeah, what he said,” is about the best you can do.

I love our kids, and I’m really looking forward to seeing what traits our little girl will have.

Grandparents

Grandparents are a wonderful thing.  My kids think the sun rises and sets on their grandparents.  Any time the phone rings, and they get a hold of it before we do, you can tell who’s on the other end of the line.  If the first words out of my son’s mouth are “Can I come to your house,” you know it’s one of his grandparents.

I don’t know about Tamara’s mother, but mine has lost all ability to say “No,” when it comes to her grandkids.  Her backbone has definitely softened since I was a kid.  It doesn’t matter if she’s recovering from a surgery or just got back off a 14-hour plane ride.  If those babies want to come to her house, then we need to bring them.

I’m happy that the kids enjoy spending time with our parents, but sometimes it makes you wonder about how good a job you’re doing with them.  A Friday or so ago, Griffin and Gage stayed with my mom and dad.  When I went to pick them up on Saturday, they cried as if I were dragging them back to shackle them to the grinding mill in our dungeon.  Finally, my son blurted out, “I want to live here.”  I was taken aback for a moment before I asked him, “You want to live with Mammy and Pa?  You don’t want to live with Mommy and Daddy anymore?”

My son, ever the diplomat and quick thinker replied, “You can move in too.”

That made me feel a little better.  He didn’t want to sever ties completely with us, just spend more time with his grandparents.

I remember how I loved to stay with my grandparents when I was a little kid.  We only lived three houses away from them, but it was great fun to pack my little suitcase and go down to Grandma’s house for the night.  We’d eat snacks and play cards or dominoes.  If it was early evening, we’d all sit out under the walnut tree in the swing and watch the bats fly around the yard. 

I loved getting to take a bath in Grandma’s tub while the gas heater kept the bathroom nice and toasty.  Then, grandma would pull the hide-away bed out of the sofa and I’d lie down for the night, listening to Grandpa snore loud enough to shake Grandma’s bell collection.

I think the time that my kids get to spend with their grandparents has a large effect on their attitudes and outlook on life.  The unconditional love they receive reaffirms their self-worth and builds their confidence.  I don’t think our kids would be the same if it wasn’t for the time they spent with our parents.  And I’m thankful for that.

We also get to hear the funny stories where our kids are just being themselves.  Like how Griffin wanted to stay up and watch a movie so they could eat popcorn and cucumbers, and how Gage won’t sleep anywhere, except in the floor of Mom and Dad’s walk-in closet.

Yeah, Grandparents are great.

Why?

It took Griffin nearly two and a half years before he really started to talk.  Up to that point, we had begun to wonder if he was ever going to do anything besides point and grunt.  Like everything else he’s done, once he made the change, there was no going back.

Now, he jabbers all the time, unless he’s watching something on TV.  Not long after he began talking, Griffin settled on a favorite word.  It’s the bane of every parent who’s ever raised a toddler; the dreaded word, ‘Why’.  Even to this day, my ears almost bleed when I hear him launch into it.

 

If you’re not a parent, let me quickly demonstrate for you:

Me:  Griffin, pick up your toys, it’s time to go home.

Him:  Why?

Me:  Because it’s nap time.

Him:  Why?

Me:  Because you need your rest.

Him:  Why?

Me:  Because you’re tired and whiny and your attitude is bad.

Him:  Wh…

Me:  JUST PICK UP THE TOYS BECAUSE I SAID TO!

It’s such a fine line between providing the information that his inquisitive mind desires, and falling into the manipulated game of question/answer.  I don’t want to treat his questions so harshly that he decides that they aren’t worth asking.  I don’t want him to be a mindless robot that just does what I say without ever questioning, but at the same time, the constant ‘whys’ can drive you absolutely nuts!

In his younger days, I took to making him form a whole question instead of the one word ‘why’.  I’m not sure that I accomplished much except for forcing him to speak in complete thoughts.  I would guess that this has helped his communication skills to some extent, and though it might be petty on my part, I felt that if I had to work up a good answer, he should have to work up a complete question.

Now that he’s a little older, we sometimes make him think through the situation and try to arrive at the answer on his own.  It doesn’t always work, and sometimes it’s exasperating, but it’s the same concept as teaching them how to brush their own teeth or take a shower.  Its lots of work on the front end, but the payoff is worth it.

We really haven’t had the same issue with Gage.  Griffin is only too happy to inform him ‘why’ things happen the way that they do.  He’s a good big brother.

If you’re going through it, I know that it’s maddening.  It just wears you down after a while.  But, to quote the movie Evan Almighty, “Let me ask you something. If someone prays for patience, you think God gives them patience? Or does He give them the opportunity to be patient? If he prayed for courage, does God give him courage, or does He give him opportunities to be courageous? If someone prayed for the family to be closer, do you think God zaps them with warm fuzzy feelings, or does He give them opportunities to love each other?”

Tag, You're It

When you were little, did you have a favorite blanket you carried around?  My wife had one she kept until she was nearly a teenager.  I had one too, that I gave up when I was eight years old.  It was soft and blue, and had a satin edge around it.  I loved to take the corner of the shimmery material and rub it across my lips.

Gage got a double helping of the gene that makes you latch onto a blankie.  He’s put his own little twist on our childhood habits, though.  What’s important to him is the tag.  Yes, that little piece of soft, white label that gives the washing instructions.  That’s his comfort.

We noticed it at an early age, and probably encouraged it, in a way.  My wife found a little book covered in tags at www.taggies.com and got it for him.  We thought he’d be in love with all the brightly colored tags hanging off the soft book.  It turns out, though; the only tag on it he cares about is the long white one with the washing instructions.  There’s something to be said for consistency.

My parents went to New Zealand last year and brought him back a stuffed toy koala.  When they bought it, they joked that they were getting him a tag with a koala attached.  They clearly understand the depth of his obsession.  Last Sunday, the boys spent the afternoon at their house.  When it came time for nap, my mother gave him a soft blanket, but he immediately began howling about the lack of a tag on it.  She had to pull a tee-shirt off the hanger and give to him so he could have a tag for naptime.

You see, the tag is crucial for slumber.  It’s a powerful sedative that, as best I can tell, is applied by running it between the index and middle finger.  I don’t understand how it works, but it does.  Give that boy a tag, and if he gets still and strokes that satiny piece of material, he’ll be out in a matter of minutes.

There’s also some sort of rating system that he goes by.  I don’t know what it’s based on, probably tag material, length, softness, who knows.  On more than one occasion, he’s come up to me, offering a feel of the white label, proclaiming, “Das a good one!”

As a father, I can’t help but wonder how far to let this obsession go, and if I could possibly have any control over it if I tried.  Will he give it up on his own?  Do we need to step in and try to tone down his dependence on this…substance?  Are we raising a tag-addict?

What if he ends up having to go to support group meetings someday because we didn’t step in and do something?  I can see it now:

My Son:  Hi.  My name’s Gage. 

Everyone else:  Hi, Gage.

My Son:  It’s been three weeks since I’ve used the tag.

Everyone claps.

I don’t want that for him.  But at the same time, it’s silly to worry over something that may not even be a problem.  Right now, we’re just taking limited steps.  There are some solid rules that we abide by, such as, “Don’t rub the tag of your brother’s dirty underwear on your face.”  In fact, all underwear tags are pretty much off limits.

We also try to avoid doing laundry within his earshot.  Gage is our helper.  He loves to help, no matter what the task.  But, God bless him, his help isn’t always…helpful.  He can turn loading the dryer from a thirty second process into a three minute procedure.  Every item of clothing that comes out of the washer must have its tag inspected before it’s tossed in to dry.

For now, we’re not going to stress over it too much.  I’m sure that, in the end, all will turn out fine, and we’ll look back and fondly remember the days when our little boy would drag his blanket around the house by its washing instructions.

The Awful Day

There are good days, there are bad days, and then there are completely homicidal days.  Usually, you don’t even know how bad those days are until you reach the end of it and look back.  They can come out of nowhere without any indication of how horrible things are going to get.

Yesterday was one of those days.

It was probably a myriad of events that grabbed and threw me sideways.  I missed my morning workout, I spent nearly all day in meetings though I've got a looming project deadline, it’s the hottest part of the summer and our AC went out at work, I came home to find out Tamara had trouble with the kids and on top of that the baby was taking its toll on her.  I went straight from work to taking care of everybody at the house.

A new set of problems arose once I got home.  Gage refused to pick up the things he had gotten out, causing us to meet out punishment.  After getting things cleaned up, he destroyed the closet in baby sister’s room, causing us to go through the whole cleanup process again.  At dinner, he was playing instead of eating, and dumped a cup of milk into the kitchen floor.  It was one problem after another.

I found myself getting angry.  So very angry, with no real explanation of what I was even angry about.  I had to walk outside and stand there for a while to get myself under control.

Even now, I’m having a hard time figuring out what justified me being so upset.  The only thing I can come up with is that I must have felt entitled to have an easier time with things once I got home.  It makes no sense, but that has to be it.

I moped through the evening, taking care of Tamara and the kids, and when I finally got them in bed and had a few minutes alone, it all came crashing in about what a horrible father and husband I had been.  My wife needed my help, and I gave it, although grudgingly.  Did I not promise to be there for her in sickness and health?  Sure I did, but when it came time to put up or shut up, I did it with a sour attitude.

Is it not my job to model the behavior I want my kids to follow?  Of course it is, but all they saw last night was a grumpy father who had little time to deal with them or their problems.

What an utter failure I was.  It’s so easy to get focused on my own wants and needs that I forget to take care of the people under my protection.

God, help me be the father and husband that my family needs me to be.  

Handguns and Kitty Cats

I’m a young father, or at least I like to think of myself that way.  I have young kids, which instantly qualifies me for that title.  So, it amazes me to watch parents of older kids; those who are adjusting to the onset of the empty nest.

My next closest sibling is a brother who is ten years older than me.  His oldest girl is leaving for college this fall, and her younger sister is only a couple of years behind.  He and his wife have both led very busy lives over the previous years, but it seems like that may be winding down with their oldest out of high school.

How do I know, you might ask?  Well, the other day, he called me on the phone as I was heading home from work.  Come to find out, they had both just gone and got certified on handguns.  Concealed carry, I assume.

Now, I have nothing against carrying handguns.  If someone is going to do it, I prefer it be someone sane like my brother and his wife.  But I’ve got to tell you, if I had some free time come open, my first thought wouldn’t be going out, buying two expensive guns, paying for classes on how to use them, then keeping my conceal carry license up to date. 

That may be your thing, and if it is, I’m not knocking it.  Especially if you’re a crazy psycho, licensed to wield a hand cannon.  I’m just saying that I look at people who have all this free time on their hand, and I think to myself, “I would so use my free time better than them.”

Now, the truth is, by the time I get all this leisure time I’m dreaming of, I’ll squander it like nobody’s business.  But only time will tell.

Where do kitty cats fit into all this?  Well, my brother went on vacation with his family last week.  The day before they left, he called and asked if I would mind checking their mail and feeding their dogs and cat among some other things.  Being the stand-up guy that I am, I said, “Sure.”

So, the first day rolls around, and I stop by their house on the way home from work.  The cat sleeps and eats in the garage, which I leave slightly cracked at the bottom so that it can get in and out.  When I rolled up in the driveway, I immediately hit the garage door button, which causes the door to continue down to the close position, then I hit the button again to make it ascend.

The cat timed his exit perfectly, escaping from the garage confines before the door could slam shut on his tail.  “Lucky cat,” I thought to myself.

Day two.  I don’t really know what to say, except the cats timing was horribly off.  I had no intention of hurting him, but things happen.  The cat had made it halfway out from under the door, when the rolling barrier pinned him to the ground.  It all happened so quickly.  In a panic, his little legs were flailing about, trying desperately to wrench himself free from the door.  Just as desperately, I was in the truck mashing buttons as fast as I could.  I think this only made matters worse by confusing the garage door on what it was supposed to do next.

Eventually, I got it on an upward course and the cat escaped no worse for the wear.  I got out of the truck and went to apologize for what had happened, but the cat was having none of it.  I think it somehow knew that I was responsible for the terror it had just endured.  After feeding and getting fresh water for him, the cat forgave enough to let me check him over.

The only repercussion seems to be that he now has an unhealthy fear of the garage door.  You should have seen him light out around the house when I went to close it again. 

Some of you cat lovers are out there saying, “Oh, that’s so sad.”  You cat haters are probably saying, “I wish I could have seen that.”  Whichever camp you may find yourself in; I think we can all agree that the story takes a more serious bent when you realize the owner is packing heat.

Say What!

Babies frustrate me.  Thankfully, my wife just adores the whole helpless baby stage with the ‘gooing’ and ‘cooing’.  I tend to enjoy the kids more when they reach that stage where their little personalities are solidifying and they can actually use words and form sentences.  It makes it infinitely easier to tell the difference between ‘my diaper is wet’ and ‘brother just hit me with that pillow’.

That being said, as much as I love my kids being able to communicate, it’s one of the more sad duties of a parent to have to correct their kid’s speech.  After all, we can’t have them going to school and being made fun of by their peers.  Sometimes our little ones do their best to use ‘big people’ words, only to come up humorously short of their intended message.

I’ve put together this short record of some of their more recent attempts.

My wife:  Griffin, what do you want for lunch?

Griffin:  A pa-zombie sandwich.

My wife:  A what!?

Griffin:  A pa-zombie sandwich.

After a bit of guess work, we figured out he was after a pastrami sandwich.

Also, to my eldest’s credit, he has managed to mangle his younger brother’s one syllable name into a monster three syllable word.  Gage has been transformed into Gay-yuh-juh.  This is usually only when he’s frustrated at the little imp.

And, somewhere along the way, the word ‘except’ got changed into ‘Buh-cept’.

Gage’s cuteness seems to spill itself right into his speech.  He’s enamored with firemen and their Dalmatian friends whom he refers to as Fider-fider dogs (Fire fighter dogs).

The lad also holds a deep respect and fear of those big inflatable bounce-arounds that you see at children’s parties and special events.  Writing will do it no justice, but the pronunciation goes something like “I staiwed dem bounce-uh-wowunds.” (I scared of them bounce-arounds.)  It’s always said with a measure of fear and awe.

Gage is not our TV watcher, but one movie he always recognizes characters from is ‘Stoy Stoey’ (Toy Story)

One major reason for writing this Blog is to try and capture those funny moments that tend to slip from your mind with time.  I know there are many other hilarious mispronunciations that I’ve already forgotten, but maybe they’ll come to mind and we’ll do a follow-up at a later date.

One last parting shot before we’re done.

Griffin:  I’m still hungry (for the 4^th time).

Me:  What else do you want to eat?

Griffin:  I want one of those things mommy eats, with a ditch in it.

Me:  A ditch in it?

Tamara:  I don’t eat anything with a ditch in it.

Griffin:  Yeah, that fruit with a ditch in it.

Me:  Oh, you mean a pit.  (He wanted a nectarine)