Category: Kids

At What Age

I worked later than normal this evening to finish up some paperwork and wait for traffic to die down which it didn’t. Traffic seldom cooperates. By the time I arrived home, Kim had fed and bathed the kids which immediately takes the two big tasks off the table.

Kim has been under the weather a bit so I felt bad I wasn’t around to help out earlier. About the only way I could think to help was to put the salt and pepper shakers back in the cupboard and clean the kids ears. Two jobs I can handle.

I took the kids downstairs and sat them on the couch next to me. Lincoln sat to the left me of and Luca sat to the right. Anna Lynn jumped on my lap as usual. I tried to find the Lakers. vs Celtics game on ABC but DirecTV said the channel was experiencing “technical difficulties” so I switched over to SportsCenter to wait for the score ticker. Celts up by 5 in the 4th quarter so no way was I switching over to Nickelodeon.

That’s when Lincoln and Anna Lynn realized there would be no Backyardigans and bolted upstairs looking for trouble. But Luca was tired. She put her head on my shoulder and placed an arm on my chest.

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She fell fast asleep. I sat there watching SportsCenter with my oldest daughter asleep on my shoulder and wondering how much longer she’ll be willing to do this. I turned the sound off so I could hear her gentle breathing. Her hair was still wet from the bath she took earlier, and I could feel the cool dampness on my ribs. I could sit like this for hours with Luca.

At what age does it no longer become cool to hang out with your dad? I hope she’ll always want to have me around, but I understand that as she gets more involved in school and makes more friends, the time she has for me will decrease.

That means I need to take advantage of the times like I had tonight with my daughter. I decided I’d let her sleep on my shoulder as long as she wanted.

It Has Cookies In It

Whenever I tell Kim I have a few errands to run her immediate response is, “Which kids are you taking along?” Now that we have four children ages 7 and under you’d assume splitting them up fairly would be routine by now.

But it’s anything but routine because of the Anna Lynn rule which states that if you assume responsibility for her, the other parent must take the other three children including any pets. It’s only fair and totally reasonable if you’ve met our four-year old daughter.

But today I convinced Kim that, since Luca was at a friend’s house, I should be able to take only Lincoln along for a few errands. He was so well behaved the whole time that I decided stop by Baskin Robbins on the way home.

Taking my oldest daughter to Baskin Robbins is an exercise in patience because she can’t make up her mind. She’ll ask to sample a few flavors, changing her mind with each tiny scoop. After the employee has become visibly agitated wondering if we’re going to order anything, she’ll give up and say, “Just choose a flavor for me”.

One scoop of vanilla, please.

But taking my son is an entirely different experience. He’s already selected his flavor well before we pull into the parking lot. This gives him plenty of time to:

  1. Open the freezer doors
  2. Finger paint a butt on the inside of freezer door
  3. Check the tip jar

I don’t even have to ask what flavor he wants because he always wants Cookies and Cream in a wafer cone and “not a cup because that’s what mom makes us have and it’s not as fun”.

But my favorite part of the whole errand and ice cream excursion is sitting down at the table where he can pepper me with question after question. Today he asked me if I knew why he always wants Cookies and Cream and I told him, no, I don’t know why. He said, “Because it has COOKIES IN IT!”

Now I know.

Investing in Children

I’ve come across a number of articles lately that discuss the costs/benefits associated with having children. Several of these articles compare children to other financial investments like 401k and various retirement plans.

This doesn’t feel right to me and here’s why: How do you put a price on the joy children bring into your home?

Conversely, how do you put a price on showing up late to work because you got an hour of sleep due to the baby crying all night?

I was well into my 30’s before Kim and I decided to have children. We never once ran a cost/benefit analysis to determine whether a child would meet certain a yield threshold. We certainly weren’t 100% out of debt nor did we feel particularly prepared to raise a child. We probably prayed more during the 9 months Kim was pregnant than at any time in our lives, and I’m certain this played a large part in our attitudes towards starting a family.

But we did know that we wanted children, and that we were willing to sacrifice having a larger home, fancier cars, and a lot less flexibility in our life. Kim was also willing to sacrifice her career to stay home and be the primary care giver. It was never a question of if but when we’d have children. We were both raised with four siblings and enjoyed having brothers and sisters around.

The decision to have children is personal, and I respect those who decide it’s not for them. I work with several such people and they are just like the parents I know: some are great around children and some not so much. If they ask about my decision to have kids I try to give them a balanced viewpoint although they probably already see both sides of the coin. They see me walking like a zombie through the halls when our last child was born and I wasn’t getting much sleep. But they also see the joy my kids bring when they come visit.

If I viewed life as a time to collect as many things money can buy I’d followed Ken Rockwell’s advice (near bottom of page) and not have children.

But many joys in life cannot be purchased.

I was reminded of this when I picked up Luca from piano practice today which I only get to do if I leave work early. As I pulled up to her teacher’s home she bounded down the stairs and ran straight to my side of the car. She beamed ear to ear as she told me how her teacher gave her a sucker because she played so well. Although I’d dropped her off only 30 minutes earlier she gave me a big hug and a kiss and said, “Dad, I like when you surprise me”.

The small experience didn’t add to my 401k, but it made me feel like Kim and I are doing some things right with our children. Sharing in your children’s joy replenishes the soul.

And you can’t put a price on that.

Mission Impossible

I have no problem when Kim calls for me to kill a spider in the kitchen or when I’m asked to catch a child who’s escaped from the bathtub and running naked around the house. I’ve also been known to make Macaroni and Cheese (from a box) if Kim’s not around and I can’t track down a frozen pizza. 

But there’s one task that sends a chill up my spine because I know, no matter how hard I try, the results will border on hideous.

I’m talking about GETTING OUR GIRLS DRESSED.

Dressing my sons is straightforward. I pick jeans and a shirt of any color because anyone who reads GQ knows that jeans go with anything, although that’s not the best example because GQ models don’t wear shirts. It’s hard to go wrong here as long as you play the wildcard: blue jeans.

But my daughters are an entirely different challenge. And the problem starts when I open their dresser drawers and can’t make heads or tails of anything in there. I’m accustomed to wearing two layers: underwear and public facing clothing (jeans and shirts). But girls wear what seems like four layers of clothing and I don’t understand the first three.

I have a rule that goes like this: If it stretches, it belongs on the head. Like my ski hat or my Fletch-style headband. But that rule fails miserably when I dress my daughters because nearly every piece of clothing stretches. The shirts, the pants and the superstretchythingy that goes on under the pants all stretch. Each item of clothing feels like a big rubberband covered in a layer of ultra-thin fabric and I have no idea if it goes on the arm, leg, waist or head. Would it kill the company to put a symbol of the body part on which it resides right next to the washing instructions?

But I do my best to dress my daughters when called upon although I wonder if Kim asks me to do this only when she’s in need of a good laugh. I consider my job as wardrobe consultant a success if two or less items need to be changed at mom inspection time. And by change I mean swapped out for something that matches or relocated to a different part of the body.

What I need is a company like Benetton to create a unisex clothing line for kids that doesn’t cost an arm and a leg that clearly describes whether the clothing item should be worn….on the arm or the leg.

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But Dad, You Promised!

I don’t know how many times I hear that phrase each day. I hear it so often that, like a coworkers hideous playlist, I’ve learned to tune it out over time. I’m quite certain I don’t make all these promises my kids conveniently remember, but I’m outnumbered and sometimes it’s just easier to do what I allegedly promised than fight it.

That’s what happened today when Luca, Lincoln and Anna ran downstairs to assemble behind me. Two of them yelled, "Dad, you promised to print pictures for our pictures books!!" And if that didn’t get my attention, one kid rocked my chair back and forth making it impossible to use my mouse. This is one of those times when it’s best to assess the time it would take me to do whatever was promised versus the time it would take to worm my way out of the task.

I ran the numbers and decided to rescue my eardrums from the high decibel yelling. I mean, how long can it take to print a few pictures and divvy them out to three kids?

That question was answered when I asked each of them to pick a number between 1 and 100 to determine the order of selecting pictures. Anna chose 5, Lincoln went with 9 and Luca bravely chose 7. So we’re off to a rousing start!

Kim and I have taken thousands of pictures from which the kids could choose from. A pattern quickly emerged, and the overwhelming favorite picture each of them demanded I print? One of Elka, our dog. Santa will remember this.

It took several bribes of Cherry Passion Tic Tacs to coerce them into selecting a few pictures of each other along with one or two of mom and dad. But we finally had enough pictures to fill three books worth.

The kids had a blast watching the pictures emerge from the printer. They took turns selecting their 12 favorites. Luca ended up with a good cross section of the family as did Lincoln. Anna was left with a less diverse album having selected pictures of herself with the first six picks. Kim felt like the last kid chosen on the playground as it took several rounds before her picture was selected.

But the albums are now filled. My eardrums have stopped ringing and the mob has dispersed and gone to bed with full sippy cups.

Here’s a picture the small albums upon completion. Anna ripped the spine off hers so I had to improvise with a Macgyver worthy repair utilizing a couple paperclips. 

picbooks

Doing Homework with Dad

I arrived home from work tonight to find Kim working in the yard. Lincoln and Anna were chasing each other around the yard playing some sort of demented game of tag that included brooms and plastic shovels.

Luca needed to finish her first grade homework which was difficult to do as she watched her brother and sister through the window. I asked her if she wanted some help and she said, “I wanna go outside” as she slid further down into her chair for a good pouting session.

lucan

I spun my computer chair over to the desk next to her chair. I saw her smile as I nearly fell off my chair after spinning myself silly. She said she was cold so I grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around her. She looked like a pink burrito. I found a pencil and acted like I was going to spell some words when she leaned forward and said, “No, dad! I can do that”. I said, “Well, it’s blank right now so I’m not sure you can”.

That’s all she needed to hear. She sat up straight in her chair, took the pencil and ripped through the list of 30 words in a couple of minutes. I scribbled my signature on the front page acknowledging she completed her homework for the week. Luca asked why my name looked funny, and I explained to her that I’d written my name in cursive. I wrote her name in cursive as she watched intently and then tried it on her own a few times.

Since she’d finished both her homework from school and the online IELTS course, I mentioned she could now go outside and play until mom came in the house. I was surprised when she said, “I just want you to sit by me on the couch and keep me warm”.

That’s one of the best complements a dad can receive from his daughter.

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The Best 5 Minutes

As I sat at the computer this afternoon, Kim handed me nearly 6-month old baby Kai and a bottle of milk. I never balk at this opportunity because I know they don’t happen often.

If I play my cards right, I can feed Kai his bottle, perform a token 30 second burping routine and then hand baby back to mom where he’ll then shoot half a bottle’s worth of milk onto mom’s shirt like the Old Faithful geyser.

As I held Kai in my arms and attempted to find the ideal bottle to mouth angle, I noticed his two tiny hands grab my hand. One of his hands latched onto my thumb and the other hand grasped my little finger. In unison, he moved my hand and bottle into just the right position, making it easy for him to feed.

And he held my hand in that position for the next 5 minutes as he finished the bottle, never once taking his eyes off mine.

Although this is our fourth child I’m still amazed at how small children can touch our lives. Before I had children I would have dismissed this notion. Maybe it’s a matter of holding your own children that makes the difference.

I wouldn’t have given much thought to how a child could connect with me at such a young age. But holding Kai in my arms and looking straight down into his big blue eyes while he grips my fingers as if his life depended upon it, I can now appreciate one of the best 5 minutes of my life.

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Best Part of the Day

I wish I could say that our kids get ready for bed by brushing their teeth and saying their prayers before cheerfully jumping into bed and going right to sleep with little drama.

Not once has that ever happened at our house.

Usually I’m dragging one child away from the fridge while another is attached to my leg like a leech begging for a camel ride that only dad can provide. If we’re lucky they don’t sneak into the large carton of Whoppers after brushing their teeth. And once they finally get into bed the cries for water, the right blanket and the specific stuffed animal start.

It’s exhausting.

But with a lot of coercing, begging, threats of no Nintendo for a week and a little luck, our three oldest kids eventually find themselves in a bed. Any bed will do as long as it has A NUMBER OF PILLOWS GREATER THAN 11.

I like to go around to Anna, Lincoln and Luca where I get a hug, kiss and an occasional “good night high five” from wild Anna.

lucabw 
Picture of Luca taken by her uncle Warren

I eventually make it around to Luca who sleeps on the top bunk over Anna Lynn. She inches towards me, reaches her little arms around my neck and gives me a big kiss on the cheek. I tell her how much I love her and tells me that she loves me too. She smiles, rolls over and pulls the blanket up to her chin.

It doesn’t matter how much energy I expend getting the kids into bed or how frustrating the whole production can be at times. Being on the receiving end of a big hug from my daughter makes it all worth it.

Best part of the day. Absolutely.

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The Missing Six Years

Just over 14 years ago I moved from Salt Lake City to Seattle.

And just over 13 years ago my marriage went up in smoke. Poof.

Six years of marriage brought to an end with a few papers, a few signatures and a few hundred dollars.

I’ve never written a single paragraph about those six years. It’s as if Agent K from Men in Black showed up with his "neutralizer" pen and wiped the years, 1990-1995, from my mind.

Yet it’s never that easy. Even though people with good intentions act as if those years never existed. But I don’t blame them because I’ve tried to forget those years too on many occasions.

Time heals most wounds. Over time most of my anger turned to reflection. I learned to trust again. I gained friends whom I’d lost. Most importantly, I learned to love again. Never underestimate the sheer strength of the human heart.

But it did take time. For years I felt isolated and lonely. Divorce isn’t a topic one brings up among friends watching SportsCenter. It’s a "black cloud" topic. It was difficult to admit that I had failed at the very decision I’d been taught was the most important one I’d ever make.

But somehow I bounced back.

In hindsight, it was a blessing that I lived 900 miles from family during this time. I didn’t have friends or family to feel sorry for me and say everything would be fine. I had to pick myself up and get on with my life. That’s a valuable skill.

Six years.

They are a part of my life. They include moving to Seattle and working for some of the largest technology companies. They include meeting many of my best friends. And they put me in a position where I was lucky enough to meet Whim.

Yes, they include many memories I’d prefer to forget. But with the bad comes good. Even when it’s hard to find under a pile of mixed emotions.

That’s how life works.

I no longer look back at those years as a miserable slice of life I’d soon forget. It was a time of growth, pain, learning, and humility.

All of which are worth keeping.

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