Musings
This is for better or for worse. It is not a humblebrag. It is not a judgment. It is a statement of understanding I’ve come to have over sixteen+ years of parenting. I hope I have the patience and wisdom to let it keep evolving in the right direction. Right now, it’s this: when I ask one of my children to help out with something, there are a couple expectations I have. Pretty much three expectations:
1) they will respond in a timely and appropriate manner, including direct communication (no averted heads or mumbling) and they will in a fairly expeditious manner either begin doing the task, or at the least dialog with me about what it is that may present an obstacle to their doing so at the moment.
2) they will help in a manner that meets a low minimum threshold of pleasantness. I’m not saying they need to be happy or excited or even enthusiastic. But they need to bring a bare-level minimum of pleasant presence to what they’re doing. Otherwise, they will a) learn nothing, b) probably do a shoddy job that matches the temperament brought to the task, and c) possibly injure or damage a person or property in the process of being caught up in…not focusing well with a minimum of necessary targeted and positive-ish energy required to do the thing that needs to be done.
3) they will do the task at a base level of competence, according to their age and ability. We have kids frequently doing tasks beyond their level of competence, but when paired with the age and development, they’re doing well, and they will improve. That is a big thing I expect: improvement. Growth.
There are many variables in these matters. The changing hormones, emotions, feelings, dynamics, relationships, understandings of parents and children involved get logarithmic fast. Too many to compute. This is an understanding, a principle that has helped me. What about when feelings are so intense that there’s no way a task is going to be accomplished with any level of completion, competence, or even safety? Then that’s where the ‘clear communication and dialogue’ is important. If there’s a reason, then let’s try to be reasonable. That includes me. But if the response is slow, unsatisfactory, and poor, then this is what helps: more help. I can use help with many things, so if someone chooses to respond in a poor manner relevant to any of these variables, then I have a Sisyphean list of things I can engage assistants to help me with. I do, I have, I will.
March 11, 2024
This observation could get messy fast, but…(pun intended in regards to what comes next)…I’ve noticed that - not all the time, but frequently - many of the most spic-and-span, tidy, everything in place homes that have children often have children who are…the messiest. At least, the messiest in terms of picking up and taking care of their things. In other words, kids who make a mess, but who have parents (or others) following behind to (quickly) pick up their messes as they make them. Full disclosure: we do not have a tidy house. We function well as a family and have many happy times and appreciate each other and make many good memories in our home…but I would not call our house one that is…tidy. It’s an ongoing work in progress, challenge, opportunity to grow and get better, et cetera et cetera. This is not a humble brag kind of thing. We have plenty of areas for growth when it comes to tidiness and the physical organization of our living space. But - and this is a giant, enormous but - but, the following is non-negotiable: everyone who lives in this home is responsible for helping take care of it. That means that when massive amounts of LEGO bricks are dumped on the living rug, that the individuals doing so will be the individuals who help pick it up. Make a mess, pick up, repeat. Again, this is an ongoing learning process. I have helped, and continue to help, with many of these tasks. But the operative word is help. They know that we are not going to swoop in and pick up their messes for them, for better or for worse. It would be so much more efficient and fast and honestly…easy. But again, that is non-negotiable. If you’re part of making a mess, you’re part of picking it up…and the older you get, the more responsibility you bear for not only helping, but taking the reigns of command, taking initiative, and helping teach others how to effectively help. This is, as far as I’m concerned, part of parenting the long game. I made one of our children come back inside, as they were racing out this morning, because they had not made their bed. This was an expectation, and it might sound draconian or dogmatic, but I told them a few weeks ago, as there was some slippage in taking responsibility for this particular routine, that if this was not done in the morning before leaving the house, I would have them come back, regardless of whether it made them late or not. Agree or disagree, fine. But I think and believe and am convicted strongly that we need to raise the bar of respecting what our children, at large, are capable of - and make no mistake, most of our children are capable of doing these things. They will not do them well at first, and it will be tough at first - and honestly, it may be tough long beyond “at first.” But I want to believe that it is worth it: worth it for them, for their character, for their sense of agency and sense of responsibility and sense of what they’re capable of and sense of what they are expected to contribute and …sense of being able to be part of something where you’re an active part of enabling success around you. That is the long game. March 5, 2024
Our 13-year old son used a phrase, in reference to feeding his bearded dragon, that I’ve grabbed ahold of. The phrase was this:
“…if he gets used to it…”
I’ve grabbed this because it’s at the root of so much I care about as a parent and teacher: the habituation of attitude, mindset, and actions. I’m not so concerned, within safe physical and emotional boundaries, of kids’ singular experiences or interactions. That’s not to say I’m never concerned. It is to say I am less concerned, on an ongoing basis, with this than I am with them becoming accustomed to internalized mindsets and attitudes that are detrimental. When I think of this phrase a 13-year old affectionately used in explaining his dragon’s eating schedule, it makes me think of all the ways I want to carefully consider the ways our kids - and we - become accustomed to things being the way we are; of slipping into habits and rituals and routines that at some point become a crossroads: are they helping or harming our overall health and ability to grow ourselves, grow relationships, and grow our ability to serve others? Thank you, son, for the succinct phrase and reminder. What do we become habituated to; accustomed, numb, a diminished response because of familiarity? How do find the right balance of ritual and ad hoc living?
February 4, 2024
I watched the young man, the counselor, work with a boy, a boy in the 10-12 range; a range that can be challenging in the best of circumstances and exceptionally challenging when the circumstances are the antithesis of ideal. This was a boy in such circumstance. I watched as this young man - a fine young man in his 20s who offered much positivity in many ways - worked with this boy outside a cabin, on a project that a number of campers were doing in various pairings. This particular project involved building, or rather, assembling a specific type of vehicle out of found objects. This boy had everything together, and was struggling to figure out how to attach them. Using twine, he worked and looped his way around his grouping of twigs and branches and pinecones and such, but couldn’t quite get them to stay together. He did this for a very short period of time, and the young man, using the judgment he must have felt was best, jumped in, taking the materials and twine and informing the boy: here, let me do it.
I have seen versions of this play out so many times; oftentimes, most of the time, much less concrete. It’s under the guise of help, and it often comes from people - often parents - who genuinely want to help, to be helpful. But they take over. And they take the agony and the challenge of solving something, of figuring something out…away. They steal it. It’s done for good reasons, and often done by good people. But for what purpose? For accomplishing a task?
No, what is the lesson learned over time? Perhaps that when things get hard, you turn them over to someone else, because you’re not doing it correctly. Or not doing it fast enough. Or not doing it well enough. Again, I know the intent. But it is sad and a great example, I think, of helping gone off the rails; help that is actually detrimental in the long run.
What could this young man have done? Perhaps to begin with…not physically take it away from the boy. Let him know he is capable and able and help him actually learn. July 2023
I had a bit of a vibrant or volatile interchange with some children earlier, and the specific choice of word might differ depending on which party you were speaking with. My vote goes for “vibrant.” The specific catalyst or beginning point eludes me now, but at some point the question was thrown at me: well what do you want us to DO to help? This statement-slash-question was thrown at me in an enormous tone of good faith, so I helpfully, patiently, and kindly responded (I’m writing the history here, so I’m retconning a little) with an example on our giant whiteboard:
I drew a horizontal line across the board with little undulating waves, and I said ‘this line represents the waterline.’
Underneath I wrote several things including dirty counters, dirty dishes, dirty floor, stuff on the table.
I said ‘This is the waterline. It represents neutral. This is where we need to be in order to effectively move forward each day. Underneath the water are the things that need to be done first so we can move forward. So if I sound frustrated that people are wondering what to do, here’s a little diagram: these things always have to be done, every day, first, before we can really dive into projects or the kind of work that leads to actual change. You gotta have your heads above the water and do the simple stuff first. This the simple stuff.’
I don’t know if I handled it well or not. Probably, like many times, a mix. History and the development of our children’s character, work ethic, and relationship with their parents will tell. I hope for the best and continue to grow. And, ideally, to help others around me grow as well. June 2023
Having your children help with chores is not a favor they’re doing for you or anyone. It is an ongoing condition of being part of a family, part of a community, where every person is important, is respected, and is expected to contribute as they are able. This is respect given. Respect given to them and what they are capable of; we can expect them to rise. We accept those we love unconditionally…and because we love and respect them, we also encourage them to rise above what they sometimes think they’re capable of - and sometimes beyond what they think they should have to do. It is a mindset. It comes from the same place that I don’t like our kids just getting gifts from people they’re going to see: sometimes those are special events, but they should be special, not an expectation or entitlement. They should be an occasional byproduct of a friendship or relationship. Not the reason. I want our children interacting with others and helping out simply because that is the reward. That is the gift we give to their future selves: the gift of rising beyond the easy benchmarks and building relationships built on two-way interaction and vibrant conversation, not gifts and transactional bartering of affection and loyalty. 20230210
You might be a parent who bathes their child daily. Maybe you are, and maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe you aren’t, and maybe that’s a good thing too. We are one of the above, though I won’t say which, and remember the importance of water conservation. 20230208
Let other people enjoy what they enjoy. It sounds like one of those coffee mug or bumper faux-wisdom things. Perhaps so. There’s all sorts of footnotes and asterisks and subtext associated with that statement: let other people enjoy what they enjoy. Yet when you consider what it might mean, there’s something magical and freeing and beautiful: when I choose to marvel or appreciate something that I don’t get, but that brings someone else joy, then life gets a little easier and a little happier for me. So selfishly, appreciating the pursuits and interests of others, rather than mocking or ridiculing or turning a nose up at, giving any number of responses that convey contempt or disinterest…does me some good. And maybe others too. I don’t get excited about plenty of things. But I can choose to practice being appreciative of others’ excitement over something. Also, this is directly relevant to raising children, and to engaging with the social ecosystems they grow and develop. 20230125
I am trying to do better at stopping. At pausing. When they come up and want to tell me something they’re excited about. I simply get impatient, because I’m doing important things. And they do need to learn patience and what it means to wait. But…I am also trying to help keep alive the excitement that is contagious. If you respond well and with attention. I am trying. 20221215
You can go for an easy life.
You can go for a simple life.
You can go for a rich life.
You get one out of those three.
It might seem like easy and simple are the same. They’re not really. It’s a longer conversation. Or you might think that you want a simple and rich life. But at some point, just like a business has to choose what to focus on (price, convenience, speed, privacy, etc.), it can’t be equally good at all of them. If you have a family and children, then you gotta choose what’s most important, and that’s the one that’s going to lead, that’s going to be the umbrella over the way you approach everything. If you’re aiming for Easy, then the Simple and the Rich will take a hit. If you’re aiming for Simple, then some things won’t be as Easy, and you’ll miss out on some of the Rich. If your main priority is Rich…well, it’s gonna be messy. I don’t mean financially, economically rich. I mean rich experience, with pursuing and proactively supporting interests and ideas, I mean rich with overlapping conversations and loud rooms and lots of personality and the collections that pop up as the result of evolving ages and stages and interests…if you want rich, it’s gonna get get messy, and not Pinterest-photo cool messy. Just plain messy. And frequently not easy or simple. Guess which one is our thing? :)
20220826
I do not remember specifically the reason why I said there would be no PBS Kids. Perhaps I made this statement in the throes of a battle, or in response to something, or…I really do not remember or know. I do try to be careful about throwing down lines, setting mandates, and backing myself into a corner. But when I do - or any parent does - it should mean something. So perhaps I fumbled, perhaps I made an error in issuing a ‘no PBS Kids today’ edict. I probably did. Also, I like the programs on PBS Kids they watch (Arthur, Word Girl, Daniel Tiger). What I don’t do is renege on declarations such as the one I made. That being said, however, I am also fine with being outplayed or out-strategized. - “Daddy, you said we couldn’t watch any PBS Kids today, but you know, Octonauts isn’t on there. So…” That is valuable as well. Our son’s keen ear for the details and the specifics served him well. 20220622
They’re going out for a part in a play, and you tell them to be cool and be prepared with grace and empathy and excitement regardless the outcome, and internally you’re invested too and deeply care and trying not to be filled with rage at anyone who deign to use anyone other than your child for the role they were destined to inhabit. You breathe and you smile and you throw yourself into reminding them to be proud of the commitment and poise and dedication they’ve shown, and yet it’s still hard sometimes to find the right degree of empathy and joy…and not turn things into a ‘it’s not fair, you got robbed’ type of conversation. Those types should be few and far between. Of course they happen. But it is a severe disservice to take your kids through life with the mindset that anytime something doesn’t go the way they want, that they’re getting robbed. But it’s hard. Sometimes things don’t go the way they should, and it’s difficult to always know the right amount to accept and the right to fight; the proper way to take what reality has handed, but to also keep the adrenaline and enough of a shoulder chip to let it push you to fight harder and stronger the next time and hope it’s all about merit, et cetera. It’s hard enough when it’s on behalf of yourself. Harder still when it’s your child. Parenting is a laboratory.
My mom passed this along, and I grabbed ahold of it immediately. I love it. It’s this: instead of telling your child “I’m so proud of you,” try inverting it and saying: “You should be so proud of yourself for [insert specific].’ I love it in large part because it removes the hierarchy of yourself from the statement. You’re not blessing them or giving you hierarchical pat on the head or back. You’re speaking more as an equal; a casual reminder of how they can feel about themself that is supportive without being patronizing, condescending, demeaning, or hierarchical.
Sometimes driving down the road with your teenage daughter reading a Michael Crichton book silently next to you is exactly what you didn’t know you wanted. But you realize you love it.
There is a particular sound that a thousand plastic beads make when they hit the floor that is different than the sound of a thousand LEGO pieces doing the same thing. You get good at discriminating the aural difference. Also, this is the hidden part of television cop shows they never show: bad stuff requiring CSI or intense analysis of a residence never takes places at homes with actual families and young children, because if they did, every investigation would take three years and those micro fibers that magically solve so many TV cases would be just one of ten trillion pieces of detritus and cereal and plastic beads and LEGO bricks and marker caps to log and inspect and do their thing with. It’s also why I believe there is a large criminal network composed of humans under the age of ten who engage in obfuscating investigations on a massive level, and that is why there are so many problems and so much crime. It’s the children. Deliberately sabotaging any investigations into malfeasance and rendering DNA collection and analysis impossible by sheer volume of production.
This isn’t any grand new innovative idea. Just a reminder. A reminder that I have to be reminded of again and again. It is this: invest in making music, making art, telling stories, and dancing with your children. It is an investment, and it is not a risky one.
You owe it to yourself to watch Charlie Chaplin’s 1940 classic The Great Dictator with your kids. It is in the upper echelons of films that have stood up well to the test of time. P.S. it doesn’t matter how old your kids are. Whatever age they are, or you are, just watch it. With them.
Have I ever escaped to one of our children’s rooms to hide for a few minutes? Like the kind of hiding where you actually want to stay hidden, not the kind you do as a game (which I do plenty of). Well duh yes. How else would I be writing this right now in the middle of the day? 2021-02-15
Like his older siblings, our youngest occasionally, and frequently often, gets upset with me. Sometimes warranted, sometimes not. His response is slightly different, however. The angrier he gets, the more he aggressively wants me to hold him. To hold him tight. If I try passing him off to Becca, or setting him down, he will clutch at me and burrow in, demanding, all the while screaming at and berating me with his 17-month old voice, that I do nothing more than absorb his anger, by…holding him tightly. There are worse ways to handle one’s rage, I suppose, and can I admit that it feels rather nice? Remember, this is still happening while I’m getting screamed at. 2021-01-29
I vowed, long before having children, that I would never hit our children. And I use ‘hit’ in the widest sense of the word, including all the classic euphemisms to make hitting a child sound different than what it actually is. I have kept that vow to myself, and it is a good thing I made that vow long before having children, because there have been plenty of situations where I would have resorted to that as the easiest possible option, if I had made that any sort of option. Some things you just leave off the table as options, period. I am so grateful. I say that not to toot my own horn or ride on a high horse, but to say: it’s not easy to decide some courses of action as a parent. It’s especially not easy to decide some things in the moment. Which is why you have to think ahead of how you’re going to respond when you’re at the end of a rope with a child, and you’re both beyond frustration. If our children ever write books about their childhoods some day, they will not be able to write beautiful things I wish they could like “my dad never yelled at us or raised his voice.” That simply wouldn’t be true. But I will tell you this: committing to hugs and listening over hitting and yelling is a choice and commitment that will turn out to be one of the greatest and best investments you can ever make in your child and their future. 12/20
The only thing better than having a child fall asleep with their head burrowed on your chest, is having that child wide awake, and still burrowing their head into you.
I’ve said this recently, and I will repeat again: I am embarrassed to admit the shallow thoughts I have over the course of many days where I cannot wait to sink into a couch and watch telly. And on those same days, I cannot count the number of times where I’m finally sunk in that couch, and I start replaying the stories I want rewrite and the directives I want to restate and the interactions I want to redo with our children. We are on this earth for such a short time, and I keep thinking it can’t be so hard sometimes to simply be a little kinder. A little more patient. A little more understanding. A little more recognizably of their respective emotional developments. A little more…better. I am trying to not let those thoughts be merely thoughts I think, but words that spur me to continue trying to improve and do better. (12/20)
There will be good days and bad days. But make every day an adventurous one unlike any other.
I cannot count the number of days where I go to sleep and replay the moments with our children that I could have done better on earlier in the day. At my peak physical strength, which would have been midway through my sophomore year of college, I (once) bench pressed 245 pounds (one time). The amount of strength it took to do that, however, is a fraction of the strength it feels like it takes sometimes to change a horrible and massive diaper on an infant who is kicking and screaming. Holding four limbs with one hand while hoisting a poopy bottom up in the air that flailing angrily is not always as easy as it sounds.
Being nice to your kids doesn’t seem like it should be a difficult thing to do. But some days it is very difficult, and it’s not their fault.
Pre-parent, I had never thought about the idea of someone being “good at being sick.” But there is such a thing. I realize now it’s not just confined to children. I didn’t fully consider it though until I was a parent. Nobody wants to be sick. But some people are better at isolating and knowing what they need to improve quickly. And others want to make sure that everyone around is involved in their malaise. Different approaches. (5-3-20)
Are your children ever frustrating or annoying? Do you ever need to vent to another adult? Me too. But here’s a tip: never, ever assume they are too young to understand that you’re talking about them, to someone else, in a negative or derogatory manner. It’s easy to start when they’re infants, and then get in the habit through toddler-hood, et cetera, and suddenly realise that they’re actually picking up a lot more than you thought they were. They are. Maybe not everything. But enough to know, whether it’s the language and words themselves, or the nonverbal cues, or more likely, a combination…they’re picking up that A) you’re irritated or frustrated at them and B) you’re conveying that to someone else. I get it. This is not a high horse…at least not a high horse that I’ve never fallen off of. But it is something I think we need to keep reminding ourselves: from an early age, they will frequently pick up way more than we give them credit for. And if we take them through childhood by showing that the way to express your frustration with Person A is by taking it to Person B, rather than trying to problem-solve and talk things over directly…then maybe that’s not such a great thing. Note: I realize how some of this sounds. Parents deserve to make our own mistakes sometimes too. But we also, by virtue of becoming parents, need to find ways to remind ourselves to forgive ourselves…but also to call ourselves out and to keep improving in ways we know we can. (4/28)
It is challenging to have discussions with your children about permission culture. In other words, to try and encourage the importance of being proactive, of going after things, of taking the initiative…and of also being respectful, living with as little hypocrisy as possible, and behaving as if we are not above the laws and etiquettes that apply to others. This is nowhere more evident for us right now than when it comes to closed-off trails, primarily in the Gorge. We’ve pulled up to several over the last month and looked longingly; have watched others walk past signs saying “Please do the right thing and respect the ‘closed’ signs.” Do I think we’d be okay? Yeah. Do I think we’d get a fine, or get in trouble with the law? Not really. But I do know our children are watching and observing, and I feel strongly we owe it to them and their future selves to be an example and not place ourselves above, even though I am so tempted. That being said, I’ve also been talking with them about what it means to not create obstacles that aren’t there: in other words, if we’re on land that’s public that does not prohibit access…then we’re not going to go looking around trying to find someone to ask. We just do it. We don’t flaunt the law or social protocols necessary to help all of us. And we also don’t ask or get permission for everything we might want to do. Critical thinking. Empathy. Confidence. Respect. The humility and awareness to not place oneself above regulations or laws meant for everyone. We’ve got to raise our kids, all of us, to think well and to feel deeply. Not just about the people we know. But about the people outside our immediate zone of community and contact. It’s a big world, a big universe, and we are a small part of it. Important? Yes. (4-25-20)
There are days where I feel like I’m wondering around from one room to another, helping and carrying various children with various tasks while precariously holding a cup of coffee, and then I pass by a mirror, and realize that I’m wondering from one room to another room, carrying a child and en route to help another, or two or three, with a Category 5 emergency, while precariously holding a cup of coffee.
Create as many opportunities as possible to sleep outside. It’s more work. It’s always worth it. Note: it may be miserable in the present. It probably will be in many ways. But it will be worth it. It will.
Create as many opportunities as possible to eat outside. It’s more work. It’s always worth it.
Pro tip: it’s great to go to skate parks when there’s other people there too. But if need your three-year old to get some extra practice on a deserted one, then go on a super-cold, foggy day, early in the morning. There’s a good chance you’ll have it to yourself. Take some hot coffee. Take two.
It is very challenging to know when to step in and when to let kids work out disagreements themselves. But I think one of the best lessons we can help reinforce is learning to have the wisdom to strike a balance between standing up for what’s right or what’s important to you and between learning to find effective solutions and compromising when interacting with others. Those are tough things for adults to do. But we gotta try. We gotta.
Of course we all have many choices to make every day, and when I look back on some of the choices I’ve made on a particular day, I hang my head in shame. In the moment, I feel reasonable and justified in my reaction. And then later I think about it and realise: you were such a jerk. For example: let’s say there are two distinct paths to take when your none-year old son is delaying doing his math by taking (literally) five minutes to clamber, climb, and crawl into his chair. I could have seen the complete ludicrous nature of this, dived in and made a great non-math lesson about having fun doing mundane things. But no. That is not the road I took. I took the one of chastising and berating for wasting time. It’s easy to say “well, we all have those moments,” and that may be right. But I want to have as few of those as possible, and I want to do better. To hold myself accountable for learning and improving; to model what it means to be resilient and flexible and to not lose track of the humor in ridiculous situations. Anyway. The road not taken. But that road will be upon me again soon, and perhaps I will choose a different fork this time.
Some soldiers can field strip a weapon with their eyes closed. Others can change an infant’s diaper on their own bed in the dead of black night, then lay down in that same miserable bed miserable with leaked urine, and go back to sleep. I belong in one of those categories, and I’d like to think both have value.
I love snuggling with our kids. This is something that is sometimes reciprocated by them and sometimes not, and that is okay. Sometimes I believe there is nothing that makes a child want to snuggle with you more than immediately after they have finished eating, and have various morsels and sauces caked across their face and clothes, and want nothing more than to bury their little bodies deep into your arms. And use you as a human napkin.
There are two different main types of sleep deprivation: Number one is the kind where you simply don’t have a long enough linear stretch of sleep. For example, you go to bed at midnight and wake up at 5am. Number two is the kind where you are awoken multiple times throughout the night, and at various stages of your sleep cycle. You might go to bed at 11 and wake up at 7 and it might seem like a longer chunk…but if it is broken up with twenty different disruptions, then it is very, very poor sleep, and I would choose the former version of sleep deprivation every time. That’s the linear one. Now, before any parents read this and start getting snarky : “…how about Option C? That’s the one where you get to bed late, get up early, and are woken up all throughout the night anyway?” This is my response: Don’t. Just don’t. We are parents, a role we have (ideally) chosen and gifted with. We are not fucking victims. We get to complain and grumble a wee bit here and there, but it is not a competition amongst us to see who gets the least sleep and who is the most miserable. That’s dumb. Let’s just empathize and acknowledge that sometimes we don’t get enough sleep. Like last night. And the last week of nights. Please please please…let tonight be some uninterrupted hours. Crossed fingers and prayers please.
1/7
When you become a parent, you are still a person. This means that you still have a responsibility to be interesting and engaged with a world outside your (new) identity as a parent. One easy piece of advice is this: you will probably have some nights that are better than others for sleeping. You will feel angry that there are people in the world who are sleeping better than you are. So the advice is this: find one or two people to vent to about it. About the unfairness of it all and how no one else understands. And then let it go. And do not consider your lack of sleep to be an exciting or acceptable conversation topic for everyone else. Unless you’re actually asking for help or advice from other parents. Or, of course, you’re speaking to one of your small cadre of venting buddies. Otherwise, it’s just more white noise in an already noisy world
One of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do was after our son’s birthday, when he got sick, and out of love for him and his health, I ate the rest of his birthday cake, with the assistance of his mother. It was hard, but not impossible, so always remember to not give up on things that seem challenging at first glance.
Sometimes one of the hardest things for me to do is when one of our children is so excited about something and wants to share it with me. Let that sink in: so excited about something and wants to share that enthusiasm with me. And I am busy. I do not feel like stopping what I’m doing, because it is very, very difficult to seize the time to simply do the most basic necessary things on some days. But when I leap my mind into the future, and I imagine a world in which our nine-year old is no longer nine and he no longer runs breathless with enthusiasm to read me a passage or two, or page or two, or chapter or two of a Rick Riordan book…then I can’t handle it. Because I know I may not, and probably will not, be one of the first he runs to his whole life to share exciting things. And that’s okay. I hope I’m on the list. But I have to remind myself of that every day. Because it is very, very hard to simply give good attention sometimes.
I know idling is bad for the environment (and bank account), but there is frequently the internal balancing of whether it’s worth it to keep the engine going if it means a child or two will stay sleeping for another short while. What is it about a car getting shut off that is like a wake-up alarm?
Sometimes, when it’s super cold outside, and a two-year old poops his diaper, and it’s going up the back and spilling out the pants and all that, and you’re at school, and take him outside, and have to strip him down all the way in a parking lot while an infant baby screams next to him and you run through a full box of wipes, then you might wish that instead of doing that, that you were at home watching Watchmen. I bet if I was ever in that scenario I might think that.
I appreciate moms who talk to me at playgrounds. It was nice today to have the mom of one our nine-year old’s friends come over and sit on the curb to chat while I held a four-month old and unlatched lunch containers for a two-year old. Usually I’m the one drifting into moms’ conversations. It feels good to be approached sometimes.
Sometimes it’s not the greatest thing to be up all night with a sick child, but there is something inexplicably sweet about a vomit-breathed child being super snuggly in the midnight hours.
One of the lamest things in the world is when parents feel the need to remind non-parents of how easy they have it and how little they know. We all have our hypocrisies though, so sorry and here goes: when you wake up feeling miserable and unwell and…sick (which I generally resolve to never do), then doing so when you have (especially young) children means that you plow ahead with life and everything it holds. There’s no luxury of staying in bed, recovering, recuperating. You plow ahead and remember your first responsibility is to take care of them. Like the opposite of oxygen mask on an aeroplane. Sometimes, some things you just gotta mentally, psychologically motivate yourself that you can do it and you’re not sick. Forget that honest with yourself shit. You look in the mirror, you thump your chest, you go throw up in the the toilet, brush your teeth, then announce to the household: Let’s move it! Go go, everything’s great! You’re not fine. But you fake your way through until you become fine again. And of course you wash your hands, drink forty-three gallons of water, and cough into your elbow if you must. And you dream of a day with a big duvet and three soft pillows.
If your child drops something, or moves something around, or does anything in a communal space that needs to be returned to the state in which it is in…do your child and society the service and respect of expecting to that they - your child - will take care of it. Don’t ignore it or leave it for somebody else to deal with. And don’t just do it for them. It is a gift we give to our children, again and again - a gift we can give: expect them to rise to what they’re capable of, and help them do so. And when they don’t rise, love them anyway and keep helping. Don’t give up.
Watch movies together. Seriously. I am so grateful to have serious movie-watching be an important part of our existence. Not a stream of mindless, forgettable television. But chosen, curated, fun films to enjoy and discuss and fall in love with together at the developmentally appropriate ages.
I wish I had fewer days where I come to the end and wish I could go back and have been nicer to our children. And have listened to them better.
Spring is probably the best time to take young children hiking, along with the other three seasons.
What I’m about to say may not make sense to some, and will make total sense to others: some kids are better at being sick than others.
Some days are really good, and other days have moments like having to reach into a…very full toilet after a child threw an object that disappeared into the toilet another child had just used and is now underneath that child’s…excrement. And you have to get that object out. Do you want to make the children do it? Yes. But then you start thinking about how messy things could get and just decide to…do it yourself. Some days have those moments. And some days feel like those moments keep coming.
One of the hardest parts about being a parent for me is not getting into competitions with others who are bragging about their kids and their accomplishments. There is no parent alive who is any proud of their kids than I am, we are, of mine and ours. But I don’t want to go down the path of validation and self-confidence coming, to us or to our kids, from external and shallow praise that is competitive in nature. I don’t share our kids grades or test scores or accomplishments in various areas with others because the praise of others should not motivate them…and importantly every kid has different skills, aptitudes, achievements, types of intelligence manifestation, self-confidence, and so forth, and I want them measuring their success by the measuring sticks they make for themselves. Not in constant comparison with peers or others. I want to protect the right of each of our children - and others - to pursue success on their terms and focus on their strengths rather than getting caught up in shallow competition.
Some days, you just know you weren’t great, and that you brought the spirits of everyone around you down, most sadly your wife and children, and those are the days you thank God for the beautiful frailty of our memories, and hope that this is a day your family’s collective long-term memory does not function fully or accurately.
There’s a thousand and one different ways to be a good parent, and most of them have to do with trying hard and giving it your best. There’s a few things I feel confident about though that I can perform on a consistently high level, and one is getting young children to sleep. What I am about to say may sound arrogant. Yet I believe it’s true in most situations with most young children. This is it: you say swaddling doesn’t work with your newborn? Then you’re doing it wrong. Swaddling correctly doesn’t mean it’s a switch that will instantly stop a baby from crying. And: if they are hungry or sick, that’s a different deal. But there’s a good chance that if they’re tired, but not going to sleep, then (correct) swaddling would help. When I say “correct” what I mean is this, and you might be horrified initially, and then laugh, as many members of our family have. :) You gotta do this: remove all hope. You gotta swaddle em tight and snug and they should not be able to wiggle their arms free. Period. If they can, then you’re not doing it right. After that, I have some thoughts on positioning and finding the appropriate hold, and importantly, finding the necessary rhythm and gait for soothing them to slumber. The important part though is the removal of their ability to distract themselves and work up to a dither when their arms are free. In that adorable little baby brain, they’ve gotta realize: there is no hope. I have no hope of breaking free and getting what I want in this moment, which is to wave my marionette arms around frantically and scream. Once that hope is gone, that adorable little baby has the chance to simply relax, bask in the idyllic aroma of their parent, and fall to sleep with the cadence of their heartbeat and whatever soundtrack you have going. That’s another topic, and surprisingly I have an opinion on all the Baby Mozart and Lullabye Metallica stuff. But that’s for another time.
One day he’s a newborn, and the next he’s nine and explaining exactly why Gary Larson’s rendering of a fellow tripping in a cryogenic chamber is hilarious.
When your two-year old bypasses you and goes directly to the real authority: his twelve-year old sister. “Can we watch more Lion King and not go to bed?”
November 2019
One time it was mid-morning and I dreamed of watching 43 minutes of television later that night, and it kept me going. That happened one time. Maybe twice.
Usually we start off the mornings with floor-thumping blasts of Bach, Vivaldi, and Haydn, but today seemed like a good one to throw on a triumphant triad of Beastie Boys, Weezer, and Jimmy Eat World. Sometimes the best gift you can give your kids is letting them see their parents throw down on a kitchen dance floor at 6am. You gotta fight for your right to party. And make lunches.
I threw up a quick silent prayer as I pulled into a parking lot: “please please please, let the boys sleep for 15 more minutes so I can read or write.” God swung a compromise and kept one of them sleeping. The other practiced his drooling on my lap.
Sometimes I think it would be cool to drink a hot cup of coffee without a poopy diaper five feet away. We all have dreams.
I’m sorry if you have a twelve year old who doesn’t like to bake. We do.
He wants his mom to lay by him every night. Not me. Not anyone else. His mom. Just his mom. “Enjoy it,” I say. “Love it. Soak it in.” Of course, if he’s smart he’ll realize for his entire life that his mom is super cool and want to hang out with her whenever possible. #two
Sometimes I almost feel bad about how much of our two-year old’s Halloween candy I’ve eaten, but then I remind myself: “He enjoyed a piece already, and he’ll enjoy another one next year, and in the meantime, I’ll enjoy 30 or 40 pieces and help him not get addicted to sugar.” Because that’s a hard addiction to break later on, I’ve heard.
When your two-year old informs you, in all seriousness and wearing the most innocent face ever, that he is taking his older sister’s computer to bed with him so he can watch a movie. “No Tarantino after 9pm though,” I said, almost as seriously.
First clue that you’ve been watching The Great British Baking Show together: your kids use words like claggy and prove to describe the quality of family meals. Or lack thereof.
There are days when you are racing to get out the door, because something either super important, or not super important is going on that you have to get too on time, and you have to get everyone out, and it’s especially difficult on some mornings, and it is inevitable that it is on one of these days that the toilet will clog, badly, right as you are at the edge of the cliff and can’t handle one more mishap. The toilet will clog. And you will pull up the reserves of energy, patience, and ability to do gross things very quickly that you didn’t know you had. And someday you will look back and feel that you accomplished something. Someday.
October 2019
“It’s bedtime!” I told him, and suddenly he became very interested in helping clean up his room; a task for which he had previously displayed the greatest disinterest in doing. “Okay,” I said. “But finish by midnight.”
Becca and I try to go on two dates a year, although sometimes not that many, but the one we never miss is the one where the kids go trick or treating and then we put them to bed and divvy up their candy while we watch television. They’re only a room or two away and have no idea what’s happening. Try to imagine a better date than that.
If you have ever proposed the notion that every parent should be allotted one public tantrum a week, then I might have been the one in the back raising my hand in quiet support. Who wants to go first? I’ll film. #rolemodels
I checked the rule book and my longtime belief was confirmed as common law: if an adult is holding a small child, or if there is a child of any age in the vicinity of that adult, and in this situation there happens to emanate a noxious or disturbing odor, then the child is required, one hundred percent of the time, ex post facto, to acknowledge their ownership over the malfeasant aroma. It is never the adult’s responsibility or fault; it is a given that children generally stink.
I would accurately grade myself a solid A when it comes to my ability to change a child’s diaper anywhere, anytime, in the midst of battlefield chaos and high stress environments. I would generously grade myself a D when it comes to quickly snapping all of the correct buttons on one of those adorable and stupidly designed onesies and then stuffing that same infant’s legs into jeans through the correct holes. By that point they’ve probably pooped their pants again so off the clothes come and I can get back to doing what I’m good at.
It’s a surprisingly emotional day the first time your 12-year old daughter walks in and asks if you have a Nine Inch Nails t-shirt she can borrow. Looks like it’s getting time to pull out my matching leather jacket. She’s gonna think I’m so cool.
There is nothing that makes a child need to immediately extract slimy material from their nose like introducing him to new friends for the first time.
To dress as Perseus or as Hermes for Halloween? That is the big conundrum for October when you’re nine years old.
September 2019
I told our two-year old this morning: “…you are special and unique, and there is no one else like you.” And then I realised I owed him a further explanation about parallel realities, multiverses, and the possibility of various versions of yourself existing in other worlds, and it was a good conversation; at the conclusion of which I told him again: “you are fairly special and unique, and even though there may be identical versions of you floating around other universes, I am so glad that we got you.” I felt better, ethically speaking, after that.
Why is “poo” considered a more polite way to say “poop” by so many parents? Does removing a single consonant really make the idea more elegant or even less gross? No. It is a perfectly symmetrical word and should stay that way as the best example of onomatopoeia ever. Join the movement. #punintended #poopnotpoo
July 2019
A lot of people ask me they’re a bad parent for letting their kids play Lady Gaga’s Bad Romance at very loud volumes for dance parties. My answer is consistent and it is this: you are a bad parent if you are not dancing along with them.
Surprisingly, I’ve found that most children do not consider sauerkraut to be an acceptable substitute when we’re out of ice cream.
A scenario: when you’ve dealt with enough mini-injuries and catastrophes for one day, and your sweet little child runs up crying and sobbing from another mishap and wants to bury his head in your shoulder for comfort, and you hold him at arms’ length while calmly requesting that he go wash his messy dirty food-filled face before using your clean shirt as a mop for the seventh time that day. I’m sure someday I’ll experience that scenario.
There are many different philosophies about naps during the childhood years, but I think they’re super important. I also think sometimes children should do them too.
The best cure for a child who says “playing outside is boring” is this: Number one, they should be outside more. Regardless of weather. Regardless of whether they’re grumbly about it or not. Kids are super good at figuring out how to move past boredom when you don’t jump in and save them from it. And number two, show them all the fun things you can do outside. Hint: it’s amazing what you can do with a ball…a couple chairs…some sticks…cardboard…a book…the list is infinite. But show them.
Skate parks are a public space - at least the publicly-funded ones are. So take your young kids there with their scooters and hot wheels and bikes and gliders and skateboards and stop complaining about teenagers. Introduce yourself and be nice. Many of them will be too.
If you have ever gotten into your children’s special snacks reserved for special occasions without their consent and then sneaked into an empty room behind a door to consume them illicitly, then…that is simply unpardonable and yes, I have done so, once or twice or thirty times.
What would it be like to wake up, sit down, and drink a hot cup of coffee slowly to completion, without interruption for diaper changing, conflict resolution arbitration, or general question-answering? I hope to find out someday.
Sometimes I imagine what it would be like to go a day without changing a three-weeks-dead-warthog-smelling diaper, and then my imagination implodes because some scenarios are too far-fetched to even realistically imagine.
I have worked at many physically demanding tasks and jobs, but none of them have been even close to as energy-draining as the emotional fatigue of working with fussy children through tough times.
The difference between a two-year old and a 12-year old being angry at you is that the former will run up angrily, demand that you hold them, and throw their arms around while they sweatily clutch you furiously and shriek in your ear. The other expresses displeasure in a different manner.
If you go to a public performance of anything with your children, it is not the performer’s job to educate your children on how to give respectful attention. It is your job. Our job.
How old should your child be before they drink coffee? I don’t know. I simply don’t know.
Sometimes I like to make other adults agree to a loyalty oath that they will preemptively take my side anytime I am in conflict with a young child. So far their loyalty rate is 0%. Sometimes I hate it when kids are cuter than adults. Not cool, not fair.
If you stick a piece of broccoli and a piece of chocolate in front of a kid, which one are they going to choose? How about a piece of broccoli and a piece of cauliflower? Think carefully about the choices you put before them. It’s your choice over what choices to give them.
One of my fave things about age two is the fight to figure out words. A constant stream of trying out new syllables and ways to verbally express ideas. Love it.