Dad Involvement

So I'll admit I've gone missing from the posting world lately, not for lack of interest or things to discuss, but sheerly from lack of time. In the last month, I think I have actually been in the office for 5 days...my time out commandeered by having been selected for jury duty (argh).

Anyway, I'm now in Chicago for the Marketing 2 Moms conference, where I was invited to be a guest speaker on how the new dad is actually influenicng the way marketers talk to mom. It's been an interesting 2 days, being mostly immersed into the mommy mindset and motivators.

But I'm not a mommy. And I won't ever be a mommy. So I guess I won't ever truly relate. But I think it's important to note that mommies won't ever be daddies either. For as much as women say men don't get what it's like to be a mom, it's just as true that they don't understand what it's like to be a dad. And that's okay.

What if we spent less time seeking validation for what it's like to be who we are and more time actually focusing on who we should be? Does it matter that she's a mom, I'm a dad, he's a sports fanatic, she's a fashionista? Aren't we all just trying to get by, and be successful -- and I daresay happy -- in this thing called life, with kids in tow?

I'm still mulling it all over, so if anyone has any thoughts for starters, chime in, please!

Summer Reflections

This past weekend was our last "beach" weekend for the season. Tomorrow is the first day of school. Skylar will start second grade, and my baby, Fiona, starts kindergarten. They are overjoyed tonight, antsy, anxious, nervous, excited, giddy and curious to know who will be in their classes that we haven't already figured out. But tonight brings a bittersweet feeling for me. I'm excited for both of them and the wonder of what this school year will bring. But I'm feeling a little sad, and a little sentimental. After all, my babies aren't babies anymore.

There are several things I've noticed this summer, so I think I should post them here for good measure and long memory.

Skylar Kelsey, age 6 and three quarters...
Skylar is still my sweet baby. Her eyes can sear right through me. Her smile -- although now a mish mash of baby and grown up teeth, some fully showing, others just making their way through -- lights up a room. Her giggle is infectious. Like her mother, she's a sensitive girl, very attuned to how we're feeling, and she's my best snuggle bunny. This summer more than ever I've noticed she shows affection often and oddly. She shows her emotions in a physical way. A poke in the side, a gentle whack on the arm, a little shake of the arm, a driveby smack on the rear. In making new friends, she's much more passive, tending to be more the follower than the leader.

Skylar is incredibly smart, but she has a very short attention span. As she gets older, it becomes more obvious that she needs both a lot of one on one attention, but also a lot of help staying focused and motivated. She does not like to sit down and do anything -- summer workbooks, practice math, telling time exercises, counting money. She sporadically reads books. She's a whirling dirvish. Yet, somehow, she is incredibly observant...she misses nothing -- be it a verbal uttering or a visual cue -- she's right there to notice. She's cautious, and tends to worry about a lot. She wants to help with everything.

As a budding gymnast and thanks to two weeks of gymnastics camp, she spends the majority of her time on her head, doing flips, cartwheels, splits, kickovers, backwards bridges and handstands. And by God, I think the girl has bigger, more toned muscles than I do -- all over her body.

Skylar is becoming a young lady. She'll be 7 in December, and she's definitely easing into the age -- but more like I eased into braces with rubberbands and headgear. She rolls her eyes at us. She's trying desperately to make her own way, make her own decisions and assert her will more than ever. Her hearing is becoming more and more selective. And she now stands with her arms folded across her chest, as if to say, "I'm so over the both of you." Her latest buzz phrase is "I don't always have to do what you say." She's desperate to get her ears pierced. She begs for high heeled shoes. She's totally over wearing cute little girl outfits. She's totally into pre-teen privacy. Check out the sign she has made for her bedroom door.


Fiona Ireland, age 4 and eleven twelfths...
Fiona is my cheeky baby. She speaks with facial expressions. Her eyes reveal a very deep and pensive girl. Her sweet lips guard a cherubic smile and often curl into a feigned scowl, just for effect. Her laugh is from the gut, bold and deep, quick and eternal. Her sense of humor is quick, sharp and yes, a bit sarcastic. She loves to tease anyone. She is extremely well-mannered, with a "please" and "thank you" on the tip of her tongue at all times. Her personality is magnetic, and it seems everyone wants to be around her. She quickly makes friends. She wears her emotions on her sleeve, quick to lash out when she's unhappy, but incredibly warm and caring...quick to offer a hug, pat you on the back or just hold your hand if she senses you're sad. She's incredibly curious. She asks questions about everything. She notices a lot. She draws her own conclusions, and offers her own thoughts on things she sees. Just as any budding kindergartener does, she's drawing distinctions, making connections and trying desperately to determine why things are the way they are. She's a definite leader -- quick to take over a playground, for example, the minute she sets foot on it. Everyone follows her around, yet, ironically, she rarely looks behind to see who's there. She's confident, secure and sure of who she is...and she perfectly content to be her own person on her own terms.

Fiona is I guess what you call seriously smart. Her vocabulary is sophisticated and sharp. Her imagination is incredibly vivid and active. One minute she's a mermaid, swimming the oceans and solving problems...then she's a fairy, whisking through the air visiting friends and animals...until she becomes a princess, singing love songs and waiting for her prince to come. She is incredibly content to be on her own, lost in her worlds, nary a care of who is watching. She can sit for an hour and entertain herself. And we she does, we hear her talking non-stop with imaginary friends, to her animals at the tea party, to her dolls in the carriage. She sings little songs, whispers secrets and makes sweet little sound effects for every adventure. And what strikes me is how deeply engaged she gets with her fantasies, with how intensely she's living every moment. You can tell that everything she experiences and does she experiences and does with intensity. She has very few fears. She crafted a sign for her door this summer, too.

A right young but accomplished rider, she's incredibly at ease around horses. One horse in particular, even on his fussiest days, seems to find comfort when Fiona's around. This summer she has, at just 4 years old, been tacking, steering and trotting on her own. We imagine this is one sport that will cost us dearly.

Fiona struggles with being the baby. She's only 21 months younger than Skylar, and sometimes, she fancies there no difference at all. She wants to wear make-up, jewelry and high heeled shoes (like her sister desperately wants to do, too). She doesn't understand what it means to be younger, because she's always desperately trying to be just like her sister. She likes to test boundaries and our patience. She likes to police her sister's every move. But she still cares how Mom and Dad feel about what she's doing, and always comes back to apologize and steal a hug -- like reassurance that everything's copacetic.

Milestones...
- Both Skylar and Fiona learned to ride their bikes this summer without training wheels. Skylar admittedly a little late; Fiona, no surprise, a little early.

- Skylar lost 3 teeth this summer. Fiona desperately wished to lose just one.

- Both have become quite good swimmers. Skylar a doggie paddler; Fiona a little back floater. Aimee and I have become those parents at the beach who can sit and read a book and not constantly be following children around.

And so we let another summer pass. But this time, I feel like it's really been different. For all of us. We all have changed this summer. And we're all, I think, still trying to get used to our new "us"es. For anyone who's reading, cherish every moment with your children, and notice every detail. Because if you don't, they might end up a little unfamiliar to you.

Virtual Veritas

I stumbled across a new fascination: an online confessional for dads, and an online confessional for moms. I am pathetically addicted to reading the musings, lamentations and one-liners of dads and moms who are living the challenge of marriage with children.

I've been howling at some of the funny ones, frowning at the shameful ones and feeling deeply bad for the ones that seem so...desperate. But what I can't help but feel is some sort of comfort in knowing that those small moments when things seem so great -- or so bad -- aren't just my moments.

I Don't Wanna Grow Up

We've all heard the only difference between men and boys is the size and cost of their toys. Maybe one the best parts of being a dad is the ability to buy toys -- recklessly -- and play with them yourself, all under the guise of spending time with the children.

I love to watch my kids play, because it reminds me of when I was a kid, with nary a care in the world other than who would win the battle for the castle that day, or what new structure would be added to the LEGO city by noon.

I was a LEGO kid. I had a massive collection of bricks and wheels and doors and windows and roof tiles. My cousin was into LEGO Space and LEGO Castle, but I was all about the LEGOLAND town -- the gas station, the police and fire houses. I used my bricks to make everything in the city -- houses, a school, stores, restaurants -- my LEGO city grew daily. I spent hours and hours building and re-building, tweaking and playing with my Matchbox cars in the LEGO city. And to this day, I love to build, and it's now something I like to do with my girls.

Their interest has been increasing lately, and it's amazing to watch them dig through a bucket and piece together a bridge, a gun, a bird. You can see the wheels turning in their minds as they place a piece, remove it, put in on somewhere else, maybe tweak again, and then you see the look -- the one that says "yes, that's the right spot for that brick...now what?!"

There's just something about the fun that comes from the challenge and the problem solving of building. And sometimes I wonder what kind of person I'd be today had I not spent so much time building. Would I be creative? Would I have th confidence to be outspoken? Would I be persistent, curious, open to new ideas? Would I be energzied more by the problem than the answer?

I imagine I'm not the only dad who grew up playing with LEGO. Which is why I'm anxious to hear if there are other dads out there who grew up with it, still play with it, or share it with their kids. Why? What makes it something you just can't forget...or give up? Drop me a mail or leave a comment!

Yes, I'm Still Alive

It's been a while since I've posted...we've had one of those periods where everything seems to happen at once. Lots of child care disruptions and maneuvering, family illness, weekends away and chaos at work. I figured I'd get around to blogging tomorrow, or the next day, and here it is over a month later.

But then I was starting to wonder what I would even blog about. Seems like we've been super busy and maxed out, but none of it is interesting or worth repeating. How can that be? Is it possible that we go through a grey time of parenting where nothing magical happens, nothing special, just day-in day-out routine? I kept thinking there had to be something, and keep coming up empty.

So, maybe the thing for me to think about is how to plug back into something other than survival. Covering child care gaps. Scrambling to finish PowerPoints just before I get to the front of the room to share them. Running errands. Filing taxes at the very last minute.

And here it is. My wife has been away at a conference since Wednesday, and my mother-in-law came and took the girls to her house that same morning, because it's spring vacation and she thought they'd like to have a change of scenery since we had no time off. So I was thinking it would be a great time to recharge -- take it easy, have a few glasses of wine, watch whatever TV I wanted, spend an hour or two browsing at Barnes & Noble (one of my favorite things to do), maybe run to the Apple Store and grab a game or (God willing) finally find a Wii in stock somewhere (I mean seriously, how can it be this hard to buy a friggin Wii?) And, instead, I got strep throat.

Fortunately, no one has been here while I've been contagious, but no one has been here to take care of me either. Just the cat, and she's useless unless I want my feet warmed. And after three days of sitting here, mindlessly waiting for my throat to open up again and stop feeling like it's full of daggers, it hit me.

Despite all the hassle and rush and frustration of life's routines, when you remove it from your day, it's disconcerting. I miss my wife. And I don't know if I can go another day without my girls. So sometimes, I suppose the most reassuring and comforting parts of being a dad aren't just in the magical moments, but in having a little princess run by and give you a wave or a sit down to read you her latest catch from the library. Or just having them be there, even if quietly.

Happy to be feeling somewhat better, and glad to be blogging again. Hope everyone has been doing well.

To be a Man or a Dad, That is the Question

I just flew across the country and picked up a copy of Best Life magazine, where I found this story. It carries a subhead: "you don't have to enjoy playing with your kids to be a great dad," that has me wondering: how now brown cow?

The writer makes some bold statements that, out of context, really get me fired up:

"Bridling at being with children doesn't make you a bad father. It merely makes you a man."

"Some men are so robust and vigorous they can't--and shouldn't--get small with kids."

I'll let Mr. O'Neill off the "let me tell you something" hook, because he follows-up with:

"Rather than cramming your swaggering self into your kids' little world, sweep them into your roomier one. Take fewer trips to the playground and more to the hardware store...include them in the things you enjoy. Let them be a part of your man's world, rather than shrinking yourself to their size."

Ok, I'm on board, expose your kids to the things you enjoy, too. He understands it's important for men to spend time with their children. But then he says:

"My father didn't do games and he didn't do pretend and he had no patience for the goofiness of kids, and he didn't apologze for wanting be left alone from time to time. He was a man. He had a man's concerns, a man's plans, a man's demons...His self-possession was a come-hither to adulthood. He was fully engaged in his life...so he invited his kids to be intrigued by their futures."

Mr. O'Neill also says something that makes me think:

"One of the worst things you can do as a dad is play with your children when you really, really don't want to...because your lack of interest will leak through your insincere grin. Kids can pick up on the fact that dad is distant and seems kind of mad."

Maybe he's right. Are we doing more damage by pretending to like pretending?

We wonder why today's kids are getting older younger. Perhaps it's because we are always trying to drag them into our lives instead of cramming ourselves into theirs. Where Mr. O'Neill suggests an insincere smile or laugh (hmm...maybe while being "madeover" by your girls, complete with lipstick and nail polish) doesn't do any good for children, I'd argue that having to feign interest in the business of adults isn't good for them either. Sure, we can drag our kids to the hardware store because it makes us feel more like a man, but that kind of togetherness isn't necessarily mutually beneficial or positive. It's still self-centered, it's just in favor of dad, not kids.

Listen, I'm no champ when it comes to always doing the right thing as a dad, but it seems to me that a lack of interest in anything small or goofy--in the business of being a child--isn't the sign of a robust man. A man who bleives he is too big, too strong, too much of a MAN to leave the adventures of his life for the whiles of his children is not a man...he's a jerk. A real man does whatever he has to do to protect, nurture and provide for his family, even if it means getting down on the floor and playing dragon to the evil wizard.