The Acorn Never Falls Far From the Tree

I know it’s cliches aren’t great to use in language.  But with each passing day I realize the truth in “the apple/nut/fruit never falls far from the tree.”

It was bath night for the girls.  I decided I would help with the 3 year old.  After washing comes playing in the tub.  She was playing, laughing, and splashing around.  Suddenly she stopped to just tell me a story.  It came out of nowhere and she was very serious as she told it to me.  That focus had me paying attention even closer than normal.

“Um. Dad.  I think the DVR is broken”, she started.

“Oh yeah, what makes you say that”, I wondered?

“Well, the screen (she makes this spitting noise like it malfunctioned) pfffft (she rolls her eyes) goofy.  So mom tried to reboot”, she answered.  My eyes just about bugged out of my head.  I really didn’t think she said “reboot”.  I must have imagined it.

So I tried to interrupt her to ask but wouldn’t let me ask, “Did you just…” I was cut off.

“No, wait”, she cut me off.  “So Mom didn’t like how it looked after reboot.  So she reboot again!  (rolls her eyes like she can’t believe it) Again!  (holds up her fingers to show me the number two) TWO TIMES!  TWO REBOOTS!  That’s why I think it’s broked.”

I finally could ask her, “Margaret, did you just say ‘reboot’?”

“Yeah.”, she looked at me like I’m an idiot for not knowing the word, “When you unplug something and count and plug it back in.  Mom did that TWO TIMES!!”

I work with equipment all day.  From radio studio gear, to transmission gear, to computers the first troubleshooting step is to ask the person you are talking with if they rebooted the item to see if the problem goes away.  A geek like me couldn’t have been more proud.  Or should I say a tree like me couldn’t have been happier with the acorn?

The First Sign of Sisterly Love/Respect?

As a somewhat new dad to two little girls, the oldest is 3 years old and the youngest is 10 months, I’ve been waiting for those times where I start to see “sisterly love” and trust between the two of them.  I’m not looking for the little extra smile that our youngest shows when her older sister comes in the room.  That has been there for sometime.  I’ve been looking for a larger gesture or reaction.  A sign of trust.

(A side note. I think every guy goes through adjustments as children enter his life.  Our home used to be quiet.  Sure you may hear the radio or TV on, but there was a lot of time where one could get lost in thought or enjoy the silence.  Well, those days left almost 3 years ago.  And with two, those days have certainly moved further away.  That’s not a complaint.  It is simply an adjustment.)

So that gesture I’ve been looking for came in a very, well, how do I say it, a “daddylike” way?  (At least “daddylike” from my childhood).

It was bedtime.  The older sister went to bed pretty well.  The 10 month old just wasn’t ready to sleep.  As parents we tried nearly everything in our arsenal of tricks to get her to sleep.  She just wasn’t liking any of the attempts.  At a certain point, you just have to try the self-sooth-cry-herself-to-sleep.  My wife put her in the crib.

Well, the girls share a room.  A sleeping 3 year old is something to be cherished and witnessed.  Hearing her wake up is not what you want.  But sometimes you just have to let the baby cry and risk the 3 year old waking up.

The 10 month old went from a whimper, to a whine, to an irritated cry, to ticked off and getting louder with each step.

(Another side-note.  Just a few weeks earlier I was mentioning to the 3 year old that an awesome part of being the big sister is if you hear your little sister crying at night you could quietly whisper a comforting, “It’s OK baby, I’m here” and maybe your sister would calm down knowing she was safe in the room with her big sister.  Ahhhh, a father can dream right?)

The ticked off cry became more of an angry yell/cry when another voice came from the bedroom yelling, “Quiet baby.  Baby.”  (then a louder)  “BABY!  SHUT UP!”  That’s right.  It was the 3 year old.

But….that yell was followed by….silence.  And everyone went to sleep. 

Well, everyone except my wife and I sitting in the living room stifling our giggles of amazement. 

The big sister helped quiet down the little sister.  Not quite the quiet comforting whisper I was hoping to hear.  Yet it worked.

Who knew that my first sign of sisterly love/respect would be one yelling at the other.  For the record, they really love each other.  And they are LOUD.  I have been told, but haven’t heard yet, the “Frozen” “Let it Go” duet where the 3 year old sings loud and the 10 month old yells trying to sing too.  But sounds more like she is just yelling at the top of her lungs.  Like my first side note says, those days of a quiet house have gone away.  I couldn’t be happier.

Things The Bad Catholic Dad Does

At work I’m surrounded by a great group of Catholics. I love listening to the techniques employed by many of them in raising their children over the years. Plus, working with Father Rocky gives me an opportunity to listen to him speak. He has a particular talk where he encourages praying the rosary with your family. Even saying it is a great event to do with even the youngest of children. Although, recalling his words, it can be a “full contact” rosary with young children. The first time I heard him say those words. I thought, “That seems a little exaggerated. I’m sure if my time to be a dad ever happens it won’t be like that.”

Boy was he right and I wrong on that one. I have to admit being around an active 3 year old will keep me young well beyond my years. And going to Sunday mass has often become, to borrow Fr. Rocky’s words, a “full contact” sport.

I’m not complaining. I’m just realizing that the perfect dad isn’t the one that is comparable to Ward Cleaver. He is more like…well…a gifted verbal juggler. And sometimes a full on juggler. For my 3-year old daughter and myself, the verbal exchanges just keep coming. Plus, I keep getting reminders how even the most quiet of actions are always being recorded by a 3-year old mind.

We haven’t started praying rosaries with her yet. But we started from almost day one doing smaller prayers like the bedtime prayer, the prayer before meals, and the Guardian Angel prayer.

A 1 or 2-year old is easily distracted and that has caused me to occasionally reword a prayer. For instance if our 3-year old starts eating prior to everyone else sitting down I may reword the phrase, “which we are about to recieve” to, “which she is already eating/scarfing/inhailing”.

But the nighttime is sometimes “accidentally misworded” by me in order to distract her, get her to giggle, and refocus so we can say it correctly. The correct one we pray goes like this:

“Now I lay me,
Down to sleep,
I pray the Lord,
My soul to keep.
Guide me safely,
through the night.
Wake me with,
the morning light.
Amen.”

Well, when she is distracted, or not really ready to pray yet I may start her off with:

“Now I lay me,
Down to sleep.
A bag of peanuts/big ol’ pizza,
At my feet.”

The giggling usually starts followed by her saying, “That’s NOT how you pray it. Do it like this….”

Then she prays it the way we know.

A few nights ago I got up after going through out nighttime routine and a dresser drawer was left open just a little bit and I banged by foot against it. I only grumbled a little bit to myself and walked out of the room. (For those of you who really know me, you would be proud. No loud yell. No foul words. Literally just a grumble to myself and that was it.) I didn’t even think our 3-year old heard me. I was wrong.

The other night, my influence was heard by my wife. She went in to do nighttime prayer with our daughter. Our 3-year old improvidsed the following prayer. I think you will see my influences clearly.

“Now I lay me down to sleep.
A big ol’ pizza at my feet.
Guide me safely through the night.
Because a drawer is in my way. Amen.”

I wasn’t in the room to hear this lovely prayer. But I’m pretty certain the neighbors could hear my wife and daughter roaring with laughter followed by the real prayer.

I’m not sure my word substitutions would be given a Fr. Rocky stamp of approval, but I think my daughter watching out for our feet sure gets my approval.

And it is really important that I remember I’m being watched and listened too much more than I realize.

Just learning and living the #dadlife everyday.

The Humility of Fatherhood

First off a belated Father’s Day to all dad’s and grandfathers. Not just biological, but adoptive, uncles, godfathers, brothers that may have influenced you (in a good way), and all other forms of fatherhood that are possible.

For me, Father’s Day is taking on a newer meaning. One of humility. With a three year old and 8-month old, I still feel like a new daddy. (Mostly because I’m making it up as I go along. I’ve now learned that is a typical trait of most dads. So I know I’m not alone.)

In future posts I will detail more of my full Father’s Day. Just to wet the appitite, I bring you a simple exchange between the 3 year old and myself. This was how the day started. It was early and we were going out for a drive. So there we were, just the two of us. Just after she was buckled into the seat she smiled like she had a secret to share but wouldn’t risk bursting at that moment.

But once I sat down and buckled my seatbelt she blurts out at the top of her lungs, “HAPPY FATHER’S DAY DAD!!! LET’S CELEBRATE!!”

I haven’t fished in a long time. And it always annoys me when people fish for compliments, but I have to admit I was going on a verbal fishing trip with my daughter. I dropped my mythical hook in the water by asking, “What exactly do we celebrate on Father’s Day?”

I was met with the always “satisfying” response, “I dunno? What?”

Sure I was a little dissapointed, but I soldered on ready to set the hook once she answered this question correctly, “Most people celebrate how much they like or love their dad. So, do you like or love your dad?”

Oh I know, I was seriously fishing for a compliment here. But it seemed so easy. Until she responded almost as quickly as I asked the question, “Well, I dunno. You give me time-outs. And now they are (holding up her fingers to show the correct number) THREE MINUTES LONG!!!”

And another moment showing the “humbling of a dad” was complete. I could only laugh. Although it did get me thinking much of the morning how much I didn’t focus on those moments alone with my dad. How now, I would love to share one more moment alone talking with him. Plus, during times of prayer, how often I let the distractions of the world get in the way of my prayer. Sometimes even when I’m sitting in prayer, I let my thoughts drift away from Him right in front of me.

Always cherish those times alone with your dad. In all forms. Don’t focus on the “time outs” you have been given, rather the true time out with dad.

It’s All About Perspective.

Here comes one of those cliche statements. Yes, life truly is all about perspective.

A recent “for instance”. This past Saturday I had a daddy luxury of changing what our house calls a “poopy diaper”. Well, if that is what we call a standard diaper, this was a POOOOOOOOOPPPYYYYYY diaper. Who knew a 7 month old could lunch that much causing her to launch so much more? It was everywhere. Plus, allow me to break a myth. Young ones do have an unpleasant smell. This one was up there. Not quite one for the ages, but close.

Not long ago I was catching up with a friend and he was talking about the first time he changed a standard diaper. A diaper by the way, that was nothing like this. He admitted to gagging, and how it was rough. This one would have had him running for a clothespin and a hazmat suit.

(Please tell me you aren’t eating while you read this blog? If so, I apologize.)

Yet there I was this daddy of two just looking down at the mess and laughing. Thinking, “That’s all you’ve got?”

You see it is all about perspective.

The night before I was sitting down to have dinner with the family. I had just finished grilling some BBQ chicken breasts with a side of baked sweet potato. It was looking to be a good meal. That was when I took the call. 7:45 at night. The station I live closest too has a transmitter site with a huge basement. This night that basement was under about 3 1/2 feet of water. Seems the sump pump walked toward the light and ended it’s functional time on earth.

As the family sat down to what I was told was a great meal, I got up and began an extended day of work. A day that lasted until 3:30 in the morning.

It was about 1 am when a few of us stood in the parking lot joking that if you stood in the front of the building, you smelled the smell of a paper mill. A smell that everyone has to smell at least once in their lifetime. Imagine smelling salts combine with rotting meat and eggs. If you walked behind the building you were rewarded with the smell of summer farmland. A mix of heat and animal waste. It was at that point I walked into the transmitter room. Sort of a safe haven from the outdoor smells.

Then I heard a voice from the basement yell, “AWWW C’MON!” Apparently the pumping of the water from the basement hit a snag. A snag that caused the water being pumped out of the basement to start to back flow into the septic tank. The smell was, well, it wasn’t a bouquet that I would ever recommend for anyone. I bailed out of the room back to the great outdoors. Not in front of the building, nor behind it, just on the side. That was when I smelled all three fantastic smells at once. It was one of those smells that you don’t just smell once, it stays in your nose for a day or two.

So as you can see…or in this case I could smell…life truly is all about perspective.

Give me 50 of those diaper cleanups any day of the week.