And the Oscar Goes To...

Last week our family attended a free concert put on by the college a few block away from our house - my old place of paid employment.  During the summer, the college's Fine Arts Department hosts four outdoor concerts and we like to go because the girls like the music, and they are free, so it gives us some low investment entertainment.  The last concert of the series happened to be a dueling pianos outfit called Deuces Wild.  Having seen them before and being familiar with the dueling pianos concept, I figured it would be a good show, even if it was a PG rated version and the profanity and drinking would be virtually non-existent.

As is typical at these events, our girls wanted to sit as close to the stage as possible, and because variable weather had moved the event indoors, we found ourselves at the front of the auditorium.  We seemed to land right in the "kids area" (or we started it) and soon found ourselves surrounded by kids ranging from 2-12.  One of the pianists took notice of this and made reference to us being the von Trapp family as he segued into "Do Re Mi" - a hit with the under 5 crowd.  That was followed by the other pianist (it's dueling pianos, so there are two of them, get it?) pointing his "deer shiner" in my face and instructing me to get up on stage.  Whilst on stage I was given the opportunity to channel my best Michael Flatley, and Riverdance along to the Irish ditty they played.  I'll be a little critical and say it wasn't my best performance by any means, but there was a respectable round of applause from the crowd of 700+.  I actually learned today, that my PDD (public display of dancing) was the most embarrassing thing I could do as a dad.  Just another Thursday night with the Bruns Family.    

I never participated in organized dramatic endeavors during my school years.  I was too busy attempting to be cool by pretending I was a jock.  In retrospect this was theatrics in its own right, given my lack of any notable athletic skill.  As a parent these days, and especially as a stay-at-home parent, I seem to be getting my shot on the "big stage", even though there isn't really a physical stage (last Thursday notwithstanding).  At times, my life has the tendency to feel like one big movie, or daytime television series, or even an off-broadway (way off) show.  Usually it tends to be a Rom-Com, but sometimes it's an action-packed thriller (usually when we are late needing to get somewhere), a sci-fi horror flick (typically involving scenes in the bathroom), or even a musical (when I just decide to sing everything I say to my kids).  Of course I'm usually cast in the standard role of dad, but also have had significant experience playing some form of royalty - typically prince.  I've dabbled in other roles too - pirate, butler, unicorn owner, shopping patron #2, etc. - in effort to diversify my character portfolio.  I've even had the opportunity to portray a variety of species from the kingdom Animalia, and not just as a voice-over.      

When I'm "in character", anyone with a basic understanding of acceptable social behavior could arguably say that the way I interact with my kids would medically be defined as "bat-shit crazy".  But the kids don't get it, nor do they care.  If they understand what is going on, they think it's relatively hilarious, and though they can be a pretty tough crowd, they can also be pretty forgiving as long as you make a concerted effort.  They won't be overtly critical if my attempt at a British accent takes on more of an Aussie tone.  There is also no fear of flubbing your lines, as our life is essentially a non-rehearsed Saturday Night Live episode starring your's truly in every skit.  Taking a dramatic approach to the day can add an element of fun variety to the otherwise common drudgery of domestic life.  It can also serve as a strategy to try and stay sane in the throes of chaos.  Let's approach this bedwetting scene in a "good cop gone bad" character type.  I will do damn near anything to get my kids to laugh.

The girls haven't necessarily emulated my thespianism, as they've kept similar levels of drama over the years - absurdly high.  If anything, I'm just trying to keep up with their own theatrical displays.  Gus does some pretty emphatic facial expressions, but we usually chalk that up to gas.  It has been fun to watch the older ones assume different character roles while they are playing, as they've definitely started to understand that there is a level of creativity they need to employ to make those characters work.  I definitely hope that they are drawn to theater and performance as they get older, at least mildly, as I feel the skills you learn are essential tools to being a well adjusted person.  Putting yourself out there, especially on a stage, while terrifying, can also serve as an important life lesson in humility and be a huge boost of confidence.  It seems like it would also be really helpful when you need to "fake it to make it", a strategy I employ almost daily.

I think I've always been somewhat of a natural-born performer.  My mom likes to recount how my first public performance was at the ripe old age of 2, when I sang "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" in front of a class of high-schoolers that her friend was substitute teaching (and we wonder why the education system has gotten so bleak).  I've never really been one to shy away from the limelight, especially if it ends in a few laughs, typically at my expense.  I recently read that the typical age at which men stop being embarrassed by their own actions, regardless of their buffoonery, is around 50.  These days, especially with three kids, not much fazes me when I'm out in public.  A few months ago, I actually added "audition for, and get a part in a live theatrical performance" to my list of 40 things to do before I'm 40.  I'm sure they'll turn out in droves if and when that finally happens.

At this point, I can definitely sense that we have some extroverts in our two girls, and I hope that they continue to grow as performers, enjoying the beauty and excitement of creative art.  My hope is that when the light shines on them, they'll have the confidence to assume the role they've been asked to play, even if that light is a "deer shiner".  If, as Shakespeare says, "All the world's a stage, and all men and women are merely players" they best learn how to own that stage.  Sure it will be scary, probably a little embarrassing, and definitely exciting, but that's character building at its best.  And I guess if they want to become famous actors or musicians and want to support their old man in his aging years, that would be alright too.

At times my character requires specific costume.

Other times, more extensive detail is paid to hair...

...and make-up.

              

  

'Cause You Got To Have Friends

In Low Places

I celebrated my 10 year college reunion two weekends ago, which dates me, but also gave me an opportunity to reconnect with some good college friends, some who I hadn't seen in a number of years.  We waxed nostalgic, pretended that we could imbibe like we were 22 again, and paid the price for it once the weekend had concluded.  A good thing they only come around every five years.  I've always seen my four years in college as a pinnacle experience in my life (see earlier post for reference).  It was a time when I really "found" myself, and a big part of that was due to the great friendships I was able to make while in college.  Despite being kid-less for most of the weekend, there was still plenty of "parenting shoptalk" that occurred.  When your kids start to consume your life, they start to be your main points of conversation.  Especially with other parents.

When I came of traditional child-bearing age, one of the reasons/excuses I would sometimes use, both internally and externally, to downplay the thought of having kids was the demons of the modern world.  War, murder, crime, rape, drugs, bullying, high pollen levels.  You name it, it's a pretty nasty place out there.  I figured I would be doing any potential offspring a favor by not exposing them to society's various ills.  I also reflected on my own childhood, the drama of adolescence, and how I would never, personally, want to return to any age under 18 if given the chance.  Even considering how relatively mild the degradation was that I received in my preteen years from my peers, which I'm certain is now amplified with the advances of social media/technology.  I wouldn't wish that torment on anyone, especially my own children.  

One of the things I realized I was excited about after we found out we were expecting; along with having a newborn baby to love and cuddle, create memories with and mold into your own "mini-me", was the opportunity to have our kids get to know our friends, and have our friends be apart of our kids' lives.  This really dawned on me after they threw us an appropriately themed baby shower, replete with fajitas and Coronas (see earlier post for additional insight).  I was excited for my kids to meet my friends, because I thought (think) that my friends were (are) pretty f@#%ing awesome.  And to look at the things that they've accomplished, especially in the last 10 years, it's inspiring and humbling to associate with them.  They've started successful (and cool) businesses, held senior level positions at huge companies, worked internationally and traveled a ton, become decorated military veterans, volunteered in the Peace Corps, served in Teach for America, and gone to prestigious law/grad/med schools.  Beyond all those accomplishments, they've continued to be genuine, down-to-earth people who are great to be around and always up for adventure.  To quote one of them, a respected lawyer, they "bring something to the table."     

David Brooks, one of my favorite authors, suggests in his book, The Social Animal, that emotional ties and social interaction are essential for forming a decent life.  As the title connotes, we look to develop friendships and relationships and those connections have a huge impact on our happiness.  Or as the PBS Project, This Emotional Life more pointedly states, "we need close relationships to be happy."  When it comes to raising a family, I agree with the African proverb (and Former First Lady Hillary Rodham Clinton) that "it takes a village to raise a child."  I feel fortunate that the people who make up "our village" are all loving, caring, and positive people.  Their presence in the world makes it a better place for those of us fortunate enough to know them.

I'm excited for our kids to get to know our friends for two main reasons, both selfish, one more narcissistic.  The first being that I want my friends to have an influence on my kids life, because as previously mentioned, they're f@#%ing awesome.  We're blessed to have tons of incredible mentors for our kids as they grow up, and a vast majority of these individuals are those we'd call friends.  I hope that our kids will see the success of those people around us as another prime example of what they can accomplish with their life, all while being humble and genuine.  We're also very fortunate that our close friends see their relationship with our children as an extension of their friendship with us.  Even the ones who don't have kids or a spouse, or haven't even given either of those concepts much of a passing thought, are eager to engage our kids whenever they are around, seeing their happiness as our happiness.  If my kids grow up to be like any of them, I will be extremely proud.  Even if they occasionally engage in some questionable behavior during their college years.

The second reason I'm excited for my kids to get to know our friends, is that their f@#%ing awesomeness can be an augmentation to our own f@#%ing awesomeness.  This will probably be more beneficial as the kids get older, and Jess and I (most certainly me) transition from the "coolest people in the world" to our kids, to the "lamest people on earth".  As the kids age, and develop an opinion on what they think constitutes "awesomeness" and have decided that their parents (especially their dad) are definitely not awesome, we can point to our friends and say; "Look at our friends that are awesome and have done all of these cool things!  Because their friendship is reciprocal, and they think we are cool, despite your own insistence that we suck, we must be awesome like our friends."  It's conditional probability.  Basic math, really.

Okay, maybe that is a more self-serving reason, and harder for a kid to understand, but it's definitely nice to have that validation, even if it isn't really needed.  If having meaningful relationships and connections is a surefire way to increase your happiness, having those relationships with people you think are awesome is likely a good way to go.  And hopefully that is the case.  Hopefully the people that make up your "village" are people you'd be excited to have in your kids' lives.  Both because they are/will be great role models for your kids and hopefully you can brag about them and their accomplishments to your kids when they reach their anti-adult stage.  It has also encouraged me to try and be that person for my friend's kids.  To be someone my friends would want their kids to look up to, or at least hang around occasionally.  "Oh, that's just Crazy Uncle Jon.  Don't worry, he's not really your uncle."

So, of course we need to thank our friends - you know who you are - for being (you get the idea) awesome.  Thank you for being a part of our lives, and more importantly our children's lives.  Thank you for supporting us as we have embarked upon our familial journey, as crazy as it has been.  Thanks for liking at least a few of the excessive number of photos of our kids that we post on Facebook.  Thanks for being a listening ear when we talk about our children's bowel movements.  Thanks for realizing and understanding that we can't always make happy hour, or dinner, or a movie, or most anything else for that matter, because we have three little humans that depend on us pretty much non-stop.  But thanks for inviting us anyway.  We'll hopefully be able to make someday.  Maybe in like 18 years.                 

Cover 3

I Said Everybody One, Everybody Two....

We love our sports metaphors, and when it comes to modern parenting it's no different.  One of the frequent comments I received when people found out we would be having our third child was that we'd be going to a "zone defense" instead of "man-to-man coverage".   There is a standard football defensive strategy referred to as the Cover 3.  The general premise (yes, I had to look it up since I've relatively football illiterate), is to utilize three defensive backs to provide the good balance of run & pass defenders, attempting to avert the big play downfield.   

While my defensive strategy looks nothing like the Cover 3 (if run correctly), I have taken to utilizing the term when describing my approach to surviving the day with my three kids.  The caveat is that instead of having three defenders to cover the receivers (the kids), the two cornerbacks have tripped over their own shoelaces at the line of scrimmage, and I am the free safety solely responsible for stopping the big play, or in my world, preventing injury that requires immediate medical attention.  And it's not even like I'm a good free safety like Ed Reed.  I'm probably more along the lines of Bacarri Rambo.  Who, you ask?  Exactly.  

As we were approaching Havi's first birthday, our second, and youngest at the time, I made the comment to my wife that I was very content with two kids.  While we by no means had things under control, they seemed at least manageable.  I objectively observed that having a third would likely necessitate us getting a larger vehicle and making some bedroom adjustments.  I also felt no burning need to have male offspring that could carry on the family name.  Yes, I was perfectly fine with our family of four.  Jess responded that she didn't quite feel done, but wasn't ready to add a third yet.  Maybe when Isla was in kindergarten.  The best laid plans, I guess (pun intended).

After we found out we were expecting again, I tried to think of the number of couples I knew who were within a few years of my wife and I who also had three kids.  It wasn't many, and I think I can count on one hand the number of couples who have them spaced out as congruently as we do - every two years.  Most rational ones seemed to follow my wife's thought of getting one or even two into school before adding anymore.  The national average still hovers around 2.6 kids per family.  There was actually an ever so slight uptick in that stat after the 2010 census, which was preceded by a solid 50 year decline in the family size.  Of course we've always tried to be just above average, especially since we live in Lake Wobegon.    

It is a little crazy to think that having three kids has become the new "big family", and that making the jump from two to three seems, well, crazy.  Don't get me wrong, it's absurdly crazy.  But consider that a generation ago, a three kid family would seem relatively small.  Both my Mom and Mother-in-Law came from families that were probably "medium-sized" for the mid-20th century - 6 & 8 kids respectively.  My Dad, being the youngest of four kids, had a small family by the norms of the day.  My Father-In-Law was even more of an anomaly, having only an older sister.  But these days, going from two to three is portrayed as rocket-launching yourself off of the sane planet.  This Huffington Post article gives a good and humorous synopsis.

With three under the age of five, there are definitely a few new-found realities in our day-to-day operations.  No longer can I attempt to control the direction of what unfolds during our day.  Inevitably we will have at least one child crying in our house at all times.  Sometimes two, and occasionally it will be a trio of tears.  Luckily(?) it seems like after the third, the volume gets turned down a few notches (or my hearing has started to go from all of the crying and screaming).  Unfortunately, despite homo sapiens being the "masters of evolution", as you add offspring to your fold, you do not grow any additional helpful appendages or eyes in the back of your head (despite what you tell your children).  As another father of three fittingly stated, it's pure triage.        

Fortunately our oldest two play pretty well together, until they don't, which is when they bicker like teenagers (a sign of things to come I've sure).  This definitely helps out when Gus needs some undivided attention, like most babies do from time to time, for feedings and bio-hazard clean-ups following diaper blow-outs that go up to the back of the neck.  Sometimes Isla and Havi will want to assist, and I should commend them for wanting to be helpful but usually it creates additional work for you.  "No, you cannot try some of the bottle, only your brother gets the liquid gold.  You two have to drink the watered skim milk, which I've watered down more so it will go further."  "Please step away from your brother's fecal matter.  Please, do not touch that.  Okay, go wash your hands."

They don't always want to help though, and would rather be doing something else.  Plus there are always occasions when you need a small amount of time to take care of your own business matters, which you may or may not get the privacy you desire for such activity.  This has forced me to understand that I can't always keep tabs on everything my kids are doing, at least within my own house, especially with the two that are mobile and familiar with the floor plan.  I can only assume that they're playing nicely together (when I don't hear screams and sobs) with age appropriate toys and activities.  But for all I know they could be performing minor surgical operations on each other, doing illicit drugs, or reading anarchist zines.

Timing also becomes vitally important and something you lack a significant amount of control over.  When you have kids, multi-tasking becomes second nature (more on that later), and you learn how to take advantage of every seemingly free second you have.  With three kids on pretty different schedules, to survive I essentially always have to be doing something, usually two things, all the time.  I brush my teeth at the most bizarre times.  I ridiculously attempt to work in my "APA recommended amount of daily physical activity" during lulls in the action (more on that later too).  And it never fails that once I sit down to give Gus a bottle, Havi will decide that she has to use the potty and need assistance.  It is amazing how you can learn to transition somewhat seamlessly from wiping a butt to making a bottle, or changing an exploded-out-of diaper to fixing lunch - washing your hands in between of course (usually).

Sometimes timing can work in your favor, if all of the Gods of every religion happen to feel like giving you a break for a few minutes, and you can miraculously get three kids all sleeping at the same time (like I actually had for about 15 minutes earlier today).  When that happens you must either take a nap yourself, even if it is just for 3 minutes, or mix yourself a very stiff cocktail.  It's almost better than winning the lottery, and I was actually fortunate to experience this during one of the first few weeks after my wife went back to work.  I was brought back to earth when I found out how quickly the dynamic can change for a tranquil house of three sleeping children to a house of pure chaos.  It's a relatively entertaining story (to me at least), and I think it somewhat aptly portrays the variable nature of being at home with three young kids.

We had just gotten back from picking up Isla at preschool, and Gus was overseeing my lunch prep while the girls were playing in the other room.  They were playing fine, when Isla decided to go upstairs to the room she shares with Havi.  As I was dishing up some lunch for Havi, I got a call from an old work colleague wondering if he could stop by.  Having not heard anything from Isla for about 15 minutes, I went to let her know that lunch was ready, only to find her fast asleep in bed.  When I got back downstairs, Havi had finished most of her lunch, and informs me that she wants to go lay down with Isla too (they share a bed).  I moved Gus from the bumbo chair on the island (since it directly says on it to never use on an elevated surface) to the portable crib we have set-up in the dining room.  When I get back downstairs after putting Havi down (and miraculously not waking up Isla), Gus is also passed out and just like that I have three sleeping children.  My buddy arrives, scoffs at how easy I have it, and we proceed to have a leisurely two hour lunch (cocktails excluded this time).

His departure times the plot twist.  The girls are in desperate need of finger and toenail attention, so to bribe them, I promised nail painting after clipping.  After their dad provided mani-pedis, I attempt to clip Gus fingernails too, which also need attention.  I start on an index finger, and after making my first snip, he gives me the 2 second delayed blood-curdling wail that usually happens after shots at the doctors office.  I look down to see that I've cut a small part (at least I think it's a small part) of the skin on the tip of his finger.  There is blood, so I grab some tissue and apply pressure, figuring it will stop quickly.

It doesn't stop quickly.  It actually doesn't want to stop at all.  I go for the band-aids, and put one on.  It doesn't stay and it's not holding the blood in, which seems to be coming out at the rate of your average Red Cross blood donation.  I double it up - one around the finger and one over the top.  This seems to help, but naturally he now wants to put his hand in his mouth and suck on that particular finger.  This causes the band-aids to come off, and for a very long 10 seconds, I swear they are in his mouth ready to be swallowed and subsequently choked on.  Luckily the band-aids are located (not in his mouth), but at this point he has blood on his face and outfit, looking much like an extra in a Quentin Tarantino film.  After a few more failed attempts with applying pressure, I finally get some band-aids to stay and promptly put a sock over his hand to keep him from gnawing on his wound.  As he yawns and rubs his eyes, I observe the amount of blood stains covering his blanket and burp rag and hoping he's just ready for an actual nap, and not passing out from the loss of blood.

Of course the older two do little to help me during my frantic crisis management.  They spend most of the time cashing in on my nonobservance by jumping on the couch(es) and requesting assistance with the potty at the most inopportune times, allowing you to momentarily ponder what is worse, a kid bleeding on themselves or peeing in their pants.  They will relay my nail cutting debacle to my wife when she gets home from work (after they show off the rainbow of colors painted on their own nails), and I will be temporarily banned from cutting Gus' fingernails for the next year.  That's alright with me though, we all have our strengths and weaknesses I guess (more to come on that later).

So it's an adventure here at the Bruns' household with our #partyoffive*, and it's actually given me an idea for a new business venture.  An experiential 24-hour workshop to help prevent teen pregnancy.  For a nominal fee, parents can send their pubescent teenage son to spend a day and night with me and my kids.  Highlights to include multiple overnight wake-ups to calm crying children, changing dirty diapers and assisting with toilet usage, driving the minivan while bringing kids out in public, making and negotiating the consumption of healthy meals and snacks, and reading approximately 300 bedtime stories.  It's guaranteed to scare them abstinent until they're at least 25, so let me know if you're interested.      

                          
*Used without permission from Troy Applen.  It was too good to pass up.
          

What I Really Learned in College

How My "Overpriced" Education Helped Me Become a Stay-At-Home Dad

It's mid-May, which means it's commencement time for the 4,500+ college and universities in the United States.  Two weeks ago, my alma mater celebrated their commencement ceremonies for the Class of 2015, marking ten years since I completed my own undergraduate studies.  It also marked only the second time since 2002 that I was not present at a college commencement ceremony, either as a graduate or assisting with the execution of the event.  Ironically, that Friday, as many of Minnesota's colleges and universities were busily preparing for their own institution's commencement exercises, the Friday Roundtable discussion on MPR featured three college presidents discussing the future of college and their reaction to a recently released book entitled The End of College.  I was able to catch a few minutes of the discussion as we were en-route to the grocery store (for the third time that week).  

Having worked almost exclusively in higher ed since completing my own years as a student, I tend to follow the commentary and analysis on the current state of higher education in America.  If you work/worked in higher ed, have kids in school, or are getting ready to send kids off to college, it's hard not to.  With tuition rates increasing at astronomical rates, much of the narrative has centered around affordability, access and outcome, often posing the question if a college degree is really "worth it" anymore.  Being a product of one of Minnesota's private, liberal arts colleges, and having spent a number of years working in higher ed until my "retirement" last fall, I'll be the first to admit that my view is incredibly biased.  I've drunk the Kool-Aid.  Read-on with that disclaimer if you'd like, as I share why I think my college education was instrumental in my decision to become a stay-at-home parent.

During my last few months on the job before my retirement, I was able to have a lot of candid conversations with some of the student employees that worked in our office, especially the six seniors.  Four of them had started working with our office as first-year students and the other two started as sophomores, so I had a unique opportunity to watch them transform throughout the course of their college years.  I really enjoyed our conversations, as I knew they were in a place similar to where I was ten years prior.  Apprehensive about the future, wondering if I would get a job I liked, or a job at all, after graduating.  Wondering how to make sense of the past four years and how that experience made me a marketable employment prospect.  I could tell that they were both excited and nervous about the future held in store for them.

They were also pretty curious about what I thought the future held in store for me, as I would be leaving my job before they finished their senior year, for a new, and somewhat unknown adventure.  And since I had essentially attended the same school as they did we seemed to be in similar circumstances.  They were leaving college to find their way, most likely by getting a job, while I was making probably my biggest career decision ever - leaving mine to stay home with our growing family.  During each conversation, I told those students that I truly believed it was the educational experience I received, one that was very similar to their own, one that I was still making healthy, monthly loan repayments for, one that some may deem "overpriced" and "not worth it", that best prepared me to make the decision to voluntarily leave a paid job that I enjoyed and become a stay-at-home dad.

I told them that what my education provided me, above anything else, was the opportunity to create my own definition of success.  It was the individual-oriented, whole-life development experience that I had, which was a byproduct of the close friendships and the authentic personal & professional mentors I was able to develop.  This education showed me how to examine my life and decided ultimately what was important to me.  It help me objectively ask the important questions like, "what the hell am I doing, and is it what I want to be spending all of my time on?"  It gave me the background to answer those questions in a thoughtful and educated manner, and ultimately decide it was personally time for a change, even if that meant forgoing a paycheck.

This was not by chance either, but more by design, as the college I attended describes itself as a place that emphasizes "leadership and a personal development profile that includes intellectual, spiritual, emotional and physical development."  No doubt a lot of colleges and universities use a similar tagline to promote their institutions, but I feel the education I received really lives up to that.  In the most recent alumni magazine I received, the current President, also an alum (and an economist), opines that the education one receives at our alma mater is "as much about the formation of character and the search for meaning as about academics", providing "a solid foundation to help young men seeking to develop their moral understanding and find meaning in their lives."  

Am I realizing the maximum economic potential of my degree?  Absolutely not (I probably wasn't even when I was working).   When we/I (depending which story you follow) decided to have one of us stay at home, it was a bad financial decision from a strictly dollars and sense standpoint, even after considering the cost of daycare.  I once read a great quote (pretty certain it was in Bill Bishop's The Big Sort) that I'll paraphrase because for the life of me, I can't seem to find it again. The quote suggested that one of the great things about receiving an education is knowing what luxuries you can afford to live without (or something like that).  When I stopped working, we had to make financial adjustments to figure out how to make it all work.  But I definitely believe our education helped us navigate this aspect in a way that we felt comfortable with, even if I did get one of my worst grades of my college career in Econ 101.

Does my alma mater care that I'm not a high-powered executive, pulling six figures?  No.  One of the biggest things they are concerned about, and that they promote to prospective students (and parents) is if I would rate my college experience highly (which I do) and if I am satisfied with where my education has gotten me (which I am).  Sure, the Development Office may wish I made a little more so I could up the very modest donations I make to the annual fund, but overall they likely see me as a successful product of the institution.  Though I doubt they'll start using me for an sort of Admissions marketing campaign - "come to school here, and you too can be a stay-at-home parent."      

Could I have gotten a similar experience at a different institution?  Maybe, but I feel like the personal nature of a liberal arts education best prepared me for the daily challenges of life, and not just a career.  I was a very mediocre good student.  I graduated with honors, but the lowest level of honors you can graduate with.  At a larger school, with larger classes and much more onus on students navigating their own way with less guidance, I'm sure I easily could have slid through with minimal effort.  However, I'm pretty certain I wouldn't have done as well academically and definitely wouldn't have been forced to challenge my own personal and intellectual development.  I often comment that I didn't entirely possess the ability to think critically until my second year of college.  It was the various mentors; faculty, supervisors, and other administrators, and fellow classmates and friends that helped bring this capacity out of me.

It's also been these mentors, colleagues, and friends, most of who have had an educational experience like mine, that have been incredibly supportive of my decision to become a stay-at-home parent.  Not once have I heard a comment suggesting that this will negatively impact my career, which undoubtedly it will.  Nor has anyone questioned why, after spending six years in college and getting two degrees, I would chose to leave the workforce.  Not even my parents, who provided me massive amounts of emotional support and equally significant financial support during my college years, have wondered what they did wrong (openly to me at least).  They all get it, and some have told me that they are a little jealous.  They know it was not a decision that was made in haste and without a sizable amount of thought; pros and cons lists, cost benefit analysis, risk valuation, etc.  No doubt it was a relatively unconventional decision.  But as I told my Dad, it was both the hardest decision to make and the easiest decision to make.  He responded by telling me that he had a ton of admiration for my decision.

So when I was filling in for an event a couple of weeks ago and a current student I had just met asked me if I was using my degree, I didn't hesitate to tell her that I did everyday.  Maybe not in the traditional aspect of the content of what I learned in my classes, but with the myriad of life skills that I learned through those transformative experiences I had while in college, which included my classes.  Had I known nearly ten years after finishing undergrad that my life would lead me to be a stay-at-home dad, instead of majoring in Political Science I should have double-majored in Elementary Education (with a double emphasis in Foreign Language and Music) and Psychology (pediatric emphasis), and minored in Art, Accounting, Nursing, Nutrition, Peace Studies, Sociology, and Theater - seems like a manageable load.  I also probably should have taken some night classes in Culinary Arts at the Tech College.  My kids don't care that I understand Plato's "Allegory of the Cave" and understanding it doesn't make me a better parent.  But I don't think that's the point.  In my opinion, the point of an education like the one I received is to challenge you to live an engaged and thoughtful life.  To question what is important to you and where you find fulfillment.  To have the bravery and courage to put those things first in your life.

In her commencement address to the College of Saint Benedict Class of 2015, the class that included those six seniors I got to know so well, activist/author Valerie Kaur told the 475 women about to receive their diplomas that; "You are brave.  You just need to believe in your own calling - wherever it leads you after graduation."  Her comments could have easily been directed to me, or any of us, when she asked; "Who is calling you?  Whose calling will you become?"  My kids are calling me.  No seriously, I think all three of them are currently crying, so I should probably wrap this up.  I think my education, as "overpriced" as it might have been, has helped me hear them better (figuratively, of course).  Seeing as I haven't thrown in a musical reference yet, I should probably close with one, and this one seems to work seeing as Pitch Perfect 2 just came out last week.  To quote Jessie J. (yes, Jessie J.), "it's not about the money......we just wanna make the world dance, forget about the price tag."  My world dances everyday, and not just because of the almost daily dance parties that get held in our home.  It's tough to put a price on that.

One of my all time favorite photos.
My roommates from senior year of college after our commencement ceremony.

After graduation, these guys went on to do amazing things like:
teach English in China, get a law degree, work international assignments in India and Hong Kong at senior level positions for one of MN's largest companies, travel extensively in Asia, teach on one of the poorest Indian reservations through TFA, get a Master's Degree from USC, oversee the New Mexico Department of Education

Until now, I felt like I had done nothing to compare to their accomplishments.
 

               

   

FML...

...A

My wife has been back at work for just over three weeks now, so the kids are under my (questionably) responsible care for most of their day.  I'll divulge more of how it's going in a week or two.  I figure I'd let the dust settle a little bit first, if that is even possible.  Since Jess is back at work, I actually wanted to reflect on the time we all had at home together while she was on maternity leave.  If you've just welcomed a newborn into your world, planning on welcoming a newborn in the near future, or if you just like to follow modern parenting topics, you're probably aware that maternity/paternity/parental leave is kind of a hot button issue.  I figured I'd offer up my thoughts and opinions, since that is essentially what you are supposed to do with a blog, right?   

Jess took 16 weeks of maternity leave with Gus, the same amount she took after Havi was born (she took 12 weeks with Isla).  This time around was remarkably different though because we were all home the entire time.  When Havi was born, Isla was still in daycare, so when we felt the urge we could always send Isla there to relieve us of having two kids at home to tend to.  Not the case with Gus, as both girls had been home with me for almost two months at that point.  We had a newborn, a terrible two-er, and a four-going-on-fourteen year-old - a tantalizing recipe for multiple disasters.  It was incredible to have that amount of family time together though, and it started to feel like it was perpetually Saturday at our house for a while.  As much as we felt occasionally guilty about this, we recognized that this would likely (hopefully) be the last time we experience something like this and figured we should take advantage.

It was under the Family Medical Leave Act (FMLA) that Jess was allowed to take unpaid time off following each birth without fear of losing her job (the law also covers other medical reasons, like caring for an ailing family member).  If you follow modern parenting topics, you're likely well aware that the United States is the only developed country (aka non-3rd world) that does not provide or mandate paid time off for parents following the birth of a child; this groups us with the likes of Suriname, the Marshall Islands and a few other countries most people can't identify on a map. One of the reasons Jess started working part-time from home during all of her maternity leaves, was that she received no paid "maternity" or "parental" leave from her employer.  To help cover about half of the lost income during her maternity leave, along with working part-time from home, she exhausted her vacation and sick leave and borrowed future sick leave (she won't be able to take a sick day until next year).  

She was definitely not alone in this experience.  In 2013, the Bureau of Labor Services estimated that only 13% of workers in the US had access to paid family leave through their employer.  Also interesting, and relatively disheartening to note, is that the benefits of taking time off under the FMLA (even if it is unpaid), only apply to just over half of the U.S. workforce.  I would venture a guess that the ones who don't qualify to take time off under FMLA are probably the ones who could most benefit from it.  To contrast, I was one of those fortunate few who received paid time off, getting four weeks of parental leave from my employer when both Isla & Havi were born - a benefit given to either a female parent or a male parent following the birth of a child.  Had I been smart about things (and kind of a jerk), I should have kept working there until Gus was born, taking my paid parental leave and then "retiring" when it was time for me to go back.

When I returned to work after my time off after Havi was born, I made a point to contact our HR Director to express my gratitude for the parental leave benefit.  I knew she hadn't personally developed the policy, and it had been around for a number of years, but I felt the need to thank someone for allowing me to take that much needed time off (and keeping me on the payroll at the same time).  I hoped that she might share my gratitude with other senior administrators to get a first hand sense of what the benefit had provided one of the institutions employees.  One of the most eye-opening realizations for me when we had kids was how much undivided time they consume, especially as newborns.  It was great to have this opportunity to spend a substantial amount of time just being with our newborn children without needing to worry about what was going on at work or how we were going to make ends meet financially.

The data obviously suggest this is not a luxury that a lot of parents have, especially dads.  When I was off on parental leave following Havi's birth, I took advantage of the time off by scheduling a regular dental visit.  During my obligatory chit-chat with the dental hygienist, it came up that I was currently off on parental leave following a new addition to our family.  The hygienist commented on how lucky I was, mentioning that her husband was back at work before she even left the hospital following her births.  As I pondered her statement, I couldn't help but think about the environment that those kids were being born into.  A different time and a different circumstance, but my Dad even had to get back to the farm and chores shortly after I was born.  From what I've experienced firsthand, childbirth is an incredibly amazing and exhilarating experience, but it is also very stressful and emotionally and physically exhausting.  And of course it can be insanely painful for the mother.  I can't imagine how much more challenging this might be for a new mother if her spouse or partner has very limited time to be present because he or she has to return to work.  Even harder to grasp what single mothers must feel.

Given my bleeding-heart liberal views, you'd think my opinion would obviously be for the government to provide paid parental leave (at least for mothers) or mandate that employers do so for their employees.  Yes, I think it is critically important that parents, both parents, take a substantial amount of time off once a new baby is born.  I believe this is an essential part of creating a strong bond between the parents and their newly born child.  I know that having the opportunity to have that undivided time with our children has helped me grow and better understand my role as a parent, and I believe it created a better environment to foster love and support for our children.

But, I get it.  My wife works for the Federal Government, with it's seemingly bazillion employees (if you follow conservative punditry).  To grant them all a paid parental leave would be absurdly expensive, and we, the taxpayers, would be footing the bill.  I also understand that by my former employer providing me paid parental leave, they undoubtedly had to cut back on other benefits within my compensation package - most likely my actual compensation.  After returning from my leave with Havi, a childless colleague joked that she felt she should have a child just to get the paid time off.  I politely told her I would strongly advise against that.    

Having kids is a huge responsibility.  It is also a huge financial obligation (okay, maybe not the right wording there, but you get the point), especially pending what type of health insurance you have.  In an ideal world, we would have all expectant parents be at a place where they have attained a certain level of emotional maturity and financial stability.  Unfortunately, I don't think we can require a certain amount of cash in the bank before allowing people to conceive.  In one of his performance monologues, artist Kip Fulbeck remarks that he, "wants to live in a world where you have to pass a test to have kids."  While I don't believe this would ever fly in the good ol' U.S. of A., where freedom rings; it is an interesting theory to think about, considering anyone can procreate as long as their necessary anatomical parts function properly.  There are at least a minimum set of requirements for nearly every other human endeavor - getting a job, driving a car, serving in the military, owning a home, voting.  Having and raising a child seems to be the exception.  But how can we infringe on the right to bear children?  That's only something that would happen in one of those socialist Scandinavian countries.

Speaking of, someone who currently lives in one of those countries posted a link to this article about a photo-series entitled, Swedish Dads.  The project is a series of images and reflections from, yep, you guessed it, Swedish Dads about the benefits of their country's insanely generous parental leave policy - 480 day of leave while receiving a stipend from the state; 60 of which must be taken by the father.  The comments about the importance of spending a significant amount of dedicated time with your new child as a father are not only spoken in Swedish (safe assumption those dudes speak pretty good English too), but also echoed in studies conducted among American dads as well.  A study done by Boston College concluded that "early, more intense engagement in parenting for men has positive long-term effects for father and child, and mother as well."  Another report argued that paid parental leave for fathers may help promote gender equality for women.

I couldn't help but notice the sanctimonious poignancy of US Senator and Republican Presidential Candidate Rand Paul's comments a few weeks ago about the events that had taken place recently in Baltimore; citing some of the causes for the unrest as the "breakdown of the family structure" and the "lack of fathers".  Obviously paid parental leave wouldn't be the cure for all of our societal ills, but it does seem a bit bizarre (read: ass-backwards) that our society doesn't seem to provide the necessary support for the family structure at arguably its most critical juncture.  One can wonder if we would spend less on policing things that may have occurred because of the "breakdown of the family structure" if we invested a little bit at the start of that family structure to ensure it started on the right foot.  Although I don't see Senator Paul, or many of his colleagues, lining up to the support the President's proposal for paid family leave.  It often amazes me, not it a good way, how our country can claim to be founded on family values but develop public policy that seems to directly contradict that.        

So where does that leave us?  Personally, I think it has to be a multi-faceted approach.  Yes, it is great that some employers offer very generous paid parental leave benefits, but I don't believe that needs to fall on them (just like I don't believe employer sponsored health insurance or retirement plans should exist, but that's another topic).  This would be an impossible financial obligation for a lot of employers, especially small businesses.  It was a tongue-in-cheek comment by my colleague, but it can be seen as an unfair benefit for those who do not and choose not to have kids.  And what about those people who don't work outside the home and choose to stay home with their kids.  Aren't they essentially doing what a working parent is doing during his/her parental leave without receiving any sort of financial compensation?  I think it's a nice plus and recruiting tool when employers offer this benefit, but it can also create additional disparity between those employees who could afford to go without the benefit, and those who would likely benefit from it more.

Yes, I believe that the government has some responsibility to promote this.  Of course there are tax credits for having kids and the like, but I don't think we should be financially-incentivizing people to have kids.  We should be encouraging them to raise well adjusted children in a healthy family environment.  In numerous countries, there are income replacement stipends subsidized by the government for a portion of a worker's salary.  But this still alienates those who choose not to work outside the home.  In other countries, like Finland, parents receive a direct stipend following the birth of a child.  The most progressive benefit, but again, someone has to pay for this, and Finland, like its Scandinavian & European counterparts, has one of the highest tax rates in the world.  I do believe though, that in the $3.5 trillion Federal Government budget, some money could be set aside to provide financial assistance for new parents.  Again, maybe if more was invested up front, we'd be investing less elsewhere in programs and services, and wondering why our "family structure" and family values are in such disarray.

Ultimately though, it's up to us, as a society and especially those of us who are parents, to recognize the magnitude of responsibility that comes with parenthood, and ensure that our own actions match that belief.  We just celebrated Mother's Day this past weekend, and will celebrate Father's Day in about a month.  Most of us probably think we need to celebrate mothers and fathers year-round instead of trying to cram it all into one day, but what do we actually do to make this happen (I'm guilty of this as well).  Most of us are also probably familiar with the Forest Witcraft quote, and we love to broadcast it in frames at our offices or homes.  But how many of us actually take that quote to heart?  When I decided to stay home with my kids, I felt that was me doing my part to actually act on that sentiment.  By no means am I implying that if you don't do exactly what I do or did (like taking a substantial amount of time off when your kids are born or be a stay at home parent), you will be a bad parent and won't love your kids as much as I love my own.  I just know that for me, personally, having had that opportunity to spend as much time with my kids as I was following their births, and as I am able to today, I've become more of the parent I want to be and now better understand what is important in getting me to that point.  Be the parent you want to be.  Be the person you want to be, not what you think society wants you to be.       

There Will Be Poop

One of the great, and unavoidable, experiences you get to have as a parent is the joy of teaching your kid(s), or coaching them through, how to use the toilet.  When our first two kids were girls, I assumed this was a task I could leave to my wife.  What did I know about the female urinary tract that could provide beneficial in helping our girls master the process of toilet training?  I figured I'd just be doing more harm than good.  Well, I guess it's a team effort, and with our addition of a boy, and boys supposedly being harder to potty train than girls, I am not very interested in tackling Gus' toilet training solo.

Potty training is one of those parenting enigmas, like getting your kids to sleep, getting them to eat (something, anything), and being an overall enjoyable human being to be around - minimum tantrums and crying and general respectable behavior.  You can spend a shitload (pun intended) of time working on trying to get your kid to use the big girl/boy potty.  You can read thousands of books on it.  Amazon devotes and entire section to toilet training literature, with my personal favorite being Everyone Poops.  You can watch videos and get informational materials from your pediatric clinic.  If you happen to send your kids to the Inland Vineyard Preschool, which kind of sounds like a winery, you can actually have your kid be in a "potty training class".  The website notes that once your child is potty-trained, your tuition decreases.  Now there's an incentive!

I love hearing about the unique cultural and generational approaches to potty training.  One of my college roommates spent some time in China after college, and he would love to tell us about the ancient Chinese approach to potty training still used today.  It includes crotchless pants and whistling into the baby's ear in effort to get them to go on command.  I've also seen (black and white) pictures of my dad as a young child wearing a dress outside - alleviated the need for a diaper, my Grandma informed me.  Pure genius.  We contemplated cloth diapers for our kids for about 5 seconds.  But I've heard that a changing of a cloth diaper typically requires an entire outfit change, so with the additional laundry you end up doing (including the diapers), it's almost a push from a environmentally-conscious standpoint.  We opted for sanity over saving any green, the earth or our money.

We've taken the more laissez-faire approach to potty-training our two girls.  We figured we'd encourage them to go, but not stress about it, and when they were ready, they'd be ready.  Luckily, Havi, our 2.33 (repeating) year-old, decided she was ready about a month ago.  They often say that potty training a second child is easier than the first, especially if they are the same gender.  I think we lucked out in that regard as she was a few months earlier than her older sister, who figured out how to use the big girl potty when she was 2.66 (repeating) years old.  We also managed to make things additionally interesting when we optimally decided we wanted to throw our full energy at potty-training.  The weekend Havi was trained, she was battling a cold.  The weekend we trained Isla, we also decided it was time to take away her beloved pacifier.  Go big or go home I guess.

When you think about potty training, it's really an amazing and baffling prospect.  Imagine if you could not control your excremental bodily functions or had the cognitive ability to recognize your urges to go.  It seems like it should be such an innate skill that you develop, and after almost 30 years of doing it on a daily basis, it's hard to imagine developing another other type of routine.  Unless of course if you happen to be that "urban myth" of a person who wore adult diapers at WE Fest so you could relieve yourself at will without missing any Brooks & Dunn.  People often make the comment about coming full circle with the need to wear diapers from infants to the elderly.  Personally, I'm undecided if I want to live long enough to experience it first hand.  
 
I like to paradox potty training with another physiological phenomenon that also starts with the letter "P" and essentially every young child learns how to do at some point - picking your nose.  Based on my unscientific observations, picking your nose must be one of the most instinctive behaviors for a child to pick up; along with the ability to throw massive tantrums and whine incessantly.  Think about it; child feels the the urge to pick his/her nose, and recognizes that he/she has the utility to go about acting on that urge.  Their finger is identified as an instrument that can be used to retrieve the small mass of nasal mucus (medical terminology for booger), and they usually find a spot for disposal, i.e, their mouth.  I'm in awe of how kids learn how to do this.  Is it unreasonable to expect that they should naturally figure out how to go to the bathroom in a socially acceptable manner?

In some ways, having potty trained kids is obviously a plus.  You don't have to worry about dipping into your 401k to purchase diapers (or spend hours trying to rinse out the reusable ones).  The instances are greatly decreased of experiencing a diaper change in which your child requires immediate attention from a pressure washer. 
  

What's My Age Again?

Old Man Take A Look At (Your) Life.......

My apologies for the delay on this blog post.  I was out of the office for a few days a couple of weeks ago and have been trying to get caught up.  You know, clearing out the email inbox, responding to messages, changing diapers - pretty standard stuff.  Excuses, I know, but I took a five-day - yes, five day - kid and spouse-free vacation.  Something relatively unheard of for a parent with three kids under five, except if they are probably traveling for work, which I most certainly was not.  My wife; who, I should point out, is amazing, reluctantly (and rightfully so), granted me five days for a ski-trip and related shenanigans with some college buddies.  She said I deserved it, and seeing as she will be returning to work full-time in a few weeks, after exhausting all of her own vacation (and sick) time to support us financially during maternity leave, this was likely my only (and probably last for the foreseeable future) opportunity to do anything of the sort.  Yeah, she's f#&$ing amazing.

She also allowed me to go over my birthday weekend, which was another sign of true selflessness.  When you get married and have kids, your birthdays become a mix of exciting and great, but relatively tame adventures with the family, or surprise birthday parties orchestrated by your spouse - usually just for the big ones.  I had a big one two years ago, with a cleverly orchestrated surprise party, so this year was "just another birthday".  The guys I went with didn't even realize it was my birthday until I started receiving an excessive amount of phone calls and text messages on that particular Saturday morning.  The weekend proposed happened work out the best for all involved with the trip, so ultimately we decided on that particular weekend.  Jess told me to go and have fun, but not too much fun, and come back in one piece.  Isla said they'd save a piece of cake for me.

Having worked in higher ed for a number of years, I often commented that when I got together with my college buddies, I never felt that far removed from college.  It was when I interacted with the current college students that I recognized that there was a decade difference between myself and them.  I remember having a lunch conversation with a student that worked in our office, after I had seen him out running the day prior in a cut-off t-shirt and baggy gym shorts, that I started to understand the various indicators that clued me into the fact that I was now old.

1. I gradually purged every sleeveless shirt from my wardrobe, and actually started working out in long-sleeves shorts in effort to get a better sweat in and try to combat my slowing metabolism.  This increase in sleeve length directly coincided with a decrease in shorts length, as my over-sized, baggy shorts (like the student was wearing) shrunk to a more "running suitable" 5-inch inseam.  

2. I started to listen to "public news radio" all the time.  When I'd find myself in the car listening to MPR, I'd often laugh at myself.  "What are you doing?  You're not 60!"  I'd rhetorically scoff as I'd scan the airwaves for some Top 40 hits.  Inevitably though, the dial would always somehow find it's way back to "A Prairie Home Companion".  I knew it was bad when I started recognizing the voices of the various reporters before they would even say their name.

3. More and more I recognized how good it felt to wake-up on a weekend after a full night of sleep (8 or more hours) at a respectable time (like 8am) and have this thing called an "entire morning" to be productive.  Of course, having three kids, I haven't had a full nights sleep in the last four years.  But someday it will hopefully return, and then we'll get back to having those "nice little Saturdays."  Head to The Home Depot, maybe Bed Bath & Beyond (if we have enough time).

4. I started to see the relative hypocrisy in my words and actions toward the "kids these days".  This was especially apparent when I worked at a college and would have to reprimand students for behavior I may have displayed myself when I was their age.  At first, I had a tendency to let things slide.  I was their age once, what was the big deal?  But then I realized that if someone didn't assume the role of  "the man", these punk kids would sail through live without having any authority to actually challenge.  Someone had to "hate the fun" from time to time, and I was just doing my civic duty.

5.  I've developed a better ability to know when I've had enough, most notably in reference to intoxicating beverages.  Recognition of intoxication follows three paradigms:
1. Not understanding that there is a line of intoxication you should avoid crossing.
2. Understanding that there is a line you should avoid crossing, but still having a tendency to cross that line - either by tiptoeing across ever so slightly or pole vaulting yourself across.
3. Understanding that there is a line and becoming pretty adept at remaining on the "head-not-in toilet" side of said line.

As I've aged, I've found myself more often in the third paradigm, and better know when call it quits.  Please note though that we all have our fleeting moments, and I've had a few since I've entered "older-land".  My favorite was probably a few years ago at a good friends going away party.  I commented to the only other dad of the group that we would likely be the "responsible drunks" of the bunch.  I think the opposite turned out to be true, and one of us actually needed to take a "sick day" on Monday to continue to recover following a Saturday fiesta (I'll let you guess which one).      

6. I've started to hurt in places originally unknown on my body for inexplicable reasons.  Just a few short years ago I gave no thought to bodily aches and pains, because I seldom had any or I could easily explain them (too much vodka led to too much dancing, etc.).  Not the case now.  The mere act of getting out of bed seems to carry the risk of herniating a disc or tearing an ACL.  Better get signed up for those low-impact water aerobics.
    

With this trip I think I realized that even when I get together with my college friends, I still feel old.  We orchestrated a similar adventure seven years prior, and this particular one was markedly different.  We were definitely all ready to cut loose (for our own individual reasons), but the looseness of our cutting definitely wasn't as loose this time around.  Sure our supplies from the grocery store included frozen pizzas and a cube of Miller Lite.  But it also included "cage-free" eggs, organic bacon, Clif Bars, and pine nuts.  The frozen pizzas actually went uneaten, and despite only buy one cube, there were a few Miller Lites left when every was said and done.  We popped NSAIDs preemptively in anticipation of aching muscles, as opposed to re-actively from splitting hangover headaches.  I'm pretty certain we turned in before midnight every night, which resulted in no ill-advised (but tasty) early morning Mexican food, nor us playing a role in any major retail stores not opening at the appropriate times the following morning.  We actually utilized the shower facilities at our accommodations, something unfathomable seven years ago.    

Our own slope antics also seemed to follow a similar suit.  Our eagerness to "shred the gnar" (mountain lingo) from first chair to last chair was drastically decreased, despite the fact that each morning we were up with more than enough time to make first chair.  We had morning phone call/Skype check-ins with spouses and kids that needed to be taken care of, and you can't rush that organic bacon.  One of our compatriots actually defined his approach to skiing one day as "risk averse".  Words that likely would never have entered our lexicon on previous trips when we were shotgunning beers at the top of the mountain before hurtling ourselves off 20 foot kickers (okay, bit of an exaggeration).  We steered clear of the double-blacks (actually the single blacks too) and the trees, and this time (most) all of us even wore helmets.  The only time we went off piste was to the Bavarian bar located 50 feet from the backside lift for large German beers, and in my case, a crisp, refreshing glass of Riesling.

They often say "you are only as old as you feel", and I've started to wonder if you hit a point where you start to feel as old as you actually are.  At the close of our trip, some of us found ourselves at a bar enjoying a few cocktails; Manhattans of course (since we're so Don Draper).  At some point the conversation actually turned into a observation about how much gray permeates my facial hair after a few days of not shaving.  This morphed into a discussion on the genetics male-patterned baldness, and whether or not there is scientific proof that it follows the maternal side of lineage.  One in our group, who currently sports a ponytail that pushed forward makes him very reminiscent of Kurt Cobain, was not completely sold on the findings.  It was a riveting conversation.

The irony was not lost on me when Jay-Z's "Young Forever" kicked off my playlist as we took our first lift up the mountain.  As much as we'd all probably like to "live life like a video" the way Mr. Carter describes, where among other things "you never get old".  Unfortunately we all know physiologically this is impossible.  You can't stop time, and as much as Rod Stewart, Bob Dylan, Jay-Z, and Revlon try to convince us otherwise we can't stay forever young, or even look like we are doing so.  The advice I've actually taken the HOVA's rework of the 1984 Alphaville classic comes from the second verse, when he calls us to; "fear not when; fear not why; fear not much while we're alive.  Life is for living not living uptight."  A call to live in the moment, which ultimately means embracing your inevitable aging, or maturity as I like to say.

When I got back from my vacation, everyone asked me if I had a good time.  And I did.  It was different than previous trips like it that I've been on, but it was great for its own reasons.  And one of those reasons was definitely the excitement of coming home, especially with our house being as robust as it now is.  It was great to get away, and I think it is important to take those breaks occasionally; from your kids, from your spouse, from the routine of your everyday life.  Because when you do, there is always that excitement of coming home.  As excited as I was to go, and I was really excited to go, I was just as excited to get back when the trip was over.  I knew that when I walked in the door, I'd have two little girls running excitedly at me with open arms, a loving wife ready to give me a welcome home kiss (even before I shaved), and a not-so-little baby boy who would likely spit-up all over me as soon as I picked him up (we think it's how he shows affection and excitement).  A king's welcome?  Absolutely.

Nothing like a refreshing glass of Riesling after a long day on the mountain.   

Contrast to 2008.