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.

               

                              

Why Being a Stay At Home Dad Is Good For My Daughters (And My Son)

In an earlier post, I commented that I would address the issue of why being a stay-at-home dad is not an emasculating experience for me.  Considering my most recent post (if you were one that chose to read it), I figured this might be a good time to come back to it.  I also recently read a couple of articles that I thought complimented the topic and would be worth sharing/commenting on.  Lastly, March also happens to be Women's History Month, and some of this post might seem as though I'm heaping a lot of compliments on the female gender.  I will refrain from not saying that is not unintentional (unpack that grammatically incorrect statement).  Please note that I am not doing this to impress my wife.  I'm actually doing it to impress her friends, because as Brian Kelms points out, the better you look to your wife's friends, the more attractive you look to your wife.  

The first article I read was about why being a working mom is good for your kids, and it was shared via social media by a high school classmate of mine.  She is a successful attorney, and with her husband, welcomed their first little one last year.  I'm certain that as the time approached for her to return to work, she likely wrestled with a lot of the same questions and concerns that probably almost every working mom struggles with - to return to work or stay-home.  The article claims "scientific reasons to be a working mom" by citing some studies that seem to support that fact.  I'm sure you could find a number of articles that claim "scientific reasons to be a stay-at-home mom", but since we live in a society where mothers with children under six years old have the lowest labor participation rate, I found this particular article interesting.

The other article I read was about how a man took the lessons he learned being a clerk for a Supreme Court Justice (a pretty serious gig for anyone in the legal profession) to being a stay at home dad immediately following his clerkship (and having probably just as demanding of a boss).  This one was forwarded my way from a good friend who read it and thought of me (Thanks, Katie!).  This article has a ton of great content and really good stats, which I won't regurgitate here.  But I will point out Mr. Park's observation of the novelty of his decision, and subsequently my decision, to be a stay-at-home dad.  He points out that despite the number of stay-at-home dads nearly doubling over the last two decades, only 21% of stay-at-home dads claim they actually made the decision to stay home with the kids because they wanted to, as opposed to 73% of stay-at-home moms.  Only 3% of the almost 2 million stay-at-home dads have a college degree.  That was him, and that's me (I'll discuss in a later post how I feel my college degree actually helped me make the decision to be a stay-at-home parent).  I also happen to live in relatively conservative Central Minnesota, in a congressional district that elected, and re-elected three additional times, Michele Bachmann to represent its constituents.  Not really a bastion of progressive ideology like New York City, DC (where Mr. Park resides) or even Minneapolis-St. Paul, so I'm thinking I'm kind of an anomaly around these parts.

That's okay though, I've never considered myself to be much of a "manly" man by prevailing societal stereotypes.  In fact, throughout most of my life I've been in the gender minority.  After my parents separated, I spent most of my adolescence with my mom and older sister, which undoubtedly played a significant role in my development.  My wife was the second of four girls in her family and had no brothers.  Sure, I went to an all-male college, but it was partnered with an all-women's college just down the road, where I actually had my student employment position (as the only male in the office).  I returned to work at this all-women's college, (where I was still the only male in the office), five years ago before I left to stay at home with our kids.  I've been in the gender minority for almost every single job I've had.  Going into the ultrasounds for our first two kids, I knew we had to be having girls.  My entire life up to that point had been filled with women and copious amounts of estrogen.  I often joked that if we had a boy, I'd have no idea what to do.

This is not to say that I didn't have close relationships with other men or male role models growing up.  My ring finger is longer than my index, and I can also grow some pretty healthy facial hair, so I'm thinking my testosterone levels are probably adequate.  I've just never seemed to be drawn toward things that are often considered stereo-typically "male" - I never played football (I actually played volleyball in college); I don't drink beer (but I will consume most any whiskey, except scotch - that stuff is terrible), my collection of tools (or "utensils" as you may have heard me reference them before) is minute; and I've never fired a gun.  Ever.  The only time I've ever been in a fistfight was in high school, and it was my best friend and staged (likely in attempt to prove our "manliness" - he was and still is considerably more manly than me).  If "The Man Show" was still airing, I doubt I'd ever be featured as a guest.

I'm well aware of the stigma that can often go along with being a stay-at-home dad.  I've read plenty of articles and books on it.  So far I've been pretty fortunate in that I've not had to deal with much of it yet.  Yes, I'm the only guy at story-time, and I'm sure I get a few strange looks when I'm navigating the grocery store aisles during the middle of a "workday" with multiple kids in the "race-car shopping cart".  I've been called "Mr. Mom" and "Daddy Daycare" more times than I can count.  Some dads find it offensive, but I'm lucky to be able to shrug it off with minimal emotional detriment.  I feel a lot of things as a stay-at-home dad, but emasculated is not one of them.

So, here is why I think being a stay at home dad is good for my kids.

For My Girls:

In the article about why being a working mom is good for your kids, one of obvious reasons was being a role model.  As the article points out, "it's good for young girls to see their mothers be independent and professionally engaged."  I couldn't agree more.  Not that a stay-at-home mom is any less of a role model to her kids, but when we live in a society that doesn't celebrate and encourage women's professional growth and development as much as we should (and compensate them appropriately), watching your own mother advocate for herself professionally is pretty powerful stuff.  I was able to see this first-hand with my Mom when she went back to work.  

Charles Barkley has said some profoundly stupid things in his life, but he got it right when pointing out that parents are the most influential role models for their kids.  Isla has already told us that she wants to be a doctor like her mommy so she can help people.  How cool is that?  It's like we're living in our own "Doc McStuffin's" episode!  Okay, Jess is a pharmacist, but she's still a doctor, even if she only makes me refer to her by that title.  Titles aside, my wife is a perfect example to our girls that you can work hard, pursue your passion, and be highly regarded for the work that you do, no matter what that is.  There are millions of incredibly intelligent and determined women for my girls to look up to, and we're fortunate to have over 2,000 of them just two blocks from our house.  But having a mom to look up to like my wife, the coolest person they know, is hard to beat.  

I also hope that as my girls grow up, they expect enormous support from their significant others to pursue their dreams, especially if those significant others are men.  It was not a condition that I be a stay at home parent for my wife to be successful at her job.  We could both easily be career-focused, but I'm guessing the stress of this might put unnecessary strain on our home-life.  I've never felt like I've sacrificed my career dreams so my wife can pursue her own (partially because I don't feel I have much in the realm of "career dreams", sh...don't tell my parents).  My wife is the breadwinner in our family, and that will likely always be the case.  It's not beneficial for me to harbor resentment about this or feel like I'm not being the "man of the house".  It's my job to figure out what I can do to support our family and the life that we've built together.

And don't make me out to be some sort of "martyr".  Each day we do what we need to do, to be where we want to be.  Or as our old daycare provider told me (immediately after I told her that she would be losing our business), "you need to do what you need to do, to be the parent you want to be."  My wife did not force me to stay at home with the kids, just like she did not force me into the content of my last post.  This was a choice that was consciously made by me, and she has supported that decision (both of those decisions actually) in earnest.  If our girls one day get married (at like 40) or are in a committed relationship, I hope they will have those same expectations from their significant other.  I want them to see their careers or vocations just as worthy of pursuing as their partners; no matter their gender, the pay scale, an arbitrary title or how society views it.      

For My Son:

If a mother can be a great role model for her daughters, I think she can be an even better role model for her son.  For him to see his mom work hard and be successful, despite the sexist climate we continue to live in, will hopefully be a great motivator for him.  What I hope he will learn from my decision to stay home is that it is perfectly acceptable to take the "non-traditional path" if that is what he feels called to do, or if what makes the most sense at the time.  I also hope that he realizes that people, especially men, are not measured by the size of their paycheck or what they do for a living.  I hope he understands that the decisions he makes in life only have to be justified to himself and the ones he loves, and if he is not making decisions in the best interest of those parties he needs to do some reassessing.  Sometimes the things that might be in the best interest of those parties might not be too glamorous and seem relatively mundane.  But that business still needs to be taken care of, and if he is the right person for the job, I'd expect him to recognize that and do his job.

He obviously can't understand it now (maybe he'll get it in a few months), but I also hope that my being a stay at home parent will be a wake-up call for him as a member of the currently dominant gender.  Having spent years working in higher ed, I've long heard about what Philip Zimbardo calls the, "demise of guys".  It can be tough to see by looking at the current leaders of our country (both on the public and private spheres), but in nearly every respect (save self confidence, of course) young boys are getting their asses handed to them by girls - grades, college acceptance & degree completion, civic engagement, and generally acceptable social behavior.  Sooner or later, hopefully much sooner than later, our society will finally catch up with this phenomenon, and we'll see considerably more women in CEO and public leadership positions.  Iceland, consistently one of the happiest countries on earth, seems to have beaten us there already.

I don't say this because I like to male bash, or because I really want to look good to my wife's friends.  I say this because for too long, men (myself included), have had increasing success because we , as my good friend Tago once put it, "won the gender lottery" when we were born.  This is not to say that millions of men haven't had to work hard to get where they are, but if we were women, undoubtedly we would have needed to work harder.  I'm not concerned that if my son doesn't work hard he will end up like his old man.  I'm concerned that if he doesn't work hard, he won't have the opportunity to be as successful as his mom.  Honestly, I was a little relived when our first two kids were girls, because I personally see the future as brighter for them, despite the male-dominated society we currently live in.  I've been able to see this first hand by being surrounded by a number of very intelligent, driven and caring women leaders; friends, family, and former colleagues.  Undoubtedly, Gus will look up to his older sisters, and as much as I don't like to admit it, I looked up to mine.  Her hard-work and successes, and ability to remain happy along the way, were great motivators for me.  I can only see Isla & Havi's successes as being motivators for him too.  Even if it is just in attempt to show them up, something I was never able to do to my sister.                



Above all, as parents we want our kids to be happy.  Truly happy.  Sure we'd love them to be doctors or lawyers or millionaires so they can take care of us when we get old and decrepit.  Selfishly we want them to do amazing things so we can brag about them to everyone when we get old.  Hopefully my decision to be a stay-at-home parent at this point will show that doing "something amazing" can take on all kinds of meanings.  That can mean being a doctor to help people get better, or being the best Mac & Cheese "cooker" in the house.  We all have our strengths and our weaknesses, our passions and our indifferences.  Whether you are a stay-at-home parent or a working parent you'll likely feel some regret either way.  Instead of losing sleep over the regrets, take comfort in the fact that the love for your kids will show through in your actions.  As long as those actions are done with love.

Logistically, it makes more sense for her to practice on me.
I have bigger toenails.

      

Mack The Knife

Warning:

Some of the stuff in this post is a little personal, maybe a touch graphic, and probably considered, in 'tween lingo, "TMI".  If you don't feel like we have that sort of relationship, or you don't feel comfortable with that, then please stop reading now.  By no means will I be offended.  I debated on whether or not I should post something about this, and in the end I decided I would.  But not because I wanted everyone to know exactly what the experience was like, rather to examine the larger picture of how this particular thing fits into our lives socially and culturally.  And because there is a some humor in it as well.  While I recognize that by putting this out there, it will be "out there" and be forever existing in the abyss that is the world wide web.  And someday, my kids may stumble upon it and say, "Dad, what the @%$#!?  TMI!"  Or whatever the kids are saying at that time.  Over the years I've somewhat perfected the art of self-embarrassment, so this will just be channeling that expertise.  I figure if you're going to laugh at someone and aren't very good at laughing at yourself, you might as well laugh at me.

Don't say you weren't warned.

With Guthrie's arrival two months ago, we now have three kids under five years old.  We are finished having kids.  All of our upstairs bedrooms are now occupied.  We have one extra seat in the van, but we'd like to leave it vacant just in case we pick up any hitchhikers.  After Havi had her first birthday, we briefly started having conversations about a third.  I told my wife that while I didn't think we had things under control with two kids, it was at least manageable.  I felt no need to have a boy to pass along the family name, and I was perfectly fine with two.  Jess said she didn't feel like she was done, but wasn't ready quite yet.  Maybe when Isla was in kindergarten.  She was actually looking forward to 2014 being a year where she wasn't pregnant or breastfeeding.

Well, 2014 obviously had other plans for us, and shortly after we found out baby number three was on the way, we mutually decided that was going to be it for us.  Even though Gus was born on Christmas Day, he was not created by immaculate conception.  If you've been through middle school health class or watched "Teen Mom", you're likely familiar with the biological process for creating a child.  I'm not sure when we had the conversation about permanent birth control, or if it was even a "conversation" or my wife informing me that I would be getting a vasectomy, but it must of come up at some point.  Of course we would wait until our little boy joined us to move forward with any permanent measures.

After little Guthrie graced us with his presence and the dust had settled, it was time to revisit the topic.  I had no qualms being the one undergoing the procedure.  Jess was fortunate enough to have three pretty uneventful vaginal births, so for her to undergo a tubal ligation was incredibly unnecessary, especially considering the risk, recovery and effectiveness stats.  We figured eventually we'd want to be sexually intimate again, maybe in like 18 years when the kids left the house, but decided it should probably be done sooner than later, just in case.  Considering we were 1 for 3 with "planning" our offspring, we weren't really interested in playing the odds.  So calls were made and appointments were set-up.

The first time I probably ever heard the term vasectomy was likely from the TV Show "Home Improvement".  Episode 16 of Season 5 to be exact.  The episode aired in 1996, when I was 13, so at the time I'm sure I had no idea what a vasectomy even was, or how to pronounce it.  In the episode, Tim is obviously apprehensive to Jill's suggestion that he get a vasectomy.  He comments to his neighbor Wilson, that despite knowing a lot of guys that get them, he's "just not one of those guys".  You know power tools, cars, "arh, arh, arh" - or however you type that sound he makes.  Wilson, ever the philosopher, empathizes with Tim, pointing out that "in many cultures, men are measured by their ability to pro-create", but also suggesting that there are a number of other ways that make you a man, including your commitment to your spouse/partner.  Ah, Wilson, so wise.  It doesn't seem that Tim is totally sold until his buddy Harry confides in him, only after ensuring no one is in earshot, that he had the procedure done.  Harry's final selling point is telling Tim that a vasectomy is actually better for your sex life - "anytime, anyplace".  Of course sex sells.  Even sterilization apparently.

I think we've come a ways in the last 19 years; advertisements for low cost (and minimally invasive) vasectomies were probably the fifth most frequent billboard we saw along the interstate on our road trip to Florida (adult video stores and strip joints were ahead of it, so maybe we haven't come that far).  After a little internet research, there seems to have been a number of sitcoms that have done a spin-off of the "Home Improvement" Vasectomy Episode - "Two and a Half Men", "Modern Family", "Brooklyn Nine-Nine", "Californication".  The common theme throughout those episodes though, is that there is also a significant amount of humor involving the procedure and a certain amount of convincing that needs to happen before anyone agrees to have it done.  While I didn't need a ton of convincing, there was a fair amount of humor involved during the lead up to and actual procedure itself.  I joked about it with my wife.  I joked about it with the nurse.  I joked about it with the doctor before, during and after the procedure.  Sometimes I use humor as a defense mechanism.  I don't think I'm alone.

While I submit that humor is good, a procedure of this nature is definitely not a joke, especially considering the permanence of its nature.  And I think that can be a big contributor to some of the stigma that still exists around a procedure like a vasectomy, or men's reproductive health in general.  Men are not prone to talking about personal things, especially not something as personal as their reproductive health - unless of course those males are disclosing the volume and attractiveness of the women they've slept with (which is likely a blatant lie).  Instead, Tom Green has to write songs to encourage men to check for testicular cancer.  Maybe The Divinyls did the same for breast cancer in a more subtle way.

Now, I'm not advocating that we need to round up guys and start doing mass vasectomies.  Apparently there is already a World Vasectomy Day in November, on which a British morning talk show actually aired a live procedure this past year (likely in effort to out-gross Katie Couric's colonoscopy back in 2000).  But if you look again at the numbers from the NPR Article, you'll notice that worldwide, sterilization on women is done almost 8 times more often than it is done on men.  In the US, more current research puts it at 2-1 difference (2 female sterilizations for every 1 male sterilization).  That still seems like a significant difference, considering that vasectomies are widely accepted in the medical community as safer, more effective and generally less expensive.  Everybody's circumstances are different, and there are certainly times with female sterilization would make more sense.  But when would you ever buy a more expensive car that didn't work as well and was more likely to get you in a car accident?  Oh, you drive a full-size SUV?  I see.

I'm speculating that a mindset similar to Tim's back in 1996, and the other protagonists on the more current TV shows, is still commonplace with a lot of guys today.  Being against a vasectomy, when it would be beneficial to your relationship with your partner, because you're "not that sort of guy", is caveman mentality.  And don't feel like a "hero" if you get it done.  Do you think your spouse felt like a hero after she delivered your newborn son or daughter?  I actually hope she did, because to carry a baby for nine months and then make it through the delivery, with or without pharmaceutical assistance, is an act of true heroism.  I'm sure she didn't feel like a hero.  She felt exhausted and like a mom.  And that is what mom's do, because they are heroes.  You may be "taking one for the team" by helping ensure she hopefully doesn't have to endure that experience again if she doesn't want to, but it is a small gesture.  You still have to change diapers and get up with the baby at night too.  Post-procedure you will be granted a few days to recover and lay around all day, so enjoy it while it lasts.

Don't let me bully you into though.  I'm not on a mission to sterilize every man on earth - just the ones who may someday show any interest in dating my daughters.  I just hope guys consider it, and talk about it with their partners, and not just crack jokes that you're going to lose your manhood if you get it done.  Your testosterone levels are in no way effected by the procedure, and the FDA just released a study that said too much "T" might be a bad thing.  Given the choice, I'd take living and less testosterone over the opposite.  And don't let your partner bully you into, either.  That's a common survey response (if accurate) by men who regret having the procedure.  But if your partner wants you to consider it, you better have a solid defense for not wanting to have it done - "I'm just not one of those guys" is not going to work.  Have an honest conversation about it.  Yeah, it can be awkward to talk about.  But if you already have kids, odds are 80% of your conversations already revolve around poop, so how awkward can it really be.                      

If push comes to shove, and you really can't bring yourself to do it for your spouse/partner, channel your inner Louis CK, and man up and do it for yourself.   At least it would be for a selfish reason, which shows you have some balls.  Pun intended.

No photos this time.  You're welcome.

I'm sure you can find some on the internet if you are really interested in visuals.  

Or, just watch that live procedure.  I didn't so I can't vouch for its validity.

Acknowledgements

First, I have to thank my wife, who is a hero (even though I don't treat her like one).  She waited on me hand & foot when I made glaringly apparent that the doctor's orders post procedure were to "Lie flat and only get up to eat and use the bathroom".  She actually made it so that I only had to get up to do one of those two.  I'm assuming you can guess which one.

Second, I have to thank my mom, another hero.  She took our two oldest girls for a couple of days so they didn't want to energetically jump on my lap whilst following doctor's orders.  She also purchased three bags of frozen peas for me, since she heard they were a good thing to use - probably after spending too much time on WebMD.

Thirdly, I have to thank my kids for being so cute.  Because of this, amongst other reasons, we decided to quit before we got an ugly one.  I'm kidding.  Calm down.  

Lastly, I have to say thank you to the doctor who performed the procedure.  I hope he doesn't read this.  A very down-to-earth, good humored guy, which is great to during any procedure, but especially when the only part of you exposed during a procedure is your reproductive anatomy.  I'm thankful that he put up with my many annoying questions and bad jokes, while avoiding saying anything along the lines of "whoops" or "interesting" during the procedure.  I'm also thankful that he warned me in advance that I may see some smoke, but that it is part of the procedure.  Apparently when working with plumbing, human or household, there at times is some soldering involved.  

Oh, The Places You'll Go

Glomerulonephritis

Earlier this week my wife commented that our family has been a lot healthier this winter, and that is probably due to the fact that our kids are having limited interaction with other coughing, snot-nosed kids who are terrible at sharing toys, but great at sharing germs.  Of course as soon as she uttered this statement our oldest started a hacking cough and a sniffling nose.  Fortunately it has been a much healthier winter for us, especially in comparison to last year when we found ourselves going almost weekly to the walk-in clinic for a variety of ailments from Thanksgiving to Easter.  I seriously considered inquiring about a frequent visitor punch card. 

One of the exciting things about having kids is that you will begin to find yourself in situations you never could have imagined you would ever be in prior to having kids.  During those moments, all you can really do is take a step back, rhetorically ask yourself, "is this really happening?, and revel in the absurdity. And then file it away because it will be great material for embarrassing your kids later on in life. I found myself in one such situation on a frigid February morning last year at our local pediatric clinic.   And.......action!

Getting out the door to do anything in winter takes ten times longer because children are relatively in adept at dressing themselves for below freezing conditions.  For Havi, who was 1 at the time, getting dressed was the equivalent of 12 hours of manual labor.  She would kick and scream, throwing herself down on the floor which would only intensify her screaming. By the time I had successfully dressed her in her winter attire, her boots would already be off because of course Uggs for a 1 year-old will only stay on with duct tape.  My general rule in winter is if a shoe, boot, glove or hat gets lost in transit between the car and school or a some other building, it’s a lost cause.  When it's winter, we move in one direction after we leave a heated vehicle - inside.  Isla, who was 3, would do nothing to help the situation as she had a attention span of, well a 3 year old. You have to trick kids into getting dress, and essentially doing anything else you want them to; bribe them with treats, use reverse psychology - I bet you can put your shoes on!, threaten to leave without them.  

So getting out the door to go the clinic on this particular cold winter morning was no different.  Both kids needing hats, gloves and over-sized jackets that probably weren't safe to be worn while sitting in a car seat.  A diaper bag overflowing with supplies - food, drinks, extra clothes just in case someone wets themselves, blankets (4 per child is pretty standard), and books. A rolling suitcase would work better if you didn't end up carrying both of them at some point. Of course don't forget an emergency energy bar for yourself, because the last thing you want while out and about with your kids is to pass out due to low blood sugar.  Health professionals always stress drinking plenty of water to stay hydrated.  I actually stopped drinking water when taking my kids out of the house on my own so I didn't have to worry about corralling them in a bathroom stall if I needed to take a piss. This also means I can pack one less extra set of clothes because I likely won't be wetting myself.

The worst thing about visiting the doctor is obviously the waiting.  Waiting for a doctor with children, time moves about 20 times slower than real time.  Even worse is that the nurse calls you back from the lobby where the kids were perfectly entertained by the television, the fish tank and a plethora of new toys and activities, to a non-descript room to take the kids' height and weight.  This procedure involves removing the layers of clothing and of course the shoes, which may or may not still be on at this point. It will usually keep the kids momentarily entertained, or piss off the 1 year old even more because he/she will probably have to lay down for a height & weight check, which is tantamount to water-boarding to any little kid with an ear infection. And if you are taking your 1 year-old to the walk-in clinic, the odds of them having an ear infection are roughly 100%.

Once that is completed, the nurse brings you to an even less descript room where you will wait for a pediatrician who is always running late.  The nurse will proceed to ask you the same questions you are asked every time you visit the clinic, which always includes verifying your address and phone number, even if it had been less than 24 hours since your last visit.  The nurse will also ask what the child needs to be seen for that day, and you’ll describe the issues the same way you did to the person who checked you in to the clinic and the same way you will when the pediatrician finally arrives to look at your child. I’ve been tempted to change the description of the symptoms throughout this question and answer series to see if anyone would actually notice.  Once this information is successfully entered into the computer, for the doctor not to look at, the nurse will inform you that the doctor will be in shortly, which is medical speak for six to eight weeks.  

Our pediatrician informed us that around the 1 year mark, kids start to understand what actually happens at the doctor; i.e, they typically get shots.  Your job, once the nurse leaves, is to stand in front of the door to block their ambitious attempts at escape.  This usually ends when the doctor quietly knocks before opening the door to enter the room, subsequently drilling you in the back of the head.  At this point, the children have stopped crying because pediatricians are non-human life forms whose presence immediately calms any situation. Our pediatrician is so amazing, we're seriously considering adding her as a beneficiary in our will.  

We have made trips to the doctor for a whole host of ailments.  From run of the mill ear infection and pink eye to more exciting stuff like hand, foot and mouth and strep.  I'm always amazed at how quickly pediatricians can make a diagnosis once you describe your kid's symptoms.  I've started to become suspicious that they might just be making these illnesses up, especially since about 90% of the time they will tell you it's a virus and just has to run its course.  When you happen to be so lucky to get something that can be treated, it's almost always an antibiotic.  Even better when they are suffering from multiple maladies and the antibiotic will treat them both.  It's like a two for one!  "Good thing about her having pink eye and an ear infection is we give her an oral antibiotic and you don't have to fight her with the eye drops!"  Thanks, doc, best thing I've heard all day.

After a certain number of unscheduled visits to the clinic, and an excessive amount of time on WebMD, you tend to get a little cocky before even seeing the doctor, certain you already know what is wrong with your kid. Despite this, you still trudge to the clinic and pay $50 to likely have the provider prescribe your child "fluids and plenty of rest." This is done more so to confirm that your own diagnosis was correct and you could probably be a doctor too. Odds are you'll be completely wrong, because again, there is a good chance they are just making something up. Luckily my wife is in the healthcare field, so we (she) usually has a good handle on what might be up when our kids are under the weather.

For this specific visit, I anticipated what to expect. Havi had a wheeze and a cough, so we were thinking RSV, one of those many ailments that has to "run its course".  Isla had a two-day cough that turned into a two-day fever, and then started complaining about her ear hurting. Boom, ear infection! Sign me up for med school. Jess was also concerned Isla might have a UTI (urinary tract infection) since she hadn't been going to the bathroom that often and her urine had been kind of dark. It would be a new one for us, but since I was going in anyway, might as well inquire about it and more effectively use our co-pay.  

Of course we were wrong about Havi - she actually had an ear infection. Isla did too, so at least we got one correct. As far as the UTI, the doctor wanted to get a urine sample from Isla to see what was going on. Here is where it starts to get really interesting (thanks for sticking with this post, I know there has been a lot of build-up). February of 2014, Isla was 3 years and 3 months old and had been potty-trained for about 6 months. Our directive was to head to the lab so she could pee in a cup, a task I sometimes struggle with when at the doctor. But they gave us a contraption called a hat to put in the toilet so I didn't have to actually hold the cup underneath her and end up with a pee covered hand. In the end that would have been the least of my worries. I manage to get both Isla & Havi into the bathroom by the lab, which is no easy task because "The Magic School Bus" is currently playing on the TV in the Lab Lobby. I contemplated letting Havi stay in the lobby, but figured it would be bad form to leave a 1 year old unattended in a public place in front of a TV. I also contemplated leaving the bathroom door open so I could keep an eye on Havi, but I was concerned Isla may have trouble performing under pressure. I was right.  

The scene is the three of us in the bathroom. Isla is on the toilet with no desire to go. Initially, she was not interested in utilizing the hat to catch her sample, so things started with me holding a measuring cup underneath her bottom. After a few minutes of me crouched in an awkward position bracing to be peed on, I was able to convince her that using the hat would be easier and she allowed me to put it in place. That allowed me to divert my attention to another pressing matter, dealing with her sister. We had been at the clinic for about two hours by then, putting us around the 10am mark - exactly the time when Havi should be going down for a morning nap. At this point though she is more interested in helping Isla and thinks the best way to assist is to get both of her hands inside the toilet. As I quickly, but gently, move her away from the germ-covered commode, the tears and screams of an over-tired, ear-infected one year-old fill the bathroom.  
I'm sure the lab techs on the other side of the paper-thin wall are thoroughly enjoying the commentary. I'm pleading with Isla to deposit some pee in the cup. "Please, just a couple of drops." We're running the water. We're singing songs. I'm making promises that I have no ability to keep - "You can eat ice cream for breakfast for the rest of your life!". I'm still trying to keep Havi away from the toilet. She's crying because she's overtired and sick. Isla's crying because she "just can't go!" I should be crying, but instead I'm sweating because I'm dressed for a Minnesota winter. This is the time when I have to take that step back and recognize the absolute hilarity of this situation. Never, ever before this moment could I have imagined I would find myself here - in a 5x5 bathroom, doing everything in my power (short of a manual catheter) to get a 3 year old to pee while also keeping a 1 year old out of the toilet.

After about an hour and a half, which seems like 40 days, and multiple false alarms, we finally give up. I inform the lab techs it's just not happening, and they seem about as relieved as I am. We run into doctor and she confides that the antibiotic Isla will get for her ear infection will also treat a UTI, so while she'd prefer to get a sample, she says to just keep an eye on it. As we left the clinic I made the executive decision that we all needed a sick day. Ear infections might not be contagious, but we didn't want to take any chances. 

We kept an eye on Isla and thought it was getting better until it wasn't. So a week later, since we hadn't been to the clinic that week yet, I took her back and this time she was successful in giving a sample. I had never been so happy to hear the sound of someone urinating. The sample informed us that of course we were wrong and it wasn't a UTI. It was something the doctor called glomerulonephritis. Yep, my response too. 100% made up.

Apparently, this hard to pronounce condition causes an inflammation of the tiny filters in the kidneys, causing the kidneys to not properly filter the the things they are supposed to filter from the bloodstream. This can be either an acute (short-term) thing that will resolve in a few months or a chronic (long-term) thing that could have some serious implications, like eventual kidney failure. All signs pointed to a an acute condition, likely brought on following a bacterial infection like strep. Still, this did little to comfort Jess, who is the worrier in the family and has easy access to lots of medical information.

The preliminary diagnosis of post-strep glomerulonephritis started a string of five daily visits to the clinic to provide a urine sample, blood work and a blood pressure check. Isla was actually prescribed a blood pressure medication, because apparently her's was through the roof. The urine samples were always an adventure, but usually a lot easier when her sister wasn't trying to help out. We did have a day when we waited in the lab lobby for about 3 hours, trying to push fluids to get her to go. It was that day that I realized that the "Magic School Bus" videos that play in the lobby are on a loop that eventually starts over. Hey, we've seen this one before. Today, actually.

Eventually everything cleared up - Isla got her BP under control, the puffiness in her face subsided, and the protein in her urine cleared. A, probably unnecessary, trip to a specialist provided some additional confirmation that we weren't going to have to worry about dialysis for our 3 year old anytime soon. It was an experience to say the least, but we were very, very fortunate that everything turned out fine, and Isla was a trooper throughout the entire process. You never want to see your child experience physical pain and discomfort, and feel it's your duty as a parent to do whatever you can to help them get better. Often times though, there is little you can do, outside of pray, wait, and hope for positive outcomes. A lot of families aren't nearly as fortunate, and I can't imagine what that experience must be like for them.  

The other thing you can do is laugh. We're often told that laughter is the best medicine. Illnesses can be fragile reminders that nothing living is indestructible, and finding the humor, whenever possible, in the ailments that find us, or we sometimes bring upon ourselves (foreshadowing here) can be a powerful, natural remedy. It doesn't even require a doctor's prescription, although you're welcome to go to the clinic anyway, which will probably give you more stuff to eventually laugh about.

Isla showing off her battle wounds.
Sorry, no pictures from the bathroom - they frown on that kind of behavior. 

Ignoring My Kids

You Do Not Always Have My Undivided Attention

I read this article a few weeks ago about the notion of "Free Range Parenting."  Apparently, some parents have been making headlines recently with a parenting approach that some would argue isn't really parenting at all.  The notion behind "Free Range Parenting" is you give your child or children a significant amount of autonomy at a relatively young age to encourage independence.  Critics of the philosophy obviously see this as neglectful and dangerous for the children.  I've read a lot about various modern-day parenting philosophies, but this was the first I'd heard the term "Free Range Parenting".  While I don't agree with all it seems to entail, I do find some of the concepts intriguing and have found myself incorporating them into my daily interactions with my own kids.  Let's call it "Free Range Parenting Lite".

Before I ever seriously considered staying at home with our kids, one of my biggest concerns was always being able to provide them with enough activity.  I figured they had so much going on at the daycare center they were at, if they stayed home with me they'd be bored out of their minds.  This was still a concern I had when I decided to transition to staying at home and continues to be something I contemplate almost daily.  How much could I be stunting their development by forcing them to spend numerous hours with me as often their sole source of interaction?  Even I get bored with me after a while.

My Dad made a seemingly casual (to him) comment that really struck a chord with me just before I started staying home.  After mentioning that I hoped the kids wouldn't get bored spending time with me at home, he pointed out that for the most part, my sister and I were left to our own devices when we were younger and seemed to turn out fine.  Sure, my Mom was around and it wasn't like she had no clue what we were up to, but for the most part she let us be and we found ways to entertain ourselves (imaginative play as they like to call it these days).  Besides, she had other things to worry about - laundry, meals, cleaning, feeding the baby pigs, etc.  Oh, you didn't have baby pigs that needed to be attended to when you were growing up?

I think I've mentioned this before, according to Jennifer Senior in her book All Joy No Fun, the actual term "stay at home parent" is a relatively recent phenomenon.  In the '50s & '60s, women who didn't work out of the home (which were most of them) were called "housewives", implying that their first priority was to look after the home.  Even my Mom, in the '80s, was considered a "homemaker".  She actually was part of a group of "homemakers" that would meet regularly for coffee to swap recipes and cleaning techniques.  I remember they would usually take a weekend in December where they would all go to the "big city" to get their Christmas shopping done.  I'm seriously considering starting up my own "homemaker" group if anyone is interested.

So I took my Dad's comment as advice, and coupled it with what my friends in the marketing biz always like to preach to help guide my philosophy toward structuring (or not structuring) my kids' day - "keep it simple, stupid".  My Dad also told me he thought the fact that I already had thought about how I would foster my kids' development while I was at home with them was an indicator that I was already on the right track.  To paraphrase Dawn Dais for her book, The Sh!t No One Tells One (which has become one of my new favorite parenting books), bad parents don't worry if they are being bad parents.

When I put this approach into practice, I realized that practicing my "free range parenting lite" actually involved me somewhat consciously ignoring my kids (gasp!).  This has been a challenge, because it will often still leave me feeling like I should be doing more to actively engage them, especially at this delicate age of their development.  However, there are a few reasons I think it is good for both them and me, and those who have to interact with me (i.e my wife).

Why I think It Is Good for Them:

On some levels, giving your kids autonomy is definitely a good thing as it promotes a certain level of independence.  When our oldest transitioned into the preschool room at her daycare, the directive we received from her new teacher was to encourage her to be as independent as possible, especially when it came to doing everyday tasks like getting dressed.  It obviously takes kids a lot longer to dress themselves, and the clothes they pick out might not always be appropriate, but it gets them headed in the right direction and bolsters their confidence when they finally get it.  You do have to draw the line somewhere though at a young age, like using the cutlery.

I also think/hope/pray that any positive behavior modeling I am attempting to do for my kids will inevitably resonate with them.  For better or worse, I am the coolest person in the world to my kids right now (after my wife of course).  I'm also the person they spend the majority of their waking hours with.  So if they are going emulate behavior of someone, it's likely going to be me.  This can provide serious pressure in that you always have to be mindful of your actions and your language.  But to me, this also helps with the notion of keeping things simple.

Let's take music.  Most of you know I'm really into music, and want my kids to be into it as well.  At this point, instead of spending a ton of time and energy in attempting to teach my kids various instruments, or shelling out money to hire a professional to teach them, I figure it's enough if I occasionally, but consistently pull out my guitar to strum a few chords or sit down at the piano to plunk a few keys - and not just kid's sing-a-longs (I love it when Isla asks me to play a song she doesn't know).  I figure if they see me enjoying (and at times struggling at) making music, one day they too will want to make music.  Sure we'll get them some formal lessons at some point, but for now I think the exposure works just as well.

Similar with encouraging them to be active.  I like to run and bike, and as much as possible, and sometimes against their will, I will put one or two of my kids in the jogger stroller/Burley and have them accompany me.  At times there are tears of protest, but those usually subside after a few blocks or when they eventually fall asleep.  I figure if I want them to be active, I don't have put them on an exercise plan.  I just have to show them that I like to exercise and make it a priority in my life and hope that they will as well.  We'll wait on the strength and conditioning for a few years.

This has seemed to work for us so far - the kids love music and they love to be active.  And I have to believe this works on all kinds of levels.  Want your kids to enjoy eating healthy food?  Eat healthy food (and like it).  Want your kids to like books and reading?  Read to them, obviously.  I've actually started to intentionally "read around" my kids more in effort to show them that I like reading for my own personal pleasure as much as I enjoy reading to them.  Want your kids to do drugs (or not)?  Do drugs (or don't).  Obviously they won't pick-up on all positive (or negative) behavior you attempt to model, but I would venture a guess that the likelihood of them not modeling your behavior is a lot less then them developing other behaviors that you don't model, especially positive ones unfortunately.

I've also decided that it is okay for our kids to complain about being bored.  Our four year old started throwing around the "B" word last fall (I think before I even started staying home), and at first I got really concerned about how the next fourteen years were going to go.  And I questioned if she really knew what the word meant.  But then I stumbled upon this great article about "The Disease of Being Busy", where the author flatly stated that he wants his kids to experience periods of boredom because that is how life works.  I also then found about this other article about the correlation between boredom and brilliance.  Now, when Isla says she is bored, my response is, "Great!"  Your kids will be bored.  I do not believe it is our responsibility as parents to constantly entertain, or even intellectually stimulate our kids.  

Why I think It Is Good for Me:

Obviously by intentionally ignoring my kids from time to time it has allowed me opportunities to hold on to some of my own interests.  As I mentioned in a previous post, one thing I was adamant about was retaining my own personal identity as an individual through parenthood and not being completely defined through my parental duties.  Continuing to pursue those interests as much as possible and as time allows has been a great outlet and probably helped me hang on to some of my sanity.  I would encourage all parents, especially new ones, to try to make sure they are holding on to some of their interests and hobbies throughout parenthood so they at least having something to go back to when the kids leave the house.  Or, when the kids get old enough, they will have passions and interests that can be shared within the family.  I'm already looking forward to the day when I'll be able to run 5Ks with my kids (and hopefully still beat them).

I also think taking this approach now, while the kids are still relatively young, will help me be a better supporter of their own independence as they grow older and want to be more independent.  Having worked in the higher ed environment for a number of years, I've definitely seen the effects (mostly negative) of "helicopter parenting" and how it has inhibited some students' ability to develop their own independence and sense of self.  I want to support my kids as they grow, but I know that they will need to fail at times in order to grow.  My parents took a similar approach with me during my adolescent years, and I'm thankful that they did.  If I don't allow my kids to start growing on their own at least a little bit at this age, it will become more challenging for me to step back, and probably for them to step forward, as they grow and mature.

Lastly, I've become more comfortable saying "no" to them, without always having a good reason.  The other day Isla asked me if she could play with the Play-Doh set that Havi go for her birthday (in our house a gift for one child is typically used more often by a different child).  The Play-Doh set had "disappeared" because it was not cleaned up following its last use (I don't know if our kids grasp the concept that we do this, but it helps keep some of the toys at bay on a small level).  I wasn't really thrilled about the prospective of taking it out and cleaning it up again after they played with it for 30 minutes and moved on to the next thing, so I told her no.  Was this selfish?  Yeah, it was.  But I explained to her that she had a number of other things she could play with and Play-Doh was often a mess to clean up, so we weren't going to take it out at that moment.  Maybe not the best justification, but it felt okay to say "no" to one of their requests, as small as it seemed.  I figure if we can't get comfortable saying no to them now on occasion, it will become increasingly harder to do so as they get older, get better at poking holes in our reasoning, and the requests become more demanding, and likely larger and more expensive.  

Why I Think It Is Good for The People Around Me:

Part of the allure of staying at home was the idea that along with spending more time with my kids, I'd also be able to take care of some of the day-to-day necessities of home life - cooking, cleaning - to make things less stressful around the house.  By allowing the kids to fend for themselves occasionally, it allows me time to get these things accomplished, and hopefully provides good modeling to our kids.  We try to get them involved with some of these tasks whenever possible/logistically feasible, so they hopefully start to understand that clothes don't magically clean and fold themselves or dinner doesn't just get dropped off at your doorstep (most nights).  When I'm at home with my kids, if I'm not actively engaging with them in something, a bulk of my time is spent doing things I view as constructive - cleaning, meal prep, blogging(?), etc.  My hope is that if they aren't helping (or trying to help while actually hindering), they are at least recognizing that I'm doing a task that needs to be done and something they might be responsible for doing some day.  Contrary to popular belief, I don't spend all day sitting around and watching trashy daytime TV - it's usually just half of the day.


So that's why I ignore my kids sometimes, and would encourage you to do the same.  Not all the time, but sometimes.  Try it.  I'm sure they will be okay.  As long as it is not to the extent of being neglectful, like leaving them to forage for their own meals, it is promoting independence and hopefully sparking their brilliance.  If you are questioning if you actively engaging your kids enough, think about what approach your parents took with you growing up.  If you think you turned out fine, then you probably have a good basis to start from.  Odds are you don't even remember those years, and your kids likely won't either, so take a break and go do something constructive or that you find fulfilling.

     

If you leave your kids alone, they may get into Mom's make-up bag.
They probably did better than I would have.

There's No Place Like Home

I Guess That This Must Be The Place

Well, we returned home from our Florida adventure.  We rolled back into town on Sunday afternoon, and after taking the requisite three days of recovery after our three days of travel, I figured I should get back at it.  Thanks for your patience.  There will be plenty more musings from our excursion that I'll try to work into some upcoming posts.  Believe me, the material is there.  And it's pretty good.

The return trip was, thankfully, pretty uneventful.  Our biggest surprise came Friday afternoon just outside of Atlanta.  We were able to meet up with one of Jess' friends and her family who were on their way to Florida to essentially do the exact same thing we just finished doing in a different location.  We rendezvoused at a kid's bounce place named Monkey Joes, where we attempted to impart any words of wisdom we could offer them over the blaring Kidz Bop music.  While we were there, and the kids were bouncing themselves into a bliss-filled oblivion, I got a call from our neighbor who had been keeping an eye on our house while we were away.  They stopped to check things out, and noticed that they could see their breath inside the house and the thermostats were reading a tepid 35 degrees.  Being the amazing neighbors that they are, they contacted the local HVAC company who was able to come out and remedy the problem.  We considered turning around and heading back to Florida at that point, but decided against it. This visit from the plumber marked the third time in the last month and a half that they had paid a visit to our house to address a heating issue, and the service tech has deemed us the "lucky ones".  It was Friday the 13th so we should have seen it coming.      

When we were house-hunting for our first home a few years ago, the last thing we (mainly, me) were looking for was a fixer-upper.  I am the antithesis of handy.  I once used the word "utensils" to reference my pitiful excuse for a tool set.  I've long accepted that I am not good when it comes to working with tools (especially those that require power), and I have no desire to improve.  In middle school, I actually convinced one of my buddies to do all of the cutting for my projects in our mandatory shop class, while I wrote a few papers for him in return.  I wanted a move-in ready house, and I wasn't that picky either.  I had lived in, too put in kindly, some "shit-holes".  They contained such luxuries as metal spiral staircases, carpeted doors, registered sex-offenders as neighbors, and four grown men sharing one bedroom.  Well, what did we end up with?  Of course a fixer-upper.  Oh, but it had so much character and potential!  Still has plenty of potential.

When we were searching for our first house, I thought about how different the experience probably was for my parents when they were looking for their first home.  Nearly every house we went into, if it was "move-in" ready or not, we always identified things that we would need (read: want) to redo.  We got a pretty good deal on a foreclosure that needed some serious updating, but at the same time it seemed a little strange (and somewhat narcissistic) to being considering some of the enhancements - a brand new kitchen with granite counter-tops and stainless steel appliances, an addition, new flooring (that scratches like crazy) - we felt were needed in the first home we ever purchased.  Granted we were at a different stage in our life than my parents when they bought their first house, and the housing market has changed drastically in thirty years, but I'm sure they didn't walk into a house and see everything they could redo.  They were probably just happy to have a house that they could afford.  To be out of their parent's basement.  Who cares if the wallpaper print was a hideous floral and the carpets were shag?  They were living the American Dream.

It's also an interesting concept to see how the average size of a single-family home (in square footage) has doubled since the 1950s, while the average size of a household (in number of people) has steadily declined since the 1970s.*  Bigger houses with fewer people occupying those houses.  We are no exception, as we have a larger than average house.  We also now have a larger than average household size (we figured if we had the space we might as well fill it with people).  But it does, at times seem like more space than we need.  I often joke about our overabundance of couches.  We have four, which means that everyone in our house that can walk can lay on a couch at the same time.  Over the last few years we've finished our basement (meaning we paid professional contractors a handsome sum of money to unfinish our existing basement and refinish it to a layout that better suited what we wanted) and redid the deck on the back of our house (again, paying professionals).  Once those projects were completed, I found myself somewhat baffled that we hardly seemed to use them.  But at least they were done - if there is one thing I dislike it is an unfinished house project.

The increase in the house sizes, and decrease of people in those houses, obviously means more space to clean/upkeep and fewer hands to do it.  When we were both working full-time, my wife would occasionally make a comment that she wanted to look into hiring someone to clean our house.  I was adamantly opposed.  After reading Barbara Ehrenreich's Nickel & Dimed a few years ago, I told myself I would never hire someone else to clean my house.  I thought if I couldn't keep my own house in tact, my priorities were out of whack and I likely needed something more manageable.  I've probably softened on this a little since we've had kids, and the invisible toy monster comes through every 30 minutes to vomit toys all over every room.  When you have kids your time at home tends to fall into the cycle of: make a mess, clean up said mess, make another mess, leave that mess to the morning in hopes that it will magically clean itself up.  Despite my wife's accurate assessment that we have different definitions of "clean", I'm sticking to my guns - no professional house-cleaners in our house (unless they are fluent in foreign languages and can teach piano-lessons too).

One of my good college friends and his wife just returned back to Minnesota after spending a few years of living abroad for his work.  While they were away, they rented out their home in Minneapolis.  After returning, my friend commented that they had at least a year's worth of various house projects to get the place back into the condition they wanted.  I quipped with him that it seems ironic that we often spend so much time (and money) working on our homes but so little time actually enjoying them.  Figure your home will likely be your biggest financial investment in your life, and the inanimate object that require the most work to upkeep.  Each week has 168 hours.  If you work 40 hours/week and sleep 8 hours/night, that consumes over half of those hours.  Factor in time for meals, commuting, your "recommended" daily physical activity, and the actual amount of time you park your ass in front of the TV,  and it doesn't seem to leave you a lot of time to enjoy the fruits of your labor.  
        

Now that I am home more with the kids, this has certainly been something that I've enjoyed.  Feeling like we are actually making use of the space we have spent so much time, money and energy to create.  I also think we've been able to keep the house a manageable disaster (you can ask my wife for her real opinion).  After some strategic rearranging of our rooms, I feel like we have our house in a good spot - everything seems functional and usable to its own degree.  We now eat regularly at our dining room table instead of piling it up with laundry in transit from the bedrooms to the wash.  We go in the basement much more frequently because it is the only place in our house with carpet, and I didn't get any knee-pads for Christmas (see 12/18/14 blog post).  I've also come to enjoy the opportunity occasionally tune-out and do something mind-numbing like wash the floors while the kids are napping.  This usually involves me throwing in the ear-buds and cranking up my jams to a volume level where my phone likes to tell me that "listening at for long periods may cause hearing damage."  Heaven forbid I wake the children from their peaceful slumber.

As much as I sometimes despise this house, and the amount of disposable income it has drawn from our bank account to fix its issues (essential and cosmetic), I feel very fortunate that we are blessed to have a roof over our heads and a place to call home.  We've had the opportunity to make this house our home, and I'm glad it was still standing when we pulled up last Sunday.
       

"The Money Pit"
We bought a house in the same city where we went to college - a quintessential college town.
Despite the way it looked upon purchase, we assured our friends it was not one of the houses that we frequented on weekend nights to consume keg beer in the basement.  To the best of our recollection, at least.

*I know I should cite a source here, but I recall reading this in a book somewhere and am too lazy to go back and find it.  I have couches to sit on.