"Back to School, Ring the Bell."

To Prove To Dad That (He's) No Fool

We surpassed our 10th day of the school year this past week, a day my former higher ed colleagues always anticipate.  For our house the start of this school year definitely marked by a serious amount of anticipation, as this year Isla, our oldest, would be starting kindergarten, while Havi, our middle, would be starting her first year of preschool.  Like most every other parent who had a kid (or more) head off to school this fall, I also did the obligatory pondering of, "How did we get here?"  Luckily, after more than 10 days, we're still here.    

Last summer, after (questionably) surviving my first summer of stay-at-home parenting, I started to understand the sentiment of parents being ready for their kids to go back to school.  Last year, I was definitely ready, even though it was one kid going to school, three mornings a week.  This summer, I don't feel like I got to that point.  Yes, I was excited for Isla, as I knew she was ready and excited for kindergarten.  I was also excited for Havi, as I knew she was ready for something a little more stimulating and challenging (intellectually at least) than putting up with me all day.  Of course I was also selfishly excited to have a little lighter of a load at home so I could maybe, just maybe get a little more accomplished (or watch more trashy daytime television).  I think that fact though that this was going to be new territory for us - having one kid in school all day - I wasn't quite sure what to expect.

Or course before we could send our oldest off to kindergarten, we actually had to pick a kindergarten.  Growing up in small towns, this was somewhat of a foreign concept to my wife and me, where there was a school in your town (or maybe the next town over), and you went there.  Despite living in a "quaint" town not much bigger than my wife's hometown, we are apart of a larger school district, adjacent to a number of other smaller school districts and have a few private and charter school options in our larger community.  I think there are at least buses from at least six different schools that come through our neighborhood, trying to entice families to allow them to educate their kids.  All of the options have their pluses and minuses, and it certainly speaks to the privilege that we have to be stressed out about picking the "right" school for our kids.

Ultimately we decided on pursuing one of the language immersion programs offered by the public school district we are a part of.  Yes, not only did we have a variety of schools to choose from, we could also decide if we wanted our child taught in English, Spanish or Chinese.  We chose Spanish.  This did mean that Isla would be attending the elementary school in our district that is furthest away from our house, and not the brand-new (or less than 10 years old), state-of-art school that is only 1.5 miles down the road.  Again, the problems of the privileged.  Because her school is a solid 25 minute drive via the interstate, the bus picks her up at 6:30am, which has turned us into earlier risers than we already were^.  While the distance and the early wake-up gave us some hesitation for enrolling in the Spanish Immersion program, we wanted to at least try it and see how it goes.  I also vaguely recall getting on the bus at an un-Godly hour and riding for much longer than necessary (uphill both ways) during my school days.  It seems to be a rite of passage.

Fortunately, for our kids, no matter where they go to school, the odds of them having a successful school experience are pretty high.  It is often said that parents are the most important educators in a child's life, and one of the biggest indicators of future academic success is the support that they get at home for their education.  Yes, quality schools are incredibly important, but as one high school counselor once said, reassuring me that picking a school for our children wasn't such a monumental decision; you have great kids come out of some pretty terrible schools, and you have some terrible kids come out of some pretty great schools.  We likely have at least a few years before we start to see if our kids will turn out like eager overachievers like their mom, or lazy underachievers like their dad.

Coming from an upper middle-class, two parent household that strongly supports the educational experience - given that my wife and I have a combined 13 years of higher education, the chance of our kids being complete fuck-ups are pretty slim.  Not to say that it can't or won't happen, and we won't someday be bailing one (or more) of them out of jail.  The odds are just pretty heavily in their favor; to not be fuck-ups that is.  We're also fortunate that one of those two parents (that's me!) has been able to make the conscious decision to stay home with the children, having more time to support their educational experience, help with homework - the English stuff at least, and be involved with their school.  PTA anyone?  

Of course, like most parents, we have our fears in sending our kid off to school.  A lot can happen during the day when you see them off on the bus at 6:30 in the morning and they don't get back until 3 in the afternoon.  Oddly, most of the fears I've had tend to revolve around the logistical stuff - will she make her bus transfer, what if she doesn't like what they are serving for lunch that day; and the social stuff - will she make friends, will anyone play with her at recess.  We found out after the fact, that on Isla's third day of kindergarten her bus broke down on the way to school, and they had to wait for another bus to come and pick them up.  This caused her to miss breakfast at school and, because she has to get up so early, she typically doesn't eat anything before getting on the bus.  When I found this out, I had a mini-freakout.  "So, you didn't eat anything until lunch?*  Weren't you starving?  How'd you survive?"  She just kind of shrugged her shoulders.  Heaven forbid she ever have to experience hunger.

Gus has a book, Elmo's First Day of School, that he insists on us reading almost every day (I think he just really likes to say "Elmo").  On Elmo's first day of school, he is a little hesitant at music time because he doesn't know the words to the song the teacher is playing.  Elmo's teacher reassures Elmo by pointing out that school is all about learning new things.  It's somewhat rhetorical to say that school is all about learning new things for the students, but I also think it's as much a learning process for us parents as well.  Of course our kids are learning how to read and write and do math.  They're also learning how to be independent and make choices and interact with others in various settings, not always in the purview of adult supervision.  Most importantly, I think they are learning how to cope and deal with the circumstances and situations that they are in.

As parents we're learning, or should be at least, how allow them to cope and navigate those situations on their own.  It's not as though we're sending them out into the world on their own, but slowly we're giving them more independence.  In one of the many parenting books that I've read, the author pointed out that we cannot control our kids.  We can only coach them, and hope that their behavior and actions will reflect how we've coached them.  I think this is particularly true when you send your kid off to school.  We can't control everything that they do or foreshadow every situation that they're put in.  We can't keep them in a bubble, filtering what they are exposed to (more on censorship later), dictating their actions, or deciding what crowd they decide to pal around with.  Am I somewhat concerned that Havi, who habitually waits too long to relieve herself might have an accident while at school?  Sure, but there isn't much I can do about it if it happens.  Odds are she wasn't the first and most certainly won't be the last.  

The sooner we can learn to gradually let go, the more independence and confidence they will gain (which presumably is a good thing in the long run).  Will it always go smoothly?  Of course not.  It can be excruciating to watch our kids struggle and at times ultimately fail at something.  We've already experienced two such moments with Isla during her first two weeks of kindergarten when she broke down in tears because she couldn't figure something out.  As eager as a parent can be to rush in and try to solve the problem for them, that is part of the process of school, and life.  I think our role as parents shouldn't always be to solve our children's problems, but to support them through their failures.  When I feel the urge to come "helicoptering in" to rescue one of my kids, I like to think of the line from the Frou Frou song, "Let Go" - "there's beauty in the breakdown".

Of course we as parents will fail at times too.  That is how we learn and grow as parents.  On Isla's first day of school, because it wasn't raining at 6:30am when she got on the bus, we neglected to send a coat with her.  It proceeded to rain for pretty much the rest of the day, and when I found out that they still went outside for recess, I was a little taken aback by my lack of foresight.  "So you went outside for recess.  In the rain.  Without a jacket because we didn't send one with you.  Interesting."  Note to self, double-check the forecast each morning before sending kids out the door.  Luckily my kids can't grasp the concept of micromanagement just yet, trusting that I will (someday) learn from my own mistakes.    

Not only do we have to learn to trust that our kids will be able to figure it out, we also have to learn to trust the educational structure that has been created to support and nurture them.  The teachers, the bus drivers, the administrators, the resource officers.  We have to trust that they have the safety, security and best interest of our kids in mind every day, while also being mindful of everyone else's kids too.  We have to believe that they want to see our kids succeed as much as we do, but that they might have a different perspective on our child and how they can support their pursuit of success.  It can certainly be hard to develop this trust, especially when you hear about tragic events like the Jacob Wetterling abduction that took place in our "quaint" community over 25 years ago, and only recently came to a very sad and tragic close.

When most of our news headlines are dominated by terrifying and heart-wrenching stories about the things that are most precious in our lives, it seems justifiable that we as parents have a desire to embed GPS chips into our kid's socks or conspicuously follow a block behind the school bus the entire way to school.  I think it would be informative, likely soothing, and certainly funny if we could watch our children navigate the school day through a hidden camera without them knowing.  Observing would hopefully ensure us in knowing that they're okay, and likely provide a little validation to us as parents that we're doing at least an okay job raising our kids.  But we have to find a way to give them that space to develop themselves and their personalities. Or, to paraphrase Martha Beck from her book Expecting Adam, we have to transform into parents who can accept our children, no matter what.

Right now, I will graciously accept our kindergartner who was excessively excited to get her first homework assignment this past week.  And who is disappointed that she doesn't get to go to school on Saturdays and Sundays, even if that means the notion of sleeping in on the weekends is lost on her.  I'll also graciously accept our preschooler, who is a little hesitant to leave the comforts of her mom and dad's presence (mostly mom's), even though she always has a ton of fun in school.  In a few months/weeks her excitement will probably (hopefully) mirror her older sister's.  And our little guy, who certainly notices when his older sisters are gone, saying their names with an inquisitive look on his face, and responding with a somber "oh" when I tell him they are at school.  His time will be coming certainly fast that we can expect.  However it is that we got "here", we're here. Soon enough we'll be "there", wherever "there" is.  "Everybody on?"

Havi started the school year for us with her first day of preschool.

Isla followed the next day with her first day of kindergarten.

               

Poor Gus is just stuck at home with dad.
It will give him some time to grow into his glasses.

^I will completely understand if you never again invite our family to be overnight guests at your house.

*Bear in mind that they eat lunch at like 10:30am.    

Why I Think We All Could Use A "Special" Someone In Our Lives

"If I Cannot Win, Let Me Be Brave in the Attempt"

The Rio 2016 Summer Olympics have been done for over two weeks now, and I'm assuming we've all gotten back to our regularly scheduled programming (thank goodness the football season has restarted, right?).  For the most part, they seemed to be a success - the Russian delegation, Ryan Lochte, and Hope Solo notwithstanding.  The Olympics came at the perfect time for our house, as we had our third bout of the stomach flu this year during the first week of competition.  When you are awake at 3:30am because your child doesn't want to fall back asleep for fear that she will throw-up in bed (again), the Olympic weightlifting competition can serve as a great distraction.

Just before the Olympics kicked off, I was reminded via social media that it was two years ago that I had the chance to work with the Minnesota Special Olympics and their Summer Sports Camp, which was hosted at the college I used to work at.  The post reminded me that among all of the various events and groups I had the opportunity to work with during my tenure at the school, the Summer Sports Camp was hands down one of the most inspiring groups I had the privilege of working with.  While the athletes that participate in the Special Olympics may not have the same level of athletic prowess as those competing in the Olympics, from my experience, their passion for competition is just as strong.

The reminder also popped up just as I was finishing Martha Beck's fantastic book, Expecting Adam.  I had never heard of the book, and it was given to me somewhat by accident, when a friend offered to loan me a book she thought I'd enjoy, only to discover that she couldn't find it.  She gave me Expecting Adam in it's place, and it has become one of my (many) favorites.  The book centers around the author and her husband, finding themselves expecting their second child at a very inconvenient time in their lives - trying to balance graduate coursework and teaching responsibilities at one of the most prestigious universities in the world while also raising a toddler.  Martha has a very difficult pregnancy, and when they find out that their unborn son has Down Syndrome, the emotional toll of defending their decision not to terminate the pregnancy, despite nearly unanimous suggestions from family and colleagues to do so, compounds on Martha's constant nausea and dehydration.  In the end the author concludes that she must "unlearn virtually everything Harvard taught her about what is precious and what is garbage."  I would highly recommend it to anyone - parents with special needs children, parents without special needs children, people who don't even have kids.

One of my favorite quotes from the book is when Martha observes that in contrast to the cut-throat, accomplishment-obsessed culture of a place like Harvard, "it is amazing to live with someone who genuinely couldn't care less about Getting Ahead, someone who is absolutely committed to finding joy in the present moment."  That quote recalled a vivid memory of one of the athletes from the Summer Sports Camp a few years ago.  Participating in a flag football game, and decked out in a Minnesota Vikings jersey with a matching headband, armbands and receiver gloves, he made a diving catch in the corner of the end zone to score a touchdown for his team.  Had it taken place in an NFL or major college game, it might not have made Sportscenter's Top 10, but for this young man, this was his moment.  His reaction and the subsequent mobbing by his teammates could have had you conclude that he just caught the game-winning touchdown in the closing seconds of the Super Bowl.  Never mind that it was ten in the morning on a Thursday at a tiny school in central Minnesota, hardly a fan in sight.

As someone who (typically) possesses the cognitive ability to put something like that guy's catch into context and the physical ability to (likely) do something similar, it gives me goosebumps to watch the emotion that follows something that might seem relatively ordinary from my perspective.  Interacting with people who have physical or intellectual disabilities is a humbling reminder of the many ways in which I am blessed in many abilities that I often take for granted, even if I'm not LeBron James or Albert Einstein.  I think these abilities, the ability to go about my day, cognitively and physically capable of doing most anything I need to be self-sufficient with relative ease are the privileges that I most often overlook^ because they come as such second nature.  To see someone struggle through what seems like a routine daily function can be a real eye-opener as to just how good you have it.    

Now if I were in any way suggesting that we should use those who with special needs to develop a pious mindset that things could always be worse, it would be incredibly callous and insensitive.  Or, if I attempted to claim that I wish I had a special needs child for all of the nuggets of big-picture wisdom they could bestow upon me, I would be naively lying through my teeth.  We are blessed with three healthy, relatively highly functioning (at this point) children, and we feel very fortunate that that is the case.  My interactions with special needs kids or adults is very limited and is definitely not a daily, or even weekly occurrence for me.  While I'm sure the parents, siblings, and caretakers of those with special needs have learned a great deal about life, just as Martha has from Adam, the challenges are no doubt overwhelming and both physically, mentally and emotionally exhausting.

What I do think though, is that we as a society would be better served if all of us had more frequent interaction with those who have special needs, whether they are physical or intellectual disabilities.  I think that we could learn a lot about how to better develop feelings of empathy and understanding, and exercise the virtue of patience - all things that often seem to be in short supply in our frenetic, fast-paced and relatively selfie-absorbed world.  When we take time to think about the ways in which we are more fortunate than others, it makes us mindful of those privileges, helping us to (hopefully) not take them for granted and recognize that others often struggle with things that are instinctive to us.  Often times, our inability to empathize with others comes from our lack of understanding or indifference to those who are faced with different circumstances than we are.

There exists, I believe, a unique opportunity to help our kids overcome these attitudes.  I read an article a while ago about raising a "respectful" child, someone who is mindful of others. It highlighted a family who had decided to enroll their preschool son in a school that was half students with special needs and half students without special needs.  When I originally read about this, I wondered about the quality of the education their son was getting, assuming that a lot of time was spent addressing the behavior of the special needs students or providing them extra assistance for any physical disabilities.  But then I thought about the incredible emotional intelligence (EQ) those students are building, and how a high EQ is often a better predictor of future success than a high IQ.  No doubt it can be a powerful experience, at any age, to watch your classmate struggle through something you can do with ease, like wash your hands, even if you don't completely understand why.

The article also discussed the importance of talking about differences that your kids observe; skin color, language, physical ability, behavior, etc, and exposing them to diversity at a young age.  As much as we might not always think it, kids are cognizant* of those differences.  The great thing though, is that the differences they observe do not come with any preconceived notions about what those differences can mean.  They will notice someone with a different skin color, but (typically, hopefully) at an early age, it carries no connotations for them, negative or positive.  A child might notice that their peer with Down Syndrome looks different than they do, but can't necessarily grasp what that means.  We have an opportunity to teach our kids and help them understand that different doesn't have to be bad or scary.  If we're nervous to talk about those differences with them, because of our own preconceived notions or "uncomfortable-ness", then we allow them an opportunity to fall into a prejudiced mindset that can only become harder to change with time.  

I also see the opportunity of exposing my children to diversity as a conduit to overcoming my own fears and lack of comfort in those settings.  Growing up in a very small, very homogeneous area, I had very little exposure to any sort of diversity.  Over the years, as I've had more first hand experiences, with people with physical or intellectual disabilities or people of a different race, ethnicity, religion or political persuasion, my comfort level with those interactions has increased, but I certainly still have a long way to go.  My preconceived prejudices were allowed to become ingrained in my beliefs for a good chunk of my adolescence.  However, when I see my kids interacting with other kids who may look or act different then what they do, it pushes me to overcome my fears and anxieties about those differences.  It can serve as a way to break the ice to talk to the parent who might look different than you, or speak a different language, or be experiencing parenthood in a completely different way because of their circumstances.  I can't imagine what it is like to be a parent of a special needs child, but I can't let my fear of being insensitive to that parent, deter me from engaging with him/her and trying to understand their experience so that I can attempt to better empathize with them.

This past spring, we attended an Early Childhood class that was geared toward parenting across cultures.  Not only was I the only dad in the class, I was the only Caucasian, and one of two parents who was not a recent immigrant or refugee.  This class was a phenomenal experience for me, because it gave me an opportunity to interact with and discuss parenting topics with other parents who had a completely different outlook on parenting based on the experiences they've had in their lives.  It also allowed my kids to be immersed in that diversity.  It was great to see them comfortable playing with kids who looked and acted differently than they do, or trying to navigate informal play dynamics with kids who didn't speak the same language as them.  Because they lack the knowledge of how our differences can create anxiety among each other, they're not worried about saying or doing something that could be construed as insensitive or offensive.

Without doubt, our kids are aware of the differences that are around them, especially when it comes to other people, and most especially their peers.  Think of the adage, "mind like a sponge".  As parents, we have the opportunity to help our kids feel comfortable with those differences, and see them through a lens that makes our world brighter and, by trying to understand those differences, a more inclusive and peaceful place.  Or, we can choose to ignore those differences or try to tell ourselves that our kids don't really notice them.  While it is good to allow them to come up with their own conclusions, those conclusions can often be influenced by their friends and the narrative advanced by the "cool" kids - who don't usually seem to be the ones with the highest EQs.  If we allow our anxieties and fears of difference trickle down to our kids, undoubtedly they will become their anxieties and fears too.  I try to be proactive in exposing my children to diversity and diverse situations, so they can hopefully avoid developing the fears and anxieties that I have as an adult.

But if we take the time to talk with our children about it, and even take the time to proactively address the our own fears and anxieties that may come with interacting with those who are different than us, we can hopefully increase our children's empathy and understanding, and our own.  It is most certainly not easy, and as I liked to say to the student employees in the office where I worked; "uncomfortable situations won't get any more comfortable until you continually put yourself in them."  It takes time, but I think it is something we could all benefit from - having a little more patience, a little more understanding.  We may not always get it right, but we can at least try, and we can always be brave.
             
            
Subtitle of this post comes from a speech by Eunice Kennedy Shriver, and is the motto for the Special Olympics.  If you have any interest in supporting the Special Olympics, you can do so via their website.  I would also encourage you to help "Spread the Word to End the Word" by taking the R-word pledge.    

Isla carrying the torch during the Opening Ceremony
of our good friends' annual Yardlympics competition.

Gus has been showing some promise on the rings.

^Beyond my white-privilege, male-privilege, socio-economic privilege and all of the other privilege I have that I'm unaware of.  We'll probably get to those later.

*Cognizant used to be one of my favorite words to use when I was working, and my staff would mock me relentlessly for it.  I think this is the first time I've had the opportunity to use it in a post.  

If You Build It, They Will Climb

They f@#%ing better...

I would say, and I think a few others may agree (my wife included), that I'm an "idea guy".  Now, I would certainly not say (and my wife would adamantly agree) that I am a "good idea guy".  I just have a tendency to get "wild ideas" every now and again, typically pertaining to some sort of endeavor I or our family should embark on; like travel the world for a year or move to Canada^.  Thankfully, for the sake of my marriage and the safety of my family, only a small percentage of my "wild ideas" ever come to fruition - usually the craziest ones.  My wife has perfected a process of taking a deep breath and waiting a few contemplative minutes before responding to any statement I make that begins, "Hey, I've got an idea!"

One of my most recent "wild ideas" recently came to fruition, after much talk and relatively little planning, a few weeks ago.  I alluded to it in my last post as something that would hopefully provide our kids with some backyard entertainment this summer.  At some point over the last year, I became convinced that I was going to build my kids a climbing wall on the outside of our garage.  Apparently this idea was one of the lucky ones that survived the R&D stage and was fast-tracked for approval and completion.  Okay, maybe not fast-tracked per se. 

As with most of my life, there are a few odd layers of irony that went along with the project.  To start, I'm not really much of a climber.  Sure, I've climbed on a few indoor climbing walls, but it's definitely not something I would consider a hobby.  I'm also, and some of you may have gathered from previous posts, the self-proclaimed antithesis of handy.  I don't do projects that require elements of construction* nor do I tend to derive much pleasure from trying to attempt projects of that nature.  Thus it made perfect sense for me to try and build something where my kids could climb to heights that would surely break bones if they fell off.

Part of the impetus to build the climbing wall came from watching Isla, our oldest, absolutely take to one at a playground we stopped at during our road-trip to our Florida adventure (which I would like to point out, was my wife's idea).  The other thought that pushed the idea along was looking at the back of our garage one day, and realizing that it was a big empty space, a blank canvas if you will.  Why not put a climbing wall there.  I figured if it was to be something that could be utilized this summer by the kids, I should probably propose the idea to my boss (wife) and make it a top priority if approved.  As fate would have it, I learned that our local Menard's, where I would be purchasing a bulk of my supplies, was currently offering an 11% rebate on all purchases.  It's like I was destined to "save big money".

Now, if I attempted to claim that I came up with the plans for this project all on my own, I would be lying through my teeth.  I had the idea of building a climbing wall for my kids, but I had no idea how to actually build a climbing wall for my kids.  Luckily, someone who is considerably more adept when it comes to building things was a few years ahead of me, and posted a step by step tutorial on her DIY Blog, even down to the quantity and types of screws I would need.  My objective was to replicate exactly what she built, or at least something that somewhat resembled her wall and would stay attached to the exterior of our garage.  I even took the easy way out and ordered my climbing holds from the exact same company that she used.  To try and be different, I did opt for the bolt-on holds as opposed to the screw on holds.                   

I'd also be making a fraudulent statement if I said that I built the wall myself - with my own two bare hands.  We all know I'm not "manly", but luckily I have some neighbors who fit the much more commonly used definition of masculine.  While I certainly took the lead on the planning and execution of the project, they did provide me with some very worthwhile feedback and assistance with some of the heavy-lifting.  They also let me use some of their heavy duty power tools, which was key in supplementing my meager supply of "utensils".  I possibly could have built the wall without their physical help, but I really doubt I could have done it without their tools.  It also helps, apparently, when trying to build something 8 feet tall using your 6 foot frame, to have this very complex device called a ladder.  Fortunately they did.

In all I was pleasant surprised with how relatively smooth the entire process went, especially given my lack of technical aptitude in the carpentry trade.  I made a healthy amount of mistakes that I learned from for the next time I construct a climbing wall - which will most certainly be never again.  While not attempting to gloat, what I was most impressed with was my unwillingness (could also be categorized as stubbornness or foolish stupidity) to be deterred from actually building it.  Especially given the fact that on my first trip to Menards to purchase materials for the wall, the only thing I came home with were tomato cages.  I made no fewer than six additional trips to various home improvement stores (I had a rule about not visiting the same store twice in one day) throughout the construction process.

But it's done, an 8ft tall by 20ft wide climbing wall has been constructed and we can again park our vehicles in our garage.  Well, it's pretty much done.  It's usable (mostly).  I still plan to paint it this fall - I've been informed by those who know (my manly neighbors) that you are supposed to let pressure treated plywood dry out before applying any paint or sealant to it.  We are taking submissions for mural ideas for the wall.  Thinking some kind of "mountain-esque theme" to really complement the climbing experience for the kids, but also abstract and modern so it has a hip feel to it.  If your submission is selected, we would of course grant you the privilege of painting it.  I suppose we could spring for the paint and supplies, and maybe even throw a small "artist's reception" once it is complete.

We also figure we should probably try to find some mattresses or crash pads to put underneath the wall when the kids are climbing - you know, safety first I guess.  The wall ends up being just over 8ft tall, so they certainly aren't attempting to summit K2, but if they fell off and fell wrong, there would mostly certainly be tears and maybe a compound fracture or two.  At this point, we haven't put the holds all of the way to the top of the wall until we find a good solution to satisfy the safety committee.  My initial thought that the wall would be another good way to keep my kids occupied has also proved somewhat ill fated as we made the rule that "no climbing can happen without an adult watching".  It's a smart rule (I kind of have to agree with it since I came up with it), but it means that when they climb, I have to be present, ready to catch them when they start to make panicked, whiny noises.  It also means that I'm probably going to spend a fair amount of time transitioning from watching the older kids on the wall to sprinting across the yard to grab Gus before he ambles into the street.  I haven't yet looked into rope-belay systems for the wall, but I'm guessing it's probably comparable to the cost of an invisible fence/dog collar (see previous post for reference).  Given the total cost of the materials for the wall, and cases of beer purchased for my helpful neighbors, neither are in the budget at this point.

I am pretty certain I do not have a future in building these for a fee for other interested parties.  It's not that complicated of a project, and if you have some technical know-how, and the appropriate tools, it shouldn't take you that long.  Beyond purchasing the materials and a little front end prep work for the wall, the actual construction of the wall took me a weekend.  For someone who knows what they are doing, I'm guessing it could be done in a day, starting around mid-morning, taking a leisurely two hour lunch, and stopping every couple of hours for a union 15 coffee break.  Below are some chronological photos and descriptions of the project.  Please note this is not intended to be a step-by-step guide for anyone looking to build something similar - far from it.  This is so you can laugh at me and hopefully avoid the same mistakes that I did.

Training for American Ninja Warrior

After you decide on where you are going to put your wall, you obviously need to purchase the materials - 2x4s, plywood, and appropriate screws.  Make sure you look at your plywood to find sheets that are in good condition.  My wife and I made a late night run to Menards after the kids went to bed to purchase our wood and screws.  We had to pick out our own plywood in a dimly lit lumber yard with a thunderstorm quickly approaching.  We probably didn't pick the best quality of wood - something that became much more apparent in the daylight.  Also, 4x8 sheets of plywood are heavy.  I thought I would somehow be able to purchase and load 5 of them, as well as a dozen 2x4s in our van by myself with Gus as my own assistance.  Hence the reason I only got tomato cages on that first trip.

Back of the garage, pre-climbing wall

Our garage has vinyl siding, which some contractor (who was trying to sell us new siding) told me was essentially just plastic.  I thought it would be much easier to try to build the wall on a flat surface instead of the beveled edges of the siding, so I decided I was going to remove the siding where the wall was going to go.  What I didn't realize, until one of my construction savvy neighbors inquired about how I was going to keep water from rotting the plywood and studs that hold up our garage, that that plastic siding serves more than just a cosmetic purpose (which is debatable itself according to my wife).  The finished product might look a little nicer, but taking the siding off added a few extra hours of work, at least another $50 to the cost of the project, and numerous additional expletives.  I also caulked all of the seams between the trim and the 2x4s and between the plywood, or anywhere I thought water could penetrate and compromise the integrity of the garage once the entire wall was up.  If the garage falls down, I highly doubt I'd be approved for a repeat of the project by upper management.

Siding Removed

Once the siding was off and the sides were trimmed out to help keep the rain out and make it look aesthetically pleasing enough for my wife, the 2x4 furring strips went up so the plywood sheets could be attached.  One benefit of removing the siding was the location of the studs on the inside of the garage were marked.  I do have a stud finder beside my wife (ouch), but I view its accuracy with a healthy dose of suspicion.

2x4s attached to studs of the garage

  A ladder certainly comes in very handy for installing the 2x4s and the plywood.  It may want to be climbed by curious onlookers though.

Gus distracting the ladies so dad can get some work done.

Once the plywood was up, we had a neighborhood "climbing hold screwing-in party" - it sounds worse than it is.  I got 100 holds for the 5 sheets of plywood.  Since I opted for the bolt-on holds, I pre-drilled 300 holes (60 per sheet) and hammed in t-nuts into each hole on the backside of the plywood.  This had to be done before the plywood was attached to the 2x4s.  Now we can move the holds with relative ease by taking out the bolt and attaching at another hold location.  The climbing hold company had a great schematic of how many hold locations to make on each sheet of plywood.  I modified mine slightly because I'm cheap and lazy.  

Attaching the holds - many hands makes quick work.

And they're climbing.... no broken bones yet!

^For the record, I have long expressed an interest in moving to Canada, and my motive has in no way been dictated by any previous or future presidential election results.

*Destruction is another story.

"Summertime, the livin's easy"

"Run to the party, dance to the rhythm"

With the 4th of July already come and gone, we've hit the commonly referred downward slide of summer.  It seems a little ironic, considering the "official start" of summer, the Summer Equinox, occurs less than two weeks before the oft-proclaimed mid-point.  But I guess in a state like Minnesota it tends to seem like summer only lasts for about four weeks^.  Even though only one of our three children is enrolled in a formal educational institution, and she was only there three hours/day, three days/week, I was eagerly looking forward to "summer break", a time when we could be even less encumbered by schedules and timelines.  At the close of summer last year, before our oldest started her rigorous nine hour/week academic schedule, I did comment that I had finally realized the feeling parents have when they say they are "ready for school to start again".  No doubt the end of this summer will likely bring on that feeling again.

Summer is great because it gives us parents in the northern realms of the Northern hemisphere the opportunity to take our kids outside with requiring excessive amounts clothing.^  Although summer does require applying just as excessive amounts of sunscreen on your kids, which will make you wonder if it would just be easier to put them in their snowsuits.  But the ability to be outside certainly has its advantages in that it allows you to "run the kids ragged" with a strong likelihood that they'll crash hard at bedtime.  This becomes somewhat of a parenting survival tactic considering that during most of the summer, the sun stays out past your own bedtime and with few pressing morning activities (save the new Dinosaur Train episodes), trying to get your kids to bed at a reasonable hour during the summer can prove relatively futile.

Being outside with the kids during almost every available moment does present its own complex challenges.  Last summer, Gus was 5-8 months, and not yet mobile.  Initially I was excited for him to be outdoors and able to explore as he pleased this summer, but then I realized that because he was mobile, he could explore as he pleased.  While one side of our backyard is fenced in, the other is not, giving him easy access to one of his newly found favorite places - our neighbor's garage.  I've seriously considered putting up some temporary snow fence between our house and garage for the summer months in better effort to keep him penned in.  Sure it would be somewhat of an eyesore, but it would be significantly cheaper and likely more humane than an invisible fence and shock collar*.

Even beyond Gus,  I struggle at times to find my comfort level of letting Isla (5) & Havi (3) play outside relatively unsupervised in our yard.  While I have a general level of trust in them following the instructions I've dictated, and when outside they are typically engaging with some of the responsible older neighbor kids (or their parents), I can still feel leery at times of the kids being outside and not knowing their exact GPS coordinates.  A feeling of guilt also sets in when I realize our neighbors have been outside supervising both their kids and my kids for a good portion of the day.  I know they don't mind, and probably appreciate the company for their kids, but on multiple occasions I have not allowed my kids to go outside when our neighbors were out because I was busy with something else (about to set a new personal record on Pokemon Go) and didn't want to be the parent who sends their kids out to be watched by the neighbors.

I have to balance these feelings with the reality of my daily life - I have three kids; one who is pretty self sufficient, one who is self sufficient when she feels like it, and one who relies on me for most everything.  None of them can always be trusted to make rational decisions and each has his/her own agenda and specific needs.  If we're all playing outside and Havi needs to go potty (and insists that I assist her), Gus has to come in with me too, much to his protests.  Both Isla & Havi can operate the door knobs - if they really want to go outside (or inside) despite my instance that they not, they are physically capable of doing so, and pending my current state of affairs; changing a poopy diaper, wielding a sharp object for meal prep, taking care of my own business, I may not be able to do much to stop them at that moment.  Luckily we have a few items in the backyard (one that I'll hopefully be able to share more about in the coming weeks) that can hold their interest while I wipe (Gus or myself) or stow the deadly weapon.  

Of course no summer is complete with out the requisite summer vacation, which, because we live in 'Murica and not one of those god-forsaken European socialist enclaves, is usually like a week.  Maybe two.  But certainly not contiguous.  I've commented before (here and here) on how a "vacation with kids" is essentially a work of fiction.  As a stay-at-home parent, a vacation with kids is essentially parenting in a different environment on a different schedule, which makes parenting about 20% harder.  Fortunately, the constant use of "any port parenting" can be rationalized by the fact that, "It's vacation!"  Go ahead, have another cookie.  

When we come upon a few days off of work (my wife's work, that is), we will often have thought provoking discussion as to whether we should attempt to fill that day with a conceivably fun activity, which will likely produce an abundance of tears, or go the more cost effective route of staying home and doing nothing.  Because we're always eager to broaden our children's perspectives through diverse experiences, and consequently raise our stress levels, we typically opt to do something.  This year one of our "somethings" was a trip to a local "zoo" that we hadn't yet visited.  It was overpriced and overwhelming (while simultaneously being underwhelming - it had a lot of birds and animals that were close relatives of the deer), but kids seemed to enjoy it.  At least according to the photos of the outing that we didn't delete from our phones.

Living in the Land of 10,000 Lakes and being good Minnesotans, our summer "vacation" also always includes a trip "up north" to "the lake".  Every year my mother-in-law's respectable-size family descends on a quaint family-owned resort in the Northwoods of Minnesota for a week of reuniting, eating and drinking, and more eating and drinking.  This adventure typically requires at least 1-2 days of prep work beforehand - to ensure that every conceivable child request has been stuffed into the van (thank God for all of that storage).  It also always requires, upon returning from "the lake", uttering the comment, "we need a vacation from our vacation" at least ten times when recounting your time away to your acquaintances.  When we returned home from "up north" this past June, we spent the better part of a day cleaning up the destruction the kids had done to the house before we left.  They had spent a good chunk of time unsupervised while my wife and I packed and frantically finished up our quota of baked goods to bring with.
    
Our days of lake-going have long changed from our childless days of baking our skin and saturating our livers.  Now, partly sunny with a nice breeze provides such a pleasant environment and decreases the kids' non-stop desire to swim and your obligation as the beach lifeguard.  I'll admit I wasn't too shook up when our kids caught swimmers itch - recognizing that a justifiable dose of Benadryl would lead to an early bedtime for them and me too.  Like any other kid-filled adventure, being "at the lake" has many ups; fun to be had with the cousins, staying up later than normal, having dessert with most every meal, the standing 4pm Happy Hour (primarily for the adults), and downs; crabby, overtired, overstimulated, oversugared kids, severe bloating from the excessive eating, and emergency room visit worthy bug bites.  This year we even managed to squeeze in another "something" while at the lake, making a family trip to visit Itasca State Park.  We crossed the headwaters of the Mississippi River about a half dozen times and hiked just long enough (about a half mile) to justifiably say we were out in nature.  Of course we were back in time for the 4pm Happy Hour.  

Our annual lake trip tends to be a microcosm of how our summer goes.  It's something we look forward to every year, stress about when the trip is nigh, enjoy the experience once there while simultaneously retaining a steady level of stress, somewhat look forward to our return home while also begrudging the fact that we have to leave, be happy to be home while also feeling stressed out about returning to a dirty house and an empty fridge.  Less than a week later we repeated the process by heading to another lake (we actually had to drive south this time) to celebrate the 4th of July with my Mom's family.  The time was shorter and the crowd was smaller, but the happy hour was more of a daily affair and crazy Uncle Tim coordinated the annual fireworks display.  There were still plenty of tears.

The remainder of our summer will be filled with lots of activity and little activity - happy mediums seem non-existent in parentland.  From soccer to t-ball to theater camp to bible school, fun doesn't seem to stop.  Until it does, all at once.  I've found on the days you are busy, inevitably your kids will have no interest in getting dressed and on those days that are void of activity are the days they (and you) are likely going stir crazy.  At some point, by the end of July, I'll inquire out loud and to no one in particular if it is time for the kids to go back to school.  A few weeks after that, when it is actually time for the kids to go back to school, I'll wonder in a dumbfounded manner where the summer went and how it can be time for the kids to go back to school already.  And then we'll start the countdown till the next summertime.

The local area "zoo"
As it was perfectly described to us by some friends,
"It's funny and sad but awesome.  All at the same time."

                

M - I - Double S - I - Double S - I - P - P - I

Fireworks in the daylight - not quite as visually spectacular but still loud.

^Staple Minnesota joke about the weather.

*Had I made this investment four years ago, the economics might have made a little more sense.

Titles courtesy of the late Brad Nowell

"Wherever You Are, Be There"

Don't Call Me and Tell Me You're Going to be there in 5 Minutes. 

This time of year four years ago I was about to start a 16 week marathon training program for the 2012 Twin Cities Marathon.  It would be my second foray into such idiocy after barely finishing one back in 2005 and promptly swearing I would never again attempt one.  The urge to give it another go came after watching one of my good buddies complete the course in 2011.  There were also a few notable milestones at play, as we were expecting our second child at the end of 2012, and 2013 would be bringing a noteworthy birthday my way.  I figured if I ever wanted to try and redeem my admittedly lackluster performance from seven years previous, this was going to be my last viable chance.  Given these circumstances I was also successfully able to goad a small cadre of my closest compatriots into attempting it with me - including a few who would probably not classify themselves as "runners" - then or now.

In effort to avoid a repeat of the dramatics from my inaugural marathon^, I made a concerted effort to train with considerably more dedication this time around.  If you've ever done something so stupid as train for and run a marathon, you're likely aware that the necessary prep work can be time-consuming.  While I had zero chance of winning, or probably even finishing in the top half of the 10,000 runner pack, I still found myself getting up at 5am on weekday mornings to get runs in before work.  My weekends were relinquished to a multiple hour long run and all subsequent recovery that followed.  Training basically became a part-time job that didn't pay and made you spend more on groceries because you were perpetually "rungry".

Toward the end of the training, likely on one of those long runs that provide an excessive amount of "thinking time", I remember telling myself that after this marathon nonsense was over, I was really going to focus on being a dad.  Put the selfish stupid ideas, like running marathons, playing in rock and roll bands, and attempting to climb the career ladder, on hold and focus the little people in my life that depended on me, or mostly their mother, and occasionally me.  I remember how absurd this notion seemed to me at the time, and how I still find it challenging to grasp now.  But I get the feeling it's not an uncommon one for a lot of parents trying to balance multiple responsibilities - work, family, bar league softball, etc.

One of my former bosses (she was actually the boss of the boss of my boss's boss*) once told me that finding balance can really be a misnomer, especially when it comes to trying to balance work and family life.  She commented that at times your work may be more consuming and leave you feeling as though you are neglecting your family, or the other parts of your life that aren't your work.  But the opposite is also true, that at times your family will demand or deserve more of your time, and your work might take the appropriate backseat.  The key, she advised, is recognizing that this is (hopefully) temporary, and the better we are at recognizing when those situations arise, the better we can manage the relationship between those aspects of our life.  It was a refreshing and realistic piece of advice, given how often we have the unrealistic expectation that we can balance everything in our life.

A few weeks ago, we had the privilege of attending my sister-in-law's college graduation from South Dakota State University.  The title of this post was actually a line I lifted from the student speaker's address to the graduating class.  "Wherever you are, be there."  It was a simple, but powerful suggestion, that in our frenetic, hyper-connected world, where technology can more or less put us anywhere we want to be at any given time, we often overlook.  Whether you are a working-parent or a stay-at-home parent, or not even a parent at all.  When we try to be multiple places at once, or do multiple things at once, we never tend to either of them very well - like texting and driving for example.  I've commented before that being a stay-at-home parent of multiple kids becomes more or less a gigantic multi-task in attempt to survive (see earlier post).

When I was working I often felt a necessity (typically falsely perceived) that I needed to answer emails or take work calls if they came in after hours.  Even since my retirement, and my comittments to things outside of parenting have drastically decreased, I still need the daily reminder to "be there".  I've done my fair share of trolling social media while also "supervising" bathtime and justifying a "need" to rock Gus to sleep as an excuse to check the most recent news headlines on my smartphone`.  Beyond our all-consuming technology, I've plowed through countless kids books without recalling a single word I've just read because my mind was preoccupied on what I was going to make for dinner that night or how I was going to persuasively convince my wife that I should be allowed to go out drinking with the guys that coming weekend.  Fortunately I do get called out from time to time, like just the other day when, after checking the afternoon forecast on my phone before mindlessly flipping to my Facebook feed, I put my phone down after realizing I had wasted the last 5 minutes (likely more) of my life.  At that point, Havi, our three year-old, looked at me and said (verbatim), "It's so good to have you back, Dad."

Considering that being a stay-at-home parent doesn't typically require an excessive amount of high-level critical thinking (until it instantaneously does of course) and given the propensity of my mind wander to somewhat bizarre places, it can be easy for me to go through the motions.  As Isla, our oldest, has finished up her last year of preschool today, the idea of being wherever you are has been particularly poignant to me these last few months.  This fall, she'll start kindergarten and Havi will start a few days a week of preschool, which will have a noticeable impact on the daily level of craziness in our house.  As nice as this will be, especially after the chaos of summer that will surely ensue with all of three being home all of the time, it has helped me to be mindful of not wishing that time away, no matter how frustrating it can become.  It has allowed me to better embrace those moments when I am at wits end, a fraction of a second from throwing large objects across the house, when all three are simultaneously acting like, to borrow a term from Karen Alpert, "little a-holes".

Before Gus came along, and I was home with just the girls for a few months, there were a few rare occasions when I was able to get both Isla and Havi to take an afternoon  nap, typically after reading a good 25+ books.  When this happened, it was my golden opportunity to either try to get the things I thought I needed to get done around the house in relative peace and with much more efficiency, or just have a little "Jon time" - blogging, watching 90s music videos, reading the comments sections of online newspapers.  Every once in a while though I would just lay with the girls.  While this wasn't probably the most effective use of my time, I knew that those moments wouldn't always be present, and sometimes it's just nice to try and hold on to them before they pass.  And before attempting to nap with your kids becomes just plain creepy.  These were also likely the times when I was just really tired and needed a nap too.

About a year ago, I had a chance to chat with a parent of one of my former student employees.  In discussing my experiences so far as a stay-at-home dad, he made a comment that I don't think sums up parenting much better, whether you stay at home or not.  "The days can get long, but the years will go by fast."  As much as we try, we can't always be "on" as parents.  We need the other aspects of our lives; our relationships with our spouses and friends, our interests and hobbies, our work or vocation, to help make us who we are as individuals.  At times we may have to focus on one area more than another, and we may feel guilty for shortchanging those other parts or people.  But that is life, making a series of trade-offs that help us keep things in perspective.  If we're attentive to those moments and fully take them in, we'll feel them long after they are through.        
             

Thanks to these guys, I was at least able to stand up
following my second marathon attempt.

^Which included throwing up on the grounds of a church just as the 11am service was letting out, and getting the maximum use out of my registration fee by visiting the med tent for an IV and wheelchair transport post race.

*This means she was either a really big deal, or I was really not a big deal - I think both are equally true.

`I've always found the term "smartphone" a little ironic, considering a vast majority of what we do on them - watch cat videos, determine our Elf name, play Candy Crush, etc. are likely diminishing our intellectual capacity.

Subtitle of this post is a paraphrase of  David Fricke from the Sam Jones' Wilco documentary "I Am Trying to Break Your Heart".

I Have a Problem

My Name is Jon, and I’m an Aldiholic

I should disclose that I have not been compensated by Aldi in any manner for this post.  Should they find it in their interest to do so, I would gladly accept – preferably in the form of an Aldi gift card.  Just sayin’.

I get really excited for Sundays.  Not because I am a devout person; religious or football (more to come on those topics later).  I get excited for Sundays because that is when the new weekly ads for the grocery stores come out^.  Since my “retirement” I’ve begun to do most of the cooking in our house, which means I also do most of the grocery shopping.  I've actually done a majority of the grocery shopping for some time now because my wife somewhat despises the activity.  I don’t mind it, and have come to enjoy it as an adventurous outing.  It can even by therapeutic if I can go with out kids - which only happens after 8pm on Fridays and Saturdays.

As you may have learned from previous posts, I tend to skew a little to the frugal side (i.e. cheap).  I’m also a huge sucker for a good deal (or what I, often incorrectly, perceive to be a good deal).  If things that we consume with some frequency go on sale, and like mega-sale, I can get a little too excited.  These days, finding a good deal has become even more important because feeding a family of five, four of whom spend a vast amount of time in our own kitchen, is not an inexpensive endeavor.  Especially if you attempt to feed your kids something halfway healthy, or at least “healthy-sounding”.  You may recall that the top thing on my SAHDChristmas List a few years ago was food, and lots of it.

So enter in Aldi, a global discount supermarket chain that some have called the best in the world.  My first experience with Aldi wasn’t the most pleasant.  It occurred at a time when Aldi didn’t take credit or debit cards (“straight cash homey”), reusable shopping bags weren’t cool, and Aldi stores predominantly existed in lower income neighborhoods of larger cities and sported a heavy armed security presence.  I came back around to Aldi, which I’ve likened to finding grocery store religion, after I started staying home with the kids, and realized our skyrocketing grocery bills may require us to take out a second mortgage on our house.  I’ve contemplated reverting to the practice of my college days, donating plasma to cover the cost of groceries – typically frozen pizza and cheap beer at the time.

Like Ben Bailey (Mr. Cash Cab), I love Aldi for a number of reasons, but the biggest is obviously the low prices.   They do this in a number of ways, but the overall concept is to deliver high quality products with a relatively low-frills shopping experience.  They do this by keeping their inventory low, efficiently running their stores with minimal employees, requiring a deposit for your cart (something the company estimates saves them millions each year), and encouraging you to bring your own shopping bags by not providing plastic or paper bags (except for sale) at the check-out.  Unless I find something on sale, happen to have both a store and manufacturer coupons, and am shopping on double-coupon day, I seldom see prices cheaper than Aldi at any of the other local grocery retailers.*

Some of these cost cutting measures Aldi puts in place can definitely put people off, but I see it as a genius way to help consumers save money, time and sanity.  Take the limited inventory.  While most grocery stores offer around 40,000 items, Aldi offers around 1,500, and their stores (and subsequent storage space) are a fraction of the size of other grocery chains.  While this may limit a shoppers choices, as Barry Schwartz has pointed out in The Paradox of Choice (and I’ve referenced before), too much choice can lead to “analysis paralysis” and we end up not making a choice at all or default to the choices we’ve always made.  With limited selection, I spend less time mulling over what brand of cheddar cheese to get, hastily trying to calculate price per ounce in my head while pretending to be conscious of the nutrition label, and just grab the Friendly Farms in the cooler and go about my merry way.  This helps immensely when you have two kids engaged in an active fist-fight while riding in the grocery cart.  Of course the limited inventory means I can’t always find everything that I need, but can typically locate a suitable alternative – like the time I had to use lemon juice instead of lime juice for my Silus Salsa.  Katie, I promise it does not compromise the integrity of the dish.

Along with the low inventory keeping prices low and the lack of needing to hang on to easily misplaced coupons to receive those low prices, I've found that Aldi is quick to discount their already low prices on items that are getting close to their "use by" date (something that doesn't necessarily have any bearing on whether the product is still good) or may not be as cosmetically appealing (a tactic starting to take hold elsewhere).  I've happened upon this phenomenon at other grocery stores before, like the time I scored 15lbs of ground turkey for $15 from the "reduced meat bin".  But while it seems like other stores are hesitant to set a precedent of selling off the goods they will likely ultimately toss at a deep discount, Aldi lets the consumer decide if they think its a good deal.  Last summer our local Aldi had to close for a few weeks for some much needed store remodeling, and in effort to deplete their inventory of perishables, they were practically giving away fresh produce; charging $.25 for a pound of strawberries.  

You may think a no-frills shopping experience with children in tow would be appetite for destruction, and at first it certainly was.  Until our local Aldi expanded its store last summer to about double the size, the place was tiny.  Every time I went there with an entourage, I swore I'd only return on solo missions - a promise I was never able to keep because the prices are so irresistible.  But I quickly learned how the removal of some of the grocery store "amenities" catered toward families with young children has actually made my grocery shopping experience with my kids easier.  With no shopping carts with race-cars attached to the front, we have no arguments about who gets to sit in what particular seat.  With no on-site bakery, I don't get constantly pestered by the kids demanding a free cookie; a gracious but unnecessary (and somewhat unhealthy) gesture by some of the other local grocery stores.  No suckers or stickers at the check-out prevents the inevitable meltdown if one of the kids does not get his/her favorite color of the moment.  I have sensed that the older two have started to pick up on the lack of these "kid amenities" as they will often let out an audible grumble when I tell them we're headed to Aldi.

Beyond the low prices and the decreased chance of my kids getting a mouthful of cavities from all of the bakery cookies and Dum-Dums, there are a few other nuanced reasons I've come to enjoy shopping at Aldi, and developed a respect for the company in general.  One is the hours, as Aldi is only open from 9am-8pm each day.  While this isn't always convenient, I have often thought it a little excessive for stores to be open around the clock, like our other large local grocery store chain is.  Aldi is also closed most holidays.  This tells me that the company values its employees and believes that they should be celebrating those holidays with their families or just enjoying a day off and not working (and subsequently being paid holiday pay I presume).  Sure this forces me, and other Aldiholics, to be more diligent in our planning for our culinary needs, but it's the price you pay - or actually don't pay, because you're saving so much money.

There is also a recognizable Aldi culture with customers who shop there.  This manifests itself in the numerous times I have been given a cart by a finished shopper, only to have my attempts at giving them the quarter I planned to use for a cart repeatedly refused.  Or the time when a woman stopped me in the store and gave me a $10 off coupon for purchases totaling more than $50 because she noticed I had small kids (and a cart overflowing with groceries) and "claimed" she wouldn't spend $50 on groceries for just her and her husband.  I had already made quick work of the same coupon we got in the mail earlier that week.  Of course there are also those extreme Aldiholics who don't have much time for meandering families of four, or anyone for that matter, getting in their way when they are trying to get their "savings on".  Stay out of their way and you should be in good shape.

The main reason I consider myself an "Aldiholic" is because I feel as though I can try to feed our family relatively healthy and tasty meals without completely blowing our grocery budget. I can purchase fresh produce for the kids without gasping in astonishment when they weigh the bag of grapes at the checkout'.  A plus because they will consume fresh fruit & veggies until their fecal matter is various shades of the rainbow (Too much?  Probably.)  They've also developed somewhat expensive food preferences - salmon, shrimp, T-Bone steak, not Kraft singles, etc., and their quantities of consumption probably won't be decreasing anytime in the near future.  Currently our 15 month old seems to eat like a 15 year old, so I'm a little scared of what our grocery bill might look like in 10-15 years.  Maybe by then we'll all be able to just print our meals.

Until that point comes, I'm going to keep shopping at Aldi, and I'd suggest you check it out if you have one in your area.  In can be overwhelming at first, so I'd recommend trying to find an "Aldiholic" to go with for your first experience.  If you don't have one in your area, you may soon, as they seem to be expanding pretty rapidly.  They just opened stores in California, so if any of you West Coasters want to fly me out to provide some veteran assistance, just let me know.  I'll have to check my calendar and ensure that it doesn't conflict with any of my own regularly scheduled trips to Aldi.
            

Sure they look excited, but you should see the look on my face.
Outright giddy.  

^I used to get excited for both Sundays and Wednesday, as until the start of 2016, Aldi would release their weekly ad on Wednesdays instead of Sundays.  While I appreciate the uniformity, it has made waking up on Wednesday considerably less exciting.

*Another thing I like about Aldi is they don't accept coupons, which is great because then I never have to wonder if I'm actually getting a good deal by using the coupon.

'At Aldi all of their produce is pre-packaged & weighed.  It saves the staff time at the check-out and keeps you from being surprised when you learn you selected a 20lb bag of grapes that is going to cost you about $50,  

In a (not so) Sentimental Mood

What am I going to do with a gun rack?

The state of affairs around our house have been a little chaotic over the last month.  Let me rephrase that, a little more chaotic than average.  Hence the reason this post is a few weeks overdue.  We've been attempting to tackle some lingering minor projects that always seem to turn into major undertakings when you add children to the mix.  When the to-do list is long, and your kids have a way of adding to it faster than you can cross things out, it can really start to get out of hand.

This particular bout of excessive chaos started with a bunk bed.  The girls got one from Santa for Christmas - handcrafted by the Elves using the sturdiest North Pole timber.  Or, manufactured in China using the cheapest particle board possible.  The girls were sharing a full size bed which they were starting to outgrow, as we had them sleep the short way because Havi liked to commandeer most of the mattress space.  Isla's feet were getting pretty close to the edge, and I was pretty much over the lower half of my legs dangling to the ground when one of them needed an adult presence to expedite their journey to dreamland.  We aggressively suggested that they should ask for a bunk bed from Santa Claus, and apparently they made the nice list.  

What this ultimately meant though was that we were going to have to switch bedrooms with the girls, since we were pretty certain a twin over full bunk bed would take up about 75% of the floor space in their current room.  I didn't protest too much, considering all I really do in my bedroom is occasionally sleep.  We figured we could get by in the smaller room and giving the girls the larger room would allow more space for some of their toys - like the three story dollhouse they also got for Christmas that required a Master's Degree in Engineering to assemble.  Of course we also had to assemble the actual bunk bed, as the Elves packaged it nicely into two excessively cumbersome boxes for easier shipping (via China, of course).  I'm happy to announce that it is still intact.

After switching rooms, this sign quickly showed up on the girl's bedroom door.
Five-teen & three-teen....

If you thought the process would be as easy as moving our bed and wardrobe into the girls' room, assembling the bunk bed and moving their stuff into our old room, you would of course be grossly mistaken.  Before you switch rooms naturally their is the obligatory re-painting of the room, which itself involves at least four separate parts - deciding on a general hue/color scheme, painting samples of different paints that essentially look identical to the untrained eye, finalizing the paint choice (which someone in the family will ultimately regret once the room is completely painted), and applying the actual coats of paint.  This process can take at least 4-6 weeks, more if you attempt to involve your kids in the color decision process and/or painting application.

While we had most things moved out of the room to paint, we also figured that we should probably give the room its first thorough cleaning since, well before we moved in.  This pushed the project completion date back at least a week or two.  It doesn't help that your typical window of opportunity to try and get things like this done is the 45 minutes from when the kids finally fall asleep to when you're ready to pack it in for the night as well.  There were a couple of days when Gus watched me, stuck in his crib for much longer than he wanted to be after waking up from his nap, hurriedly try to finish some painting or cleaning.  I didn't want to risk non-removable light green footprints traipsed throughout our second level.  I made it clear to my wife that I loved the color of the room we were moving into (a pale salmon), and wouldn't change it for the world.

Once the room was painted and the bunk bed assembled, something we were able to do in relative peace as our gracious neighbor had the girls over for a few hours on a Sunday afternoon, all that was left was to put the rooms themselves together - moving dressers, clothes, corresponding wall art and floor rugs that cover most of the wood floors we paid to have refinished, etc.  Again, should be a fairly straightforward task, except that if your going to be moving clothes from one room to another, it seems like a good time to go through those clothes and remove any items that no longer fit or won't be worn by your children, you know, "just because".  I don't know how kids have a tendency to amass so many articles of clothing, especially given how few things they will actually let you put on them when they reach a certain age.  We recently parted with three 20 gallon storage bins of baby clothes that ranged from 0-12 months.  Three full bins of the smallest clothes a child will ever wear.  We even left out the ones permi-stained from spit-up and bowel movements, of which there were many.  

Clothes are one of many things that small children have a propensity to accumulate.  Between the toys, games, books (thanks Dolly Parton*), craft projects, personal care items, etc. I'm amazed at the amount of shit, er, I mean stuff, that seems to magically appear in your house when kids come along.  And I say "magically" appear because I have no recollection on how a vast majority came to be indefinitely strewn about the floors of our house.  While we attempt to keep things organized, being home with the kids all day tends to making any sort of cleaning up of children's things an exercise in sheer futility.  We unsuccessfully try to re-implement the "toys need to be put away before we play with a new one" rule about every 2 hours.  Thankfully, with our sleeping arrangement adjustments, we have made a conscious effort at some spring cleaning to meagerly pare down the kids items we have.

The children's book collection, post pare down.

While we are by no means hoarders, it can become easy to feel like one as I look around our house.  I am really one who dislikes clutter and like things to be organized, have a place and be used.  The simple side of me knows that we have too much, but it's not always as easy as tossing everything that seems excessive in the trash.  The practical side of me dislikes tossing things because I hate throwing things away that conceivably I could come up with a way to re-purpose.  Presumably into a fun and crafty project for the kids that I could put on Pinterest to make it seem like I'm so creative and make every other parent feel incompetent.  At the moment our "craft box" is overflowing with supplies and best intentions.  If you're looking for something, let me know as I'll probably be tossing its contents at the end of the week.  We also have a massive amount of tissue paper and gift bags - Christmas, Birthday, Baby, all occasion, you name it, we've got it.  If you're in the market for any of those items, let me know.  I'll give you a great deal.  

It can also be hard to get rid of the kid's stuff because there tends to be some sentimental value tied to it.  Even more when it comes to things that are crafted by your children, especially for you.  If you have kids in daycare or school, odds are they occasionally (or often) come home with little projects that they have been working on - a handprint turkey cut-out around Thanksgiving, a painted flower pot for Mother's Day, you know what I'm talking about.  This stuff is great, and when they show it to you, beaming with pride, your reaction is always the same - "oh, that's great honey!"  But what do you do with it?  Probably put it on the fridge for a few weeks and then stick it in a bin somewhere.  In her book Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mom, Amy Chua recounts a time she refused to accept a homemade birthday card from one of her daughters because she thought her daughter had not but much effort into it.

I absolutely love watching my kids be creative, especially when they are at home and take the initiative to make something themselves.  This year for Christmas, Isla made Jess and I a photo collage of landscapes she had cut-out of magazines and calendars.  She glued them on to some red fabric she had found in our "craft box" and wrote Mom & Dad on it.  She worked on it all by herself for multiple days and wouldn't let us see what she was doing.  She even wrapped it up, put it under the Christmas tree and made us open it early.  It was fucking adorable, and to see the excitement on her face as we opened it made my heart melt.  But honestly, what are we going to do with this thing?  I've currently put it on display in our basement stairwell art gallery; a cavernous and dimly lit space where we've begun to hang most everything our kids draw, paint, color, or scribble.

Merry Christmas!
Sometimes on a really stressful day I'll just spend
some time staring at the soothing landscapes.

It creates an interesting conundrum, finding a balance of holding on to certain keepsakes for your kids, encouraging them to be creative, and not depriving them of a somewhat of typical childhood, while also ensuring that your sanity and ability to navigate the walkways of your home remain intact.  Beyond our basement stairwell art gallery, we've tried to incorporate our kid's "art" into our home decor when possible.  Despite taking Art History in college, I am no art aficionado, and feel like displaying our kids' creations provides a better backstory than "we bought it at Ikea".  I'm also somewhat ashamed to say that I've recently realized that grandparents (especially great ones) can make a good repository for excessive kid's art projects.  They absolutely love that stuff, and it can be a solid return on investment for the supplies and postage.  Mail a few paintings or drawings from your little ones off to grandma and grandpa and you've easily increased your piece of the inheritance.  It can also serve as a way to say "thank you" for hanging on to all of those baby items from 25 years ago that had to be passed down to the grandchildren.

Homemade outfits circa the early 80s.

I've also realized that sometimes you just have to take advantage of those times when you're likely feeling a little overwhelmed by the inevitable clutter that has taken control of your house, toss sentiment by the wayside and start pitching stuff at will.  You might have some hesitation to start, but those feelings tend to dissipate quickly when you need to address the next kid related crisis.  Sure your five year-old's masterpiece of your stick-figure family drawn in their favorite colors standing underneath a rainbow can be hard to let go of, but when you have multiple copies (one for every time the three year old changed her favorite color) you can probably part with a few.  You may be forced to address the question of what happened to the toilet paper roll dinosaur they created, but that gives you prime opportunity to hone your parental ambiguous answer skills.  "You know, honey, I'm not exactly sure what happened to that creative project you worked so hard on."  This is not a blatant lie, because while you know it ended up in the trash because you put it there, you're not exactly sure what garbage truck picked it up or what landfill was its final destination.

Often I can get frustrated with how frustrated I get (not a typo) with the clutter and the chaos of child-rearing, even though I'm well aware that it will always be there in some form.  As someone who likes things orderly and organized, and someone who spends an exorbitant amount of time at home with my kids, I can be easily overwhelmed by how messy things can get in what I'll call the "parental periphery" - where accessories (or "excessive-ries") can often be conflated with necessities.  The bunk bed situation is a classic example.  I felt that once it was assembled we could relocate some of the kid's toys to their room, get their closet under control, pare down our children's book collection and hold them accountable for keeping their new room semi-clean.  We'd have that taken care of, things would be perfectly in place, and we could go along humming about normal daily routine.  Shockingly, the bunk bed hasn't been a silver bullet.  It hasn't really even served its purpose because Isla has just taken to sleeping with Havi on the bottom bunk anyway.  There are still clothes on the floor and books not reshelved.  The wall art hasn't been hung and who knows when it ever will.

But I know that's missing the point, and we should all know that's missing the point.  We just always seem to need occasional reminders of that.  And when I do, I like to revisit the musings of one of my favorite late 20th Century philosophers.  Now off to throw the duvet on the floor so I can actually sleep in the bed.^


*No seriously, thank you Dolly.  The Imagination Library is an amazing philanthropic organization.  I just wish the books all came in the same size so they would fit better on the bookshelf we had to buy to hold all of the books you sent us.

^Who am I kidding, the duvet is already on the floor.  Just like it always is.