Discovering Fatherhood

Category: children

  • The Little Dictator

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    The day begins with breakfast. I have made banana pancakes and they are really good. The little dictator has not had a taste of the pancakes but she yells that this is not what she wants. I try to reason with her but she yells and throws her sippy-cup in protest. I go back to the kitchen and prepare something else. I come back into the dinning room and present my new offering. The little dictator is still not pleased. Apparently she is not in a good mood this morning.

    Breakfast ends and we head over to the little dictators toy area. The little dictator wants to play and so do I, but I have to use the bathroom. This is not acceptable to her. The little dictator screams “play!” I tell her that I will be very quick and the little dictator screams some more and demands that we play now. I head to the bathroom in defiance and the little dictator pounds on the door demanding that I stop this disobedience and that I return to the room to play. I leave the bathroom and proceed to fulfill her demands.

    Playtime starts off pleasant. The little dictator pulls out her blocks and makes a tower. Not more than a few seconds go by and she demolishes the tower. The little dictator smiles ever so slightly and turns her eyes towards me. I am not sure what she is thinking but I wonder if she is trying to send a message.

    The little dictator demands that we now color with her markers. I grant her wish and pull out the drawing pad and markers. The little dictator cannot be limited to such a thing as a drawing pad. Her imagination is much bigger than that. It encompasses the carpet as well. I encourage that she stay on the drawing pad. The little dictator refuses. Markers are taken away and a new rage comes over her. Crying, followed by the usual rant of, “mine! Mine! MINE!”

    Suddenly the little dictator realizes that markers are overrated and that she is hungry once again. I sarcastically point out that we have some great pancakes, but the little dictator is not amused. I think sarcasm is beyond her. The little dictator proceeds to the fridge where she awaits for me to open it and grant her whatever she wishes. Ice cream and mangos are at the top of her list. Ice cream is denied, which causes another rage, but quickly she realizes that mangos are just as good. The mangos have just touched the plate and I hear the little dictator calling out, “Sofia! Sofia!” This is the little dictator’s favorite TV show. She is quite obsessed with it. “Sofia! Sofia!” I finally cave and allow her to watch one episode. There is no sound from her for 22 minutes.

    Bliss.

    The show ends and the little dictator demands that another episode be played. “Sofia! Sofia!” I refuse and a hissy fit ensues. I ignore it and the little dictator proceeds to go play in her room. She calls for me at full force. I go in to see what the little dictator needs and she runs at me full speed and says, “Daddy! Daddy!” She reaches for me and greets me with, “Hi Daddy.” I smile and pick the little dictator up, “hi baby.” I stare into the beautiful bluesih, gray eyes that are before me and smile.

    This is my little dictator. My baby girl.

  • Prway

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    My daughter never seizes to amaze me.

    As a father I recognize that my duty is to help my daughter grow emotionally, spiritually, intellectually, socially and physically. I, as well as my wife, spend many of our hours in the day helping our daughter to grow and learn. Recently Claire learned how to pray. As Catholic Christians, all of our prayers begin with the sign of the cross. It is a simple, yet powerful gesture that sums up the faith and the power of the cross and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Claire kind of sort of can do it. Usually she lifts her hand towards her forehead and then brings it down towards her chin in a circular motion. Wax on, wax off sort of thing. We’re working on it.

    Our prayer time with Claire is short. After Claire attempts the sign of the cross she places her palms together to pray. This she can do really well. Most of her prayer time is before meals and before going to bed. We keep it short and sweet because, well… she’s not even two yet. Claire has come to recognize that before every meal we must give thanks and pray. She has become sort of the prayer police at home.

    It isn’t unusual for my wife and I to find ourselves pulled a million different directions. Between my wife’s night shift work, lack of sleep, and part time Masters Degree studies and my Youth Ministry schedule that can be…unpredictable at best; we find our selves on the go all the time and exhausted. It is challenging to make prayer a priority every morning. We do it, but it is challenging.

    A few days ago I found myself rushing to get to a night meeting at church. I had cooked our meal and was all “go, go, go”. I put the plate of food on the table and immediately began to eat. I was interrupted by my daughter’s words: “prway!” It took a second to register. “Prway? Yes. I need to pray. Give thanks.” I put the fork down and my wife, daughter and I prayed together.

    It is so easy to get caught up in the business of life. It is so easy to rush to that important thing. What we do is important and necessary, or else we wouldn’t do it. Yet, we must slow down to give thanks. To “prway”, as a wise young child is teaching me.

    As we enter into these next few weeks of family interactions, feasts, laughter, hurrying and last minute shopping excursions let us not forget to give thanks. To pause and “prway”. For life is a gift that we have for a short time and praying is a necessary way of giving thanks to God for it. My daughter teaches me this every time a plate touches our table.

    “Daddy prway!”

  • To Jersey and Back

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    My cousin got married this past week in New Jersey so the family traveled to partake in the festivities. We have stayed with Claire in hotel rooms before but mostly when she was in her infant stage. Putting her down to sleep as an infant a few feet away from us wasn’t a big deal–she would pretty much sleep through anything and we could carry on. Now as a toddler it is a whole new ball game.

    At home we have walls to filter the noise but in the hotel room there was no place with walls to go to, except for the bathroom. As most kids do, Claire needs her nap. A few months ago Claire missed her naptime due to family visiting and it was pretty bad. She wouldn’t go to sleep that night, but not only that it threw her off her schedule for two weeks.

    FOR TWO WEEKS!!!

    Needless to say Jess and I understand the sacredness of naptime. We are not messing with it. So, in a hotel in Jersey we put Claire down in her playpen and we proceeded to eat our lunch in the only place with separate walls. The bathroom. I know, it’s gross but I much rather eat there than wake my daughter from her nap. TWO WEEKS PEOPLE!

    My wife and I had hard tacos and chips. When I went to order this meal I didn’t think of the amount of noise the said tacos and chips would make while eating. Amateurs. I know. But tacos sounded so good, especially when all you can eat in this part of Jersey is Italian. As much as we love Italian you can only have so many cannollis before you lose your cannollis.

    Anyways, so I sat on the toilet and my wife sat on the tub. We whispered and ate our food as quietly as possible. It was romantic in a weird sort of way. “I love the way your eyes shine off the porcelain my love.” We finished our quasi-romantic meal and headed ever so quietly to the main living area where Claire slumbered. Jess grabbed her laptop to study and I began to write this blog post on my iPad.

    I looked into seeing if hotels have rooms made for large families with separate sleeping quarters and some do, but they are ridiculously expensive. Our hotels website in NJ didn’t seem to have any.

    My wife and I were fine with needing to accommodate for nap time, but what do you do when you have more than one child and you cannot afford the presidential sweet your hotel offers with that extra room? I would love to hear what other families do when they travel with multiple kids and have to stay in a hotel.

  • Her Words

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    Language is pretty amazing. The fact that we can create an alphabet that connects strings of letters into words; that when spoken create sounds; that create meaning; that convey thought and emotion is pretty astounding.

    My daughter has so much to say these days. The world is new and filled with exciting things and she wants to tell us all about it. I can’t help but laugh every time Claire goes off on a rant about the neighbor’s dog barking, or about the cat jumping off the couch. Claire is speaking in her own baby language and I cant help but wonder what is going through that little head of hers. It really is amazing to see how vocal she is.

    I don’t know about your kids but mine says things with certain pitches, tones and slurs. Each word comes out in this unique and ridiculously cute way. When she was 4 months old she made some noises that were awesome to hear. Claire couldn’t quite blow kisses; instead she did this clicking noise with her mouth. As Claire gets older her noises, voice and words change. My wife and I were amazed to hear that Claire’s voice had changed a few months ago. She woke up and sounded like someone else’s kid. It was sad in a sense, losing the old baby voice. Yet the new toddler voice is great. I’ve recorded some of Claire’s sounds and I’m really glad I did. I watch the videos every now and then and it reminds me of the change and growth.

    I know soon enough she will be speaking plainly but right now there is something so neat about her babble. We are enjoying it and at the same time excited for when it all makes sense. My friend Scott jokingly says that when kids are young we are excited for them to walk and talk, and then for the rest of their lives we’re telling them to sit down and shut up. I’m sure there is much truth in that.

    The miracle of the human person unfolds before me everyday through my daughter. Today I am noticing her words. Maybe tomorrow it will be the change in her fingers and toes, or facial features and hair. Everyday I am blown away by the awesomeness (in the literal sense of the word) that God has bestowed on human beings. Who knew that discovering fatherhood would have me discover more than what being a father means. Discovering the complexities of language, sounds and words—things we never really pay attention to reveals how mysterious and amazing the world I live in is.

    All this brought to my life through a 1-½ year old.

    * The above image is a word cloud made up of the many words found in this blog.

  • Us. Together.

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    A few days ago I was cleaning the house. The floor needed cleaning so I grabbed the broom and began to sweep. Claire has a toy broom and dust pan that her grandma bought her that she keeps by her toy kitchen. As soon as Claire saw me sweeping in the hall she ran over to her kitchen and grabbed her own broom. I saw her do this and thought to myself, “if only I could train her to cut the grass.”

    Claire came over to the hall where I was and she began to sweep with me. At first it was cute, but then Claire began to get in the way. The pile of dirt, dog/cat hair I had collected was being knocked around. I guided Claire so that she could use her broom and collect the dirt. For the most part she understood and moved the dirt towards the direction I was sweeping. It wasn’t perfect, orderly or neat but she did it. After a few seconds of this she would inevitably kick the dirt pile or drop the broom and make a mess.

    The neat freak in me wanted to pick my daughter up and move her to another part of the house so that I could finish sweeping. However, I recognized that efficiency was not the important thing here. My child collaborating in my work was.

    Us. Together.

    We had to stop, go back, re-sweep, and re-sweep again. By the time we finished sweeping it had taken 10 times longer than usual. Even then you could still see some of the places we had missed.

    What would happen if God decided to do everything on His own? If instead of letting us collaborate with Him, He picked us up and moved us to another room? Sure it would all get done in half the time, it would be perfect, but something would be missing…us.

    As my daughter got in front of me and knocked around my carefully collected pile of dirt I recognized that God is constantly inviting us to collaborate with Him—to join Him in His work. If He wanted to, God could do the work on His own. We usually get in the way of His plans and knock things around, etc. Yet I think He prefers it this way—us, together. I don’t think He prefers the messiness of it, or the fact that we can really screw things up. I do think however that the messiness and those screw-ups, etc. are tolerable because it is done together. As I stare at my daughter joining me in the work of our home I cant help but want her there; to serve with me; to create with me; even if it isn’t perfect.

    Us. Together.

     

  • 3 Seconds

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    A few days ago I was playing with Claire in the living room. As  usual our dog, Rocky wants in on the action so he forces his huge head in between Claire and I in order to “play”. I usually shoo Rocky away but he is persistent and my patience fades quickly. Finally after several times of shooing Rocky away I whacked him upside the head with a book Claire and I were reading. It was a quick reaction. Whack the dog, and we are back to reading.

    The whole thing took 3 seconds.

    Claire saw me whack Rocky. Then, she turned and looked at me and began to whack the dog with her book. Rocky ran away and Claire chased him, laughing the entire time as she whacked him upside the head. For the next half hour I am trying to keep Claire from whacking the dog with her book, shoe and anything else she gets her hands on. I distract her, avert her attention and even try to bribe her with food and juice. Finally, Claire is able to focus on other things and leaves the dog alone. Rocky stayed downstairs the rest of that day.

    You always hear people say that children are like sponges and suck up all they see and hear. I believe it and am aware of it, so I try do whatever I can to be a good example. Clearly I failed in this instance. After this incident I began to reflect on all the other things that I do that are just “reactions”. Some of my reactions are great, and others not so much. It is difficult to try and change these reactions, because they are just that—reactions. Most of the time we don’t even realize we’re doing them.

    One thing that I discovered in all of this is that my daughter is watching and hearing all that I do. What she sees and hears isn’t filtered as a reaction that I can’t help, or as a calculated response I meant to do. Claire simply sees and hears it all. Claire sees my great moments and the moments I chose to settle; when I pray or chose not to pray; she watches when I treat her mother with respect or snap at her; when I talk well about others or criticize; when I eat well or stuff my face with junk. Claire sees, hears and she responds by doing as I do. All it takes is one example, one action or reaction and it is processed and imitated. 3 seconds and I either have a great new habit established or I’m spending half an hour telling her that she shouldn’t do that.

    3 seconds…

  • Fitting Them In

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    Recently I heard someone say that today’s generation of parents are trying to fit their children into their lives as opposed to changing their lives for their children. I had never heard it put this way, but as I have been thinking about it I realize it is true. It has always been understood that children change your life and that you therefore must make adjustments for that change.

    Children require us to live differently.

    We see this on TV and movies every now and then. A man finds out his spouse is pregnant and he states, “Well I guess I have to change my ways.” The man will tend to stop staying out late with friends, be more responsible about financial expenses, and change habits that are not conducive to being a father. Obviously, it isn’t that simple but the idea is that things need to change due to this new life entering the world. Unfortunately this isn’t really happening with many new parents.

    More and more we see that my generation and the ones that follow are not willing to transform their lives so that their children can benefit from it. Instead we are attempting to fit our children into the lifestyles we currently have. Square block into a round hole kind of thing.

    A few years ago I had a friend that was into the nightclub scene. This friend would go dancing Thursday through Saturday nights because she loved dancing and that was her thing. Baby came along and after a few months of being a mom she attempted to pick up the nightclub life again. My friend would get frustrated because her baby would keep her from going dancing. Thankfully, reason set in and she realized that she needed to change because a nightclub lifestyle is not conducive to a new born.

    Another example.

    I have an acquaintance who loves hip-hop. He listens to it all the time on his way to work. One day he gave his mother a ride to the grocery store and he had his music blasting on the stereo as usual. His mom turned the stereo off and smacked him on the chest (while driving). “What was that for?!” he asked. The mother began to chew her son out because listening to the cursing, ill reference to women, etc. that this particular hip-hop song had was not okay with a 9 month old in the back seat. Unfortunately my friend didn’t take his moms advice seriously and continues to play his “dirty hip-hop” as his mom calls it, and now has a 3 year old with a seriously messed up vocabulary, lack of respect for his mother and a bad attitude.

    When I first heard about this “fitting them in” style of parenting I thought to myself, “those selfish people, how dare they do such a thing”. However, the more I reflect on this I realize I too am guilty of trying to “fit them in”. I have this fence that we have had up for a few months now and I have been attempting to stain it. Part of it is done and the other part isn’t. My goal has been to stain the fence and fit Claire in when it isn’t interrupting the fence project. I’m sure I can come up with more examples, but you don’t need a 6-page post of my ridiculousness.

    Clearly we all have things we enjoy doing and things that we need to do that demand our time and attention. This fitting them in thing is more of an overall mentality that seems to be dominating my generation and the ones following. I personally think it all stems from the selfish-its-all-about-me way that most of us in the U.S.A have been led to believe is part of our Constitution. Entitlement I believe is the word. It is scary to have a “fitting them in” mentality about our children because they become just one more thing. The gym, mowing the lawn, and chores around the house—these are all things that are okay to fit into our lives, but not our children.

    I believe we have to live differently when we have children. We can’t be selfish about our lives because our children suffer and we also suffer. It isn’t easy. I struggle with this all the time. So from this newbie dad to those who bother to read this blog lets keep praying for each other and keep each other accountable. Lets not fit our children in like we do client meetings, phone conversations or fence staining. Our children are our priority and they should get first dibs.

  • Willing to Watch

     

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    This a post from a fellow blogger Matthew Warner from his blog the Radical Life: http://theradicallife.org/willing-to-watch. This is a great post and one I’ve been wanting to write about.

    Enjoy!

    I have the privilege of taking my son to his Taekwondo class every week. It happens to be during the normal work day, so I build my work schedule around it.

    But when I go, and he’s out there practicing, it’s always tempting to pull out my phone and “be productive.” Especially when he’s waiting in line for his turn to do something, listening to the instructor, etc.

    But how does my son see it all? For the most part, he’s too caught up in the moment out on the floor to notice me. He’s usually focused on kicking a target, learning a new block or watching a more advanced student.

    But every once in awhile he looks up for me, over to my spot on the sideline. And not just to make sure I’m still there, but to make sure I’m watching. He’s excited about something he’s doing and he instinctively wants me to share in that moment with him. He’ll have this look on his face that says, “See what I just did, Dad!? Are you proud of me? Do you care? Are you with me!?”

    These are important moments, and I’m convinced that the summation of these seemingly trivial moments will contribute more to my relationship with my son and who he becomes than almost anything else. They help determine whether *he* cares about what he’s doing, how much he values himself and how proud he feels.

    And the thing is, these moments are unpredictable. They can happen at any moment. And if every time he looks over to connect with me I’m looking at my phone or my work or somebody else instead, I’ve missed that important moment. And I’ve given the impression to him – rightly or wrongly – that I’m not watching him at all.

    It’s simply not worth missing those moments. Whatever extra work I would have gotten done. Whatever entertainment I could have engaged on my phone or in conversation with another parent won’t have been worth it.

    I even used to spend time during his class typing reminders on my phone of things to work with him on after class — advice on a particular technique or how he needs to bow more deeply or say “yes sir” more loudly. But even that, if all he sees when he looks over is me on my phone, I won’t be giving him what he needs most in that moment.

    Now, instead, I watch the whole time as best I can. I try not to take my eyes off him, just at the small chance I’ll get to give him another smile that says, “I’m with you, son!”

    I watch him run. I watch him listen. I watch him help others. I watch others help him. I watch his eyes light up when he breaks a board with a single kick, as he realizes just how powerful he is. In that moment, how could there possibly be a more “productive” way to spend my time?

    Sure, when he’s older he’ll appreciate a dad who loved him by putting a roof over his head, worked hard all his life, carted him around to his various activities, celebrated with him and encouraged him to be his best. But I think what he needs even more than that is a dad who’s willing to watch.

  • Daddy’s Lap

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    Claire is on my lap. We are in an doctor’s waiting room. She cries and screams because she is in pain. I hold her on my lap soothing her, living with her pain. It hurts me more emotionally and spiritually than it does her physically, that I know for sure. I rub her legs and run my fingers through her curly hair. I hold her tight against my chest and whisper, “Daddy is here. It’s going to be okay.” Claire calms down and then moves away from me as if trying to deal with the pain on her own. She stops, cries, and runs back to me. I begin the comforting process again.

    While Claire is on my lap I am able to soothe her. The pain is still present and will not go away. However, I am with her through the pain. Somehow this makes a difference.

    Her father is present in a very real way and going through this pain with her.

    This isn’t the first time you have encountered this story. This is your story. Our story. You have had pain: emotional, spiritual, and physical. You have hurt, been upset, maybe even cried. As I held Claire in that room I recognized very clearly that the pain we experience often doesn’t make sense, at least not right away and maybe never on this side of heaven. The pain is there but so is our Father. In my imperfect fatherhood I am able to recognize God’s Fatherhood. My fatherhood is an image of His. My love for Claire is powerful because it is based on His Fatherhood.

    Maybe it is tough as a man to picture yourself as a child on the lap of God the Father. Think of the times you have held your child on your lap. You can’t take the pain away but you can live in the pain with them. Our Father does the same thing. He isn’t taking the pain away, but He will endure it with you. Most of the time you and I jump out of the Father’s lap and try to deal with the pain on our own terms. Instead of coming back to Him like my daughter did we run away and find other ways to cope with the pain. Some of these ways lead to more pain. I think God the Father is waiting for us to run back to Him so that he can rub our legs, run His fingers through our hair, hold us tight against His chest, and whisper, “Daddy is here. It’s going to be okay.”

    May we have the humility, wisdom, and desire to let Him take care of us in the deepest of pains.

  • The Pacifier

     

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    If you have had a child for more than a few days you will know about the awesome power of the pacifier. Whether you call it a paci, binkie or dummy (the British apparently call it that) it rocks. It is a simple thing, really. A piece of plastic that goes into the mouth of a child. Yet to parents this piece of plastic is essential, dare I say one cannot fully parent without it. We’ll…maybe I can’t. The paci calms the frightened child, it soothes the tired, it makes parents relax and praise God for this most wonderful creation.

    The history of the paci is one that isn’t very clear. Some say there is evidence for pacifiers going back to ancient Egypt. Some say that farmers would give the tips of corn husks to their children as a way to calm them. Personally, I believe God almighty brought it down on a golden plate to parents with a host of angels surrounding it while the Halo soundtrack played in the background. “Here is my gift to you my child. Use it wisely.”

    There are not many things that cause me to be upset. However, when I have a screaming child in the backseat and I have 20 minutes to go before I get home due to traffic; not having packed the paci is an epic fail that leaves me…let’s just say upset. Needless to say I always check the bag for the paci. I’m ok with not having an extra change of clothes, or missing dippers, but the paci is a must.

    Honestly, I don’t get why my daughter can be calmed almost instantly by a paci, but I don’t need to. As long as it works it is all good! There is comfort in knowing the such a awesome tool exists in the arsenal of desperate dads everywhere.

    As I was showing my wife this post prior to publishing she brought it to my attention that our daughter will have to be weened off the paci soon. I started to freak out and get upset. The wife put a paci in my mouth…all is good now.

    Praise God for the gift of the  paci!