Today was a normal day. My wife and I woke up and got the kids ready. We prayed. Breakfast was made. Diapers were changed. As I sat on the couch killing a few minutes before we had to leave it struck me. I’m not really sure how it happened but today my eldest began kindergarten. I stood up and knew I wanted to capture the moment. I found a piece of paper and threw together a homemade sign announcing the news. A picture was taken and I am now feeling like time is slipping by.
I’m not one of those fathers that don’t spend time with his kids. I pride myself in giving a lot of my time to my kids. Yet, no matter how much I give of myself to my girls they are still growing up so fast. It seems like just yesterday I brought my firstborn home. How can she already be in kindergarten? Cecilia my youngest is walking and doesn’t want to be rocked to sleep anymore. We use to rock Cecilia to sleep all the time and now she pushes away to lay down and fall asleep on her own.
I see the transformation in these girls moment by moment. Every day I encounter my girls and relish in their new gained knowledge, discoveries, and wonder. I am always amazed at how much they can do. Claire played her very first game of Settlers of Catan yesterday. She tied with me for first place. Anyone that has ever played this game knows that nobody wins their first time. Cecilia can do sign language when she wants more food. She can sign for milk and water. Amazing. I can barely speak English most days.
I recognize that a milestone like entering primary school is a big deal for most. Maybe that’s why there is this nostalgic feeling of “where did my little ones go?” I don’t want time to freeze so that my girls stay little. I want them to reach their full potential as God intended it. However, I wish there was a way to hold on to these younger years a little longer. Hold on to them and rest in them.
On days like this, I thank God for the gift of my girls, my wife, and the blessing that they are. Praise the Lord for life, for children, for growth. There are definitely some bittersweet moments with these gals. I love seeing them small, but I also wish they could wipe their own behinds. I love listening to Claire talk about all the cool things going on with her, but sometimes I wish she would just pause and not say anything for a few minutes.
It is all gift friends. Gift.
The wiping of butts. Gift. The ongoing nagging and whining. Gift. The having to go into the bedroom one more time because there might be a monster. Gift.
I hope that I can be aware of the giftedness I have been given. All of the time.
Well, as I began to look at an average day I recognized that there was much interaction with each of my girls, but I could not really call it quality time. On the way to school, we may chat about random stuff, or depending on Claire’s mood sit quietly the whole way there. We always eat dinner together, but between one kid breaking down because they are tired, and the other declaring they don’t like our food it certainly doesn’t feel like quality time.
I realized very quickly that on an average day I am not really spending much quality time with my kids. It was a really depressing realization. I Googled this “15 minutes a day” thing and sure enough its a thing. I’m not gonna lie it feels cheap. 15 minutes of quality time in a whole day and that’s going to make a difference? Well, the reality is that it does work. Here’s what I’ve learned from putting this into practice:
Any parent worth their weight in diapers isn’t going to limit their interaction with their child to just 15 minutes a day. This is the minimum time we should have with our kids. It sounds pathetic since the average amount of time browsing Facebook in the US is 40 minutes a day. What I have found is that the 15-minute rule is a minimum that helps me to be intentional about making sure I spend quality time with my kids. I aim to spend more quality time with them but at the very least each kid will get 15 minutes a day.
One of the problems we have in our society is the inability to slow down. We are always running a million miles an hour. This is especially difficult when you are commuting, or living in a city that instigates never slowing down. I find that the 15-minute rule helps me slow down and recognize that I need to be present to my girls and that these 15 minutes must not be rushed through. When I am intentional about slowing down I am able to recognize how important this time is for my girls but also for myself.
There are so many things in my life that have “top shelf” priority. It really is ridiculous. Spending time with my girls (my wife included) is, and should always be top shelf. The reality, however, is that some days I get home and just want to check out. The 15-minute rule is helping me to recognize that my little beauties are one of the main reason why I exist. My life has to be ordered so that they get quality time no matter how hectic the day is.
We all need accountability. Better yet, we need accountability that is accessible, and practical. The 15-minute rule keeps me in check so that I am the father I need to be. If I come home and its almost bedtime my mind knows that I need to give my gals their quality time. This accountability for me is amazing.
At the end of the day, the 15-minute rule is a tool to help us be intentional. You might not need this tool because you are always spending quality time with your kids. Maybe you have a different type of tool that keeps you on track. Regardless of whether you use this rule or another, spending quality time with each of your kids is key and something all fathers need to make a priority.
I am so sad that the US didn’t make it to the World Cup. There is so much I could say about this but at least one out of my two teams is playing.
As I watched the Argentina vs Iceland game my daughter stared at me in wonder. I can picture the thoughts going through her head:
– Why is papi jumping up and down?
– He is suddenly speaking a lot of Spanish. Huh?
– He just punched the couch pillow. Thats weird.
I tried getting Claire to sit and watch the game with me. “Baby this is an awesome time of the year!” Claire just looked at me as if I were crazy and responds with, “But I wanna watch Paw Patrol”. I shake my head in disappointment and sit her next to me as Iceland attempts to score. I jump off the couch in shock. Claire gets accidentally pushed off the couch and watches me as I yell, “NO!” Claire asks whats wrong. I turn to her and tell her that Iceland has scored and it is now a tied game. “You don’t yell like that at my game, papi.”…Awkward moment.
My hope is that Argentina will go to the finals again. Now that Claire is 5 years old she can really get to see the beauty of the game and enjoy this with me. My plan is to offer her lots of snacks during the games, a little juice and maybe just maybe she will sit through a whole game with me and enjoy herself.
Hopefully I wont knock her off the couch again.
I’m not really sure how it happened. One day Claire was born and now she’s on the verge of turning 5 years old. Time didn’t zoom by, it just happened and here we are.
The last few months have been pretty amazing. Claire started at a Catholic Montessori school where she is learning at a rapid pace. There’s a good chance she will be smarter than me by next week. We chose to send her there instead of the parochial school attached to the parish because we are big fans of the Montessori model as well as the small student to teacher ratio (she is one of three). Claire has her momma’s brain and is learning so much. At some point Claire and I went from having one word conversations to now going back and forth regarding what animals are vertebrates. Again, time didn’t zoom by and bring us to this place. It just happened and here we are.
Last week Claire came home and said she had a loose tooth. I thought to myself, “umm…did you get into a fist fight? You’re too young to be loosing your teeth.” Claire’s first tooth has come out and I am once again standing in awe at the reality that this little girl isn’t so little anymore. There is sadness in some ways. My first born whom I held and took naps with is now this tall, spunky kid who can pour her own milk, and make herself a bowl of cereal for breakfast. Now, don’t get me wrong I like not having to make breakfast, but dang…
The sadness I am experiencing is a bittersweet kind of thing. Yes, my little girl isn’t so little, and that piece is fading away. However, this new little girl is bringing into life all kinds of beautiful experiences and memories that I cant help falling in love with her all over again. It is quite the thing to have your child grow up.
Cecilia, our second daughter is almost 10 months old. Our experience with Cecilia has been very different. We got all the new baby stuff down from our first born, and we are enjoying Cecilia more than we did Claire. I guess that when we had our first-born there was so much newness to the experience that we were hyper vigilant about everything. Now, with Cecilia, we are calmer and able to experience her with that knowledge we got from our time with Claire. However, I am in awe that 10 months have gone by. Cecilia is crawling and interacting with her amazing little personality. It is definitely awesome.
Again, time didn’t zoom by, it just happened and here we are.
In between all of the above, and switching out car seats for both kids (another wow moment) I am glad that I can pause and be grateful for all the experiences I have with these kids. My wife and I try our best to make sure we savor the moments we have with them. Time isn’t zooming by for us because we are trying as best as we can to live in the moment with these kids. Yet, no matter how intentional we are about our time with the girls we still have these moments where we recognize that they are older, taller, smarter, etc. It just happens and we look at ourselves wondering how?
But here we are. And we love every moment of it.
It was a typical Friday afternoon. I was running around with the girls getting groceries. Claire was hungry so we stopped at the Costco eatery and grabbed a slice of pizza, and a hot dog. I was tired from running around and Cecilia (#2) was in need of a bottle. We sat on the white plastic picnic table and I said, “Lets pray.” We made the sign of the cross, and asked God to bless our food. We crossed ourselves once again and Claire proceeded to devour her hotdog. Cecilia pounded her 4 ounces of milk like it was going out of style. I had a bottle in one hand, and a pie slice in the other.
As I awkwardly fed my daughter and myself I noticed an elderly man looking over at us. I figured I looked like a big dumb animal with the way I was handling the pizza and baby bottle—it must’ve been entertaining for those around. The man finished his pizza slice and I continued to feed the kiddos. Claire was talking about some book with a dinosaur and a shrinking machine. Cecilia was yelling at me in baby jibber jabber—I think she wanted my pizza.
We were almost finished when the elderly man came up to us. I was bracing myself to hear some lame, “dad’s on his own” joke. The man stopped, and looked at me with a smile and said, “thank you for praying with your children.” I responded with a simple, “your welcome.” The elderly man began to tear up. He tried to speak again, but choked up. Finally, he was able to let out, “you have no idea how important this is.” He smiled a simple smile, and walked off. I could tell that he had not expected to get so emotional.
I paused and looked around the Costco eatery. There was a bunch of people there. Families, elderly couples, single men and women. For an instant I wondered what was going on in all of their lives. Were they ok? Were they happy? Suffering? I caught a last glimpse of the elderly man as he walked out of the store. I wondered if he had lost a child. Maybe.
I’m not really sure what was going on in that mans heart and mind, but I do know that the simple act of praying with my daughters for 30 seconds was enough to powerfully impact his day. You just never know what simple gesture, word, or action can be a blessing in someone’s life.
A few months ago I was really struggling with anger and patience. There had been a lot of changes in our family routine. I am a creature of habit and so too much change at once without some kind of normalcy is not good for me. The anger and lack of patience was mostly unleashed on my four year old. I was really hard on her and it culminated one day after mass where Claire was being particularly difficult. It was a Saturday night after 7pm and Claire was tired and hungry, which led to her bad behavior. I was so angry after mass that I grabbed Claire before leaving the cry room, slapped her bottom and shook her as I yelled. Claire immediately started crying and my wife almost unleashed her second-degree-Shotokan-Karate-black-belt-skills on me.
We went home, and I was angry—more with myself then anything else. My wife was pissed off and my daughter was upset that the man she looks to as a source of love and protection had just mistreated her. Needless to say it was a low point for me. My wife took Claire upstairs and put her to bed after calming her down. I sat on the couch with tears in my eyes.
My wife and I talked (no Karate involved). We decided that I needed to go and speak to a counselor. This had been something that I had been considering for a few months, but for a number of reasons I kept pushing it off. I got an appointment pretty quickly and saw my counselor for about 4 months straight (once a month).
It was great.
I know there is a lot of taboo regarding counselors and psychiatrists. As a Hispanic man I have always heard people shun mental health professionals in my culture. “People will think you are crazy”, is one of the many things I heard growing up. The reality is that if I hadn’t gone to a counselor I probably would have erupted again, and gone crazy.
Counseling was great for me. It was like going into the mechanic and getting regular maintenance done on the car. Some of the fluids needed to be topped off, a few alignments were made here and there, and I was back on the road. There was no discomfort or frustration. The counselor heard what I had to say and he made some recommendations. I applied the said recommendations and things got better. I still struggle here and there, but there is a huge difference between then and now.
There are lots of men—particularly fathers—that could benefit from seeing a counselor. There is nothing worse than going to the mechanic and hearing that if I would have brought the car in months ago for regular maintenance I could have avoided the catastrophic damage that I now have on my hands.
So maybe you think counselors are for the weak, yuppies, or stupid people. Regardless of the possible bias you may have, the potential benefits of seeing a counselor vastly outweigh those biases. Our families need strong men that can lead, love and serve them mentally, physically, emotionally and spiritually. So be a man and go in for some maintenance.
One of the most difficult things about being a father is managing time. I don’t know about you but it seems almost impossible to do certain things during the day. Exercise, reading, writing, etc. almost always take the back burner because there isn’t enough time to get to it.
I love reading books from all walks of life. One of my favorite genre of books is business. I love seeing what people are doing to better master best practices. There is a lot of great advice out there, that if focused on really helps.
One of the things that I have noticed in my reading is that the most successful people in all industries, and public/social sectors wake up early. Early can be a relative term, so to clarify I’m talking 4:30am early. (insert WTF face gesture here) I usually glance at that fact in my reading and ignore it, or say something witty to myself, or frankly consider the writer to be a crazy bastard. However, I can’t deny the fact that all of the most successful people I know and read about are waking up between 4am and 5am.
Now here is the kicker. The folks I read about are not waking up at 4am to go to work. They are waking up this early to begin their daily routines that help them thrive. Most of these people don’t get to work till 7am or 8am.
So what are they doing?
Well, for one thing these crazy bastards…I mean, highly successful people are exercising. Their average amount of exercise is between 20-50 minutes of high intensity training in the morning. This is something that hands down I see in all of the books I read. I recently started waking up at 5am to exercise and it has been magical. Yes I said magical. I literally roll out of bed complaining every-single-time. As I get dressed to go to my basement and work out I am telling myself over and over, “I can do anything for 20 minutes.” 20 minutes is currently how long my HIT workout takes (high intensity training).
Once I enter into the exercise it is great. It doesn’t mean I want to do it, but I push through. By the time I am done I am pumped. I get a shower, get breakfast, pray and get the kids ready. All before 7am. GAME ON!!! #AdultingLikeAPro
I am exercising like this three times a week (only on weekdays). I am definitely noticing the difference. I still hate waking up, but I can do anything for 20 minutes. I love sleep, it literally is my favorite thing ever. Well I love to eat too. If I could eat and sleep I would be in heaven. Ooo, maybe heaven is where sleeping and eating happens at the same time—cant wait!
Anyways, I know it is rough to even consider waking up a little earlier, but I am finding that getting exercise in before work is absolutely amazing, and the best time of day to do it. Once the kids get up and the responsibilities of life take over all bets are off. If you wait to exercise after work, there is a good chance you wont do it because you are so drained from the previous 8-10 hours. So this fathers humble opinion is to join the thousands of crazy bastards…I mean, highly successful people out there and exercise in the morning. Its making a difference in this busy dads life.
Just remember: you can do anything for 20 minutes!