Annie was in the kitchen canning. This meant I was on daughter duty. It’s a lot like being a soccer goalie. The girls are represented as the soccer balls, and the goal is the kitchen. I post myself in front of the kitchen entrance and I just keep throwing them back into play. After a while their fascination with whatever Annie is doing dies out and they make themselves content in the living room. This gives me a chance to…
Late last week we put our Christmas Tree up. In a way, I think our tree tells the story of us. It’s not a serene or regal thing with white lights and perfectly placed ornaments. It’s not about to make the cover of some domestic living magazine. It has multi-colored lights and some beautiful ornaments along with some quirky ornaments that were purchased simply because they cracked us up. Then there are the monstrosities, the ones that are crudely crafted…
As we were heading Home from Thanksgiving weekend, my phone beeped, it was a text from Dad. “Huh.” I said. “What’s up?” Annie asked. “Dad texted me, he wants me to give him a call when it’s convenient. I’ll give him a call after we’re home, unpacked and settled.” “What do you think he wants?” “Winter Is Coming.” “Ha Ha.” Game of Thrones reference aside, for northerners this is a real thing. When the first taste of the cold season…
incident-report It was nearly 2:30 in the morning. I was in a deep sleep (well a “parental” deep sleep, not very deep). The baby monitor was making a sound—it was Regina. “Ugh.” I thought, “Is Reg trying to wake everyone because she’s awake?” No. She sounded upset. “Another nightmare” I thought, “She’s been having bad dreams ever since we watched that Harry Potter movie. Better go reset her.” With a groan I began rolling out of bed. She cried again….
“Daddy, these pictures look creepy.” “Regina made those pictures, those are pictures of us.” “Wow. I am way better at drawing than she is! There aren’t any arms or legs. What’s what here?” “Those are the eyes and that’s the mouth. Don’t be too quick to criticize Hun. Your pictures were nearly identical to these when you were her age.” “Sorry.” The next day… “Time Out Regina. Now.” I said. “Waaaaaah! I cry Daddy! Look. I cry!” “No need to…
Another year has passed; it’s our seventh year as parents. As I write this I keep looking at her past my laptop screen. She’s still happily playing with her doll house with a nature documentary playing in the background (her choice, the apple doesn’t fall far). Once upon a time, a toddler version of this little girl didn’t want much more than to lay down on my chest and have me read The Grouchy Ladybug for the thirtieth time. I…
I recall my earliest days of parenting, introducing Lydia to coloring books and crayons. She took to them instantly. I would watch her scribble like a maniac. I didn’t bother with teaching her to color within the lines, I’m a cool laid back sort of parent, let that artistic flag fly! I regarded it as a non-conformity sort of thing. A couple years later I learned the actual reasons for coloring within the lines and it has nothing to do…
From Facebook, November, 2009 People who bring their dogs with them to Petworld must have the same feeling of legitimacy that I feel bringing Lydia to Babies R Us Upon entry, we nearly held Lyd up for the store to see her. “Look here! We have a baby. Last time we were here we did not have a baby. But now we do have a baby. Make way for a proud Mama and Papa! Coming through! See? See? We have…
“Daddy! Pwobwem!” (interpretation: Father, I feel the urge to bring an issue to light) “What’s the problem Hun?” “Everything is no-no.” (interpretation: It seems to me that I am denied access to virtually everything I express interest in) Did my two-year old daughter just call me out to a Come To Jesus Meeting? Outside of a suppressed smile, I honestly did not have an answer to give her. She looked hilarious. She was serious, there was no hint of a…
Four days ago, I dropped my entire family off at the airport. I left my family’s lives in the hands of a pilot and a co-pilot, two individuals I have probably never met and who I will probably never meet—two strangers. It’s an odd thing to truly think about. Who knows what they left at Home? Who knows what they were carrying with them? Do they have kids? Is one of those kids in crisis? Drugs? Bad Grades? Puberty? Did…