Fathers Day 2012

This is my 3rd year of Father's Day musings.  I'd like to think that in 3 years time, 6 as a father, I could come up with something profound, granted there have been billions of dads before me so what could possibly be said.  Being a dad is only noticed really when you screw up, "Who raised that person?"
And as Bill Cosby so eloquently put, the dad won't even get credit from the kid when they really do something right. (Himself 1983)

Today though it was a wonder for our family, I celebrated Father's Day the way I love to, cooking.  I made a delicious lobsters benedict with asparagus, fresh strawberry's and pineapple and a nice hot cup of Kona coffee.  Every kid wanted to hangout with Nana & Papi, hell they even wanted to sit on our laps while we ate.  Later, as I made a marion berry pie Sean came and asked to help.  I know I have done one thing right, my kids like to be with their family, play with their siblings, and cook with their dad.

These things won't win me any awards, not that anyone becomes a father for awards, but it doesn't draw any attention at all to parenthood.  Recently I was at a game store talking about teaching my children games, I'm a big game boarding fan, and the owner of the store put it perfectly, "You know you have made a good game player if when the game is over your opponent would enjoy playing a game with you again."  I love that quote because it is about more than being a good sport, having fun, being competitive but not nasty, not being a pushover, but not being a bully, it is simply put; teaching someone to be a good person.  I think raising kids has a lot of similarities to that.

Cristina jokes that our kids like to wake up and cuddle with us in bed, a queen-size bed, and she has embraced this because in 10 years she will miss these moments.  I've never been as good at seeing the forest through the parenting trees as her, but I try.  I know I can't let my shorter temper lead me to scaring my kids away from me, and my I am screwing up if the fact that I have less patience forces my kids try and please dad rather than figure out their way on their own.  I know I am screwing up when my kids actions change around me, my greatest fear is being the ogre of a dad that is feared when I come home from work, but I also know I can't be Mom "1.5".  My firmer hand, I think has it's place, and my no-nonsense approach is not always falling on deaf ears.  The problem is, these traits many dad's share aren't as easy to love.

I was in my 20s when I started to really enjoy spending a good amount of time with my dad.  Every Monday for nearly 2 years (before he moved out of state) I went to his house, had a nice dinner, talked, watched TV with him.  I'd like to think that my dad didn't just enjoy hanging out with his son, but he also liked hanging out with Andy.

I don't have that relationship with my mom.  There are lots of reasons for that, but I do know one thing my dad did right, at a very young age he presented the standard he wanted me to strive for as a person.  He knew I was a child and that was not a realistic goal, but he always brought it around to the standards, work ethic, citizenship and being a man.  That standard is the type of people he wanted to be surrounded by, and he thought people should strive for.

I've rambled here, it has been too many months since I wrote, but the thought that keeps coming back into my head is a simple one.  Father's Day is not about Fathers, it is about families wanting to be with their father because their father did his job.

Travel Log Day 14 - 11/28/11

Happy 62nd Dad

In the original thought process of this trip we would have been leaving today to drive home.  But November 28th is my Dad's birthday, so we adjusted the trip by one day.  I took my dad to breakfast at his friends Cafe, Stellar Beans Coffee.  It is a small cafe and my dad and I had a nice father and son moment.  We reflected on the fact that this would be our year when my dad is exactly twice as old as me, him being 62, and I turn 31 in a few weeks.  I am the youngest in the family and my dad had me at the same age I have a near 2 year old.  While my dad got married younger and had kids younger than me Cristina and I managed to have a busy family in a very short amount of time.

It is rare that as an adult you get much time with your parents alone.  Usually the kids/grandchildren are around, and being able to just have a moment is rare, given the challenge to get such moments it does make them rather sweet and I really had a nice time for our leisurely breakfast.

We returned home, packing and washing was big on our agenda, as well as a quick stop at Target.  My dad took Sean to the hardware store and spent an hour with just him on a "project."  A few days previous he had built a fun toy with Drew, and Sean was very much wanting to have the same fun and wasn't letting Grandpa off the hook till he built his project too.

The project

That night Mary Jo made chicken and Dumplings as well as a great apple cake my dad fell in love with in Germany, I can't remember the name.  The dumplings were cut up tortillas, an idea Mary Jo read about in a food magazine and they turned out awesome.  Dinner was so much fun with the kids amp'd about the birthday and just like that our last night in Lake Charles was here.

We relaxed and got ready for our early morning the next day.  While the plan in Lake Charles was a little out of my norm, I usually like to plan a lot of day trips and adventures, this week had been a special one for my family and we enjoyed it tremendously.  While I wish my kids liked the dogs more, and travel fatigue/sleep fatigue wasn't plaguing us, I have to admit when I first "thought" of this trip, this is very much what I had in mind.

Dads bday stellar beans chicken dumplings kids projects

The Mirror

I hope Sean rises above me

I had a friend at an old work place many years ago who told me a great story about swearing.  I'll give you a bit of a set up.  I use colorful language a good deal.  Now I don't use it in front of my kids, or my wife really, and in many situations at work I would never use it, but around my co-workers or buddies I let more than my fair share of four letter words fly.  I worked with a guy (I wish I remembered his name) who noticed this about me and said something like...

"You know Andy, you are an intelligent and quite articulate person, but for whatever reason you seem to use a lot of vulgar language, why?"  I stood sorta quiet and responded "Well, I guess I don't want to limit the vocabulary I use to express myself and don't feel that all words capture the same meaning as some of my more colorful language"

This of course is only half true, there are far more colorful language than your typical swear words, and when used with the right panache are vastly superior than the pedestrian language I claim to have impact.  Now this guy, we will call him Peter, was in his mid to late 50s and at the time would have been my Dad's age, he had been married for about 30 years and was really a great guy as I recall.  All that said he continued with a great story.

"Well, when I was young I went to Vietnam and it changed how I spoke.  I would insert "Fuck" into every other word, and it became the only way I seemed to express myself, I was very angry.  Well I finally got to come home after being shot and that is when I met my wife.  We started dating and it was great, but my limited vocabulary I employed started to catch up to me, and the ugly language I used seemed to bother her.  So my now wife, then girlfriend, began to start using the same language.  She was cursing as much if not more than me, and it sounded terrible.  I could finally hear what I sounded like, and I didn't like it at all.  It wasn't long before I stopped using that language."

This story was told to me about 10 years to early.  At the time I was 20 or 21, didn't have kids, and my girlfriend at the time was the same age, and I can't recall if I cursed as much, but I most likely did.  It took being married before I decided to attempt to curb my language.  That notion of a "mirror" showing you your actions though was rather profound to me.

As I have began "raising" my kids things I do become now far more apparent.  Phrases my wife and I use can come back to haunt us.  It is funny that having kids would make me more self-aware, but it really has.  Whether it is Legos, comic books, or the kids love of back scratches like their mom.  Our kids have begun mirroring many things that my wife and I are.  All of the sudden me being inconsiderate, or a smart ass has taken on a new meaning to me.  Those are not traits I want my children to have, and that means I can't have them either.

It's curious how raising a child to be the person you hope they can be, requires you to be the person you should be.

A Bitter Finish

As I sat in the cool pool watching the heat pelt our house I was happy.  My oldest, Drew was jumping in and swimming after his swim lesson, Sean sat on the step, splashing and enjoying himself, and lastly Eva bobbled up and down in the "boat" with me next to her.  We had all just finished cold Otter Pops and as far as perfect afternoons go this was as close as it could get...

My wife walked in the pool area and it was as if a switch was hit, Sean started an epic breakdown. As far as phases go, our current three year old terror has tried mine and Cristina's patience beyond anything I remember from Drew.  Sean can cry, scream, whine and I think scratch a chalk board all at the same time.  Unfortunately this rarely means he sleeps like a rock that night either.  As we exited the pool our house was filled with the serenade of Sean making his displeasure known...for a solid hour.  Even as I made a wonderful dinner alone (that I had hoped to do with the boys) in the kitchen, and my wife fed the kids and put them to bed, I couldn't relax.  As perfect as the afternoon was, and it was just about as smooth as one parent and 3 kids under 5 could wish for, I was wound as tight as ever and the only after taste left for the day wasn't even the wonderful Pasta, but rather an hour of screaming for my boy.

It seemed unfair to me, almost as if everything that had happened in the day was irrelevant because this happened.  As I don't know much about wine I can only imagine it would be like taking a sip, the fragrence is breath taking, the flavor perfectly balances on your pallet, but then the aftertaste peaks with an acidic punch, up till that last moment it was on the money.  This made me think even more about this, a mediocre to even bad movie can almost save it's self with a top notch ending, books the same way.  Dinner can be bombed but if you hit it out of the park with a decadent dessert you only remember the sweet, creamy ending, and the dinner can be forgiven.  I kept coming up with more and more examples of how the ending is so valued over the begginning and middle it just seemed unfair.

No matter how hard I work as a parent there are days when my kids are driving me up a wall, on my last nerve, but minutes before they sleep one of them will hug me, cuddle with me and be as perfect a child as I could hope for, and the previous day seems to melt away, unfortunately I have yet to figure out how to make the opposite not ruin my day.  

Perhaps I can figure out how to build my days into chapters, and while the every chapter can't be perfect, I can focus on a solid ending for each one, even if the whole chapter is miserable I can still knock it out of the park with a last moment of affection; And the inverse would be true as well, the moment things turn sideways I begin a new chapter and focus on turning this conflict into an opportunity to overcome and have a brilliant ending.  That could perhaps fix my quandary, if only I could figure out how to master that split second switch and starting a new chapter on the fly.

Overcoming Fear

As a child I had a very healthy fear of a lot of things, mostly based on avoiding getting hurt.  My oldest brother was fearless it seemed and his pain tolerance seemed higher than normal.

I can remember turning off the lights and jumping into bed, I didn't much like the dark.  Fear is a good thing though, in my job I learn to trust my instincts and operate under the mantra that I am not fearless, I act in spite of fear.  My son's each have their own individual things that they don't like. Drew doesn't like a dark  bedroom, Sean doesn't like dogs.  Nothing over the top and by all accounts "normal."

 At what point do you work on teaching them to "overcome" their fear and should you ever do that, or just let them do it their own way.

My boys are curious when we are at Disneyland.  Seemingly tame rides are unappealing, and other rides are so exciting they can't help but what to go on it, regardless of the perceived "scary factor."  Yet if my wife or I push at all, we draw a stoney visage that is unmoving.  Fear is not overcome with pressure, or prodding much like a chinese finger-trap isn't defeated with force.

Ultimately excitement seems to win, the desire to see what fun things must be happening overcomes a gentle push in almost all attempts to persuade my boys to try something new or scary.  Drew, and a bit of Sean are more interested in "deciding" on their own.  I wish I could put my finger on the switch. Knowing my boys will get a lot out of something but watching them be unwilling to try because they are afraid is challenging for me.  There at times, a week at the beach, when we have time to allow their own process to occur, but not everything we do is that way; For example in october of 2008 we took drew to a petting zoo pumpkin patch.  He wanted more than anything to ride a pony, and so we went for it.  He was onboard right up until he sat on the pony, and then there was no having it, if mom and dad weren't holding him he wanted no part of it.  I knew once that horse moved he would be on board, but unless he stopped crying they weren't moving.  We didn't have hours to work through this, and ultimately he didn't ride the pony.  I was a bit sad because he would have really enjoyed that time once he realized it was going to be fun, but he didn't get to get there on his terms.

Months later we had that successful pony ride, and dad was at his side.  Shows what I know, he wanted the fun, but scary time to be with someone he knew would keep him safe.

 As an adult where my job causes me to do the uncomfortable and things people would rather not think about, fear isn't something I equate to stopping action.  I am the type who just jumps in the pool without thinking man it's going to be cold, because I know I will just get used to the water and have a blast.  But that is the way I do things and seeing my kids at times miss out on fun adventures can be really hard for me, but ultimately if you are terrified is it that fun? 

While I can't fully understand their fear of certain things, Drew will not go on Peter Pan at Disneyland, I know that it can't be all that bad that they want to overcome their fears holding my hand, soon enough they will be asking me to wait outside the ride while they go on alone.

The Love of Affection

I used to think I would out grow my desire to receive praise.  As a child, teen and young adult I would regularly want to talk with my parents, more specifically my dad, about my enterprises, classes, grades (when they were good) and even my job.  To hear my dad tell me that he was proud of me lifted my spirits, and even now I can flash back to moments of accomplishment and the feeling I had when my father told me how proud he was of me.  That motivates me to want to work even harder, do better and accomplish more.  

You'd figure I would out grow this desire, but in reality it hasn't.  As a man now I'd be lying if I didn't want to hear from my dad say that he is proud of me, and though I talk with him regularly, it isn't the same as when you can see it from someone's eyes.  

Having young kids when you come home from work, or in my case when I wake up after work, run to you and say they love you is a truly remarkable feeling.  Recently my daughter who is just over a year will lunge, if she is being held, with all her might to me and try and have me hold her.  My boy's will ask about my work and to be honest I love when they are impressed with my day.  I can't imagine that many people my age feel this way...who knows, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't happy that my boys love what I do and express pride in their dad.  

Drew has started showing signs of this as well, reminding us of his good behavior, pointing out things he excels in, and even seeking acknowledgement for doing what he is supposed to do.  Seeing this from a four year old reminds me a lot of how I act even now as an adult.  Perhaps this is not unique to me per se, though I still feel that I seem to want positive affirmation more than most.  

See I think this is where we may get things wrong as a whole.  You often hear people joke, well maybe he wasn't hugged enough as a kid.  If even as an adult, married with kids affirmation and acknowledgement is a priority for me, why is that bad.  Isn't "great job" free?  I'm not saying throw a party, but a shoulder squeeze and an "atta boy" seems simple, but has the potential to really fuel a person to grow and excel.  

I think I have even fallen into the trap of trying to budget my expression of pride, and there is no good reason.  I can tell the impact it makes when I do it, this is something I know will make an impression on my kids for years to come.  If self confidence is a trait I seek to instill in my children, I think it clearly starts with providing an abundance of affection, that is something I can do and I understand.

Parental Scale

My wife and I just went away for the weekend.  She had a work conference near Disneyland and we got a nice hotel room in close proximity of the magic kingdom.  We have been going together now for years and it has always been a wonderful trip.

Before we had kids we'd sneak away for great dates and a nice time out with some mutual friends.  After we had our first I'd stay back while Cristina went to her conference.  Even with the addition of another child we would make it year after year.  Last year after our third had been born once again we went, my wife with the infant in tow.

This year I flew solo with all three while my wife went and enjoyed some wonderful conferences; and this year it was a challenge.  At home all three kids is not nearly as trying.  We have multiple rooms, safe areas I can let them play alone, all sorts of toys, shows, activities and "baby free" areas for my boys to play.  But away from home we have limited space, toys, and resources with which to keep the kids occupied.  The weather this year was abysmal, so my fail safe last year of hanging by the pool was a no go.  So like a ship without a rudder, I attempted to wing it.  On Friday we played at Disney, but the crowds deterred me and I went back to the hotel.  Saturday, my grand plan of the pool was crushed with frigid temps and I lacked the ability to effectively call an audible.  So the laws of scaling difficulty came into play.  Slowly my crying daughter ate away at my patience, and when I finally got her asleep, my boys who were not giving me any sort of legitimate problems began to wrangle my last nerve.

Just like that I was losing it with them.  I had the patience for a crying kid for a long while, and when I endured that "test" a newer far simpler test presented itself, but my parental endurance was exhausted.  As my family has scaled in size, unfortunately not everything has scaled for me.  I am not 3 times more patient, and I don't have 3 times the energy.  Fortunately for my wife and I the rules of scale have benefited us as well.  Our kids do entertain themselves, and food prep isn't any more difficult, though feeding 3 kids who need constant attention is a chore unto it's self.  Ultimately I always thought that I could ignore whining and crying and it wouldn't rile my nerves, but I never planned on how little sleep I would get (or the poor quality of sleep), and how that truly effects my ability to effectively parent.  I also never planned on three kids waring on my nerves at the same time. I am going to need help when my kids coordinate their moves and don't have happy/unhappy accidental Dad overload moments, but rather a meltdown of their planning.

Choose to be Happy

I've been blessed with a unique ability to let go of work when I leave work.  Perhaps this is to my detriment, I never seemed to take my thoughts of work home with me when I did work in a creative field.  While I still did think of creative things, they were my ideas, and had little to do with my work.  Even after switching jobs to a field that was easily the least creative field imaginable I still manage to neglect thoughts of work at home.

All this is ideal for me.  When I am home I want to be with my family, with my kids, my wife, and my thoughts.  I don't lament a rough day, or for that matter spend much time reliving a great one at work, I just sort of plug on with what I was doing.  Lately that is cooking, I spend time in the morning coming up with menu planning, perhaps a walk in the afternoon for fresh vegetables with my wife and kids.  In some ways this is perfect, but my gift for living in my moment and leaving work at work doesn't translate elsewhere.

If things aren't working well with a certain aspect of parenting, or the gold standard of marriage woes; money.  I don't have work distracting me from it.  I seem to manage to use all my free time to contemplate, think, and worse yet brood.  My seemingly undaunted ability to live in the moment when I leave work, creates a polar opposite reaction at home, and one I want to change.

Lately my boys, who in all fairness are incredible kids, seem to rile my last nerve.  I know the real reason is they astound me, and in turn my standards and expectations have risen to such a point that I forget their ages.  Occasionally I will sit with Sean, and it will smack me in the face that he is a toddler and how could I possibly expect him to have the ability to reason at all times and not lose control of his emotions.  I manage to remember these things long after I have lost my temper, or worse, spent an afternoon in a horrendous mood, one where even my fun loving kids want little to do with me.

I love being a dad, and I think that is why this is hard for me.  I ofter hear complaints about fathers being at work at all hours, and work becomes they child's least favorite thing about dad.  In many cases "Dad" becomes almost a cool uncle who will always take you to the great places and do fun things, or buy new toys.  Or, for a short time was the case with my childhood, dad was the Godfather whom you never wanted to see, because if you did see him it means you really screwed up, or it was a special occasion.  I am not that dad, and have striven to be an active participant in the process of raising a child to be an adult.

I want to be a part of the entire process of raising a child, and that includes the doldrums, the fun, and the difficult.  In marriage I can manage to move past things rather quickly, my wife and I have been blessed with communication that comes with an ease that I really prayed for when we first met, I want my wife, my partner in life to know where I am and where I want us to be going.  Like wise I want to know where my wife is and where she wants to be going; we want to be in lockstep as best we can.  My ability to move past things with money and kids is poor at least half the time it seems and the difficult part is that it seems to perpetuate discontent.  As if it tints my world view and everything becomes that color.  I usually manage to end this malaise after a day or two, but rarely is it before my children have gone to bed...and usually after I have lost my temper with the going to bed process.  Thoughts of money have similar effect, but in that case the kids are purely collateral damage, and even my wife can be taken into my quicksand.

Doing things I love, like listening to great jazz, and cooking should lift me from the haze, and even lately I find this isn't the case.  I feel like there is a paradigm shift to be had somewhere, and then I recall my words I sometimes find using with my children "choose to be happy."  Sean, the child who can make me laugh like no other is 2 and a half and throws a great temper tantrum.  He is relatively easy to remove from a bad mood, just offer him a tangerine.  A little super sweet orange fruit and almost without fail he will stop the flow of tears and turn to you after shouting "NO!" he will pause almost to actually hear your offer and say in a quiet voice with puppy dog tear filled eyes "yes."  At times we will be going to a place he loves or doing something that is his favorite and something will happen and it will be endless screaming (and man that kid can scream) and I will break down forgetting he is a toddler and practically yell "choose to be happy."  No wonder why he does not listen to me, even dad has a hard time doing that.

Pie N Burger

Drew turned four, and to say I am amazed by how fast time has moved is an understatement.  Four years ago my wife and I were in the hospital as she braved 24+ hours of labor to be ultimately met by a C-section, and brought this miracle into the world.  The way I remember things though intrigues me.


The night before Drew was born my wife and I went to a small diner.  It is one of our favorite places and we have fond memories of eating there, we ate dinner and later that night my wife, 41 weeks into being pregnant with our first, went into labor.  


So the day before Drew's birthday my wife and I went out on a date, and we arrived at that very same diner, but this was not a plan.  I didn't even think of that, but sure enough the flood of memories came to me in an instant.  Then I wish it was a plan.  If you ask me to mention specifics of the last 4 years of fatherhood, I'd hit and miss with details, but the one and only thing I do know is I have loved it, and this fascinates me.


In Drew's classroom for his birthday they did a "story of your life" and there was Drew declaring at one years old he remembered us reading to him and getting back scratches from momma.  I cried.  


My memory of that first year is far different, but I do know that his birthday will forever be tied to me, the day I became a dad, and the day I started my career (one year later) both started on that day.  I can remember a lot, and only a little at the same time about that first year, and sadly when you ask new parents or old ones for that matter about parenthood the overriding sentiment seems to be "tired."  


I am tired this is true.  I remember being clueless (I still am) and I remember being afraid and feeling small.  But parenthood for me is me meeting God for the first time.  Until that moment I held my son I felt big, like I was so important, much like any 20 something probably does, and as if someone hit a switch I shrank and God showed me how truly awesome life is. I held my son in my arms and I was looking at the face of God, a perfect pure child, and I felt completely overwhelmed with the incredible gift I had been entrusted with...I still am.


 I have witnessed a young child grow to the point of self expression, from nothing, and yet the minutia of details you would think I could recall with eerie accuracy, I can't.  In fact the minutia is a blur and my memory is more of feeling.  In some ways I regret not journaling and blogging more as my son was little, but part of me is happy I have my feelings mixed with photos.  While I lack a crystal clear picture I think some of my less than perfect memories are blurred even if that meant I loss the perfect clarity of the wonderful moments.


My son just turned four, and I hope he realizes how much of a gift he is to me.

The Advent Calendar

I wish I woke up with the singular splendor of wanting to open a piece of an advent calendar.  My boys are enraptured with the fun of opening the door of our Lego advent calendar.  Our morning begins at 6:30 to my boys running our bedroom, proud of sleeping till the proper time and proceed to ask me to get out of bed to open the door of the current day on the advent calendar.  Inside is a small trinket, a minifigure, or a small model.  nothing extravagant, or over the top.  If I am on my parenting "A" game I can usually facilitate peace as one of the boys build the model and the other watches, and if I am real good, they don't fight over playing with it till after I have had a cup of coffee.

I don't know when that goes away.

I knew a guy in college, let's call him George, George never seemed to make plans.  George always managed to have plans mind you, but he never committed.  After a while I decided Geroge wanted to know what was better out there, so as to not commit in case a better deal came.  I think George was an extreme case of what happens as we grow up, but George did what we most of us eventually do, and I think what most of us do to others.  We seem to decide that you can't get too up for something, enjoy a sandwich too much, or dinner, or a day at the park.  If you seem to have too much enthusiasm it scares people.  People become George to some degree.

I try very hard to be a happy person, respond with a positive perspective, and walk with a little joy in my life.  But I hear from people after I respond with a resounding "Doing great!", "Woah try a little less coffee in the morning there."  As if I there isn't anything to be that happy about.  That "child" innocence becomes taboo when you age, and you really don't have to be an adult to have it happen, plenty of kids will start the attitude against happiness long before they pay rent and bills.

I guess Geroge sneaks up on us, a little bit at a time; or maybe it is just consumerism.  Right now my son loves to open any toy given to him as a present, regardless of size.  At the optometrist's the other day my son was incredible for the doctor, and she was so impressed with his poise she said he could pick two toys from the toy drawer.  His face lit up and I don't think he could have been any more elated.  It didn't matter that they were small simple toys, he didn't exam the quality or the brand.  He just saw new toys he didn't have and they were great; great because he got to play with something new.  Play with them he did too, with all his imagination and inventiveness he could.  I loved to watch him light up and think of things to do with the ball and car.  At some point though we as people will start to say to each other, "Dude, it's just a cheap ball and car, it's nothing to get excited about."

Thankfully we as a society have decided that children should not be subjected to this cruel plight, but kids pick up on it eventually and soon enough another's happiness doesn't matter and it is "okay" to minimize someones simple pleasures.

I think it is just that too, enjoying simple pleasures.  Kids have an innate ability to jump whole heartedly into life's opportunities.  That is refreshing.  I know many friends who move away from Southern California who crave an In N Out Hamburger more than anything upon their return.  If you watch them take their first bite, close there eyes and really enjoy that moment of satisfaction they become a kid, up until some sarcastic "older" person says "It's just a burger."  It is almost as if we lose the right to really enjoy things, because when someone does I think it makes the rest of us jealous that we don't have the same passion for life's moments that they do, so it's better to bring them back to our status quo.

I don't know when that pizazz for life's individual moments fade, and I really hope I am not the one to put out my children's unabashed zest for simple pleasures...I wish I could stop anyone from taking that away from them.

Lego Part 1

Raising kids, whether dealing with the nuance of seeing one's own blood, the quirks over jackets/pants/shorts or rain boots, or even just getting a hair cut dressed as a Spiderman can often baffle, and frustrate me.  Occasionally God knows you need something you just "get" from day one with your child, and 3.5 years into my parenting, I was lobbed a soft ball by the Big Guy.

Lego.

I was a Lego nut as a kid, and for whatever reason I got rid of them all, more likely my mom got rid of them when she moved and me the idiot college student didn't grab them before that.  But here I am 15-20 years removed from some of my finer building adventures as a kid and my 3.5 year old is jumping head first into construction.

See I never thought he quite got the building gene, he was ambivalent about mega blocks, and Duplo didn't really do it for him either.  To be honest building much of anything never really appealed to him.  But something happened last Christmas.  He was asking Santa for one thing and one thing only each and every day from Santa "I want Star Wars Legos"

I was sorta at a loss, see I love Lego, and I love Star Wars, but my son last Christmas wasn't even 3, could he even build with the blocks...I didn't want to just "impose" my interests on him, I really wanted to resist, but I bought him a small set, mostly because it had 4 storm troopers.  The present was a flop for all intensive purposes, but he loved it.  See without my help he couldn't build anything, and the mini-figures, while cool could frustrate him immensely because he couldn't put the blaster or any accessory for that matter in the guys hands.

So in order to build the model each time, or play with the guys he had to ask for my help, and I thought this made it a poorly timed gift.  Without fail though he would ask me to pull out the Legos and play with him.

We made it clear his 18 month old brother had to be asleep, but we would play Legos together and he would ask for my help to build, and I would teach him to read the directions and put the guys together like he wanted and he would play much the same way I would play as a child.  Little voices, dramatic falls, blaster sounds, it was like I was flashing back to my child hood.  I know that I very often was too "hard" on him while playing, focusing on building the set, following the directions, but kids have a funny way of blowing off their parents and my son is no exception, he ignores my bad recommendations with ease; thank God.

Looking back almost exactly one year ago, I can honestly say the timing couldn't have been better.  The toy while above his age was an activity he loved, but one that required my assistance, and now he is almost four, and can play for ages without me.  I love this independence, but I can think of a few times sitting with him, helping build and watch his imagination run knowing I was witnessing a miracle, a spark light a fire.  I am blessed to have had that time because as I write this now, his desire to get out the Legos revolves less and less about me sitting with him, and far more about the toy and playing.

 I'm glad I didn't just put them up for a year.

Pinot Grigio

At some point I became a dad.

Outside of the literal moment in time I became a dad, that was the "you became a biological dad," but I don't believe that a dad is a blood bond alone, or required.  No, being a dad is a lot more than that.  But tonight the wife and I were sitting, watching TV, drinking a glass of vino, and I realized, wait a second, "I'm a dad..."

I know, I know, it took me having a third kid to realize I am a dad.

This is all a bit more complicated, as you can imagine.  Over the next few days leading up to Father's Day I will share a few "Daddy" Moments.

See, I mean, I've had more than a few "Daddy" moments, but with Sean now about 2, things are sorta starting to repeat themselves, and to be honest it is rather creepy.

About 5 years ago I got married, and when my wife and I were newlyweds we would sit on the couch and drink a glass, or a bottle of wine and enjoy the evening.  We had Drew about a year and a half after our wedding, and it took a good 6 months to sit back down and have a glass of wine with my wife,  this was of course "interrupted" by my wife and I repeating that whole pregnant thing.  This time, it took 6 months for that night with a glass of wine again, and well again, this time about 6 months went by, a third baby in 3 years descended upon our home.  Come to think of it, maybe this wine on the couch...I digress.

Here we are, a third, and in all likelihood final kid is born, and we aren't waiting 6 months for the wine, it happened after 3 months.  This revelation alone is not what solidified my realization about fatherhood.

While driving home, I talked with my brother about our kids, and started talking about my boy Sean who is about 2.  He is a talker, but I'll be damned if I can understand him sometimes, and it has been like this for a while.  At first I started thinking he may have a speech delay, but soon it was apparent that I was unfairly comparing him to his very articulate brother.  Just the other week Sean really started hitting a groove with his talking, and yesterday it smacked me in the head with how articulate he had become.

"Daddeee! I want water!"

Me being a lazy dad sitting at the computer "Go ask mama"

"No Daddeee.  You get it"

I mean not only was he talking in 4 and 5 word sentences, he was calling his old man out, and he isn't even two yet.  That moment smacked me in the face with; "Oh man, I'm a dad."

Life over a glass of Pinot Grigio (2008 Gaetano D'Aquino Italian) And we did finish the bottle.