Rules of the Game

I sat across from Him as He explained the rules of the "game" from His commanding post in a small, collapsible Scooby Doo chair. The Objective: Toss a small, partially deflated beach ball into a hand-held seed spreader without it bouncing out. The Prize: An empty and used Pez dispenser. The Catch: After each successful toss, the target would be moved back (the distances far from incremental) until it lay at the far end of the room. This was a daunting task, but any toss that was moderately close was "redirected" into the seed spreader by His closely poised hands and finished off by an exclamation of a job well done. Sure, I felt like a cheat, but what choice did I have with such a prize on the line. Besides, in the end, I succeeded in sinking the ball twice (at the two closest distances) without any assistance, so I told Myself I earned it, took the prize, and walked away a successful competitor.

Defined by Child

Ching (ch-ing) - v. To lightly hit two objects together in celebration: lets ching our glasses, lets ching out hats.

Page, Chapter, Book

Experienced parents always spout off the same bit of advice: "As long as you both are on the same page when it comes to parenting, everything will be fine." What page? How about a range, or a hint? Frankly Her and I have spent the last three plus years flipping through pages and, honestly, I'm not even sure We're in the same chapter or, for that matter, the same book. But maybe this diversity is the key. If We were both reading the same epic child novel, the pages would become so synchronized and bland that life would grow dull. Then again, every so often, as I stare at His puzzled little face following one of our classic simultaneous, yet clashing answers and think that maybe dull would be nice for a change. Then I come to and realize that those parents reflect and advise from the ideal rather than the real and I flip back to page 212 in chapter 6 of book 4 and lean over to catch a snippet of what She is reading: page 83, chapter 2, book 6.

Flowers and Smudge (Sun), 1/1

Simplicity and Joy

There He sits, spoon of peas in hand, apparently pondering something. "What?" I wonder, "To eat or not to eat? Why are they green? Why are they round?" I have grown so used to questions that I try to anticipate every possible inquisition so that I can have what He will deem an acceptable answer when the time comes. Smiling, He looks up triumphantly, "They're havin' a wittle party!" Shocking. There was no question; there was only a simple statement before He shoved the spoon, minus a few peas that fell victim to the floor, into His mouth. I stood and stared for a moment before laughing, first to myself, then aloud. Moments such as this are some of the best. I must remember, as I stand at the sink scrubbing a pot or bustling around the house doing any number of random chores, that I have been ruined. The world has ravaged Me and withered My ability to recognize a pea-party taking place right before My eyes. However, children, My son in particular, has not yet been tainted by the world: He is able to not only see the party, but laugh at it, and then form a boat from an accompanying piece of cheese. This is joy in its purest form and while My first reaction is laughter, I know that deep down that laughter is masking envy because I know that the peas would have a much more eventful party if they were riding on that little boat of cheese.

Stuck

Every now and again the little guy will come stumbling into Our bed in the middle of the night. I am usually so sound asleep that I don't notice until He wedges His little body against mine trying to leach whatever warmth He can. This scenario occurred at about 2 am this morning. I tolerated sharp toe jabs to the groin for about an hour before returning Him to His own bed only to find Him staring Me down again at 6 am looking for a spot. For some reason, He flocks to my side, completely ignoring His mom, which pins Me in the middle. This is where the real trouble arises. Somehow I must get out of the bed for work without disturbing either one of them. I can crawl over Him, but if He wakes it's all over. She provides a bigger obstacle, but if I wake Her, She'll be out again in no time. Thinking for a moment I decided my girlfriend was the safest bet and I went about my early-morning contortionist routine, manage to shimmy over Her (despite grumbling) without waking either party. The escape complete, my morning was a success.

Me, Her, Him, and Us

In this quaint, modern family home of ours there are three member: Myself, my girlfriend (She, Her, etc.) and our son (Him, He, etc), a four and a half year old streak of energy. Despite the current "buyer's market" that is dominating today's economy, we still rent . . . an apartment. It's nothing glamorous, and we would prefer a house, but it suits us well and, in the long run, we have no complaints. It is a bit of a challenge not having a yard to unleash the little vibrant wonder, but we make do with parks, trips to the grandparents, and an occasional glass (or bottle) of wine. We are lucky enough to live near Her parents which provides an excellent outlet for His energy while allowing Him to have a great relationship with His grandparents and, above all, giving Us a glimpse of sanity and freedom on an occasional weekend night. We tend to work opposite schedules as She works part-time on the weekends and evenings with an overlap every now and again (thank you grandparents). We have plenty of grand plans for the years to come and We never loose sight of them, but for now, We stroll forward as individuals and as a family in this every changing world of toy recalls, child obesity epidemics, and parent-focused reality TV.

Thoughts, Explainations, and Introductions

In hindsight, it may have been an outstanding idea to start this blog three and a half years ago and simply chronograph my daily and weekly endeavors as they happened; however, I fell that the overall quality of such a thing would have been lacking, spotty, and generally boring. Now, as I can both look back and peer forward, I am able to reflect on the past while living in the present and anticipating the future. With that in mind, this blog is to serve two proposes: First and foremost, it is to provide an outlet for my compassion, my frustration, and my confusion as I venture down the parental road; Second, it is to provide advice, or perhaps just comforting words, to the millions of parents attempting to fill the same shoes that I am cramming my feet into. I do know that there are more parent blogs clogging the web than any one person or family may need, but I have decided to create my own feeling that I have something a bit different to contribute. I do not write for The New Yorker while trying to hold down my family with two six-figure incomes in a Manhattan loft, nor do I have multiple children with numerous play dates and P.T.A. meetings mingling on the side. I work full time while attending school and attempting to be the best father and dad (and yes they are different) that I can. I am not claiming to be a super parent and I'm not criticizing the six-figure Manhattan-ites, but I know that my reflections will serve to provided sanity for myself and laughter for others, while providing relief to the many people of this modern, fast-paced era who are raising the worlds most complex pets: Children.