Blow Out Your Candles, Supergirl

In our lives, we all have heroes.  People whom we aspire to emulate. Unfortunately, the term "hero" is used too loosely these days.  "Thanks for the coffee! You're my hero."  Or "That professional athlete is my hero."  Or "Ferris Beuller, you're my hero."

A real hero, however, is someone who puts others before themselves.  They are someone who makes sacrifices to enrich the lives of those around them.  Heroes don't wear costumes or have a genetic mutation which provides super powers.  Their cape is their heart, and their super power is selflessness.  There is no beacon in the sky to call upon their help, for they are always there, offering assistance before you even know you need it.  Heroes don't seek our praise or financial reimbursement.  They usually do what they do quietly and unnoticed.  Moving silently in the shadows, they offer our lives the warmth of light.

Today, I celebrate my hero, my wife, Gina.  She has saved me through her love, faith, care and strength.  I often times feel like the Lois Lane to her Superman; being rescued countless times with her compassion and patience, and never realizing that my hero was standing next to me the whole time in plain clothes.  She does not wear an "S" on her chest, but she is identified easily by the ring on her left hand.  And she has swooped in to rescue me many times from my most infamous nemesis: myself.  She has reassured my doubt, lifted me high when I have stumbled, and offered up prayers when I was weak.

She is my wife, friend, mother to my children, my sacrament.  To others who know her, she is mother, daughter, sister, aunt, niece, cousin, friend, youth minister, confidant.  To strangers, she has been a warm meal, fresh clothes, and a prayer companion.

But to everyone who meets her, she is simply "hero."

Happy birthday, Gina. I love you!

Abridged Collection of Fatherly Advice for My Daughter

My daughter, Ana, is turning eight in a few days.  And, with Colin's arrival fast approaching, I have begun to feel rather guilty about my parenting duties as it pertains to little girls.  You see, I have been blessed with three children and a fourth on the way.  Ana will be a major minority in the house.  Statistically speaking, Ana will make up 100% of the female siblings, but only 25% of the total siblings.  There will be a 75% chance of the toilet seat being left up after one of the kids uses the bathroom, "boy" movies being chosen on movie nights, and conversations about Star Wars in the car.  There will only be a one-in-four chance, however, of Hello Kitty décor in their shared bedroom, princess-themed pancake shapes on Sunday mornings, or games that include the use of anything that is pink or purple in color.  She is "out-manned" at every angle.  And when I am running the show, the numbers tip even further away from her side.  Mainly because, I too, am a boy (No, not really.  I'M A MAN, BABY!...No, not really.  I'm a little boy wrapped up in a man's body.  Like, one boy standing on another boy's shoulders and wearing a trench coat.  I'm like a "Little Rascals" situation).  I make poop jokes with them, watch "The Avengers" with them, and play in the dirt with them.  It's what I know.  I know how to be a boy.  So, I always, kind of, steer our activities towards "boy" things.

Being a father is AMAZING!  I would say something cliché, like, "It's the best job I'll ever have."  But I can't.  Because it is too fun to call it a "job."  But, sometimes, I get too wrapped up in providing fun to the whole gang, that I forget to make it equally fun for everyone.  The minority crowd gets shuffled in with the masses and I forget to single out the lone girl and designate some "Daddy-daughter time." for her.  It's not that I don't know HOW to be a dad to a little girl.  I just forget WHEN I need to.

Also, I'm not talking about just games and entertainment.  I mean, I am usually talking to my kids, whether as a group (a mob?  A litter?  What is it when you have four?  A plethora?) or individually.  But I forget, sometimes, to talk to my daughter.  And I don't think I am the only dad out there that is guilty of this.  "How was your day?" is something that we ask our kids.  "How are you doing, sweetie?  Is everything going okay?  What's new in your life?  Tell me about school; about your friends.  Any problems?  Do you have anything you want to talk about?"  These are things you ask your daughter.  Or son.  Regardless of gender, they are specific and directed.  They are targeted at actually opening up dialogue instead of receiving the typical, blanket, monotone response.  But I think it's important that we fathers take time to deliver these questions to our daughters on a regular basis.  These conversations are our "Werther's Originals" opportunities.  They are the times that we get to offer our deep, philosophical insight and pierce young minds with our soul-awakening wisdom.  These are the times that we get to offer adages, like, "Sometimes, you just have to zip that zipper," or "Well, when a fluffy, cute dog bites you and you get poisoned and almost die from venom, it's only then that you realize it was a snake the whole time."  I don't actually know what these phrases mean and I don't have any actual context for them.  But I've created them and have stored them away in my head.  That way, I have something to say, even when I don't actually have anything useful to offer in a situation.  I've got plenty more stockpiled.  "If you buy a horse, you are also buying his steaming piles of manure."  I've got a million of them.  But, regardless of how useless (or borderline psychotic) your sayings may be, they will leave a lasting impression about the conversation; the fact THAT you had the conversation.  I can still remember all the times my dad would say, "You'll be better by the time you're married," whenever something bad happened to me.  It drove me nuts whenever he said it.  "What does that even mean?!?"  But I remember and I cherish the idea that he was actually engaged in a conversation; that he actually cared enough about what was going on in my life to carry on an actual exchange.

My fear, unfortunately, is that I won't be able to effectively give my daughter all the lessons that a father should share.  Also, I have a small and stupid little brain.  I will not have all the answers for her.  But I do know a few things that I want to be able to share with her.  The "Abridged Collection of Fatherly Advice for My Daughter" is my new book that has been published and bound in a leather cover in my head.  It has many lessons that I'm sure she will need to hear at some point in her life.  Really, it's just a list of things that I know I should tell her throughout her years, but I am afraid I will miss the opportunity, forget the answer, or say it completely wrong.  Here are some excerpts from this future NY Times Bestseller that I have imagined in my daydream. These are not in chronological order and range anywhere from her current age to adulthood.

"I love you."

"If some girl is making fun of you, you should cry.  Not for yourself, but for her.  Because someone has convinced her that she is a mean, nasty, hateful little pig.  She needs your love more than you need to hate her back."

"Red is positive, black is negative.  The black can also be clamped on the body of the car."

"Boys are dumb.  You should probably stay away from them...forever."

"I love you."

"I don't care if you do think it's cool.  I'm not buying you 'nerd glasses' unless you are prescribed lenses and you are, in fact, a nerd.  Otherwise, you look like a pretentious douche nozzle."

"Read a book.  In fact, read lots of books."

"Sometimes you fail.  That's life.  Look at me.  I fail almost every single day.  But I have you.  So all those other things that I sucked at don't really matter."

"Screw this!"  (This really only makes sense if you have the visual of me flipping over the chess board in a fit of rage after have been beaten three consecutive times by an eight year old.)

"When a guy introduces himself to you for the first time, count how many seconds he maintains eye contact with you throughout the whole conversation.  That will tell you right away what kind of guy he really is."

"I love you."

"Go to college."

"If you throw them at the wall and they stick, the noodles are done."

"If you don't stop crying, I'm going to tickle you until you pee yourself.  That's right.  You will laugh so hard you won't be able to breath, your eyes will water and you won't be able to control your glandular functions.  I don't care if it is your wedding."

"The day you, my first daughter, were born, I thought to myself, 'I am going to worried every day for the rest of my life."

"Never trust a person who voluntarily places an umlaut in their name that shouldn't have one.  Those two dots are just sneaky little eyes looking over a vowel, waiting for you to slip up."

"I love you."

"Go vote."

"Having you for a daughter is like having constipation.  It's not crappy." (I'm actually in selling negotiations with Hallmark right now for this beauty)

"You go back and tell him that he has two choices:  Either he can let me kick his ass, or I'm going to let you do it!"

"I'm so proud of you!"

"If you want a cool nickname, you have to earn it.  Do you think people call me 'Mildly-Impressive-Sideburns Guy' for nothing?"

"I love you."

"When in doubt, hug it out...Unless you are doubting yourself on how to talk yourself out of a speeding ticket.  Trust me."

"Up, Up, Down, Down, Left, Right, Left, Right, B, A, Start"

"The only person you have to convince is yourself.  If you think you're beautiful, everyone around you will too.  And if they can't see it, it's because they haven't convinced themselves yet on their own beauty."

"I'm not a judge or jury. But I can tell you this: he won't sell anybody out to buy his future!  And that, my friends, is called integrity! That's called courage! Now that's the stuff leaders should be made of. Now I have come to the crossroads in my life. I always knew what the right path was. Without exception, I knew. But I never took it. You know why? It was too damn hard. Now here's Charlie. He's come to the crossroads. He has chosen a path. It's the right path. It's a path made of principle; that leads to character..." (Okay, this is actually from when she will inevitably catch me reciting the speech from "Scent of a Woman" in my worst Al Pacino voice in front of the bathroom mirror...Hooah!)

"I love you."


Sadly, though, it is not as easy as having the answers written down like some kind of cheat sheet.  There is no perfect answer to raising kids.  Especially, for dads raising a girl in a house full of boys.  It's hard and frustrating and I'm almost positive that I will stammer and draw a blank when a unique opportunity presents itself for me to rise to the occasion.  But, I think I'm fairly sure that all the mistakes will be overlooked as long as I can sincerely and consistently confess, "I love you."  Because, isn't that the most important thing that any child, particularly girls, could possibly learn from their dad?  That they are loved?  That no matter what else is going on in their world, that someone one loves them unconditionally?  More than life itself?  That there is someone out there that will accept them regardless of their shortcomings and flaws?  An open heart and open arms?

Of course, knowing an Al Pacino monologue is pretty high up there, too, I'm sure.  Hooah!

Your Buddy Misses You

I haven't posted anything new on here for quite some time.  The truth is, I have been so busy with a laundry list of new life changes, that my attention span has been, well, nonexistent.  And, frankly, this blog is about being a husband and father.  But, for almost three months, I have been away from my family for days and even weeks at a time.  My new job (which is amazing!) has me away from them for the time being.  Soon enough, though, we will be back in each others' daily lives.  

But more importantly, we are pregnant!  And by "we", I mean she is.  But I am a firm believer in a "sympathy pregnancy," in which I sympathize with her food cravings and use that as an excuse to shove as much ice cream and cake and chocolate and hot wings and Chinese food and alcohol (I'm drinking for two, after all) down my gullet as I can for the remainder of the gestation period.  During her pregnancy with James, I'm pretty sure that I gained as much weight as she did during those nine months.  The difference being, she got to lose a lot of that weight in one day.  I, on the other hand, had the privilege of carrying mine for about another nine months.

But I've got some catching up to do.  Not that I haven't been eating ridiculously.  I have been away from my family, and therefore, I have been eating like a bachelor again.  Frozen pizzas, frozen burritos, frozen pot pies...There is a reason why the natural process for men in their twenties is to get married.  It is because they know that their current diet will probably have them in the ground by age thirty-five.  Marriage is a survival tool for men.  We need that voice of reason to tell us that Coco Puffs are not acceptable for three full meals a day.  And, I, being well into my thirties, cannot keep eating like this for very much longer.  I can hear my arteries starting to cuss at me.

 

No, I have some catching up to do simply because Gina is three months ahead of me.  You see, she was 15 weeks along before we found out the news.  I can hear you now, saying, "How could you not know?"  Well, let me explain before you get TLC on the phone.  About the same time that morning sickness would have been prevalent, this year's nasty flu was circulating itself around our home, one family member at a time.  And weight gain?  Gina didn't really put any weight on.  (However, the minute we found out, her belly started to swell by the minute.  I started thinking of that movie "Jack" with Robin Williams.)  And the little bit she did, we attributed it to the fact that she has been eating very similarly to me.  That, combined with the recent stress of my absence, was a perfect explanation for the symptoms of pregnancy.  It was actually a stranger she met at the Smithsonian while on a trip to D.C. that asked her if she was expecting.  Gina, who didn't know she WAS expecting, was upset, thinking that she was just becoming fatter.  But it prompted her to take the test that gave us the good news.

A new job, a baby on the way, and other big life changes have helped us to dry up our emotional "wells" pretty quickly.  Even my kids are feeling it a bit.  James gets awfully sad when he looks around to see that everyone, including the dog, is not at home.  I'm away.  My two oldest are with their mother.  It gets distressing.  It becomes saddening.  We need some face time every day.  So, I put together a slide show for my wife, my kids, and even myself, that we can watch when the loneliness becomes too much.   

The song is "My Buddy" being performed by Dr. John.  

I think it captures the situation we are in presently, but more importantly, it reminds me that my family members are my closest friends.  We laugh, we play, we tell stories, we share.  We are "buddies."

(In best announcer voice) "Super Mijjy and the Super Team of Justice"

So, I made this on almost no sleep.  But James loves to dress up and pretend.  And with all the Super Hero Ensemble movies coming out, I decided to jump on the bandwagon.  I took some of his sessions and made one giant comic strip.  Good luck on that whole "dating" thing in high school, little man! 

A Brief Reaction to Newtown, CT

This...this evil...is unfathomable. Children, as pure as the freshly fallen snow...I am certain that this quakes the foundations of all man, as we have been forced to be witness to the iniquity of the wicked and darkened souls.  

But, in these moments, we, as a world, are allowed the brief and rare opportunity to manifest, simultaneously, within each of us the ability to love unconditionally.  That feeling...that lump you have in your chest right now...is proof that you know love for another human being...Children whom you have never met; complete strangers. And right now, at this moment, every person who has seen or heard of these dark acts, is sharing that feeling with you. Regardless of your faith, politics, background, race, sexuality; your love for those children is evident by your feeling of sorrow and your heart is burdened that this kind of evil could exist.

Unfortunately for us, however, this unity is brief and fleeting. And even more unfortunate, is that it takes the destruction of the innocent before we afford ourselves the capacity to see what is truly the way: Love for one another. Over the next few days, the hardened hearts will rear their ugly heads and start the arguments and begin hating each other and the other's ideas about how this could have been prevented and who is to blame and what will be done to stop this in the future. But don't let them fade the knowledge that we all love the same. Hate is conditioned. But love, which we all felt today, is instinctual and natural.

I long with great anticipation the chance to squeeze my children a little tighter than normal. And I can only hope that I can bring more love into their lives every day...

Hug It Out Like A Man!

There is, for all parents, a deep longing for hugs from our children that is hard to describe.  It's more than just a physical contact.  And, perhaps, a hug is different to a dad than it is to a mom.  But regardless of gender, the need is still there.

But there is a transformation that happens in us men long before parenthood that puts us psychologically at odds with the embrace.  For when we were small boys, we clinched our parents out of instinct.  We clamored to our mothers and fathers because we felt inclined to seek out their comfort; A scary dream, a bad bike wreck, a fight with a sibling.  And a father's hug is even more powerful.  Not only does it offer solace, but there is a strength to it that allows for a sense of protection, as if whatever caused us to look for him will now be prevented from happening ever again.   As we grow and mature, though, our fears and pains are still prevalent, but we try to hide these self-perceived "weaknesses" and we stop seeking out the soothing and protective arm wraps, especially from our fathers.  Young men, especially teenagers, are trying so desperately to convince our dads that we are independent males, that we mask our suffering and try to fool the adults in our lives that we can handle this alone.

There are three hugs that I remember receiving from my elders that are more prominent in my memories more than any other: 

The first is any and all embraces from my grandfather, Ralph, on my mom's side.  Now matter how cool you try to be, he will track you down and give you the hardest, longest, and most loving hug that you've ever known.  And when he eventually breaks away, he leans back, grabs both your shoulders, and gives the warmest and most genuine smile in the world.  Pure love. After my wife first met him, she looked at me and said, "Man, that guy can hug!"

The second was from my neighbor in Mexico.  Señora Rivera was an Eighty-something that lived in the row house directly next to mine.  After I first moved in, she took a particular interest in me and my immersion into the local culture.  She helped me build my vocabulary, assisted me in navigating through a foreign grocery store (which, I've found is more important than knowing how to ask for the restroom.  People in any language know when you need to use the restroom.  There is, however, no known "Froot Loop Dance"), and she even taught me some amazing authentic recipes (to which, I believe my wife is eternally grateful).  When it was time for me to move away, she looked at me proudly and was a little choked up.  I wanted to show her that her lessons were not wasted, so I decided to use some Spanish.  I tried to dig from my memory the word for "hug," but couldn't remember it exactly.  I remembered her telling me that a lot of Spanish word sound a lot like English in root form.  So, I conjugated quickly a verb in my head that sounded like "embrace." I extended my arms and loudly proclaimed, "Embarazarme!"  Horrified, she took a step back and looked at me cautiously.  And then, after a second, she started laughing hysterically.  "No, no, no!  ABRAZARME!" Apparently, I, in very poor Spanish, had asked her to "impregnate me."

The third hug I remember most was the day I left for the Army.  My mom and dad waited with me in the morning for my recruiter to come to pick me up.  My dad and I were always close, but not "hugging close." And after my bag was loaded up, I stepped up for the tearful goodbyes.  My mom was a typical mother; crying and smiling and squeezing.  And then my dad stepped in.  It was the biggest, strongest hug I could remember him ever giving.  It was a "dad hug."  The kind of hug that lingers with you.   Since then, embraces have become regular and expected.

I had never understood the desire of hugs myself.  It was a violation of my personal space.  It was touching and intimate and it was odd.  When I offered a hug to someone, it was taken eagerly, because the recipient knew that I didn't often give them willingly.  Hugs were, for all intents and purposes, awkward and uncomfortable.

But then, I became a father.

There is a moment for all fathers that we feel that first hug from an infant.  And it is beautifully new with each individual child that enters our life.  Their head cradled on your shoulder, your cheek nuzzling the top of their head, one arm supporting their weight and the other tapping soothingly on their back.  And then you feel it.  The tiny little fingers grab on to your shirt and pull you in a little tighter.  They may not even realize they are doing it.  But they are...and you know it.  It's at that moment that you realize what your role is...Comforter, protector, provider, fixer....

And it becomes an addictive drug that you want more of.  But unlike any illicit substance, you never build up a tolerance.  Each one is just as powerful as the last.  Unfortunately, though, they will eventually get to point when they stop seeking you out for comfort.  They avoid the contact in public.  You find yourself acting like Pookie in "New Jack City," shaking and twitching and exclaiming, "It be calling me, man!  I just got to go to it!"

But, someday, they will need you...A broken heart, a frightening accident, a fall from grace...And when they do, all you can do is reach out and squeeze. 

Until then, you may have to do what I do:  Hunt them down and bear-hold them like Lenny from "Of Mice and Men" and wait for the kicking and screaming to stop as they realize you won't let them down until they squeeze back...Hey, a hug is a hug!

This Old House

I've had an idea for a project in my home for quite some time.  It's a unique spin on disguising a mounted flat-screen television and a media credenza underneath.  I've got all the schematics, measurements, and steps plotted out.  But, on my latest trip to Home Depot, I came to the sad conclusion that this awesome "would-definitely-be-pinned-by-my-wife" project would have to wait.  You see, with the economy in the state that it has been, gas prices climbing over the summer, and the Eco-friendly legislature that has recently passed, the price of lumber has climbed to new highs.  And frankly, I just can not justify spending that much money on building something as unnecessary as an entertainment center.  But then, I came to the genius conclusion:  Perhaps, I could just eliminate other things that are even more unnecessary and re-purpose the wood from those things into my project. 

So, I have begun creating a list of things in my home that are made from wood and never used.

1.  Bathroom Doors - With a wife and children, the concept of privacy is lost.  These doors have really become decoration and a place behind which to stash the last little bit of clutter before guests arrive.  I've decided that with two bathrooms in the house, they would provide about 60% of the material needed for my project.  And, frankly, when I do actually shut the door, it is only a matter of time before there are knocks and squeals coming from the other side, along with tiny little fingers poking underneath while the handle jiggles.  Someday, I'm sure, they'll finally figure out that I'm not actually doing anything in there, but, rather, just taking a break from the constant barrage of questions, demands, and abuse.  And, to be clear, I mean abuse from the kids, not my wife (She would beat me senseless if I implied to the public that she physically abused me).  Let's face it, as parents, we love our kids unconditionally.  We try to be friends with our kids; playing with them, talking to them, listening to them.  But our kids could care less.  What kind of friend would walk into your bedroom and dump milk right in the middle of your mattress and walk out?  They are mean, rude selfish little people.  Children are the world's worst roommates.  They break your stuff, eat your food, never pick up after themselves, expect rides every where and barge in on you when you're trying to use the bathroom.  But we love them.  And, so, there is very little we can do except just take the abuse and try to find a small hiding place for twenty minutes at a time. 

2.  The Kid's Dresser Drawers - These things are not pointless.  And they are used.  I know they are, because I distinctly remember placing the clothes into the drawers.  But, it seems that a poltergeist has taken over my children's rooms.  If I were to spend an entire weekend reorganizing the drawers and ensuring that every article of clothing is folded perfectly and placed exactly where it belongs, it wouldn't seem to matter.  Twenty minutes after I am finished, the clothes somehow end up strewn about the floor and hanging out of the drawers.  It's as if the furniture piece was out all night on a sweater and t-shirt bender and is now waking up in a pool of it's own sick.  "I promise, I'll never do that again!  I'm going to be clean and sober for ever!  I'm so sorry!"  And, just like the good little enabler that I am, I clean it all up and tell the dresser that everything will be okay and that it's not his fault; that he was just made that way.  The very next day, however, he's right back into his shenanigans and I can hear the retching and the sickly plop of pajama bottoms and blue jeans all through the night.  So, why not an intervention?  And, by "intervention," I mean, "Why not just chop it up into tiny pieces and use it for good instead of evil."

3.  Cribs and Toddler Beds - While they may look sweet and can really tie the room together, these are probably the most unnecessary items in the house.  I have slept through until morning in James' bed more times than he has.  Seriously.  There have been many a nights when I will fall asleep in his bed while putting him down, only to wake up in the morning by myself.  I will, of course, find him on my side of our bed with his head on my pillow and his drool on my pillow case while being snuggled by his mother.  Honestly, though, I can say that those have been the best nights of sleep I've gotten in the last three years.  Probably, because, I am not awoken by tiny feet tap dancing on my trachea and tiny fists pounding me in the kidneys periodically throughout the night.  I've actually slept in a raccoon's den with hot dogs in my pants before (Don't ask.  It's a long story) and woke up with less physical damage to my body than that little guy provides me on a nightly basis.

4.  The Dining Room Table - Let's face it, a dining room is just a glorified "junk drawer."  If there is a flat surface anywhere in this room, it is probably covered with junk mail and half-finished "projects."  The real dining room is the living room.  My wife and I even have little chairs that are the perfect height for little people to sit at the coffee table to eat their food.  In fact, they are even designing coffee table sets with actual stools that can nest underneath them.

It's as if the manufacturers have hired real-world parents of little children to design their product for practical daily use.  I'm sure it will only be a matter of time before they will come with tiny forks and spoons to make the "family room picnic" complete.


So, I believe that by cutting out these "unnecessary" pieces from my house, I could easily provide the materials needed to build the entertainment center.  And this thought process has kick started other money saving "re-purposing" techniques.  I wonder how my wife would feel about using the soles of her shoes that she hasn't worn since we met as material to re-shingle the garage roof?  Keep your eyes on Pintrest for that little project.  Or maybe the local news.  We'll have to wait and see...