One Bridge You Mustn't Burn

It may not seem like it, but when you get married, you start building something.  You and your spouse are co-creators of an entity.  You can call it a family, a business, a home, or a combination of these and other things.  It's a positive thing, to be sure.  But it can become large and burdensome over time, if it's not constantly infused with warmth.

Perhaps the married couple buy a home.  Almost immediately, each member begins fulfilling responsibilities around the home.  From sweeping the front porch to paying the bills, there are dozens of responsibilities that must be constantly take care of.  Add children to this, and you add the instant potential for being overwhelmed on a regular basis.

Again, this is a positive position to be in, but it's no small matter.  You've got to communicate to keep this baby intact (pun intended).  Even when you don't have the time and means to be thorough, you must be crystal clear.  This is Houston transmitting to Mars.  You often can't even shake hands, but you have to share control of a ship that must be steered with pinpoint accuracy.  The lines of communication must always be open - day and night.

Those lines must also always be drawn tight.  For they support the entire operation.  Like a sturdy bridge over an unnavigable river - constantly exposed to the elements - the builders of the family must provide safe passage for their own without ever letting go of their partner.

And to you, single parents, I remain in awe.  You have secured the help to shoulder the whole load, only when you must.  You return, then, always to bear the whole weight of the operation again and again.  I'm becoming familiar with the true strength of love, but this still baffles and uplifts me.

Remember, there's no subject too big or too small.  And no issue is ever off the table.

Screw Your Agenda

Look, I'm a baby.  I have a very simple agenda.  It involves being fed by you, held by you, entertained by you, and basically just constantly focused on by you. All that other stuff, such as changing my diapers, bathing me, relentlessly inspecting every last nook and cranny of my adorable little body,  I just let you do that to pass the time.  And as far as dressing me goes, that is nothing more than a gift - reluctantly given - from me to you.  Frankly, I don't understand the big deal with clothes.  What's the point?  You put them on, I spit up on them, you wash them, then you magically produce another clean onesie.  I know where my food comes from, but I don't have a name for it.  I just think of it as the milk bar below your face.  If you don't have a milk bar, then you're lucky if I do so much as fall asleep on you.  Let's get something else straight.  I don't know what you're saying.  I hear sounds coming out of you, but they just go up and down and let me know if you're happy or frustrated with me.  Mainly your words get my attention and make me think you're going to feed me.  And when it turns out that you're not going to feed me, I'm allowed to yell at you, or - in my case - cry at you.  I'm even allowed to carry on in the loudest, most piercing tone, when I have absolutely no idea what it is that I want or need.  I just know i'm not currently satisfied.  Please don't explain that I'm just tired, I'm very busy being mad at something I can't identify.  And ultimately -  while I do prefer to be with you - I don't really care about you.  I can't.  I have no capacity for sympathy.  But I do love you.  And, more importantly, I allow you to love me. :-)

One more thing:  I have no understanding of sleep.  While I do fall asleep a lot, I have no idea that I need it.  And I'm not aware of you sleeping at all.  This means I have zero concern or even curiosity when it comes to your sleeping requirements.  You are always there for me - so I can't conceive of you even resting (or what rest is, for that matter).  If it's true that you do require sleep, I strongly recommend you sleep every time I do.  Otherwise you'll be passing out at inopportune times throughout the day, only to be woken up by my piercing cry.  I'd say that's a promise, but I don't know what that means.

Now remind me again - what is EVERY SINGLE THING?

Car Wash, Baby!

I saw a guy washing his car in his driveway, and I thought - I used to do that.  Then I had a baby. Then, I had two more babies.  Sometimes we drive through a car wash.  Mostly, we just wash the kids and let the rain wash the car.  Sometimes we let the rain wash the kids.  That doesn't really work.  Know what else doesn't really work?  Not taking a nap every single time you get the chance.  Nap it up, baby!  That's my advice.  Now if only I can convince myself to take my own advice.

Sorry - My Hands Are Full...

You know what I like? -  holding a baby.  Other than the obvious reasons, I've come to really enjoy the freedom that comes with holding a baby.  I'm referring, of course to the freedom from having to actually do anything other than stand there cradling the child,  - It's truly the most wonderful thing!  You're literally obliged to NOT lift a finger, since you're already doing your part, simply by holding a baby.  You're free from having to pick up anything that falls - even if you're the one who dropped it.  People open doors for you, they throw your trash out, some folks will even feed you.  Let's face it, your hands are occupied with a tiny person - you can't just put down a baby.  So go ahead, grab a baby, and start littering!

Note To Self

Dear Me,

I am writing this from the middle of a living room which is the opposite of tidy.  This is significant because I'm a total everything-in-it's-place kind of guy.  I mean this, not in a personality way, rather in an OCD way.  Netflix is filling the room with the sounds and colors of another kid's show (one of the many that my wife and I find acceptable. Yes, our kids watch many shows.)  At this moment, my wife is preparing for an upcoming class she's going to teach, while holding our two-month-old.  My five-year-old is playing a game on my iPod, one I myself haven't figured out.  My three-year-old is watching the tv.  Right now, I am not parenting.  I'm close-by and ready to help, but I'm doing nothing to contribute.  I have changed several diapers this morning - prepared, served, and cleaned up breakfast for our two older children, and spent time holding our baby.  I haven't had time to change out of my pjs yet, I've chosen to utilize free moments to dash to the bathroom.  But now I'm indulging myself too write this to you, because it's important that you hear it from someone who is a dad right now.

I just opened a new magazine to read.  My favorite magazine is National Geographic, and I just tore the wrapping off of this issue - dated September 2012.  This issue came with an insert about Mauna Kea - The world's tallest mountain (32,696ft from sea floor to summit).  I need to read every word on the insert, so I'll have to keep it out and available for whenever the opportunity arises.

My middle child is rubbing her pink elephant's leg along her eyebrow.  My oldest daughter's green bear is in their light blue to-go-upstairs bin.  I try to always know where the kids loveys (comforting stuffed animals) are.  When they need them, there's zero acceptable wait time.  I know which of their blankets they prefer and their likely vicinity.  I also know where my wife's essentials are most likely to be;  the phone, her cell phone, iPad mini, the four remotes, purse, wallet, coupon holder, water glass,...etc.  Etcetera is a lot of things from my point of view.  As a dad, "etcetera" is basically every single thing in your home.  This is no exaggeration because whenever you need something, you have no time allotted to look for it, only to get it.  Get it?

For example when I go to the bathroom, I rarely close the door.  I will be needed soon, if not immediately.  Time spent closing, and opening the bathroom door is a luxury.  Plus, I'll likely be visited while I'm in there, so I might as well save my visitor the trouble of having to open the door - though they're more than happy to do so.

This is a totally acceptable normal scenario for you/me right now.  Think of it as the Good
Old Days, - or - maybe as the days when you were raising your children instead of sleeping.  As for me, I wasn't really thinking about it until I wrote this down.  And I have to say, I'm afraid I might be coming off a tad kooky.  If so, please save this piece of writing as a documentation of my former sanity.

From this perspective, raising humans in your home 24 hours a day makes raising dinosaurs seem just a little risky and possibly annoying.

Hello, these are my pet dinosaurs:  Risky and Annoying.

Hi,  These are my children:  What are your names again?

Big Faker

These days, I've realized that I'm such a fake compared to my 3 month old son.  He neither dwells on the past nor invokes the future, his mind is literally never anywhere else.  Right now, this moment, that's all he considers.  Not only does he never lie, he doesn't even exaggerate - ever!  He communicates his feelings and desires the moment they happen.  He doesn't hold a grudge.  He never tries to manipulate anyone, and he's absolutely incapable of holding anything in.  This, of course, mainly includes hiccups, burps, toots, pee, and his own personal version of poop - currently a shade of mustard with the consistency of melted butter.  On the other hand, I hold almost everything in - and sometimes for quite a while!

Wow! - Have I got a lot to learn!

Modern Conveniences: Meet Baby!

Hey baby - why won't you let this mechanical thing put you to sleep?  We've strapped you safely in, and we set it to swing automatically back and forth at a comfortable medium speed.  We even turned the halfway decent music component on to play you a lullaby over and over and over.  We put a blanket on you and we  dimmed the lights.  We're close by across the room here.  Just because you're too cranky to open your eyes wide enough to see us and know we're here, doesn't mean you shouldn't be able to drift off to sleep.  Just because the plastic and metal machine with no warmth or heartbeat doesn't feel exactly like a body for you to melt into, doesn't mean you couldn't also doze off in exhaustion in your makeshift sleep space.  We worked hard to figure out which contraption we could purchase and plug in so that you could be gently and sweetly lulled off to dreamland by this modern convenience that was made in China and folds up to fit under our bed whenever you grow out of it.  So what exactly is the  reason you can't seem to accommodate our needs by being content while belted into this modern baby device and just falling asleep as if you were being cradled by a real person?  Go ahead, you can tell us.  Just make it snappy, we have to update our Facebook status, compose an eye-catching Tweet, send a pic of you out over Instagram and then get busy writing on our blogs...

Hold Onto The Little Things

Dads:  Hold your babies.  I mean this in the most basic and direct way.  Hold your daughter or your son as often as you possibly can.  Those of you with children six months or older know just how fast this time goes by.  They are tiny little bundles for such a short time, and nothing can capture that state of sweet, warm,  perfection like the feeling of your baby in your arms.

Every time you hold your baby, you feel better than the moment before.  Even when you're exhausted, in a hurry, distracted or otherwise preoccupied - the second you have their body against yours, you are immediately exactly where you belong in the universe.  Let's face it, that can never happen too often.

We are all busy, regardless of occupation, family make-up,  or caregiver situation.  We are all busy.  But babies are only babies for what seems like a few precious moments in time, whenever you look back at them.  You pick up your baby, and bury your face in them, and it never fails to overwhelm you in the best way imaginable.  It's as if their physical bodies are a drug you made unwittingly.  It is the most perfect and most selfish thing you can do, to hold your own child.  This is why you must do it often.  Not as often as you "can," or as often as "necessary," but as often as they are available to you.

I say this, knowing that I haven't held my 3 month old baby enough.  This is my third child, and yet, I haven't embraced the lesson I'm trying to articulate here.  I'm afraid I've failed in exactly that, which I'm insisting you do.  I'm hoping you'll take this to heart, and we will all do better.  I should be holding my son right now.  As I write this, he's nestled in a Boppy on our love seat just a few feet away from me.  I should be holding him, and dictating these words into my iPod - or - perhaps not typing at all.  This "sacrifice" of time holding him, is not worth it for the sake of getting my message out, but I'm an obsessive writer.  I should be writing this while my wife is nursing our baby - the only time when I'm truly justified in giving him up.

Now I'm holding my little guy to my cheek.  He's awake and jerkily testing his muscles.  Tiny feet poke into my side as He moves his head busily back and forth.  These simple - yet precious - movements are experiences a parent should relish even more than a stunning sunset, or last minute championship goal!

Now you!

Selfish Poem

Nothing More

I want My family

My career,  my life

I want my kids and my wonderful wife

I want steam coming off of my dream

I want the chaos and the clutter and the happy screams

I want the chasing and the crying and the sweet extremes

I never knew anything like this before

And now that I know,

I want nothing more.

Even Royalty Must Bathe

I got the bath ready to give my little girls a shower while they tidied up their room.  When I stepped out to tell them it was ready, they had apparently finished cleaning up.  In the meantime, they had set up a small tea party and donned fancy princess dress-up slippers and teapot-lid crowns -  and nothing else.  I burst into a laugh, at which the older one said "Are you laughing because we're naked? - Because we have to be naked so you won't yell at us for not being ready when you come to get us for our shower."  I told her I appreciated the practicality of their simple costumes, and requested that their highnesses please remove their crowns and shed their shoes so that I might bathe them...

The 'Busy Day' Myth

When two children each "urgently" need something different at the same time, and from the same adult, the adult is very likely to experience a combined feeling of annoyance, frustration, desperation, panic, and failure.  This feeling tempts parents to tell their friends who don't have children that they are NEVER allowed to complain about how busy they are.

While this may seem like an exaggeration, or otherwise unreasonable, it's simultaneously very real, and  - well, just ...never mind.

Snack Time

I was about to write a really quick post about how I can never write a really quick post because the moment I sit down two of my children immediately and simultaneously ask for really important stuff like "Daddy can I have a purple bar on a green plate and a glass of almond milk in a dots glass with a red straw?", and "Daddy don't worry, I'll get my own snack" - Which means "I'll noisily shove a chair across the kitchen to the pantry and get out a chocolate chip granola bar and then some whipped cream from the door in the fridge, then eat them while sitting half on my seat and screaming happily at my sister who is only 3 inches away from my face. - Also can I have some honey"

I never got around to the post, but instead, I got them some wipes for their sticky hands.  Then I swabbed the kitchen floor beneath their chairs where the layer of crumbs and hair covers the spot I clean every single day since forever.

Sleeping Around

My last thought before falling back to sleep in the middle of the night between my 3 and 6 year olds - one of whom had woken up whining because her sister kept kicking her in the head - was "Wow! This is really uncomfortable."  But, no worries, because when I was woken up a good most of an hour later by my 3 month old spitting up on his mommy - I had only a mildly painful crick in the back.

I grabbed a towel and dashed in to give it to my wife.  He was done spitting up by then, but at least I got to say hello to my wife and climb back into my own bed.  Then I got a bit more sleep, but it didn't seem to take.

I'm on a 24 hour per day nap alert.  My brain is ready to shut down at a moment's notice - for my own good, of couuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu...

A Tiny Note About the Cause of Insanity

Having 3 kids with two of them screaming while you're trying to talk to the mechanic about what unexpected difficulties they found after you had to jump your car because it wouldn't start in the pouring rain when you were in a rush to get to your wife's family music class with your daughter who pulled her shoes off during a tantrum can be murderous.

Introducing a new battery, a clean diaper, a snack and a cup of coffee - Ahhh.  This should set me up for a full 3-5 minutes. :-)

Letter to a New Dad

Dear New Dad,

This is a big change in your life and things will NEVER go back to the way they were.  Think of high school graduation, or college graduation.  You are now graduating to parenthood.  You will still be able to do the things you want to do, you just won't have as much time.  You are a parent first, and it's best to consider this a privilege - rather than a reason to be bitter.  You will be tired, exhausted, frustrated, annoyed, confused - but any time you drift towards sadness or bitterness, PICK UP THAT BABY and drink in the warmth.  Or if she is sleeping, go stare at her - this can only make you feel better.  Remember, many people never have the opportunity to become parents.  They will never know exactly what they're missing (and you won't be able to explain it to them).  It's better that way.  You're part of an exclusive group, although there's no need to brag (Recall the secret pride you felt while being in public after having had sex for the first time?  You're not going to shout it out, but you're different now).  Embrace this as your new normal, and trust that it will be SO worth it.

Do not think of yourself as the secondary caregiver.  If you must, think of yourself as the second PRIMARY caregiver.  Start right out as if you can handle everything.  Don't get in the habit of handing your baby over, just because mommy knows best - even if you're certain that she does.  You need to learn how to do everything.  The fact is, there is only one thing mommy can do that you can't (btw - Mom's success at breastfeeding will depend up to 90% on YOUR support and encouragement).  You can and should do everything else as frequently as possible so that you become comfortable.  Remember, no parent is an expert with their first baby. Still, you are neither a substitute, nor a babysitter.  You share first responder status with the mom.   Feel free to seek advice, but don't let anyone else tell you what to do,  - this includes other parents, relatives, doctors, or any so-called "experts."  From the moment your baby is born, YOU are the expert wherever she is concerned.

Break the mold of the long out-dated dad stereotype.  George Banks (Jane & Michael's father in Mary Poppins) is the exact opposite of the dad you need to be.  Let's not feed the stereotype of the   "Idiot Dad" either.  Whenever I see that role portrayed on TV - especially referring to the fathers in the U.S. - it pisses me off.  Unlike many lame dads in the past, most of us actually enjoy time with our children, and we want to do better.  After all, we are not just "sponsoring" our wives and partners.  We are part of the family.  Acting as if you don't know what to do with your own child may be tempting, but it's inadequate at best and ultimately of no help to your baby.  Tell your baby, you are there to take care of him.  When your baby hears you say it, you will hear it too.  It will become more true everyday.  You'll never be a "perfect" parent.  I've been a dad for over 6 years, and it's still common for me to have no idea what to do.  This is as it should be.  John Wilmot said "Before I got married, I had six theories about bringing up children;  now I have six children and no theories."  That was over 300 years ago, and it still holds up.  You simply try stuff until something works, and don't be so naive to think the same things always work.  Also, the "thing" you try mustn't always be letting mom take care of it.  You should be taking turns to in order to share the exhaustion.

Taking turns is the mark of practical parenting (assuming there is more than one parent), because one of you shouldering too much responsibility is bound to create distance and resentment, - both of which the baby will pick up on.  Your baby should not be in crisis because there is only one human being who can truly care for her.  I say this with a clear recollection of how my wife ALWAYS seemed to know better than I with our first child, and still does now - with our third.  Most of that is simply a matter of self-confidence.  You deserve the confidence to know that your love for your child is enough to ensure that she gets what she needs.  It is not clinical expertise that cares for babies in the middle of the night when we wish we were sleeping, it is a loving mommy or daddy.  When the source of baby's incessant crying remains a mystery even after calling the doctor, it is your love that keeps you focused on nurturing your little one.  And it becomes so reassuring to be able to collapse on your pillow, when you know your baby is being taken care of  by your equal partner.  In our case, our consistant willingness to handover that parental responsibility, is a mark of the growth of our own connection as partners.  We are closer to each other, we are better friends and better communicators because of how we share the parenting.

It is so hard being a dad, and I love it so much.  Don't get me wrong, I complain - but I also listen to my wife complain, so it balances out.  We're also human, we even complain to our own kids about how hard it is to be a parent.  We don't always say the right things, but we try to make a point of telling our kids how good they are and how much we love them.  Apparently we've done this enough, that when we've fallen asleep while on duty, nothing horrible has happened.

Of course, if you do  fall asleep with a baby, the baby will wake you up.  Babies are born with survival skills - or at least skills that allow the baby to remind you to help them survive.  It really is amazing how much parenting instinct you have, if only you allow yourself to recognize it and act on it, rather than mistake your nervousness for incompetence.  I like to remind myself out loud to my child, that I'm his dad, and I'll always take good care of him.  This also helps reinforce my status in my own mind,  as primary caregiver and confident parent.  I recall sitting in the large, bench-style backseat of our station wagon.  I could only  see part of the side of my dad's face from behind as he drove along the highway on long trips.  I'd half wake-up from a road-induced nap just long enough to squint and barely make out a fourth of my dad's face.  Now I'm the one driving.  I'm the one quarter of a face they can see.  I think about that while I'm driving and I'm reminded how much I LOVE this new role.

I honestly didn't expect parenting to be so time consuming.  My wife and I marvel at how much time it takes just to care for one child.  We often wonder what did we do with ALL that extra time before we had children.  When we had our second child, we wondered what we did with our extra time when we only had one.  Note to self:  Learn your lesson and don't keep attempting to explain this and other childrearing phenomena to your friends who don't have children of their own.  As well as they may know you and love you and your children, they cannot understand your new life - even if they spend a whole day or weekend with you.  They may achieve a greater understanding than some, but until the responsibility of caring for a child rests squarely upon one's own shoulders, they simply cannot comprehend what you do (even a picture of you buried in parental responsibilities can't portray more than an inkling of what it feels like to truly be a dad).

 I know I shouldn't be surprised to learn this, but what is even more surprising is how much I love being a father compared to how much I THOUGHT I loved being a kid.  It is literally so fulfilling that you're happy and willing to be at the beckon call of everyone in your family, even with no end/rest in sight.  The knowledge that your kids are growing older and may one day not need you is enough to motivate you to enjoy every little thing about them as little kids - even in their most annoying states/stages.

It will never be easy to be a good father, but it will become second nature to be a primary caregiver - as long as you insist on truly fulfilling that role.  Take your baby eagerly into your arms, even (or perhaps especially) when you don't know how you're about to calm her down and make her happy.  Trusting yourself is an essential first step in being a full-fledged parent.  Don't let yourself down by thinking that you're not doing as good of a job as you could be if you were one of those parents who just seems to be naturally good at it.  Really good parenting is one of those skills that you can't possess naturally until you've learned the ropes by failing on the job.  You can't practice parenting with someone else's kids.  You may be able to improve your diapering skills on someone else's baby, but that is no substitute for the 24 hour on-call ultimate love service that your baby requires from you.

The great thing is that you get to enjoy your child's childhood more than you did your own childhood, because you realize what's going on.  You know that these are your kid's good-old-days while they are actually living them.  They may be happy, but they haven't the benefit of the concept of time that you do.  You get to see the future and the past at the same time.  Even though it's their past and your future - you are privileged to experience them at once.  In this way, you are privy to that magical sense of fulfillment that comes with the perspective of a parent.

Any time you have the opportunity to compliment a parent, do it.  If they don't happen to deserve it at that moment, they will ...and they did.  It takes all you have to be a good parent.  It's your life's work, and it's the most gloriously rewarding occupation - regardless of what else you accomplish.  Don't make the mistake of withdrawing - even in the slightest way - because you lack the confidence.  Do it now, you can always figure it out later.

Here's to you, Dad.  And remember;  there's no substitute for the real thing.

Don't Bother Calling

Here's the thing.  We're busy.  We appreciate the convenience of a quick phone call across long distances (and short ones) to say hello or ask a question, or even just to chat.  But we've had to cut those things out.  It's not that we don't enjoy saying hello, answering questions and chatting - but we've learned that these things aren't essential to survival.  With three small children to care for, we've become more focused on essentials - such as food, sleep, space to walk, clean underwear, sitting down for a single moment, naps,  - stuff like that.

I'm not saying that we rushed to pick up the phone when we had only two children.  It's just that now that we're outnumbered by our little darlings, the telephone is the last thing we're likely to pick up.

Just to be clear, this isn't simply a matter of call screening.  It's not as if one caller has more chance of getting through than another.  We're just not picking up.

At the same time, you needn't be flattered if you call and we do happen to pick up.  That doesn't mean you're that special, important family member/friend with whom we're dying to talk.  It's more like winning the lottery.  It just means that, on occasion, we do actually answer the phone when it rings, by force of habit.  You should just consider this a little bonus to your day.

Feel free to email or text, or send a Facebook message.  That way, if your message is of an urgent nature, we're more likely to learn about it - eventually.

Thank you in advance for not calling.

Please don't stop by either, unless you're dropping off food, of course.

Have a nice few years. :-)

The Carpenter Family

Happy Father's Day to me

Happy Father's Day to me. Let me tell you why.  I have the gift and the joy of people keeping me busy.  Right now I'm enjoying a cappuccino and an Egg and cheese breakfast sandwich delivered to me by my family.

*   *  *

1 month later... guess I'll never finish this post!

Would have finished by now, but every night during my free 12 minutes I choose sleep.

More soon.  (I hope.)

Birth Story

I was skyping with my wife from work and she said "oh!" - somewhere off camera.  "What?"  I said, - "What happened?"  "Wait a second"  - she said - "hang on."   "Well what happened?" I said. "I think my water broke!"  I knew that it had, and I felt the reality slide over me, as we both shifted into birth mode...   And so it began, again.

"Now what?"  I asked (she was still somewhere off camera).  "Why don't you just wait 'til it's time to pick up Zoe.  You can get her from car pick up and come home."  So that's what I did.  I let the school secretary know that the ball had begun rolling.  I told her I wouldn't be in the following day, and I would work on getting a sub for the day after as well.  As Zoe and I walked to the car, I explained that mommy had begun to go into labor, and we were going home to help take care of her.

When the girls found out they'd be going to visit our friends while their mom had the baby at the birth center, all they could do was keep asking when their "play-date" was going to start.  It was clear that their perspective was practically the opposite of ours.  We were nervous, uncertain and scared about just how things were going to go down.  While they were anxiously awaiting the arrival of their friends - signaling the beginning of their overnight extravaganza.

Emily and I made sure our birth bag, snacks...etc. were packed, along with the girls' overnight bags, all the while stealing constant glances at every clock in our path.  When our friends showed up to pick up Zoe & Teagan, i quickly installed their individual car seats,  waved to the kids as they drove off with huge grins on their faces -  And before we knew it, we were alone with the prospect of the scariest portion of pregnancy staring us in the face.  After a few calls back and forth with our midwife, we gathered our birthing gear, double-checked for key supplies, and headed out for one last meal before our kids outnumbered us.

California Pizza Kitchen was still open, barely.  We sat down and ordered fairly quickly.  Each time Emily got up to go to the bathroom, I found myself following her with my eyes to the bathroom - like a nervous puppy, gazing after its owner.  I knew that after her water had broken, contractions could literally start at any time.  But we had no such luck.  We finished our dinner (a club sandwhich - minus all the meat except bagon, and fish tacos), and headed over to the birth center.

Ashley let us in and we unloaded everything into the cozy room, which - thank goodness -  felt nothing at all like a hospital room.  Everything included an iPod plugged in and playing music of our choosing, and a giant, inflated yoga/exercise ball.  we did a few laps down the hall and back  -  and Em half-heartedly danced around the room.  Around midnight, Ashley came in and  suggested we head home and try to catch some sleep before returning EARLY the following morning. They said we could just leave all our stuff there, so we took them up on it and headed home to an empty house.

The time in our home without our daughters was the most depressing for me.  They add so much light to our home, that being there without either of them just felt wrong.   After sleeping in brief shifts, but not in our bed (while Emily slept even less - if at all...) we took a walk to the end of our cul-de-sac in the early morning darkness.  Then we called Ashley, and let her know that Em had been having contractions on and off.  She told us to head back in.  I heated up a cup of coffee from the night before, we grabbed our stuff and loaded back into the car, hoping that however this goes down -  we'll be coming home only when we have our baby.

Back at the Fruitful Vine, we felt pumped and ready to go.  It was early  - 5:45 am, and we had to wait a bit before Ashley arrived.  Em couldn't wait,  so she peed beside the building.  That made me have to pee.  I was about halfway through when headlights burst across the parking area, causing me to close up shop in a hurry with that frustrating unfinished feeling...  Ashley let us in, and we get resettled into our room.  I headed to the bathroom while Ashley checked out Emily again, then assigned us to do some more walking.  We ambled up and down the mostly dark hallway of the birth center.  As we walked, turning about at the end of the hall every 15 - 20 seconds, Emily continued to mutter encouragingly to herself about how she's done this before, and it will be okay...

Within 5 minutes we were in the space where our daughter would be born only a few stressful, grueling, harrowing, gut-wrenchingly poignant hours later.  The nice thing is that the room was set up as if it were a bed & and breakfast - with soft lighting, hardwood floors, and tasteful but not gaudy furnishings.

Emily stripped down to her tank top and underpants and began moving around.  She would alternate between rocking, pacing, bouncing on the exercise ball, semi-dancing - all the while panting and quietly vocalizing her trepidation about the hard parts to come.  I became engaged in my own compulsive little dance of hovering around her, rushing back and forth for every little need - water, a snack, phone, camera - and dashing to the iPad to hit the Start and Stop button on the Contraction Timer app.  Meanwhile, Sharon showed up along with Laurie (the photographer).

Ashley was to be the main guidance giver, talking Em through each segment of this birth experience, while Sharon was the hands on/in midwife, willing to switch directions and try a new angle if Em showed the least bit of interest to do something different just to feel like progress was being made (not that it wasn't - it just seemed to be taking longer, WAY LONGER, than our first 2 bundles of love).

I was doing my thing of racing to hit the Start Contraction button when things converged at the sink in the bathroom.  Em seemed  to sense that she was at the brink of the really intense work/pain of the labor and she was afraid to keep going.  I felt bad, because I knew I could only be loving and supportive, but I couldn't relieve her of one single bit of that work or pain.  So I stood as close as physically possible, at least one hand on her at all times, while Ashley and Sharon kept her focused and coaxed her lovingly, but strongly through the steps to bring our baby to us.

We tried the stool, but wound up on the bed.  She would switch from her back to her side to her stomach on all fours and back to her back again before the final push.  I remember a particularly poignant moment with all 3 of us physically holding or gently pulling Emily in some way (Laurie close by with the camera) when the song playing on the iPod from the Labor playlist synced with us in a comical, but honest way.  It was the Ladies Singin' their song from Baby - ..."we have a role to fulfill it's god's will that a woman should suffer"  I remember taking a snapshot of that in my mind, and feeling that I part of something important, ...to be there with my amazing wife and these smart, strong women.

Emily was really feeling the intensity of the pain and she asked me to call her dear friend Mimi in California.  I called and put Mimi on speaker phone.   For the remainder of the delivery, Mimi was there nestled in a pillow on the bed.  She talked to Emily the whole time, a loving friend across the country, gently encouraging her through every burning, breath-taking push.  Somehow Mimi's voice gave Emily the willpower to keep doing this all on her own.  Em remarked several times that she thought she was going to pass out, but she never did.

It took a lot of strength to hold one of her legs up, while Ashley held her hand,  and Mimi listened  in while Sharon guided our little baby - one hand up beside his face - into Emily's other hand.  One more push and he was up and on her belly.  He screamed, while Emily cried and we all marveled at the tiny, purple, waxy, open-mouthed baby.  He had a full head of wet, black hair, and the the cord was still draped across Em's belly and down inside, but she had finally pushed him all the way out, all on her own.

I can't imagine being more proud of anyone, than I was of Emily at that moment.  I still am.  I feel so lucky to have been there, and to have been part of it.  Welcome to our family, Richmond.  We couldn't love you any more.  But we probably will...

A Bicycle Built For... Five?

Being married is like sharing a tandem bicycle - taking turns steering and peddling in time together. Then you have kids - they run alongside like enthusiastic gremlins, jamming sticks into the spokes. They do this to remind you how smoothly things used to go, and how unrealistic you once were...

Daddy Dinner

The girls had dinner out on the lanai in the pouring rain.  They sat at their little checkerboard table with their tiny folding chairs wearing sweatshirts and underwear, while I served them.  On the menu was matzo ball soup, watermelon, cheese slices, bananas, bread, apples and some tasty, tasty water.  They dined while the rain soaked the grass and splashed in the pond.  The thunder rumbled in the distance and the lightning flashed in the sky like a giant, unseen camera bulb.  They giggled and gobbled and smiled and slurped, kicking their bare toes against each other's knees, as I served another matzo ball and refilled their glasses.  I can't picture a finer picnic.

Running Naked

My daughters are chasing each other around the kitchen, dressed in princess underpants and yelping like puppies.  Their faces reflect intense enjoyment, so why should it bug me so much?  Maybe it's because I'm not having as much fun as they are.  I think about joining them screaming in a circle in my underwear.  While this image may be unpleasant to you,  -  apparent within it, is the distressing preoccupation with appearance that plagues all adulthood.  Will we ever get our priorities as right as they were when we were children?

I can't answer that.  But I do know this:  Running around half-naked while screaming, is not necessarily an indication of anything other than sheer joy.

Now you're probably thinking about doing just that with your mini-people, so here's my advice:  Draw the blinds and go for it!

Home, Always...

I walk through our house in the dark.  I step quietly down the hall to my daughters' room, half-asleep - but fully intent on making sure my children are okay.  Whenever I wake in the middle of the night, I can't help myself.  I just need to see them asleep in their beds.  In the dim bluish glow of the nightlight, I see their precious little heads.  Quiet little loves, resting safely...  May my home always be theirs, in their hearts.

Water For The Gods...

My daughters squirm between the filtered water dispenser, a magazine rack and a candy machine, while I painstakingly fill water bottles for our water cooler at home.  It's "fun" to try and get the water bottles in place and constantly feed bills and change into the slot, while yelling at my girls not to go back behind these machines and touch stuff while I'm doing this.  Meanwhile, people are coming in and out of the store with groceries, glancing disapprovingly at the parts of my children's bodies sporadically poking out from behind the 3 large metal containers at the store exit.

While this is not a moment of pride, it is one to be remembered.  So this is my written "snapshot" -  followed by pictures of my daughters laying around at home...

Cleaner than when you arrived...

I used to pick up trash and throw it away.  My parents were very big on this - even when camping, my dad would always make us leave our spot cleaner than it was when we got there.  And if there was no trash to be found, we'd have to look around until we found some to clean up, or we couldn't leave.

Now I look at a piece of garbage and I immediately see the germs lingering all over it.  I imagine those germs winding up on my fingers and then on my children the next time I pick one up.

Then I leave it there.

(Actually I still pick it up about half the time.  Then I'm always looking for a place to wash my hands.)

One Day

"Swing me, Daddy."  My daughter says this and I can't refuse.   Or she asks me to help her find her Cinderella shoes.  Or my other daughter asks me to try and catch her or, or slice an apple, or  go draw on the driveway with chalk.  I can't refuse, because I immediately think that one day - She'll never ask me that again.  She'll never ask for me to play a game with her or hold her or help her with something.  One of our children is given to asking me or her mom to "Cuddle me."  How in the world can any parent EVER refuse?  So I do it.  I stop what I'm doing (which is probably cleaning up after the other child) and do one more thing with my child, who was once my baby, who will one day be grown-up.  That grown-up child ought to have a cell-phone plan that allows her/him to receive unlimited texts.  Because they're going to get a ton of them...  "Hi honey - I have some free time.  Want me to come over and swing you?"

Are We Really Doing this Again?!

Have another baby?  We've thought seriously about this.  Our conclusions are best expressed with a little help from Taylor Swift. :-)

The Perfect Size

I have a plan
I ought not tell
But you may know it just as well
To keep them tiny, keep them small
Ensure they will not grow at all

I have a plan, I'll shrink them
Into my pocket blink them

I have a plan
When no one's looking
I'll put them to sleep
In that way they'll keep
Precious little angels dreaming
Night and day I don't stop scheming

I have a plan, I'll mold them
So tightly will I hold them
Safe in the swaddle they will stay
Never will there come a day
When they grow up and go away!

I have a plan, I'll pinch them
I'll tuck them in and inch them
I'll squeeze them tight, I'll cinch them
With all my might, I'll clinch them
Just as they're the perfect size

I have a plan to grow them down
Like plants that creep along the ground
I'll keep their heads and bodies low
Like mini monsters in a row
With blissful faces all aglow

I have a plan to wrangle them
To constantly untangle them
To keep their arms and legs from sprouting
And from their clothes always grow-outing
I'll talk to them, no lies, no shouting

My plan is simple:  Just reverse
This make-believe destroying curse
That makes the doubts and fears grow worse
I'll show them hope instead and pride
I'll fill them full with love inside

And when my plan stops them from climbing
Towards regret and rigid timing
Then I'll turn and let them teach me
With their elfin fingers reach me
In their blessed way beseech me
Not to lament their growing older
Instead I'd better choose the bolder path
The one the seasons blithely take
And know their own is no mistake