There is no Middle

There is no middle of the night.  There is only the time when my children are sleeping and the time when they are awake.  The time when they are awake, I am awake.  The time when they are asleep, I am recovering.  Raising children is uncanny.  It's like having something (very precious) on the stove or in the oven, ...for years.

You find something you like, you stick with it.

My younger daughter loves it when I hold her upside down.  Who am I to  disappoint the most single-minded person I know?  I hoist her up again and again.  She practically climbs up my chest and over my head so that I can suspend her from her ankles as she hangs down my backside, giggling...  As soon as I let her down, she reaches up with both hands for another go.  It's simple, Daddy.  You find something you like, you stick with it.  Who cares if you don't like it tomorrow?  It's not an investment.  It's just a way to live your life.  How many times do I have to teach you this, Daddy?  My answer:  I don't know - but please, please keep trying.  I distinctly recall being able to learn new things.  Okay.  Ready?  Up you go!...

Warning - Cliff Approaching!

We announced today, that we're expecting our third child in the spring.  Three children means we will be officially outnumbered from the moment the baby is born until, ...the rest of our lives.  That's all.  It's just the rest of our lives, - What's the problem with that?  The problem is that everyday, lately, there are several instances when our two sweet, gem-like offspring, become loud, boisterous beasts who seem to have forgotten English and who can now get away from us by running and jumping and climbing and slipping into tiny holes that we never noticed before.  During each one of those instances, we are thinking "Oh my  God! - What are we going to do when there's 3 of them?!"  This is scary.  Then they fall asleep and we think about how great it will be with a new baby in the house.  This calms us and fills us with longing and strength - for about 5 seconds until we collapse and fall asleep ourselves.  Before we know it, it's the middle of the night and one of our  daughters is calling "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,..."  Generally, all either of them wants is just for me to wake up and stumble groggily down the hallway to be close by so she can drift right back to sleep.  Then I go back to sleep.  My head hits the pillow, I close my eyes and it's immediately time to wake up.

We decided to have another child  because we wanted to have another baby and because 3 sounds like a nice number.  Babies simply cannot be overrated, but as far as 3 being a nice number, - that's just idiotic.  I'm picturing a steam roller with the smiling faces of my 3 children on it.  It's rolling toward me as I back up slowly, prolonging the inevitable.  The inevitable, in this case, means that my children love me, but that won't stop them from killing me.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to wander about in an exhausted state and take care of thousands of tiny little tasks.  All of them out of order, and all unnoticed, but each and every one of them absolutely essential to a household that I'm trying desperately to keep undetected by reality television.

Just Say "Yes."

My two and-a-half-year-old wakes, groaning at 1:00am, and I sleepily scurry to her bedside to calm her. She mumbles "milk..." and I begin to protest, then immediately relent.  She wants milk, and I want her to go back to sleep before she wakes her mommy and her sister.  So milk it is.  Is this the wrong choice?  Am I teaching her she'll always get what she wants?  If it's the middle of the night, and It's within my power, that's fine with me.

There are so many guidelines for how not to spoil a child.  Yet their status is that of someone who is spoiled more or less by definition.  Sure, they ought to pull their own weight.  But it isn't very much weight, after all.  It's simple, we get them stuff.  It's not all the time, and it's not always exactly what they want.  But much of the time, they've figured out what they can get, and they ask for it - and we give it to them.  So why this constant struggle, generation after generation to make sure we don't spoil our children?   Sure, there are those who go overboard, but that's generally when they lavish their children with things they don't need at all - such as cars or iPhones, or other items, often intended for adults.

So I draw the line at need versus want.  Could my daughter have survived without her middle-of-the-night milk?  Of course.  But will she get nourishment from it while it helps her get back to her much needed sleep?  Yes it will.  So it fits my requirements for a good choice.  I do prefer to say yes to my children as often as I can justifiably do so, because I want them to grow up to be people who say yes as often as they can justifiably do so.

If my children wind up with a first instinct that instructs them to say no, they will be ill-equipped to enjoy life and all the good it has to offer.  Of course I want them to think before they act.  But I don't want them to always think "No" before they answer.

Honey Cake

On Rosh Hashanah, my daughter and I made honey cake together.  My wife, who wasn't feeling well, called instructions to us from the living room as we stood at the kitchen counter with the recipe while gathering the ingredients.  My daughter was perched on a chair wearing her Fancy Nancy apron over a pair of underpants.  I don't remember what I was wearing, but the honey was sweet, and the batter was thick and the kitchen smelled like a holiday with flour sprinkled all around. 

I didn't realize how much I would cherish that memory, while we were in the middle of it.  But I'm already looking forward to next year when my daughter (or daughters) puts an apron on over her underpants and stands on a chair with a large wooden spoon, ready for the task at hand.  It's one of those moments where there is truly no inclination to consider the future or dwell on the past.  Just measure the ingredients carefully and mix, mix, mix.

Each time I take a bite of honey cake - sticky and dense - it's not nearly as sweet as the thought of standing at the kitchen counter with my daughter.  This is the exact thing that I don't want to end.  This is the meaning of parenthood.  This is why I must have grandchildren.

Sticky Fingers

Daddy makes fluffy waffles:
Dip 'em in syrup,
Ask for more,
Eat 'em all.

"Hey!
What about those
Blueberries I put out?"

"More see-up!"

(see-up = syrup)

Visitation Rights

My two-year-old likes to visit me when I'm on the toilet.  She has some kind of radar that signals the moment I sit down.  Wherever she is, she stops what she's doing and makes a beeline for the bathroom I'm in.  I turn on the light, close the door, sit down, - and within 10 seconds her little hand is on the lever, pulling the door open.  She comes in with a big smile.  Hi Daddy!  To her, it's our secret meeting place.  While I'm thinking "Gee, I love you and you're adorable - but you're kind of close to me while I'm trying to accomplish this very personal task,"  she's thinking "Hi! - Look at my Lovey! - What are you doing? - Can I sit on your lap? - Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, ...Hi!"  No matter how frustrated I am whenever she shows up, somehow she just knows that she's always allowed in.

As annoying as this can be, I realize that she won't do it forever, and that makes me a little sad.  I know, I know, it's silly.  I mean, who wants to go into the bathroom when their dad's on the toilet?  It's gross, right?  I love my dad, but there's no  way I'm doing that.  Unless he's stranded without TP.  Then I suppose I'd hand him a roll.  So, the question is - At what point will she no longer do this?  Will it be a conscious decision, or will it just happen subtly, over time?  And how will I get over it?

Who am I kidding?  I'll never get over it.