Father Of The Blog

Kim and I decided that a Wii would be a good family investment. You know, we envisioned happy scenes of the whole family playing interactive games together, exchanging high fives, cheering each other on and spending quality time together, which for the most part became reality except for a few emotional breakdowns due to extremely competitive egos which I will get to later.

When discussing the purchase, I gave Olivia and Hailey the idea of chipping in a few unredeemed gift cards from the holidays to sway the decision in favor of buying a new Wii console. Elizabeth didn’t (couldn’t) object, contributing her unspent gift card too. The fix was in. This past Sunday we piled into the Odyssey and headed to the local Toys R Us where plenty of Wii consoles were in stock. We roamed the endless overwhelming toy filled isles for hours, each of my girls (excluding Kim) indecisive about picking out a small toy and then relinquishing the remaining balance on their gift cards to collaboratively purchase the family gift. Finally Olivia picked out a Littlest Pet Shop toy, Hailey an Aurora doll and Elizabeth a new talking baby doll.

I was hesitant when it came time to enter the tighter than airport security gamer coral and asked the young helpful Toys R Us customer service girl to unlock us a Wii console. “Is this all I need?” I asked. The perky sales assistant said that I may need an extra controller; undecidedly I turned to Kim who gave me the nod. I can drop twice the amount on new inline skates or a new road bike without a second thought, but leaving the store an empty feeling kept me thinking, “Was this money well spent?”

In the van, on the ride home, I turned to Kim and said, “Happy Valentine’s Day.” She laughed and repeated the phrase back too me.

It didn’t take long to get the Wii setup, but I did have to get creative with the hookup to my ancient surround sound tuner. A lack of auxiliary space forced me to change the VCR’s (yes, we still have one), audio setup, no big deal, I got all my components working.

The kiddos love Mii. They spend most of their computer time on pixiehollow.com recreating fairies so building Mii’s came natural to them. We must have spent an hour on fashioning characters that closely resemble each of us. I secretly desired Kim’s Mii to accurately depict her as she is in real life, sultry and hot, but ironically her Mii ended up bookish.

As mentioned in the first paragraph of this post we experienced a couple emotional outbursts during game play which I am about to explain. The first game we played was Wii Sports Bowling. In the first frame, Hailey knocked down seven pins and failed to pickup any more pins on her second bowl. She stormed off, sulking her way to her room and slammed the door shut. For years I have been explaining to both Olivia and Hailey the importance of good sportsmanship. Finishing a game is an important part of being a good sport and nobody wants to play with a poor sport. Luckily I didn’t have to lecture her this time and Uncle Alan (my brother in law) was there to temporarily stand-in for Hailey’s second frame, by the third frame she had come back to the game on her own accord. Not only did she finish the game she beat Kim and me.

Another Hailey outburst occurred the following day. I had just walked in the door, home from work and Hailey was in her room crying on her bed. “What’s wrong with her” I asked Kim. She said that Hailey and Olivia were playing great together on the Wii, encouraging each other to do well and when they finished bowling Hailey got upset, presumably because she lost. I entered her room and I think she was embarrassed at her behavior because she turtled under her covers. I sat down next to her, silent for a few minutes until she was finished whimpering. “What’s wrong?” I asked. She skirted the root of the problem and said that mommy had yelled at her and wouldn’t let her play the boxing game, which was probably a diluted version of what really happened but I didn’t question any further. I told her that we would play the next day which happened to be a daddy day.

Back to my question, “Is the Wii money well spent?” Yes, I think so.

For every hundred failures one successful idea will prevail. About a year ago I had one of those successes. It is a great parenting tip and I want to share.

Contained within a dryly PhD written child development book which I can’t remember the title, I found an interesting factoid that stood out; three out of every four teenage girls has an unsatisfactory self image. When I read this I could see truth in that. Of course the professional child psychiatrist who recorded that fact had no solution to combat the ugly trend, pointing to external cultural influences as the cause.

That gloomy stat slowly began to creep up on my girls, In photographs Olivia would mimic cover model’s expressions that she’d seen from Glamour mags while waiting in line at the supermarket, Hailey started using words like “fat” or “ugly” to describe other people and Olivia desired to wear clothing emulating teenyboppers. Pop culture was stealing my children’s innocence. It was only a matter of time before Olivia’s and Hailey’s own inadequacies bound them into a suffocating comma of self doubt and uncertainty. I had to find a solid method to instill confidence in my young princesses and repel the damaging tide of filth spewing from every direction. That method came from another book. A book that I do remember: Get Real Get Rich by Farrah Gray, an inspirational read about a south-side Chicago kid who grew out of poverty to become wealthy in more ways than monetarily. Somewhere in that book I came across a confidence builder that worked for the author; looking in the mirror and reciting self affirmations. Yup, the perfect remedy to instill self-confidence in my girls.

Close to a year ago I got my girls into the habit of saying something nice about themselves or something that they are good at when they stood in front of the mirror while getting ready for preschool. Now, anytime they step in front of a mirror they automatically have something positive to say (or think) about themselves and both Olivia and Hailey appear to be more self assured, upbeat and less hypnotized by our glamified culture.

I can tell them a bazillion times (and I do) that they are beautiful or intelligent or good at something not making a dent in their psyche. However when they have convinced themselves that they are good or pretty or smart, a noticeable internal foundation of confidence is clearly evident. In three or five or ten or twenty years will my girls turn out to be overly confident even conceited? Maybe, but it’s better than the alternative.

Elizabeth with Mom and Dad

Elizabeth is one year old. Already! I am convinced that the earth is traveling around the sun at an accelerated rate. We are the coin in the gravity well or the squashed bug being flushed. Wait, maybe not, because we added one second to 08. Which is fine with me, I needed that one extra second, although it only felt like a half a second.

Time has a way of playing tricks on parents, for example, after I picked up the kiddos from preschool today, someone, ok it was me, left the bathroom door open. Olivia had left a little yellow to mellow in the toilet and I didn’t see that when quickly getting a tissue for a runny nose. I swear my back was turned for two seconds, I thought Elizabeth was playing with all the plastic food stuff that is used for play picnics in the living room/playroom until I heard her splashing and giggling. This is when time slows down, “Nooooo!” I seemingly move in slow motion, not like movie slow motion, more like nightmare being perused by some unseen force slow motion. “Nawt eighn theaighr!” Elizabeth gins at me as I pull her away, time speeds up again as I disinfect her.

“Who left the toilet seat up?! Who didn’t close the lid after making pee-pee?! (I may have said taking a piss). And who didn’t close the bathroom door?!”
Olivia took the blame right away for not flushing and leaving the seat up. I suspected it was her anyhow. “I forgot to flush daddy.” She said nonchalantly from the kitchen table while working on a coloring.
I couldn’t scold her for being truthful and only reminded her, no pleaded with her, for the hundredth time, to try and remember to flush and close the toilet seat. At that time I remembered it was me who left the door to the bathroom open but didn’t admit too it. My five year old is more honest then myself. Why couldn’t I just say “oh, that was me who left the door open”?

Each Tuesday during April, Olivia, Hailey and I attended a ‘Mommy and Me’ class at our school district’s early childhood center. Yoga Animal Antics. Too young for the class, Elizabeth Rose sat this one out and luckily my mom was available to watch her.

Each class started off with an animal search and rescue operation. The kids blindly pulled a picture of a missing stuffed animal out of a box and then became responsible for rescuing that “lost” animal.  Once all the hidden animals had been found, the class circled-up for songs, introductions and animal education. All the kids got the green light to go wild mimicking sounds and movements of the animals that they had recovered.

It was then time to do animal impersonations by means of yoga stretches. Each child picked a card that showed an animal and how imitate that animal with a yoga pose. Everyone got a turn leading the class with his or her pose. Cat stretches, down dogs, crab walks and fluttering butterflies, to name a few. The best part of this activity was right at the end, the instructor handed out mini rubber ducks, the kind used for duck races and then we were instructed to lie on our backs and place the duck on our tummies. We had to make the duck go up and down by breathing deeply. Ok, so we were doing shavasan and within seconds of placing the little duck race duck on my stomach I would momentarily fall asleep.

Any parent child class would not be complete without a craft activity and this class was no different. The motif of craft time was wild animals and the favorite had to have been “pigs in the mud,” a couple little people farm pigs tracking chocolate pudding over butcher paper. The class ended with a parachute games and lastly a goodbye song.

I enjoy these classes because, it is less planning for me on daddy days, it is good to get out of the house (before the kiddos destroy it) and we usually learn something new. Olivia, Hailey and I have frequented many of these ‘Mommy and Me’ classes in the past and always have a good experience in doing so. But there is one thing missing from these kinds of classes; the dads. Four years of parent child classes that we have been to only one other dad has been in attendance and he showed with his wife. Note that those were classes during week days.

These parent and child interaction classes aren’t called “Mommy and Me” anymore.  A step in the right direction for a dad who likes to attend such classes and wishes not to feel ostracized by a motley group of alpha mommies. It is hard enough breaking the ice to a room full of glaring women that are wondering what a man is doing with his children in the middle of the work week at mid day committed to a parent child class. Most of the moms are welcoming and warm to the idea of an involved dad in their mist. But there is inevitably a small percent of leery women believing their must be an arterial motive to my presence and these are the ladies that exude the air of exclusion. I don’t let them detour me.

Originally posted on BabyCenter.com 01/25/08
The ride to Olivia and Hailey’s Preschool takes two minutes. In that short amount of time we have our best discussions. Every school day morning we hustle out the door and to my car. I strap ‘em in their seat belts, unwrap then handout chewy granola bars, I get in, pull out of the driveway and I say, “Does anyone have any questions for daddy today?”
Before I finish asking the question, preemptively Hailey will say, “I gotta go potty!”
Olivia will quickly correct her younger sister, “that’s not a question Hailey!”
A brief silence follows and then Olivia will throw the first question out.
 
Monday morning:
Olivia: “Are you going to die daddy?”
Me: “One day Honey, nobody lives forever.” Small pause. “Well sweetie, that’s what life is. You live and then you die.” Silence. “Everyone, everything, eventually expires.”
Olivia: “Where will you go daddy?”
Me: “We all go back to God Honey and we will be with all our relatives who have passed away.”
Hailey, with a hint of worry: “Don’t go Daddy.”
Me: “Don’t worry Kiddos, hopefully, daddy will be around for a long time”
Olivia: “When is our new playground (for the preschool) going to be finished Daddy?” She inquired as we drove by the construction site and pulled into the parking lot of their school.
 
Wednesday Morning: (Tuesday is daddy day, no school).
Olivia: “Is Father Sky the same as god?”
This was a tricky one and I didn’t think two minutes was enough time to explain the theory’s of First People’s (Native American) beliefs. “Sort of Sweetie.”
Olivia: “What about Mother Earth?” I tell Olivia and Hailey a handful of times throughout the day not to waste Mother Earth’s precious resources. Switch the lights off, don’t let the water run, recycle, those sorts of things.
Me: “Well Honey, God created Mother Earth.”
Olivia: “And Father Sky too?”
Me: “Yes Sweetie, God created everything in the universe”
Olivia: “What’s the Universe?”
Me: “It is everything we know honey. All the stars, our sun, the planets, the Earth, everything.”
Olivia: “Everything?”
Me: “Yup. Everything.” Momentary pause. “Hey look, the diggers are all lined up in a row today.”
 
Thursday morning:
Olivia: “When are we going to the Hairy Elephant with Aunt Marni?” Marni is a friend of Kim’s and the Hairy Elephant is a kids’ salon. When Marni came to visit Kim in the hospital during her recovery from the birth of Elizabeth Rose, Marni had told Kim that she would take Olivia and Hailey to get their hair and nails done. This promise was sparked due to a missed birthday party at a different kids’ salon because Olivia had chicken pox. The salon date with Marni was supposed to be this past weekend and she had to cancel the hair and nail appointment.  Rewind one week, Tony, Marni’s husband had switched jobs and the company he was hired on too lost its two biggest clients on Tony’s first day of work. They had to let Tony go. Financially concerned, Marni opted for a play date at her house with her two boys Spenser and Tyler.
Me: “Well Sweetie, you and Hailey went to Marni’s house to play with Spenser and Tyler instead of going to the Hairy Elephant.”
Olivia: “But I wanted to go to the Hairy Elephant.”
Me: “Marni had to cancel the appointment Honey.” Silence. “Well sweetie, Uncle Tony lost his job and now they don’t have money.” Quiet. “They have to be able to buy food and pay for their house and pay for heat to stay warm.” Olivia has been drilled on the economics of why Kim and I have to work.
Olivia: “I will give Aunt Marni my Tzedakah” Tzedakah is charity. Olivia and Hailey put spare change into their own hand painted Tzedakah boxes as part of our traditional Friday night Shabbat dinner. Just last week we noticed how heavy the Tzedakah boxes were getting and had discussed what charities were worth giving too.
Hailey:  “I will give my Tzedakah to Tyler”
Me: “That is a great idea Kiddos, you guys are so thoughtful,” I was so proud of them and their idea, I wanted to go on and on and tell them what caring, sweet and compassionate little girls they are, but instead, “Hey look, the diggers are still lined up.”
 
The two minute drive to preschool is the most anticipated part of my day. What will tomorrow’s conversation be? I’m not sure, but I am looking forward to it.