Mar 22

Kim cried the night before reclaiming her status of working mom. She wept for Elizabeth Rose; not leaving the baby for more than an hour in two months, the anticipation of a severed attachment caused deep emotional and physical pain. One may have thought by the amount of tear fall that it was more wrenching than Elizabeth’s forced removal via cesarean section.

Kim bellowed at the thought of going back to work after six months. A consistent employment she has maintained for over thirteen years. The company is one of the few fortune 500 companies in our city and there are many benefits for full time employees. The corporation itself is great however her old boss was someone that Kim could no longer work with. Luckily while Kim was away on her extended maternity leave the department she worked in jostled a few positions around and Kim was on the receiving end of a promotion and would be under new management. Had the position change not occurred this journal entry may have been about a new stay at home mom.

There were many other concerns Kim mulled over the night before returning to work. One of which, for monetary reasons, we had to adjust the amount of preschool our girls attend, from three full days and one half day to four half days, 9am to 3pm. This meant that on two of those days Kim would have to wake up at 4:30am so she could work an eight hour shift and then pick-up the children at two different preschools. Kim also worried that I would have problems juggling the morning routine solo and getting the kiddos at preschool on time. Rightfully so, as the first week’s adaptation to mommy morning absence resulted in missing the curb side drop off every single day. The following week I made the necessary modifications to get everyone to school on time; got out of bed a bit earlier, had breakfast waiting for the kiddos, had a bottle warmed for baby, woke the kiddos earlier and had their backpacks stocked and parked by the back door awaiting our departure.

Two weeks later, two working parents later, Kim’s tears have subsided, the bank account replenished (three of the six months that Kim was on maternity leave was unpaid) and the kiddos may even be happier spending less time at school and more time with mom and dad. Although I can’t speak for Elizabeth Rose. She seems to be doing well at day care. She eats the same, sleeps the same and poops the same, so it is hard to tell at this point whether she is innocuous to the change.

Elizabeth Rose and MeElizabeth Rose is doing great. She consistently sleeps through the night. Smiles when she sees familiar faces. Makes bubbles with her tongue and lips. Kicks and swings for dangling objects. The tumultuous four hour of colic a day has subsided to a mere fifteen minute 9pm fussy phase. She has added 2 pounds and 3 inches of size. Her back is strong and she holds her head high at great lengths while sitting up watching her big sisters or possibly watching out for them.

Mar 18

Originally posted on BabyCenter.com 05/18/07 

Leopards of Botswana
Flipping through the April issue of National Geographic I came across an interesting photo journal of a baby leopard and her mother. In short, a journalist followed the mama and cub for thirteen months until the baby grew into adolescence and foraged off to live on her own. What captured my attention in this article was a two page photo spread of the mama saving her cub from a sixty foot fall. The two leopards were playing high in a tree, the cub slipped and the mama instinctively clutched the babe using her paws and jaws to save her baby. I like to believe that I have that same instinctive reflex. A fatherly-sixth-sense, I call it ‘daddar’ which comforts me, assuring me that no harm will come to my girls as long as I’m around to protect them.

Black and Blues
Kim bruises easily, a flick to her thigh easily turns into a deep tissue contusion. She is also somewhat clumsy and constantly bumping into things, she gets a lot of black-and-blue marks. She has talked to her doctor about the bruising problem and was told to take a one-a-day multivitamin which as far as we can tell hasn’t helped. My suggestion was for Kim to stop crashing into things. Unfortunately this genetic trait of bruising easily has been past down to Olivia and frequently new boo-boos mysteriously appear on her legs.

Scared
I’m no stranger to bumps and bruises and I’ve had my share of emergency room visits. Starting from as far back as memory serves to the present: A few stitches in my forehead when I was three caused by my older brothers who sent me down a flight of stairs while I was coasting on a riding toy. A concussion when I was seven or eight from slipping on driveway ice. At age eleven, a broken left ankle, results of an aggressive game of king-of-the-hill. At fourteen, while horseback riding, a broken right elbow, a fractured left ankle and a lot of scar tissue from being thrown off a falling horse (the horse slid on top of me pinning me between itself and a cinder-packed road; that was a messy one). Then I started playing hockey. Ten stitches above my left eye from a high-stick split me open. The receiving end of a vicious cross-check ejected two bottom teeth, one tooth I was able to save by jamming it back into my jaw and the other I had replaced with bridge. That happened a few months before my wedding. Lastly, a deflected puck almost completely removed the top third of my right ear which was sewn back on with close to forty stitches and yes I had a helmet on. The point here is I know my way around the ER.

Father Figures
Logging hundreds of hours, I’ve researched treatments for countless ailments that have afflicted Kim, Olivia, Hailey and I. A couple recent illnesses come to mind; strep throat and the stomach flu. I may not be able to prescribe antibiotics but I know plenty of soothing home remedies. Right after Olivia was born, Kim thought I was delusional when I bought a Medi-Scope to check eyes, ears, noses and throats, “Do you even know how to use that?” She questioned. Maybe not at the time but I’ve learned how to use it and what to look for.

I’m an expert at mending cuts, scrapes and abrasions. A month ago Kim frantically surprised me with this one while I was in the shower. “Hailey ripped her toe nail off!” The nail on her big toe was torn down the middle to the cuticle, (she likes to chew her toes). Half of the nail was hinged off exposing the matrix above the bone. I calmly cleaned Hailey’s big toe with warm soapy water, a dash of peroxide, and wrapped a Dora band-aid around the nail and toe. We repeated that regimen for several days checking for signs of infection and her nail healed fine.

I’ve studied anatomy for a decade and a half through anatomical drawing. For two years in college I drew nothing but skeletal, muscular, circulatory and nervous systems covering four semesters. After college, for several years, up until the day Olivia was born I frequented a figure drawing group twice a week at a local artist guild.

This journal entry is all over the place, I know. One more piece of back story to go, stick with me.

Prima
Olivia is a few months shy of completing her first year of dance lessons. Ballet, tap and gymnastics all rolled into one hour. Nana (Kim’s mom) takes her to class every Saturday morning. In the past year Olivia has evolved from klutzy to graceful. She glides through physical activities with presence of mind and body. Smoothly she reacts to obstacles conscience of the space around her.

Olivia’s Fall
A couple weeks ago Olivia, Hailey and I met my sister Rachel and her two kids Sadie and Louis at one of our favorite parks, Stacey Park. Recently all of the park’s rusting thirty-year-old playground equipment was removed in favor of a monstrous handicap accessible play compound with wide-grated ramps, towering platforms, a dozen static generating plastic slides, climbing walls, monkey bars, fireman poles, hands on musical toys, a vendor window and several bridges that connect it all together. This play structure has it all and it’s set on top of a soft shock absorbing rubber safety surface. The park also has an infant/toddler playground about twenty yards from the new play fortress.

We had been at the park for an hour and a half. Storm clouds filled the sky. Rach and Louis were treading on a walking path. Olivia and Sadie had just dashed away from the toddler area over to the new play fortress. Hailey and I were having an argument over a squatty plastic water bottle left on one of the benches fringed near the toddler playground. The dispute lasted for maybe five minutes and this is an excerpt from the conversation’s ending.
 
Hailey wanted the abandoned water bottle. “I want dis, now! now! now!” emphasizing each ‘now’ by stomping her foot.

“I understand, you want the bottle, but I’m sorry sweetie that is not our water bottle. If you are thirsty we can get a drink at the water fountain” My tenth plea. “Let’s go find Sissy and Sadie.”

“No! Dis! Dis! I want dis!” Obviously she wanted to inspect the midget bottle, maybe take it home as a memento.

“Put it down Hailey, that is not our…”

“No! I want dis!” She snapped back interrupting me while possessively holding the bottle at her side.

I was about to go Alec Baldwin on her when Rach strolled up. “Oh she can have that.”

“This! Is your bottle!?” I wanted to grab it from Hailey and spike it.

“Yea, she can have it. Go ahead Hailey.” And then Rach said, “Uh Oh! I hear Olivia, she must of fallen or something.”

Temporarily stunned, I couldn’t see Olivia, I could only hear her crying for me. Impulsively I followed the sound of her cries.

After the Fall
A kind-hearted mother witnessed Olivia fall, picked her up and was bringing her over to me. “She fell from that platform,” pointing to a four foot platform. “She landed on her back.”

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” Is all I could say as I gingerly transferred Olivia from the mom to me. Her body was convulsing and she was crying so loudly that I couldn’t think.

“She stepped off backwards.” The considerate mom informed.

“How did she land?” I asked even though she just told me but I needed more details.

“She landed on her bottom and then her back.” Wincing as she explained the landing.

I thanked the sympathetic mother again, held Olivia tight while I skimmed the back of her head for any tender spots and slowly walked her back to the bench where Hailey was drinking from the fat little water bottle. I placed Olivia on the bench laying flat on her tummy, lifted up her shirt and looked for damage on her back. Not one bump, not one blotch, not even a scratch. I pulled her pants down to look at her tooshie. Nothing, no soreness, no lacerations, no redness. I sat down with her and she curled up in my lap. I smoothed her head, one for her comfort, two I was still checking for wounds. Her whimpering subsided. I asked her if anything was hurting inside. She said “no.” I shielded her eyes from the sun which was barley visible through the thick green storm clouds. It was enough light to check her eyes for dilation and her eyes adjusted to the sunlight. I had her stand up, raise her arms and close her eyes. She stood firm. I turned her around, pulled her shirt up and put my ear on her back. Her heart rate was probably half what mine was and her breathing sounded normal. I poked around at her lower back then spun her around, I pressed at her abdomen ribs and chest. Nothing felt tender.  At this point I started thinking we may not need to go to the emergency room. Last test, I walked to the other side of the toddler playground and had her run to me. She ran fine. We walked back to the bench where Hailey was still sipping on her prize and I asked Olivia again if anything was hurting her. She said “no.”

I turned to Rach, “I think she is ok. What do you think?”

“She’ll live” Rach said nonchalantly.

The smell of rain filled the air. It was time to go. I had to decide if we should go get some x-rays taken or head home. I chose home. We said bye to Rach, Lou and Sadie, then plodded into the car just as rain started to fall. Big heavy drops. Leaving the park I started thinking about Olivia’s fall and my negligence to be there when she needed me most. Where was my daddar? Why didn’t it sound an alert? Is it broken? Do I even have a daddar? My cell phone rang, it was Kim, and she sensed something was wrong, her mommy intuition was working.

“Olivia fell…” I stammered on for a few minutes about what happened ending with, “should I take her to the ER?”

“Take her home; give her an ice pack and keep you eye on her.” Kim assured me.

Over the next few days we watched Olivia closely. She showed no signs of injury, not one bruise, her body and ego intact. She was lucky. I was lucky. Even though everything turned out ok, the whole incident troubles me. Where was my fatherly intuition? How could I have been so easily distracted? Should I have taken Olivia to the emergency room? What if her landing was not as fortunate? The scenario haunts me. My parental confidence has been shattered.

Mar 14

Originally posted on BabyCenter.com  04/11/07

Zadie (my dad) plans a family ski vacation every spring. This year’s destination, Park City, Utah as it has been for the past four or five years. Absent in ’05 and ’06, due to the fact that ski trips and infants/toddlers don’t mix well, this marked the end of my longest stint away from the slopes since the age of fourteen when I first started skiing. I was dying to get back to the mountains. Skiing is therapeutic; speeding downhill from the top of a picturesque mountain, the only immediate concern is concentrating on each and every turn to find the best path.

The first and only mountain vacation for Kim was back in 2000, a scenic trip to Sun Valley Idaho’s Bald Mountain. By nature Kim is a beach bum and dislikes cold weather, but she trudged along with an open mind. Her first day she had a ski lesson on the beginner hill, she learned how to turn and stop, so I figured she could handle the easiest green run on the second day. I was wrong. We rode up two different quad-chair lifts to the summit, around 9000 feet and started down a gentle green ‘slow zone’ run. Right at the start of our slothful decent, Kim face-planted, going down harder than a giant sack of Idaho spuds and twisted her knee in the process. Quickly I slid over to her and I knew there was only one way she was going to get down the mountain. I drove her skis into the snow creating an upright criss-cross to alert ski patrol and within minutes Kim was assessed then carefully placed inside a safety sled. The ski patrol guy swiftly towed her down the remainder of the mountain, I skied close behind. She was finished skiing that day and perhaps forever. At the base lodge she found a soft arm chair and propped her twisted knee up near a raging fire where it was warm and relaxing.

I really wanted to go skiing this year. Kim did not. Hailey is still a bit too reckless for a trip to the mountains however Olivia is at the perfect age to learn how to ski. So, with Kim’s consent, I booked a flight for Olivia and me, planning a five night stay from Wednesday to the following Monday.

We flew Delta. I hate Delta. No pre boarding. No pre boarding? No wings for kids. Aside from that, I had called Delta’s customer service right after I purchased the tickets to find out if Olivia needed a seat restraint and the representative told me that she would need one. I was confused because I have heard different things about flying with children from other parents. I even looked the subject up on FAA’s website which was more confusing. Under two years (lap babies) no ticket required, over forty-four pounds no restraint necessary, between twenty and forty-four pounds was this grey area which I assumed would be left up to the airline to determine. So, at ten-thirty the night before the trip, Kim called Delta once again, (I was still packing) and the customer service rep told her that Olivia would not need a seat restraint.

Olivia has been on an airplane once before when she was ten months old, so flying was sort of a new experience for her. I could tell she was anxious to fly when she exclaimed “got to hurry dad” as I was forced to open my luggage and transfer three pounds of weight from one bag to another at the curbside check. She skipped along next to me through the busy airport rolling her princess backpack-carryon. She got a bit antsy waiting in the long line at the security check. “Why do we have to take our shoes off?” she asked. I told her that it was so all the travelers would feel safer and she gave me her confused ‘we’ll talk about that later’ look and I was glad she didn’t question the tight security any further. She was so excited when we got to the gate. I said, “Look there’s our plane.” She rushed to the window and pressed her face flat against the glass to see it.

Since there was no pre-boarding, Olivia and I waited until all the other passengers boarded. I figured, why rush to confine her to a seat for the three hour flight? We waited until the final boarding call was made to disembark. As we were walking through the jetway it started to shutter and then recoiled a bit away from the entrance to the airplane. It scared Olivia and she jumped into my arms, “I don’t want to go! I don’t want to get on the plane! I want to go home!”

I calmed her as best I could inside the jetway which bounced back to the entrance of the plane. “You’re scared and that’s ok sweetie.” I said something like that, “I always touch the side of the plane for good luck sweetie, try that it will make you feel better.” That statement was accurate because it is my personal preflight superstition. I place my palm on the outside of the plane as I enter. A connection between me and an uncertain faith in technology. By this time the characteristically pretty but unfriendly attendant was giving us the eye. I slowly proceeded through the entrance of the plane lugging my backpack, her backpack, my laptop and Olivia who was balling so loudly that the passengers at the back of the eighty-seat airplane were giving me sympathy looks. As we turned down the isle ready to make our way to the seats Olivia screamed, “Wait! I want to touch the plane!” And she did, just before the evil-eye stewardess closed the hatch.

After that, Olivia was great and enjoyed the flight without any complaints. A steady stream of lolly-pops, cherry licorice, computer games, markers, crayons, books and movies on my laptop kept her busy. “Look dad, everything is getting bigger again,” she said as we approached for a landing.

We took a forty-five minute shuttle ride from the airport to the lodge. Olivia’s first shuttle bus. She enjoyed the freedom of a booster seat rather than the five-point harness car seat. I was hoping she would take a little siesta during the shuttle however she was entranced by the mountain scenery and occupied in devouring half a pound of cherry licorice.

Zadie, my older brother Joe, his kids Nathan (sixteen) and Shaina (thirteen) flew in the day previous to our arrival. When we got to the lodge they were out skiing, so Olivia and I took a quick nap, the last nap for the remainder of the vacation.

Later that afternoon we took a bus from the lodge to Park City’s historic Main Street. Olivia’s first bus ride. She loved the bus, she could jump from seat to seat and she could pull the cord to alert the driver when to stop. Total freedom mixed with control. To Olivia’s delight, we ended up using the bus quite a bit on our vacation. Main Street is charmingly lined with t-shirt shops, art galleries, pro shops, spas and restaurants. I was specifically looking for a powder jacket and new gloves for Olivia which I was unsuccessful in finding. But I did rent some skis and boots for myself as well as a helmet for Olivia.

My older sister Rachel and her husband Alan along with their kids Louis (six) and Sadie (four) arrived late that Wednesday night. Olivia and I were already asleep when they checked in. The next day when we woke up, Olivia was excited to see Sadie and they fused together for the rest of the vacation. That morning we did more shopping and I found Olivia a new jacket and ski pants but no new gloves. She had to squeeze into her old ones which she could care less about. After lunch we went ice skating. Another first for Olivia. Unfortunately, she had some troubles, as I was renting my skates; she attempted to put her skates on by herself. Somehow she flipped over backward falling off the bench that she was sitting on and hit the back of her head hard on the cement floor. She cried for a while, I got her an ice pack, but when Sadie started skating Olivia collected herself and wanted to get on the ice. I had to try a few different skates on her because the figure skates were too narrow and she ended up in hockey skates which are not ideal for learning how to ice skate. She had a hard time just standing up on the ice and after one frustrating trip around the olympic-sized rink she was ready for a break. I got her a little bag of fruit snacks from a vending machine and she watched from the stands. Lou was also having difficulties keeping his feet underneath him and he really got fumed watching Sadie, his little sister, doing exceptionally well. It was also Sadie’s first time on skates and she did amazing, a natural. She was zooming all over the ice pretending to be a Disney Princess on ice. After her snack, Olivia wanted to lace-up her skates and give the ice another go and she did well the second time around. I was so proud of her.

Late Thursday night my other older brother Sam and his youngest daughter Samantha (fifteen) joined the vacation. They didn’t make it in until past midnight and they were up and out the door before anyone even woke up the next morning.

Olivia's First Day Skiing in Park City UtahFinally, on Friday we skied. We signed-up Lou, Sadie and Olivia for ski school. I wanted to make sure Olivia and Sadie got to be in the same class so I lied and said that Olivia was four years old. Actually that turned out to be a good thing because the three year old kids only got to go out skiing once in the morning for an hour as opposed to the four year olds who got to ski twice accumulating almost three hours of ski time. Another first for Olivia, skiing. They all had such a great time at ski school that we signed them up the following day as well.

Later that afternoon we hit the lodge’s outdoor heated pool and hot tub. There were a ton of other kids and parents poolside and some of the kids got a bit wound up running and diving ignoring the clearly painted warnings of no diving and no running. Their parents were oblivious or indifferent on vacation from parenting as well as from their normal lives. So of course Olivia wanted to run and dive too. Some rules are bendable but pool safety is high on my must-be-a-smart-parent list so I had to say something to Olivia about following the rules and this was another first for Olivia, she responded with “well everyone else is doing it.” A mantra I had used many times throughout my own childhood. However I stood firm, “you follow the rules or no swimming.” She tested me and we ended up having to leave the pool.

The two days that I skied, the conditions were abysmal. Mostly slush, the temperature on the mountain was in the fifties and by noon it was like skiing in Elmer’s. I skied like a chump too, taking no real risks, I kept envisioning myself getting hurt, ending up in a body cast and unable to take care of Olivia. So I worked on mechanics and told myself I needed to fine tune my form.

Olivia wanted to go back to ski school a third time. If the ski conditions would have been better I may have let her. But it was our last day of vacation and I wanted to spend the day with her. We ended up driving the Dodge Caravan that Joe rented into Salt Lake to visit the zoo. Rach and Sadie came along too and it ended up being the perfect day to go to a zoo, sunny and in the seventies. Salt Lake’s Hogle zoo is just the right size, we walked it in about three hours and there were plenty of animals to watch. One surprise, a Red Panda, it looked like a cross between a raccoon and a fox with a beautiful fire red coat. The map for the zoo was coherent enough that Olivia could follow it and I was stunned by her ability to conceptualize our movements though the park. She even plotted our course by which animals she and Sadie wanted to see.

The zoo experience ended with an hour long playground romp at Discovery Land, a corner of the zoo dedicated to children. There were a few slick hands-on type things, a bat cave, a snake slide, giant eggs that Olivia and Sadie could hatch from and some other play apparati. It was a great place to parent watch. Unlike local parks where most parents are stereotypically the same, this play area undoubtedly attracted all sorts. I couldn’t help myself from analytically observing other parents. For instance, a morbidly obese father who’s son (five or six) was passionately pretending to be eaten by an alligator sculpture. The boy was screaming and animating himself with exuberance only to be rebuked by his father for being to loud. The large stationary dad, unable to lift himself off the bench he was attached too, yelling from across the playground at his son to be quiet. Another thing I thought was funny; a curvy mom had her daughter on a leash. In itself not hilarious because I seriously considered one of those for Hailey, but this poor little two year old was strapped to her mother inside an enclosed play area while she was actively climbing, running, sliding, the mom being pulled along while holding a conversation on her cell phone. The parent observations were much more intriguing than watching the animals.

We departed early the next morning. Our shuttle picked us up at seven to take us to the airport. Olivia made her way though the airport like a seasoned traveler. I have yet another complaint about Delta. They had everyone board the airplane and then discovered a problem with the lavatories. We sat on the plane for over an hour before the problem was fixed and then it took an additional forty-five minutes to taxi into position for takeoff. The three hour flight turned into five and I only had about four hours worth of activities for Olivia to occupy herself with. She was getting extremely fidgety the last half hour. Pushing all the buttons, playing with the stow-away tray, kicking the seat in front of her standing in her seat staring at the passengers behind us and she kept getting up to use the restroom. Tiny airplane lavatories are definitely not designed for parent-child uses and both bathrooms were completely disgusting even by an old fraternity boy standard. Seriously, these things resembled port-a-potties at a drunken Oktoberfest.

One more spit at Delta, when Olivia’s brand new pink polka-dot bag came off the luggage carrousel I noticed that one of the plastic pieces which aligns the pull-along handle had been severed; now the bag wobbles and rolls lopsided.

The night we got home Olivia was completely exhausted and she fell asleep before eight o’clock in her bedroom on the hardwood floor. It took her a couple days to catch-up on the lack of sleep during our trip. Coincidently, the insufficient rest had manifested itself while we were in Park City in the shape of night terrors. Thankfully, the midnight screaming, sobbing and convulsing disappeared once we got home.

Olivia had an adventuresome trip chocked full with many first time experiences. There was one big first time for me as well and that was traveling solo with a child in tow. Transforming me from nonchalant explorer into must bring the wipes into the airplane lavatory and scour it clean. Changing me from ‘Uncle Hocky has a Death Wish’ a song my nieces and nephew made up years ago regarding my audacious skiing style, into better not go down that blue (intermediate) run, may get hurt. The other big first for me was being away from Hailey for more than a day. I missed Hailey and Kim. The entire time we were in Park City I felt that something was missing and even while preoccupied with all the fun and exciting activities it was not enough to fill that emptiness.

Mar 10

“10 Secrets Every Father Should Know” Is the sub title of this book. Head’s up, there is no outline for the 10 secrets. However there are 10 chapters in the book, so I assume those are the 10 secrets that the sub title refers too. The beginning of the book is packed full of statistics pertaining to early childhood/teen depression, sexual activity, drug use, alcohol usage, and media influence, all of which are constantly marketed to our daughters. The following information is a reference to the astoundingly healthy effects that daughters with a close relationship to their fathers have on both the child and the parent. Great news for all the good dads out there who appreciate, initiate and carve out time to spend with the family.

The 10 secrets, err, chapters are:
“You are the most important man in her life” My head got big reading this.
“She needs a hero” Yes, my girls need someone to look up too, I agree and that hero should be me.
“You are her first love” I can see that with my girls, sure.
“Teach her humility” The author doesn’t specifically say how to do this (or give specific instruction on anything in the book for that matter), I do think that this a good piece of advice for keeping my girls grounded and may help them to realize that they are not entitled to everything and anything.
“Protect her and defend her” This one is kind of obvious.
“Pragmatism and grit: Two of your greatest assets” Ok this was the best line from the book ‘…there are two types of women in the world: princesses and pioneer women.’ I agree with that and this was possibly the most influential chapter in the book.
“Be the man you want her to marry” Model what you hope she will look for in a husband, good recommendation.
“Teach her who god is” The book just took a huge right turn as the author specifically sites the Judeo-Christian tradition and ostracizes half the world. Being of Jewish background I can relate to the types of values she is talking about, however Dr. Meeker alienates every other religion with her narrow-minded statements.
“Teach her to fight” I like this secret, but it is not about signing young girls up for classes at the local Tea Kwan Do studio, this is regarding finding a balance between feelings, reason and will.
“Keep her connected” This one is about spending quality one-on-on time with each other and creating powerful memories. Good advice.

The author of the book is well qualified (twenty years) in pediatric medicine and makes references to counseling many families.  She sites compelling eye-opening facts and makes persuasive arguments for the importance of influential fathers. One thing the author is not; believable. Doctor Meeker supports detailed information with fabricated Chicken Soup-ish stories from pseudo (or possibly a culmination of) patients. Each chapter contains one or two of these transparent page filler tales. I found these crumbs of fiction to be a distraction from the guts of the message and discredits the author’s authority. What kind of doctor brazenly severs their patient’s confidentiality? The scant fragments of sincerity were imbedded within the commentary from the author’s personal relationships with her father and husband.

My suggestion, check the book out at the local library like I did and skip the fluff because this book does have some great points validating the importance of fathers and the profound effects we have on our daughters.

Strong Fathers, Strong Daughters by Meg Meeker, M.D.
Published by Regnery Publishing, Inc.
Copyright 2006

Mar 8

Originally posted on BabyCenter.com 04/01/07 

Three months straight, Olivia repetitiously pleaded for a pair of her own scissors. Having tons of practice cutting at preschool and various activity centers she was definitely ready. But there was one little problem, Kim and I were concerned that Hailey’s lack of sheering dexterity combined with her strong determined nature could be a dangerous combination. At what point do you sacrifice the learning experience of an older child while protecting the younger sibling from possible physical harm or mental anguish? We figured that close supervision would be the key, so Kim bought two identical training scissors and surprised the girls.

For the past few months Olivia has been methodically producing new and exciting artwork. She has evolved into a multi-media genius. Experimenting with papers, ribbons, string, yarn, cloth, anything clipable, also playing with several different tacking mediums, glue stick, tape, glitter glue, paints, hot glue gun (with my assistance), skillfully layering objects upon object. Her insatiable desire to create supersedes my own and I have a fine arts degree.

As predicted, Hailey was frustrated from the first cut. She had trouble holding the scissors. Her thumb ending up loosely in the big hole, her fingers crammed into the little hole, palms too small to open the scissors all the way and instead of trimming she’d end up tearing. Forget about explaining the correct way of holding and snipping to my independent thinker/doer, any assistance from me or Kim was (is) strictly prohibited. A few weeks of trial and error ensued and eventually she was able to make a few clean cuts. I was proud of her cut-above achievement and congratulated her, “You did it! Good job sweetie!” with high-fives, opposite her hand holding the scissors, obviously.

After a couple months of storing the scissors on a high shelf in Olivia’s closet we decided it was ok to keep them in the accessible-anytime craft box. This wasn’t a noticeable problem until Olivia’s slashing experimentation expanded from the limitation of her craft table or easel to any object she deemed detachable. I have caught her trimming the yarn-like hair from her groovy girl doll, by explanation, needed the hair out of her eyes. I also have found many of her little two-piece doll-house toys freed from the strings that hold them together, for instance, a miniature nightstand with half a string and a missing tiny hair brush or a bathtub figurine now minus a tiny washcloth. Also the doodle etch a sketch toy is now missing the etching pen. An alphabet caterpillar (I think that’s what it is) pull-along toy needed string repair. A wear around your neck toy drum is no longer wearable. On day she diligently chopped-up half of a fat neon green skein of yarn into tiny pieces, she was making grass. Do I ever stop her from what some may think is destruction? No. I say things like “I love your lawn, you manicured it so nicely.”

Am I negligent in teaching her what is right and wrong or am I allowing creative freedoms? All the lost or detached toys are irrelevant why not let her learn about the value of her possessions though making a few inconsequential mistakes. Until she finds my shoe laces or worse, my skates, I won’t keep her tied down. If I did, she’d probably cut herself free anyway.

Mar 3

We have closed on our old house. Almost ten years packed with many great memories wrapped-up and signed away within an hour at a sterile title office. I proposed to Kim at that old house. It was Thanksgiving weekend 2000: Mimi, then a mangy-just-picked-up-from-the-pound puppy was wearing a new purple collar and hanging from the collar was a heart shaped specially engraved dog-tag that read “Will you marry me?” Hence the dogs name Mary Mimi. Mimi for short. Kim keeps the tag on her key chain. The words are scratched and worn with usage and time, barely legible anymore.

Kim and I brought our little darling daughters home from the hospital after their births to that old house. Olivia and Hailey grew from infants into rambunctious preschoolers, they filled all the empty space with toys, clothes, shoes, art projects, kid-knacks, hair and countless other accessories, inflating that old house until Elizabeth Rose came along and burst the brick and mortar at the seams.

It was time to move on. Our new house, which happens to be the house I grew up in, was too good to pass up. On a quiet cul-de-sac, a large fenced-in back yard, a finished basement with a playroom and an elementary school within walking distance. The kiddos were familiar with the house prior to us moving in which helped with the transition. They have adjusted to the move well and only make reference to our old place on the way to and from their preschool. Daily they request a drive by and it is not far out of the way, so I always oblige them. We make note if our old neighbors are home and we fall silent as I slowly creep by the old house, ghosts of ourselves wave too us as we pass by.

Olivia Tests My Authority

This past Tuesday felt like an old ‘daddy day.’ Kim had some running around to do so I was home all day with the kiddos. Maybe she did that to prep me for the real deal coming up next week when she goes back to work. Olivia, Hailey and I had plans to go swimming after rest-time when Kim got home from her errands. Olivia and Hailey spent quiet-time bouncing off the walls in their room, normal for them. Around three thirty, I told them to start getting ready to go to the pool, Kim was still out. While they were getting their swim-suits on, I was getting all the swim gear gathered up and organizing it all on the kitchen counter. Towels from their bedroom closet, check. Extra undies from their shared dresser, check. A couple Barbie dolls for water rescue missions from their bedroom floor, check. My gym bag, which may as well be called the family swimming bag, from the hall closet, check. Lastly, goggles from their backpacks and this is when the problem started.

Me: “Olivia where are your goggles?” Shouting from the living room.

Olivia: “I duno!” Shouting back from her bedroom.

Me: “Well, they are not in your backpack!”

Olivia: “I want them! Get them!”

Me: “Well, sweetie, if they are not in your backpack then I don’t know where they are!”

Olivia: “I want them! Where are they?!” Swimsuit underneath her clothes and ready to go, she runs into the living room to inspect her backpack.

Me: “Your goggles are your responsibility Honey.”

Olivia: “I want them! Where are they?!” Rooting through her backpack.

Me: “It’s ok. Maybe you left them at the pool during your swim lesson? We will check when we get there Honey.”

Olivia: “I want them! Where are they?! Hailey took them!”

Me: “No sweetie, those are Hailey’s, I just took them out of her bag.” She looks through her backpack again and I place Hailey’s goggles next to the gym bag on the kitchen counter and go into my bedroom to get ready.

Olivia: “I want them! Where are they?! Olivia: “I want them! Where are they?! Olivia: “I want them! Where are they?! Olivia: “I want them! Where are they?! Olivia: “I want them! Where are they?! Olivia: “I want them! Where are they?!”… About five minutes of this.

Me: “We will look for them at the pool Honey!” Hiding from my bed room.

Olivia: “I want them! I want them! I want them!” Olivia: “I want them! I want them! I want them!” Olivia: “I want them! I want them! I want them!” Olivia: “I want them! I want them! I want them!” Olivia: “I want them! I want them! I want them!” Olivia: “I want them! I want them! I want them!”… Five more minutes.

Me: “I understand, you want your goggles, we will check at the pool sweetie.” I was almost ready just had to pack-up the bag.

Olivia: “I want them! I want them! I want them!” Olivia: “I want them! I want them! I want them!” Olivia: “I want them! I want them! I want them!” Olivia: “I want them! I want them! I want them!” Olivia: “I want them! I want them! I want them!” Olivia: “I want them! I want them! I want them!” … Five more minutes

Me: “Olivia! I know your upset that your goggles are missing we will look for them at the pool.”

Olivia: “I want them right now! Where are they?! I want them now!”

Me: “Olivia! If you ask me one more time about your missing goggles…I am not taking you swimming!” The ultimatum slipped out. I really didn’t want to say that, but I did.

Hailey: “And me daddy?”

Me: “You can still go Hailey. And so can Sissy. If she stops complaining about her misplaced goggles.” The room was silent for about ten seconds.

Olivia: “But I want my goggles.”

Me: “That’s it Olivia, you are not going swimming.”

Olivia: “But I want to go swimming!” Sobbing.

Me: “I asked you not to mention your missing goggles and you just did. No. No swimming!”

Olivia: “But I want to go swimming!” Sobbing, knees buckle and she falls to the ground.

Hailey: “And me daddy?”

Me: “Just me and you Hailey.”

Olivia: “But I want to go swimming too! I want to go!”

Me: “No, You are not going swimming!” I couldn’t back down now. I start to pack the swim gear into the gym bag and noticed that Hailey’s goggles are not where I had left them.

Me: “Where? What? Hailey now where are your goggles?” I tear apart the gym bag and head into the living room to double check the backpacks. I start to think I am losing my mind.

Hailey: “Here they are!” She pulls the goggles out of the trash can. Banana peelings cling to the pink Speedo’s

Me: “Olivia! Did you put those in the trash!?” She didn’t answer and I didn’t really need to ask. Flash backs of my dad lashing me with a thick leather belt enter my head.

Me: “That was a mistake! Now you’re in timeout.” I escort her to the designated timeout spot. “You’re time out for trashing your sisters’ goggles!” I let her sit for a few minutes as I assure Hailey that the two of us will be going swimming.

Me: “Why were you in timeout?” Kneeling down inches from Olivia.

Olivia: “I threw Hailey’s goggles in the trash.” Sniffling.

Me: “Why did you do that?”

Olivia: “I duno” She honestly didn’t.

Me: “Well sweetie, I think that you were so upset that you couldn’t find your goggles that you didn’t want Hailey to have hers either.”

Olivia: “Mmm Hmm”

Me: “Well sweetie, that was a mistake and I think Hailey would feel better about her dirty goggles if you apologized.”

Olivia: “Sorry Hailey.”

Me: “Look her in the face when you say that.”

Olivia: “Sorry Hailey.”

I consoled Olivia until Kim got home, replaying the scenario multiple times while offering better solutions to her mistakes but never mentioned my mistake which was an unfair punishment for her extreme emotional outburst and normal for a kid her age. She was upset that she lost her goggles and even though I let her know that we would look for them where she most likely had left them I couldn’t let her grieve completely. Maybe she just needed another few minutes to vent. Although once I told her that she couldn’t go swimming, had I reversed my decision, I would have made two mistakes. My authority is absolute and must always be. Not for me but for my girls.

Side Note: The lost goggles were not in the pool’s lost and found bin, but the very next day when arriving at preschool, the admin assistant, whom runs the school’s office, let me know that her daughter had come home with Olivia’s goggles.

Mar 2

Originally posted on BabyCenter.com 03/19/07 

Olivia woke up Wednesday with a crippling daddy day hangover. Slowly she roused, hands shielding her eyes from the meager dawns light, “Is today a school day?”

“Yes sweetie. Today is a school day.”

“I don’t want to go to school today… I don’t feel well… I’m sick…” She gasped out a pathetic cough. “My ear hurts…” Pointing to her left ear. “I want to go see doctor Bullivant…” I bargained her out of bed, leading her to believe that if Roz (Olivia’s preschool teacher) thought she was sick then I would take her to the doctor.

Just last week Hailey stayed home from school for a few days with a nasty virus and I was suspecting Olivia was attempting to test how she may be able to reap the benefits of falsifying an illness. During the blur of activity that involves readying Olivia and Hailey for and getting to preschool I asked Olivia if her ear was feeling better. She said that it still hurt. I asked her which ear was bothering her. She pointed to her right ear.

There was this one time, I was six or seven, I tried to convince my mother that an old scar on my hand was really a debilitating rash and there was no way I could go to school that day. My mom smartly didn’t buy it and callously sent me to school. She had a lot of experience debunking fake sicknesses before I came along. (I’m the youngest of four). Through the years I had to become increasingly creative when attempting a fake sickness. One bit was rubbing the old fashioned mercury filled thermometer on my pants to raise the temp. My mom would feel my cool forehead and say “hmm, one hundred and six? I’m surprised you’re not dead. Now get to school.” By the time I got to high school I would research medical journals for believable illnesses and sickly act out all the symptoms. “Hmm, bacterial meningitis you say?” My mom never fell for any of it.

Back to Olivia’s pseudo ear ache. When we arrived at the pumpkin room, (Olivia’s classroom), with a wink I explained to Roz that Olivia had woke up feeling ill. Roz assured Olivia that after breakfast she would send her to the school nurse. I told Olivia that I would come pick her up if the nurse thought a doctor visit was necessary. I didn’t hear from the nurse that day and when I got home from work that evening I asked Olivia how she was feeling. She answered, “fine,” her face wearing the expression of ‘why are you asking me that?’

***

The night previous to Olivia’s sickness charade, Bubie (my mom) came over for dinner and story-time. It has become somewhat of a Tuesday night ritual when Bubie is home from volunteer work in Israel. This particular night Hailey was more flamboyant than ever. She danced and ran circles around the house, naked of course, showing off for Bubie. “Watch dis (this) Bubie!” As she dove off the couch.
During dinner my mom remarked that Hailey must be feeling better from the virus that kept her home from school for a few days last week. Before Bubie could finish her statement, Hailey started wailing, “my mouth!…it hurts!”

Bubie instantly sympathized with Hailey, “Oh poor thing, her throat must be a little soar still.”

I rolled my eyes and said, “the girl who cries wolf.”

As those words were leaving my mouth, seemingly rehearsed, Hailey tilted her head back and howled out a piercing full moon wolf cry, “Auow, auow, auoooow.”

I can handle the world’s deceptions, I have too many years experience with that. Yet, from my own children? Sure, Olivia and Hailey may still be figuring out the difference between fact and fiction, testing their creative boundaries, perfecting guile and warping their own creativity. I understand that, for now.

Feb 28

Originally posted on BabyCenter.com 01/19/07 

For over a month Olivia’s preschool class practiced a skit that they performed during this years Hanukah party and every day Kim and I interrogated Olivia about the details of the skit. Kim would ask “Did your class rehearse today?” Then I would question, “What songs did you sing?” Then Kim would inquire, “Do you have any lines?” Then I would cross-examine, “Do you have a major part?” Kim would ask another and then I would ask another, etc… Olivia secretively dodged all our questions for the entire month. The more we questioned the less she talked. A few days before the play I was ready to fabricate a waterboard in the tub to get some answers out of her.
 
The day of the parties came. I say parties because Hailey who is still at the infant/toddler building on the community centers’ campus had a small informal music, crafts and snack get together in the morning before nap time. At the beginning of the predictable party, Hailey’s class, the green room, marched in single file out of their room and into the multi-purpose room where all the parents and special friends were waiting. It was a grand entrance and all of the green room children were wearing handmade Shamash hats. (The Shamash is the lead candle that lights the other candles on the menorah). Hailey placidly sat in my lap for the duration of the musical portion of the festivity proudly wearing the hat that she made. We joined the rest of her class inside the green room for snacks and a dreidel craft after the sing-along. Hailey shed a few tears when Kim, Zadie (my dad) and I had to leave, she didn’t want the party to end.
 
Six o’clock that same evening the preschooler’s party was held in the auditorium at the main building. Kim and I decided to pack a light picnic style dinner and eat with the girls in the cafeteria before heading into the assembly hall. It was a smart move considering when Olivia and Hailey get home from school they take off most of their clothing, demand juice and a movie, then comatosely melt into the couch until we drag them to the dinner table. Had we done the normal routine we would have never made it out of the house in time for the soiree.
 
As we entered the auditorium Roz (Olivia’s teacher) said “hello” and gave Olivia a handcrafted menorah hat that all the pumpkin room kids were wearing. Nine construction paper candles circled Olivia’s head and as she put it on Hailey demanded her Shamash hat. As I was getting the Shamash hat out of her backpack she also wanted her purple tinker bell sunglasses and I obliged her. Roz directed Olivia to the front of the auditorium where a two foot riser sat in front of the main stage. Then Roz asked Kim, Hailey and me to find a seat. The place was filling up quickly. We were lucky to find seats in the second row and saved one for my dad who showed up soon after we got there.
 
Olivia climbed onto the riser and was instantly pushed back behind the big five-year old kids from the bear room who were all wearing latke hats and then pushed even further back by the four-year old kids from the yellow room who were all wearing dreidel hats. A lot of the kids were jockeying for a front row position. Olivia listlessly hung in the shadows and I could barely see her behind everyone. Stage fright or intimidation? No wonder she was so reluctant to talk about the rehearsals. “How was your day honey?”
“Oh great dad, another day of getting pushed around by the big kids.”
 
The show begun as Jody (director of academia) lit the menorah and all the children sung the blessings. Then Jody started the skit with a short Q and A. “Who was Judah?” and all the children shouted, “Leader of the Maccabee’s!” She asked several more questions with prompt answers provided. Olivia didn’t say one word.
 
The musical portion of the play came next; Hailey rushed the stage and pulled herself onto the elevated platform. She found a little space front and center then joined in the singing. With her Shamash hat and tinker bell sunglasses on, she was waving to the crowd, singing as loud as she could and animating her body to the music. Everybody in the house cracked up at her loony antics. At one point some of the older kids shoved her into the back row but she tenaciously elbowed her way to the front again where she belted-out unrehearsed tunes. Olivia’s back was bashfully turned to the audience for the entire show, until the very end, when she glanced over her shoulder to see her little sister Hailey, the Shamash, leading the way and boldly stealing the show.
 
I felt so proud and happy for Hailey yet sad and compassionate for Olivia. However, they were indifferent, like nothing out of the ordinary happened. No feelings hurt, (not that I could tell), no joyous celebrations, (although Kim and I congratulated both of them). They went about their party business; diligently completing all the craft projects and devouring the sugar cookie snack. The only real problem was shlepping them home kicking and screaming. Both didn’t want the party to end.

Feb 23

Originally posted on BabyCenter.com 01/10/07

Olivia and Hailey split off in opposite directions from the penguin house ignoring my calls leaving me holding the backpack, the juice bottles and the snack bag. Olivia headed toward the grizzly bear pit and Hailey ran for the Zoo-line railroad crossing. I wasn’t sure who to go after first. Screaming, “Stop! Come back here now!” had no effect on either of them. I chased down Hailey, yanked her off the tracks, dragged her a hundred yards or so, over to the grizzlies and pulled Olivia off the protective fence. “If you two can’t listen to me we are leaving the zoo. Do you understand me? This is your warning, no running away from daddy or it’s bye-bye zoo!”

“Daddy, daddy, the grizzly bears are waking up.” Olivia has mastered diversion. Sure enough the two beastly bears had popped-up from slumber and were tuned into my scolding. There were no people around, yet I still felt a twinge of embarrassment, the two massive grizzlies were watching me, judging my parenting abilities. I saw them roll their eyes, shake their big bear heads in dismissal and snooted amongst themselves.

Olivia climbs the perfect for climbing but “no climbing” cliff facade outside the Penguin and Puffin Visitor Center.

Rewind about twenty-five minutes: Olivia and Hailey were climbing the perfect for climbing but ‘no climbing’ cliff facade outside the penguin house. What was I doing? “Say pinguino cheese.” Encouraging them, snapping away on the digital camera. I was getting some great shots and that seemed more important at the moment than teaching rules of conduct in public places.

We were practically the only guests at the zoo on an unseasonably warm day and had the penguin exhibit all to ourselves until an unkempt mother of two polished boys sauntered up in a side-by-side. The boys were probably about the same ages as Olivia and Hailey and were strapped tightly into their stroller. I sent the mom a friendly smile, she looked at my girls who were carelessly clambering around infected by some bizarre animal spirit and she sent me back a raised eyebrow. Her little boys contractually started squirming in their seats wanting to join in the fun. Sloppy mom sensed the bestial pandemic and quickly sped off with two displeased boys.

When not scaling the penguin coast, Olivia and Hailey were running up and down the wide entry ramp which wraps around a glacier splash-pool and leads into the Penguin and Puffin Visitor Center. For about twenty minutes they ran unrestrained, up and down the incline, over and over again. Hailey would hug and Hailey kisses a life sized Humboldt Penguin statuekiss a life sized Humboldt Penguin statue at the bottom of the ramp after every trip. If that statue had feelings, I’m positive it felt violated in some way. At the top of the gentle slope Olivia kept deliberately stepping into sensor range of the automatic entry and when the frosted glass doors slid open she would dingdong-dash back down the glacis. She tested the sensor’s invisible boundary a dozen or so times. Bedeviled by phantom visitors a young pimple-faced zoo keeper bolted out from the interior of the penguin house, he quickly figured out what was going on and shot me a snide ‘this isn’t a public playground’ look. I shrugged my shoulders implying that I wasn’t going to do anything to stop my girls and the lanky attendant went back inside without saying a word.

Back to the bears: We had a good conversation with the massive grizzlies; sounds strange, but maybe they were lonely that day and when I shouted across the pitch, “Hi grizzlies!” both bears lazily raised their heads and sniffed at the air in our direction. I excitedly announced to Olivia and Hailey that they were listening. So I asked the bears, “You guys tired?” and one of them let out a big bear yawn. “You guys bored?” One of them sniffed at us again which kind of looked like a head bob. I asked Olivia and Hailey if they wanted to say something to the grizzlies. Hailey enthusiastically yelled out “Hi grizzies!” and Olivia shyly hid behind me. We watched the grizzlies for several minutes although I’m not sure who was watching who.

At some point during the surreal bear whispering, the big grizzlies made me realize that I have become one of those dads. The kind of dad who nonchalantly lets his kids run amuck acting in a sociably unacceptable manner without any guidance or reprisal for disturbing the peace. Not the unkempt mother, not the young zoo keeper, it was the grizzlies that brought me to understand; I have been enabling my kids to be rule breakers.

Feb 15

Picking up from preschool today Olivia revealed to me that she has a boyfriend. His name is Dillon. She is four years old. How is this possible? She can’t have a boyfriend. Confused about what a boyfriend is she struggled to explain the fact that she has a boyfriend. Here is what I mean:

Olivia and I were about to climb the endless double switch-back faux marble staircase that leads from the preschool to the main facility of our community center. Hailey had already rabbit hopped up the camel-back mountain stairway and was out of sight. She does that every day. Olivia moves at turtles pace and I usually get stuck in the middle, encouraging Olivia to move quickly and pleading for Hailey to decelerate. Today was a bit different. Olivia had Han-Solo-frozen-in-carbonited me on step number one.

Rewind two minutes; as we were departing from Olivia’s class room, two boy’s came running up to me showing off their kenixish building toy things, I’m not sure what those are called, you know I have all girls and back in the day all I had was lego.

Verbally pulling Olivia away from the dollies and out of the room to leave, I was ambushed by the two boys, “Look at my spaceship!” A taller crew cut boy shouted.

“Cool!” I shouted back.

Then a little scrawny tussled hair boy showed off his creation, “Look at my spaceship!”

Again “Cool.” Being a veteran of praise sharing I said to the boys, “you both built awesome spaceships.” They backed off, “Come on Olivia time to go, tell you friend’s bye”

Back to me encased in carbonite on stair one and Olivia trying to explain that she has a boyfriend; “That was Dillon” She coyly said. “He’s my girlfriend.”

This is where I get lowered into the carbonite freezing chamber. Olivia played the part of Darth Vader, using the force to switch it on. “You… You mean… Dillon is your boyfriend?” And I already know that the taller thicker clean cut boy is Dillon.

“Naw daddy… he’s my girlfriend.” Halfway up the first leg of the stairway she bashfully said.

Oh, I get it; she wanted me to explain the boyfriend girlfriend relationship.  My feet still frozen to the first step, I attempt to spell it out for her, “You…are…You are Dillon’s girlfriend.” It almost came out like a question.

“Mmm Hmm.” Embarrassed, Olivia shyly turned her back to me and climbed a couple more steps.

“So that makes Dillon your boyfriend.” I tried to sound like an authority on human relations, but felt nauseated explaining to her.

“Mmm Hmm” She turned the corner ascending the next level (of stairs).

Hailey’s Broken Heart

Thursday night is Pizza Night. I bring home all the ingredients from my family’s restaurant to make them from scratch. Olivia and Hailey will help with the dough, making a few five inch personal sized pies. They add the sauce, ingredients and what doesn’t end up in their mouths, the cheese. Today I stretched the dough into little hearts for them and they finished prepping the pizzas with delight.

After cooking and cooling I always cut the pizzas in half and tonight was no exception. I sliced the little hearts right down the middle. We gathered at the table for dinner and the first thing Hailey said to me was; “you broke my heart.”

To My Hot Wife Kim

You are stronger than the sun, sustaining me, warming me, waking me every day, life revolves around you and without you nothing would exist. I Love You.

My Family Portrait

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