I have a picture of Lily sitting on the lion, with Audrey behind her, pushing. It’s a great picture. I set it as my background at work. Lily is happy and relaxed, while Audrey is concentrating on the lion, as if making sure not to push too hard for her little (though older) sister. It’s the kind of picture that belongs in one of those “Sisters” frames. The kind that makes people go “Awwwwww...”

That’s the great thing about pictures. You get this brief moment of time (1/60 of a second, in this case) completely out of context so that people think it’s sweet. No one has to know that just after that picture was taken Audrey reached up, grabbed Lily’s shirt, and tried to throw her off the lion. No one has to hear the screaming that ensued from both girls—from Lily because she was off the lion, and then from Audrey because Daddy put Lily back on. Nope, it’s just a nice little picture of sisters having fun.

Pictures aside, the fighting is becoming more common, but only where the lion is involved. Each girl approaches the situation differently, but it all ends in crying. Perhaps I’m projecting, but it seems that Audrey is especially prone to taking over the lion when she thinks her sisters aren’t operating it correctly. Isabel just grabs it whenever it comes by, regardless of who is using it at the time. Lily has to work so hard getting the thing going that she doesn’t want to give it up to anyone.

So now we have a decision. Do we get two more lions so everyone is happy? Would that even work? Or do we try to teach the concept of sharing to three 14-month-olds, only two of whom can even do a consistently good duck impersonation? Perhaps we should set up a schedule of isolated visitations? These are questions that never occurred to me five years ago. Even five months ago. I don’t think their entire lifelong social development hinges on the number of plastic cats in our house, but one never knows…

I’m thankful that my mother cared enough about me that she was willing to invest so much of herself into raising me and my brother. Even now though I am an adult she’s still looking out for me. That’s the committment of parent: a lifetime of nurturing and love.

I’m also thankful that I have my wife with me to raise our two daughters. My hope for them is that they will one day be mothers themselves raising their own families. I hope they are paying attention to what their mother is teaching them for they can learn a great deal just from observing her.

The older that my kids get the more I realize how little I know about what to teach them. I’m glad my wife is with me to round out their education as I am sure there is much that I would miss teaching them. As my oldest daughter moves closer and closer to being a teenager I am glad my wife is around to deal with the many personal issues that arise with a girl growing into a young woman. Let’s face it, guys, we don’t understand women and are ill-equipped to teach our girls about being women. It’s a good thing we have our wives to help us along.

I couldn’t help think today, too, of the single moms that we know who have been forced to raise their kids on their own. Hats off to you ladies as you have an especially difficult task ahead of you. I can’t even begin to imagine how you manage to raise your kids without someone alongside you to help. It’s tough enough being a parent when your spouse is there with you. Going alone seems an almost insurmountable task.

Guys, if you haven’t done so already, let me encourage you to thank your mother today for all the sacrifices she made for you. If you’re married, be sure to thank your wives also for being willing to take on the most difficult yet rewarding job in the world: parent.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the Mothers out there from all of us at Dadbloggers.

This is the first time my wife and I have had to explain death to our children on a personal level.  Only my oldest had ever been to a viewing before. His only question back then was whether the body in the casket was going to be a vampire or a zombie. Thanks, Buffy.  This time, he’s now 8, he understands what it means that Grandpa is dead and he has broken down into tears several times since finding out.

My 4-year-old never really cried, but seems to understand that Grandpa is in Heaven.  She became somber when we first told her, but we really focused on the fact that Grandpa was no longer sick or in pain and that we would see him again one day.  This has been enough for her, and I think she understands.

My 3-year-old never really gave any sign of misunderstanding.  She seemed to be in the same boat as my 4-year-old.  That was until we were at the grave site.  The services were all concluded and the family was hanging around talking, consoling each other and not wanting to leave.  My little girl was looking at the casket, and then turned to my wife and asked when Grandpa was coming out. My wife explained the situation again, and my sweet little girl truly became sad for the first time.

How do you explain death to children who don’t quite understand such concepts?  I am sure the next time we are at Grandma’s we will get the question of, “Where’s Grandpa?” Another question is, what will come first: their understanding of death or their forgetting what Grandpa was really like?

But we’re spunky and that makes up for a lot.

Yesterday MLI (my little introvert) came home from daycare with an injury report and this time he wasn’t the victim. Instead, he was the cause. Or was he?

As is always the case with these things, what happened leading up to the “incident” depends largely on whom you talk to. My son’s teacher told Careermom that an older boy was being some sort of undisclosed “mean” to my son and in retaliation, my son bit him. The “victim’s” teacher says my son was just being mean. MLI hasn’t bitten anyone since he was a toddler and he’s four now, so something unusual must have happened to cause him to do this.

Of course he got “the talk” and he lost a privilege or two at home, but throughout the evening, both CareerMom and I questioned him about the incident, and the story, at least from his viewpoint, unfolded something like this:

MLI and some of his friends are often on the playground at the same time as a couple of older classes. There are some older boys who, for whatever reason, gravitate around my son and his friends, probably because my son and his homeys are usually playing “Superfriends” while these older kids are playing “Power Rangers.” Now, for some reason, I have a serious aversion to the Power Rangers, as do the parents of MLI’s best friend, so they don’t play Power Rangers. But this doesn’t stop the older kids from coming over and attempting to rope the younger ones into playing. And in doing so, they call them “Boom Rangers.” Yeah, I don’t get it either, but...whatever.  The point is, the older kids frequently bother the younger kids and this isn’t the first time we’ve heard of there being a problem.

Yesterday while my son was on the swing, this other boy stood nearby trying to get him off the swing and kept calling him a “Boom Ranger.” There was also some kind of “...sneaking up on me and I don’t like that...” going on. This went on until somehow the two boys got really close together and MLI bit the older boy. End of story.

But I have a couple of problems with this:
1. My son bit an older boy? Hmm, that in itself is suspect. I mean, I don’t doubt that it happened; I doubt the “who’s at fault?” theory.
2. Why was this older boy stalking my child and where were the playground monitors?
3. My son typically avoids confrontation. If something is going on he doesn’t like, he attempts to flee (”...so we can fight another day!")

Looking back at the times when I was little when I did something notoriously stupid, like pushing Ryan Smith into the lockers in 5th grade after I’d finally taken enough of his crap, I know that I’d reacted out of sheer frustration, not meanness. It wasn’t premeditated; I simply reacted out of emotion. And you know what? It worked. Ryan and I became close friends, which most dads know is usually what happens in these situations.

Obviously, I can’t condone biting under any circumstances; but while I disagree with the method, I don’t begrudge him the sentiment, or for that matter, the act itself. Had the bite been a shove, or even a hit, as long as it was in self-defense, I’m OK with it.

Childhood psychologists worldwide are shaking their heads at me right now (I’m sure many read this blog), but folks I’m sorry, I’m not going to beat my kid up for defending himself.

But I’m curious to hear from other dads, and moms. How do you deal with these situations?

As it turns out, MLE (My Little Extrovert) was bitten yesterday, so as a whole, we came out even. The universe is pretty good like that isn’t it?

Don’t know what Twitter is?  The popular term is micro-blogging You post what you’re doing in 140 characters or less.  People can sign up to ‘follow’ you, and they’ll get your messages.  I tend to think of it as a public\broadcast Instant Messaging platform.  If you’re already familiar with IM and have the ability to use this during the day, I’d highly recommend it as a way to find interesting discussions about any particular topic.

You can follow me here.  Twhirl is the client I use, you can download that here.  But you can also just view your twitter ‘stream’ on Twitter’s website.  If you’re looking for Dads to follow, this post by Derek Semmler is a great starting point. 

To some this might be information overload.  But you can pay attention at your own convenience.  And if you’re looking at this blog, you’re probably interested in meeting new people and reading about their perspectives on parenting.

Look me up and say hello!

Each Wednesday morning, we hear the tell-tale screech and both the boys bolt out of bed and rush to the window to begin the celebration for a much needed, yet seldom recognized group of men, the “garb men” – known to you and me as garbage men.

My youngest son, Alex, loves big trucks and a garbage truck certainly qualifies. On trash day, they rush to the window for each wave (refuse, plastic & glass, and paper) of collection, scream “garb men”, and watch in fascination. Some days they simply return to what they were doing when the truck moves on, but on other days they run around singing praise to the garbage men – it’s quite a spectacle.

It may seem funny, but this celebration is one of the things that concerned me about moving. I accepted a new position in a different part of the country and one of the things I’ve been wondering is – will garbage day be too early or too late in the day for the celebration? We’re staying with friends for now and the kids were able to see the new garbage men – it wasn’t the same celebration, but the men were appreciated none the less.

There are a lot of things that we take for granted – jobs that people do that are necessary for our society to function, but jobs that I often overlook; things I take for granted. I realize that we can’t have a party every day for all the people that make our lives what they are, but my sons are certainly showing me that we can take the time to appreciate them more often.

Hurray for all of our civil servants and community helpers.

Then, our generation was blessed with Dr. Sears and The Baby Book.  Oh, man.  He’s the ‘attachment parenting’ genius.  You know - if you don’t hold your child 24/7, he or she may develop serious social and psychological disorders.  To quote the good Dr., “…a child’s needs that are not filled leave an empty space that can come back later as anxieties…(317)” Wow, as if being a new parent wasn’t stressful enough, now we were worried not just about making the right choice in the moment, (‘Johnny is probably crying because he has a wet diaper, so I’ll change it.’), but we had the added pressure of knowing that a wrong choice (‘Actually, his diaper had nothing to do with it.  He was crying because he was hungry’) could result in years of therapy in some dark, unknown future.

When Tonya was pregnant with our first child, we were reading Dr. Sears and believing every word.  We were going to be the best parents in history and he was our ticket.  For Tonya, it was every maternal instinct and hormone coupled with her truly giving and loving nature (yeah, I hope she reads this…).  For me, I hate to admit it, but during the pregnancy, it felt like a challenge.  This was the big game, and I wasn’t going to be beaten.  That attitude lasted until I held Isabel the first time, about 15 seconds after she was born, and realized that it was only about love…but I’ll save that for another blog entry.

Anyway, to get to the point, we did it all:  co-sleeping (again, a topic for another blog…), making our own baby food, never putting her down, never letting her cry AND making our own baby wipes (“Ay, there’s the rub…”).

Yes, we made our own baby wipes.  In case you aren’t familiar with the concept, the basic recipe is paper towels, water, olive oil, and a few drops of baby shampoo – put it all in a Tupperware container and wait.  At the time, it didn’t occur to me (as it apparently hasn’t occurred to the hucksters still plying the idea on the internet – go ahead, type “make my own baby wipes” into Google) that this is also the recipe for a PETRI DISH!

So we diligently made those ‘more healthy’ wipes and wiped our beautiful newborn with them – and she developed urinary tract infections – twice.  We didn’t put this all together, and neither did the doctor.  The doctor had her own ideas about what was going on…

Allow me to pause in my story to tell you about a more recent event.  Last week my brother, who is seven years younger than me (and whose first-born isn’t yet a year old) emailed to ask a question.  His son had a bunch of ear infections and the pediatrician recommended tubes…my brother was freaked out at the idea of putting his son under anesthesia and under the knife.  What did I think?  Here’s a bit of what I wrote back:

“There is this tendency in the medical field to go with the quickest possible fix (e.g. four vaccinations in one visit).  I asked a friend who is a public health nurse about this and she explained it by saying that, as a medical provider, you try to do the quickest and most efficient thing possible because you don’t know when, or if, people will come back.

Try chiropractic; it worked for Abe (our second born, who also had lots of ear infections).  A few adjustments, and I’d bet that his ear infections will go away.  Be wary of accepting doctor’s advice carte blanche.  Your son is not a statistic; he can’t be placed on a bell curve.  He’s your son and you know him and love him more than anyone ever will.  Avoid surgery; try the other options, but watch him, closely.  Watch him and you’ll know if he needs surgery or even if he needs another round of antibiotics…”

Back to the story…after two urinary tract infections, the American Academy of Pediatrics recommends that a baby be given a voiding cystourethrogram (VCUG).  Here’s how it works:  X-rays are taken, and then a catheter is inserted into the bladder through the urethra. A liquid dye is put into the bladder through the tube, and more X-rays are taken to watch the dye as the bladder fills and as the baby urinates.

Pretty heavy stuff – x-rays of the urethra, bladder and uterus, a catheter in my 9 month old baby–I didn’t like it.  So as a loving dad, as Papa Bear, I asked why.  What was the goal and/or benefit of this procedure?  What were the risks?  Was it absolutely necessary?  The conversation didn’t go so well.

The test is for vesicoureteral reflux (VUR).  That’s a condition in which urine from the bladder backs up into the kidneys. It’s found in less than half (30-40%) of toddlers who have urinary tract infections.  So, after this astoundingly invasive procedure, what would change if Isabel had VUR?  Not a lot.  Many kids outgrow it.  Some get a continual low dose of antibiotics, and a few need a surgical fix, but the Doc admitted that, whatever the results, she was inclined just to do the test and wait.  At the same time, she was very irritated that I would question her about this (as she recited the info I found online about the condition almost verbatim).  It was, after all, a protocol backed by the AAP.  In essence, her answer was, ‘we do the test because we can (so there!).’

For some reason, in the end, we agreed to let them do the test.  As I handed my baby over and had to move behind the lead screen as they x-rayed her, then watched her scream and cry as an intern held her down and the nurse inserted the catheter, I knew we’d made a mistake.  The test was negative; anatomically, she was fine.  That same week, I popped open our homemade Tupperware wipes, and they smelled like a used towel left in the corner of a locker room.  We stopped using them – Isabel never had another UTI.

Can I ever prove that those wipes were the cause of her UTI?  No.  Can I say with certainty, though, that we shouldn’t have had that procedure done?  Yes, absolutely.  Even if, since that time, Tonya and I hadn’t discovered that chiropractic really does seem to help with certain infections (again…another blog…), it felt wrong, and it made no sense.  We should have listened to that parental instinct – which pre-dates Spock and Sears.  I can honestly say at this point that we love our pediatrician and we love our chiropractor, but mostly, we love our kids.

We all know that parenting is, if anything, a humbling experience, and there are lots of experts out there to tell us how little we know.  That humbleness is important in the face of the awesome responsibility we bear as parents.  At the same time, I like to read a little Sears now and again to remind myself that the experts don’t always get it right – and sometimes they are downright silly.

Parenting provides a constant low dose of uncertainty, so an occasional shot in the arm of self-trust can’t hurt.

I’ll be focusing on the prevention in this post. In short, the makers of the video advise that we give our children “safety rules” on touching. Maybe you already have some safety rules in your house, without necessarily calling them that. One of ours is that when someone approaches our kids through the front gate of our house, our kids are allowed to say hello. If the stranger says anything else to our kids, or asks any questions, they are to come let us know so we can go out and meet the people as well. I’ve seen them do this; it’s great.

The safety rules on touching are:
1. No one may touch the child’s private parts except to keep them clean and healthy.
2. If someone does try to touch them, or wants the child to touch someone else’s private parts, the child is to say “No” or something that means “No” as firmly as possible.
3. If the person persists, the child should run and tell another adult (a parent if possible).

The video also went on to advise reassuring the child that it is never too late to tell the truth, and that if something does happen, it is not the child’s fault.

So what about rule #1 - does that apply to parents? I mean, in my family, the ”Tuches Monster” attacked until I was at least 10 years old. Seems like good clean fun. But as I think about it more, it seems more consistent if we apply the rule across the board - to include parents as well.

Since I’ve started rethinking all this, when I’ve been in a situation when I would normally “get their buns” in a playful way, I’ve asked myself, “Do we lose anything if I just tickle their stomachs or knees instead?” And the answer is no. So for me, I think the Tuches Monster is dead. It’s not because I fear that there’s some latent pedophile lurking within me. It’s really just about being consistent, so that when someone does touch their private parts, it will seem so weird to our kids that it will be easier for them to react. If we parents occasionally tickle our kids’ bottoms, it might still seem kind of fun for them if someone else does it (especially if it’s someone they know). That’s a recipe for confusion.

Anyway, the post has gotten a bit long now, but I look forward to hearing what you all think.

My kids are quite literal. Spring is in the air around here and all the birds are coming out. The other day my 5-year-old son looked out the window and said, “Wow! Look at that robin out there.” So there we were looking at the pretty bird pecking the ground for snacks. Finally, his brother (my 3-year-old son) looked up confused and said, “Daddy, I don’t see a man in a costume out there?” He was looking for Batman’s sidekick.

Another time my 5-year-old was giving me a hug when he asked, “Daddy, why do you have another nipple on the back of your neck?” That’s when I had to explain what a mole was. Thank God I didn’t have to tell him about the skin tag in my armpit the size of a bean!

Then there was the time I was wrestling with my kids on the floor. The match was going round after round when one of them stops and let’s me know, “Daddy, your breath smells like tuna!” That would have been fine if I had actually eaten tuna, but I hadn’t in several months.

Right now my kids are very literal. As reckless as it can be in certain situations, I really appreciate it. In a world full of pretense and agenda, I find it quite refreshing. And it’s something my wife and I try to be very respectful of. One area where we as parents have taken a lot of time discussing this is that of Santa and the Easter Bunny.

You see, we were driving somewhere last year after recently watching the movie The Polar Express when our oldest son (4 at the time) was asking us about Santa a little more in depth. He was wondering about the physics of how he could get down a chimney with all those presents, or if there was no chimney at all. For that matter, how was he able to deliver all those presents at once and how could reindeer fly? He had never seen anything like that and it was confusing him.

The conversation reached a tension we couldn’t avoid. Although we thought the story was good, fun, and well meaning, something felt wrong. He was looking for answers and he trusted us, but the explanations started to sound like lies more than a fun story. So we came clean there in the minivan and told him that Santa wasn’t real. That it is a story people tell kids just to have a little fun with them. We explained further that it’s like the stories we read before bed like Dr. Seuss or Bob the Builder. And then he added in all seriousness with innocence, “And like God and Jesus and the Bible.” With that, the tension seemed to come to a point and pop. We knew that we could never celebrate Santa or the Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy after that. We knew we did the right thing by revealing the truth about Old Saint Nick.

It’s not that we look down on the practice or even discourage it. It’s just not for us. We don’t want to be like the Grinch. We still watch the Rudolph show and all the other Holiday movies. But we also feel like there is only room for one fantasy/myth-type character in our lives. God usually doesn’t appear in the mall with his son Jesus to buy some new sneakers. So because of that, we have chosen to be very careful with the literalness of our children’s understanding as we try to pass on values and beliefs to them that we feel need to be an important part of their identity.

If we as parents feel that faith is a critical element of life, maybe the most important value to pass on, it is something to take very serious. My wife and I don’t want set them up to fail, especially in faith. We don’t expect them to eventually be OK with Santa, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy stories being cute little white lies while accepting Jesus and God stories as completely legit. Now I know the intentions are good and fun, but we feel that it may be a little unfair. There is a good chance it could also set up almost certain disillusionment as they will inevitably question the existence of God and consequently contemplate the meaning of their our own lives.

Think about yourself. Maybe think about that co-worker, neighbor, or relative that struggles with the same thing and can’t get past it. Could it be that this all starts with a child’s very literal perspective?

Just a thought (to take literally, perhaps).

This is exactly why we were so excited to get the brand new book Hand That Rocks The Cradle: 400 Classic Books for Children by Nathaniel Bluedorn. In this slender volume is a concise reference of the best books to read together as a family or for your children to read independently. Each entry includes a brief summary of the book, the time period in which the story takes place, geographic setting of the story, publication date, and the reading level. There is also a topical index in the back that makes it easier to identify books on various subjects. In addition, the book has been cleverly shaped to make it an easy reference tool to carry to the bookstore or library when looking for new books.

Most of the selections listed tend to be older books. Mr. Bluedorn states in the introduction that his family is more conservative and so the selections tend to reflect their preferences. However, he has also included a few more recent books that may come as a surprise to a few readers.

When the book first arrived in our mailbox, my youngest daughter, who is 10 years old, immediately started going through to see what books she had read were included on the list. On her very next trip to the library she started checking out books that she had seen listed in this book.

These days finding suitable books to either read to children or to let them read on their own has increasingly become a challenge. With this book, Mr. Bluedorn (and his parents, too) have done a tremendous service to families everywhere. Homeschool families will also particularly benefit from this book as it will make selecting appropriate books to incorporate in their curriculum a much easier task. I highly recommend Hand That Rocks The Cradle as it is one of the best resources I’ve discovered in quite a while.