Oh What a Weekend - Part II

And now the continuation of Father's Day weekend...

Saturday morning was dedicated to Jameson. As some of you may know, he has a certain interest in science and dreams of one day being a famous scientist/inventor. When he was very young, Julie introduced him to the tale of the Wright brothers and the invention of the first airplane. He's been captivated by their story ever since. As it just so happens, our hometown is also the hometown of Orville and Wilbur Wright. This is one of the reasons Jameson is so intrigued by them. He loves the idea that one of the most important inventions in human history was created in the city where he was born - it gives credence to his belief that he will also one day invent great things.

Another thing that Jameson loves is old time photographs of Dayton. He thinks things looked so much grander a century ago and hopes that our city will one day recapture that distinguished look.

Knowing these things, I thought the perfect outing for us would be a tour of the Wright mansion on Hawthorne Hill. Jameson agreed. Hawthorne Hill is the home that the Wright brothers (and sister) built after they became filthy rich inventing the airplane. I never realized it, but their mansion is actually in walking distance of the tiny home in which I grew up. How sad is my local historical knowledge!?

And now for a little Wright brothers history for you. Wilbur Wright never lived at Hawthorne Hill. He died just before it was completed. Orville, however, lived there until he died. The brothers grew up in a modest home and built the mansion after making a boat load of money from their various patents related to flying and from the airplane company they started. There were actually seven Wright children, including a set of twins that did not live very long. Their sister Catherine talked them into building the place out in the "country" outside of downtown Dayton in the area that is now the City of Oakwood. All kinds of wealthy people from Dayton's history built homes in the same area. As celebrities of their time, the Wrights hosted all kinds of famous people in their home including Henry Ford and Charles Lindbergh. The house is symmetrical from front to back and side to side. It looks the same whether you're approaching up the hill in front or coming up the driveway in back. After Orville Wright died the home was bought by the National Cash Register (NCR) corporation and was used as a guesthouse that has welcomed all sorts of important folks like visiting presidents, including both Bushes. While not all the current furnishings are original to Orville's time, NCR had the sense to thoroughly photograph every room in the house to preserve a detailed record of Orville's home. The Wright family currently owns the property and still hosts functions there.

Now don't you feel smarter?

As for the tour, Jameson and I both loved it. Nothing in the house is off limits, except for Orville's study. You can view it, but you can't walk through it. It's also the only room in the house where nothing has been moved since Orville lived there. The rest of the members of the tour group were adults and I think Jameson felt special being the only kid there that day. He was great, of course, asking questions and paying attention the whole time. He was a little quiet at first and was surprised at the size of the place (over 6,000 square feet). Jameson loved the stories about Orville that the guide shared in each room we visited. After the tour we decided to locate the Wright brothers burial plot at the unbelievably gorgeous Woodland Cemetery.

Jameson was expecting something much, much smaller.

This is the original table at which Orville Wright would have sat for dinner.

Orville's study is the only room in the home that remains unaltered from when he lived there.

Jameson contemplating the flying car he's going to invent.

The Wright family headstone at Woodland Cemetery.

After Jameson and I finished our tour, a cemetery hunt and lunch at Milano's, it was time for some father-son fun with Truman. Our activity: bowling. Truman is always entertaining in one-on-one situations. In many ways, he's the quietest and most independent of all of our kids, so it's always interesting to spend time with him without his siblings around. Much like Amelia was with the pool, Truman was incredibly stoked to be headed to the bowling alley with dad. Of course, he made dozens of observations along the way, and, of course, I cannot recall any of them at the moment.

Truman insisted that he did not need any help. Which was true.

Truman's unique form.

Truman celebrated every throw. No matter what.

Stop getting so old, T-man!

Kid sized bowling shoes are always cute.

What bowling trip is complete without alley junk food?

I'm not sure Truman wanted to leave the bowling alley, but after a couple of games it was time to go. Day two of Father's Day weekend wasn't over, though. I was sending Julie off to a Lindsey Buckingham concert which meant I was home alone with the kids. Which meant I was home alone with Miss Eliana at bedtime. Which meant Eliana and I were staying up late watching action movies.

Eliana didn't miss mom one bit. (At least that's what I keep telling Julie.)

Stay tuned to the exciting conclusion of Father's Day weekend 2012.

Oh What a Weekend - Part I

I don't know how many more Father's Days I can survive. I'm exhausted. Totally wiped out. This year's extravaganza lasted three days. Continuing the tradition from last year, I spent time with each of the kids in a one-on-one activity. This year, though, it took two days to squeeze it all in. (Julie, being the awesome wife that she is, took the day off of work on Friday to help make this all possible.) In addition to the kids activities, I played nine holes of golf on Friday morning, we checked out the community restaurant showcase for dinner one night, made it halfway through a tee ball game before getting rained out and went to my sister's house for a final Father's Day cookout.

The individual time with the kids was, as expected, awesome. In a house with five kids, big blocks of one-on-one time can be hard to come by. I do little things with each of the kids all the time, but I like the idea of dedicating a couple hours of Father's Day to each one of them. It let's us slow down and connect on a different level. Their individual personalities come shining through. It gives me a chance to bask in my fatherliness. Also, during that individual time I'm always sadly reminded of how old they're getting -- which adds all the more value to our Father's Day outings.

First up again this year: Darwin. I suggested some activities that I thought were surefire fun times for two-year olds, but I was repeatedly shot down. There was only one thing Darwin wanted to do and that was go to the grocery store. Seriously. His mind was made up. We go to the grocery store every week, so I was surprised that this was his dad activity of choice. With a little digging, though, his plans made more sense. What he really wanted to do was to go to the grocery store and push one of the kid sized grocery carts.  Duh! This is an activity he's seen his older siblings enjoy on countless occasions but one that he's been denied when we shop as a family. With grocery list in hand, we headed off on his big boy trip to the store.

When Jameson was little, I would make him little visually aided grocery lists.
I think this is the first time I ever did it for Darwin. He loved it.

When we got in the car, Darwin modified our plans and suggested we stop for coffee first.
Sounded good to me.

While we were there, we met a girl who was cross-stitching a painting of a Paris landmark.
She said it was going to take FOUR YEARS to complete. That's dedication.

I added another detour and insisted on stopping for lunch before grocery shopping.
We made an inaugural visit to the 'Boro Bistro. It turns out it's owned by someone who played soccer with my sister-in-law.
And it also turns out they make the best chipotle chicken sandwich I have EVER eaten.

I think this may have been the greatest moment of Darwin's life up until now.

Darwin received many compliments on his shopping skills. And his curls.

I guess even grocery shopping is an adventure to a two-year old.

The next event of the weekend was daddy-daughter swimming with Amelia. She was, um, a little excited. She couldn't stop running around the house before we left. And she could barely speak when we got to the pool. And, as fate would have it, we were THE ONLY people at the children's pool. With the pool to ourselves, I was even brave enough to swim with my camera.

Surveying the undisturbed children's area.

This was definitely the appropriate activity choice for Amelia.

NOT TOO CLOSE TO MY CAMERA!!!

As with everything else, Amelia is fearless in the water.

We finished off Friday with a "Taste of" celebration in our town.
That was a hectic trip. But the food was delicious. And ice cream never hurts.

The Darwin-fro never quits.

Father's Weekend

We're getting the party started early this year. I get the day off. For real. It's me and each of the kids, one-on-one, for the whole day. I'm sure I'll have plenty of pictures to share on Monday.

My Muse

SAHD - Day 665

I think it's safe to say I'm fully entrenched in the stay at home dad business - especially with baby number five on the way. A couple months from now I'll be crossing the two year point since I quit my corporate gig to stay home full time with my kids. We thought long and hard about that decision and agonized for months over what we were actually going to do. Now it seems like the answer should have been obvious. It hasn't been easy, but it was clearly the right decision for our family. In the 665 days since then, I've learned a lot about myself, about my kids and about laundry.

I love being a stay at home dad. Here are some of the things I've learned, observed and discovered since becoming one.

I have more patience than I ever realized. I always thought I was a fairly laid back person, but my patience muscles have been seriously exercised since taking on the full time parenting gig.

I have more of a temper than I ever realized. But when my patience wears thin... look out.

You can't let a three year old girl comb her own hair with one of those stupid 360 degree round brushes. You know those brushes with bristles all the way around? Those things should come with warnings. Amelia can get her hair irreparably knotted around one of these devices in under four seconds.

Silence is not golden. Silence is cause for alarm. Silence is the last thing I want to hear. Silence means someone is focused on getting into some serious trouble. Like cutting their own hair. Or stuffing golf balls in the toilet.

Children are often less logical than pregnant women. It's close, but at least pregnant women don't stick jelly beans up their noses for no apparent reason.

Kids remember. They always remember.  You know when you promised them at age three that when they turned five they could have their own pack of bubble gum? You might as well etch that stuff in stone.

I can make pancakes without looking at a recipe. In fact, I have my own made up recipe. And they're the bomb.

I can grocery shop with four small children. I get lots and lots of looks, but the grocery store staff has at least gotten used to us. One time at Walmart, a woman yelled from across the parking lot, "YOU GO, DADDEEEEEE!"

The bar for dad parenting skills is set way, way, wayyyyy low. Seriously low. See above. I can be in the grocery store at the same time as a mother with more kids than me and I'll get no less than half a dozen "compliments" on my bravery while she won't get a second glance. At the grocery store, the doctor's office, the library, the park -- pretty much any public place -- if I have more than two kids with me, I'm guaranteed to get comments from someone concerning my ability to parent. "Wow, you're brave." "My husband could never do that." "Do you need help?" "Dad of the year!" My personal favorite, though, is "What did your wife do to get the day off?"

Preparation is key. Being a stay-at-home parent is almost exactly like being a restaurant manager. The more you do to prepare for each day the easier it will be to handle the challenges that inevitably pop up. Right after college I managed a restaurant for a few years and the parallels between that job and this one are incredible. The stress and chaos are so similar, as are the means for dealing with them. The big difference is I can't fire my kids and I can't blame my woes on the manager from the prior shift.

Laundry is the killer. With this many people in one house, no other task occupies nearly as much time as collecting, sorting, washing, drying, folding and putting away the laundry. I need a better system.

Systems are key. This is also a restaurant management principle. It's my nature to want to have systems for everything and for those systems to constantly be refined for maximum efficiency. It's the only way I can effectively manage my days with the kids.

Repetition is key. The more an activity becomes a routine, the easier it is to manage the kids during said activity. Grocery shopping with all four kids is usually a smooth affair because we do it every week. I know what to expect, they know what to expect and together we're fairly proficient at it.

Potty training is overrated. Sort of. Yes, changing diapers is a tiresome chore. But, I like to spend a lot of our day out of the house. Before potty training, that meant we had the freedom to do what we wanted when we wanted and we just had to be prepared to change an occasional diaper in the car. Post potty training it means ten minutes of bathroom breaks every time before we leave the house, monitoring fluid intake away from home, and potentially visiting some less than savory public restrooms with two, three or even four young kids. And Miss Amelia is notorious for exclaiming, "I have to poop!" the moment she spies a Target. What the hell?

Life is harder for the working parent. I think it's no contest. I can by physically, mentally and/or emotionally drained at the end of the day, but when it comes down to it I'm spending time with my kids and just thinking about how much I love them and how lucky I am to have them gives me all the motivation I need to keep going. I don't miss office life one bit. Working outside the home can have all the stress and demands of staying at home, but it has the added stress of always being away from the ones you love the most in the world.

Occupational Hazard

I often wrestle and (play) fight with my kids. As part of this dad activity, it is my fatherly duty to play the role of all sorts of nasty villains from ogres and giants to mad scientists and Republicans. The kids are always the heroes; I'm always the bad guy. I've become quite convincing in this role -- maybe too convincing.

Recently I was Captain Hook. I was being swarmed by Pan and a band of his Lost Boys (and Girls) as they tried to beat me into submission. Their efforts were futile. Until. Until the game came to a screeching halt as I was immobilized by what felt like a pair of pliers trying to remove my bicep from my upper arm. Shedding all but one of my assailants in an instant, I looked down to see Amelia's jaw fully locked on my arm.

Scooping her up and heading straight for "timeout," I started asking her, in a not-so-gentle tone, what on earth was she doing. She knows biting is not allowed and has long outgrown that toddler phase. I think I was more shocked than angry, and I was grilling her in disbelief and showing her the injury she had given me.

When I sat her down in the chair, I could see nothing but devastation on her face. Tears were forming at the corners of her eyes. With a quivering lip and a shaky voice that could barely muster a whisper she said, "But, but, but Daddy... you were Captain Hook." And with that she threw her face into the crook of my neck, sobbing over and over again, "I'm sorry, Daddy."

Being the soft dad that I am, my heart instantly hurt more than my bicep. I wrapped my arms around my little girl and did my best to console her. I told her everything was OK and that she just needed to be more careful. She eventually calmed down but continued to apologize throughout the night. My precious little girl isn't all nails and vinegar, after all.

But she's still Amelia.

The next morning I showed her the lovely green bruise that was left from the injury she had caused. She took a close look at it and, in the most dismissive voice you've ever heard, said, "Oh just put a band aid on it."

Then she just walked off, as full of nails and vinegar as ever.

His Mexican Half

I'll have the Blazin' please.

A few weeks ago we were at our favorite family breakfast spot, First Watch.  It's a regular morning hangout of ours -- the kids know most of the waiters and waitresses and they know us.  Eating out with four kids younger than age five can sometimes be tough, so it's nice to have this routine with which the kids are very familiar.  They know what's expected and what to expect, so things usually go pretty smoothly.

As with many breakfast spots, the tables here are adorned with a temple of sugars, creamers, jellies and other condiments.  Not surprisingly, these food flavoring shrines draw a lot of attention from the kids.  On this particular visit, Truman was inhaling his food as usual, but was also insistent on grabbing the hot sauce from the middle of the table and begging us to add some to his plate.  Eventually I indulged him and poured a small pool on his plate to let him experiment.  With his demands finally satisfied, Truman proceeded to take a piece of his ham and slather it in his hot sauce.  Confidently, yet cautiously, he raised the piece to his mouth.  Sticking out just the very tip of his tongue he sampled his new spicy dipping sauce.  After a few moments of savory contemplation, he blew on the piece of ham (as if it's temperature were too hot) and then popped the whole thing in his mouth.  He continued to finish all of his ham, coating each piece in hot sauce.

I love hot sauce, but I was more than a little surprised that Truman, at two years old, would find it palatable.  Still, I assumed this was just a fluke event on a random morning out for breakfast.  Or so I thought until I made a hotdog for Truman at lunch one day and he demanded hot sauce as an accompaniment.  I checked and double checked to make sure it wasn't catsup that he actually wanted.  "No.  I want hot sauce."

So he polished off a hotdog with hot sauce.

Maybe it's time he and I paid a visit to B-Dubs.

How Do You Get to Carnegie Hall?

As any parent knows, it's so hard to catch on film* those cute, innocent, funny, quirky things your kids do. Well, I got lucky this time. Bonus: Truman dancing at the 1:02 mark.



*Is "caught on film" still part of our lexicon? The "film" part certainly isn't accurate these days.

Not Safe for Migraines

This is a rehash. I'm posting the video again for Doug. And because I think it's hilarious.

Amelia, starting at the 0:29 mark... priceless.

Wonder Twin Powers... Activate!

Sometimes I forget that Truman and Amelia are twins. Things are always so busy around here that I'm usually just focused on the fact that I have a bunch of kids running around. The last thing on my mind is the fact that two of them were born together.

When I do stop and think about it, I always consider how unique it is that Amelia and Truman are twins. They shared a womb for eight months. They entered this world mere minutes apart. They spend every night sleeping a few feet away from one another. They're a part of each other's lives in a way that us singletons could never experience or understand.

But where the hell are all the cool twin powers already?

The twins aren't inseparable. They're nothing alike. They don't have a secret language only they understand. They don't feel each other's pain. They don't complete each other's sentences. They don't pretend to be one another with zany, madcap antics that bewilder their unknowing dates at the local movieplex. They mostly just terrorize each other.

Which makes me wonder if Truman and Amelia aren't ordinary twins. I hope they become the best of friends, but right now Truman would rather bite Amelia and Amelia would rather steal and hide Truman's pants. In looks, Truman and Jameson are the twins. In personality, Amelia and Jameson are the twins. It's all very confusing. Maybe their twin powers won't show up until they stumble upon some weird alien crystal or a canister of radioactive green slime. Or maybe it happens when they hit puberty.

There are two times, though, when I do get a glimpse of that special twin bond. When they are conspiring to get into trouble. And when they read together. Maybe there's still hope for some cool telepathic powers. (Vegas, here we come.)

SAHD - Day 3

Being a night owl and SAHD do not mix well. I should be in bed. Shoulda been in bed two hours ago. I'll keep this one short and sweet and post a few pictures from my first week of boot camp. Sorry, I didn't snap a picture of Truman covered in poo. (Not out of respect for my children but because I was too frazzled to think of it.)

Today's High: Multiple compliments from Meijer grocery patrons who were amazed at my bravery for shopping with three little kids.
Today's Low: Twenty minutes later when Jameson threw a full on tantrum because I wouldn't buy a toy for him. In his (screaming, crying) words: "I've been so good and some other stranger kid is going to come buy MY toy!"

Tomorrow, I try again.

Day 2 was easier than Day 1 once I realized they sold toddler storage containers.

This is the storm that was dropping funnel clouds all over the area and sent us to the basement for dinner. The second photo is of rotational clouds right over our house. I'm sure they look like regular clouds in this picture, but trust me, they had some wicked spinning going on. I would have dug out the video camera, but Julie was yelling at me to get my ass in the basement.

I've been trying to go with no naps for Jameson, but he doesn't always have enough gas in the tank. He fell asleep in the chair by our computer while I was cleaning up after lunch one day. This is a very strange chair to have for a computer, but, whatever.

Things always get fun around here when a raucous game of "Steal Truman's Pants" breaks out. It's entertainment for the whole family! (Especially Amelia.) Hey, at least there's no biting or crying in this game. I LOVE the last picture of Busey, er Amelia, escaping with the prized pants.

I love that Jameson enjoys setting the dinner table. I REALLY LOVE that all the silverware is uniformly placed upside down as he makes his way around the table. It's weird, I guess, but this is the kind of thing that makes my heart totally melt.

When "Steal Truman's Pants" gets old, you can always just burry Amelia under a bunch of toys. This Rubbermaid container must be involved in 75% of the playtime in our house.