The Home.

     Catie officially started her third trimester yesterday. It was uneventful. The only thing being two-thirds of the way through the pregnancy has done is make me nervous about getting into a house before the baby comes. We're looking, and finding, but it's just so expensive! Have you seen these things? We want to buy before the end of the year because we'll get eight grand from the government and we'll hopefully have enough time to prepare for the baby coming. If all goes well we'll finish unpacking our last box and Catie's water will break. Unreasonable? Sure. But it's important to have goals. I'm just glad this has been a celebratory time instead of devolving into fights over money, where we'll live, or why it's not happening as soon as we want.

The Poker.

    Therapists who are just starting out are often amazed at how many of their clients happen to be dealing with the exact same issue as they are. It's really just a form of projection and the longer you do it the less it's supposed to happen. I think what causes it is that whatever is on your mind seems to be the most easy to notice. Well, a similar thing has been happening to me lately. I've been playing a lot of (free) online poker just for fun. Because of this, I'm starting to notice lessons learned while playing poker are applying to almost everywhere in my life.
     I'm told the key to playing good poker is not in the cards, but in the betting. Knowing when to fold, what to risk, and who your opponents are. This really can apply to my life; especially when it comes to picking my battles. This may be the answer I was looking for with a post from a couple of days ago ( The Acceptance.). The "discussions" (fights) I'm sure to have with my daughter at some point are important. It's also important that I set clear and reasonable boundaries, reward her when she does well, and try to be as understanding as possible when it's appropriate. But there are also times I should just let stuff go. In other words, I should fold. If the pot isn't that big, and my hand's not all that great, I need to be able to evaluate when it's an issue worth betting on, or if I should just toss in my cards and let her have the tiny victory. I know it's not supposed to be a contest, but you parents out there have to admit: there are times when it feels like you have to "win". That sounds like a contest to me. I guess a big difference between poker and parenting is that if I play my cards right in parenting, everyone gets more chips, not just me. If it wasn't that way, any victory would feel pretty hollow.

The Pokemon.

     I'll watch Saturday morning cartoons with the best of them. No problem. I can even sit through the occasional Scooby Doo episode if only to see if it's actually going to be a ghost this time instead of an angry old man who would have succeeded if it hadn't been for those darn kids. But there has been a significant decline in the quality of...something. That's the thing, and I can't put my finger on it. The animation quality has gotten better, the story's are more in depth and full, the character development is, well, there actually is character development! On every level cartoons seem to be getting more adult, complex, and better quality but they just suck. Pokemon is (hopefully) starting to slip out of style, but I'm sure it's going to be replaced by some equally shoddy toon all about a boy and his magical hair brush...or something just as stupid. There's no doubt about it.
     The thing is, I'm probably going to be forced to watch the Wiggles, or some other similarly mundane, inane, and insane show that just has a bunch of guys on it that couldn't hack it in the real world. I'm tempted to agree with Mitch Hedberg when he said that any book is a children's book if the kid can read it. So why do the cartoons feel so dumbed down? Now you may want to say that because I've gotten older, smarter, and more mature it would make sense for animated shows to no longer hold the same sway over my adult mind. Well, you'd be wrong. I still like cartoons from my youth, but I also like some of the newer ones. Of course the staples like South Park, Family Guy, and the Simpsons are cornerstones of late night viewing, but I also enjoy the occasional Robot Chicken and Harvey Birdman, attorney at law. Love them! But they're probably not suitable for a newborn to enjoy. It seems inevitable I will be left sitting in a small room watching morons bumble around, but I'll enjoy it because it entertains my daughter. I'll do everything I can to keep my TV from becoming a babysitter, but I make no promises. There are times when parents need breaks, otherwise they go crazy. I've seen it, and it's not pretty.

The Acceptance.

     My parents and I got into the logistics between accepting a person and approving of their behavior. The example used was when a kids hand gets smacked because they reach for a hot pan. We still accept the child, but their behavior is not okay, so they get punished with a smack on the hand. Just about everyone would agree with this type of swift punishment. The greater good is their health, so a swat on the hand to keep them from third degree burns is acceptable. The problem arises when they get older and start participating in risk taking behaviors where the pay-off may not  be worth the risk. Promiscuity is one of those things. I want my kid to be healthy and safe and hopefully not knocked up, but I also don't want to throw them a spring-break sized supply of condoms and tell them to go wild. If I had my way, my daughter wouldn't know she had a vagina until after she was married. It probably won't work that way, but a father can hope.
     So what's a dad to do? I want her to be safe, I hope she'll be able to talk to Catie or I about that kind of stuff without feeling judged or unaccepted. She needs to know what's right and wrong, and I'm going to tell her. At the same time, if I come down on her too hard, I'm going to push her away and I won't be able to help because she won't listen. If she's going to marry someone I don't approve of, someone that beats her, to "put my foot down" with an emphatic no may do more to solidify her decision than to change her mind. Supporting her while not supporting bad choices is difficult for me. It seems like this is the artisitc part of parenting. Teaching her right from wrong while still letting her know I love her regardless of what she does seems to be at odds with punishing her.

The Wine.

     This just in, having a glass of wine while pregnant may not be a big deal. Now, getting absolutely hammered during the entirety of your pregnancy is still a bad thing, one glass or so may be better than not drinking at all! Catie and I aren't really going to chance it, but this article is compelling, and worth a read. Catie had a good point though, where are we possibly going to get a drink of wine and not be judged on the spot? Can you imagine a pregnant woman in America even ordering a glass of wine without a young priest and an old priest being called? Just a thought.

The Behavior.

"The real question is not whether machines think but whether men do. The mystery which surrounds a thinking machine already surrounds a thinking man." ~B.F. Skinner.

     I'm not sure what's worse, that I'll inevitably begin rewarding and speaking to my daughter the same way I do with our dog, or that it will probably work. Positive reinforcement works really well with animals...and kids. Kids are (probably) smarter than animals and they should see right through those rewards. Shoot, I should be able to see through rewards, but when it comes down to it, the reason I do things is because I think good things will happen in return. That's why the idea of karma is so comforting. It's nice to believe the people that wronged will eventually get theirs, but what's more promising is that all the good stuff I do will bring me more good stuff. Or at the very least cancel out all the horrible things I did in high school. You know, theoretically. Instead of throwing my kid treats and teaching her to sit, stay, or speak I'll be smiling at her, talking in a really high voice, and teaching her to sit, read, and speak. Okay, so there are some disturbing similarities, but kids can take it so much further! Still, if people are so much smarter than animals, why does it take so long to potty train them?

The Dumb.

    While driving to work today I had the suspicion that someone called ahead and let all the bad drivers know I was leaving, then told them to get in front of me. The "F" word kept coming to mind. Of course, by "F" word I mean FAIL. Huge semi's switching lanes at random, a moron on a crotch rocket decides to do wheelies at 80 miles per hour, an ancient woman oblivious to the rules of the road insisting she be let over into the far left lane in order to do 4. It was a pure and unadulterated mad house. Mad I tell you! So I'm pulling a Mohammad Ali, ducking and dodging, bobbing and weaving in and out of traffic, switching between offensive and defensive driving just trying to stay alive. Then somewhere between attempting to anticipate what that bus is going to do (still trying to figure out what a city commuter bus is doing on the highway in the first place) and making sure I'm up to date on all my confessions, I realize I'm bringing a child into this world.
     This world is insane! People are dumb, selfish, they don't care about anything, and the majority of them will screw you over the first chance they get; if not intentionally, then through sheer stupidity. Her heart is going to get broken by at least one daft hormone driven tool, she's going to have to survive in a vile world that wants nothing more than to consume her very soul, and the only thing protecting her from that world is her parents. I think I'll be a great parent, and I'm sure Catie will be, but how can I compete with the constant barrage of media, peers, hormones, and drugs? It's like stopping gravity while my kid's learning to walk. Sure, it'll keep her from banging her head, but it's also impossible to really learn how to walk in a vacuum. When you think about it, walking is just a series of controlled falls. Maybe there's something to that. Maybe learning how to live is just a series of controlled failures. The best I can hope for is to be a good example, in spite of the world around me.

The Meaning.

     Alright, this is like my third post about naming our child and we're no closer to actually coming up with a name. The thing that keeps stumping me is that I want out child's name to have meaning. My name means "gift of God", my wife's name means "Pure". One of our names is ironic, and it's not hers. Regardless, naming our child something that has no meaning doesn't sit well with me. I want it to be a reflection of how we feel about her, how blessed we are, how grateful we are. Yet, we can't find anything that works. We have a book of names, and I feel like we've been through it about seven times, but nothing pops out. Nothing screams: That's it, that's her name! So, we're still calling her baby. The good news is she doesn't seem to mind.

The Break.

     You know what? I've written about 100 posts in a row and it's a Sunday. I'm taking a break. Come on back tomorrow. I'll have something (slightly) more interesting. Thanks!

The Deafening.

     If I wasn't such a stickler for format, I would have named this post "The Night my Internet Enabled Phone Saved my Baby's Hearing". Just like the previous post said, last night Catie and I went to Kings of Leon. The concert was amazing and we really enjoyed it...but we have no idea how it looked. See, we're sitting there, waiting for the first band (The Whigs) to warm up the crowd and when they come on, there's this loud low rumble that makes baby freak out. She starts kicking and swinging in general protest. I had my hand on Catie's stomach and the vibrations from the bass were being amplified by this bag full of amniotic fluid. There's a good reason too. Turns out amniotic fluid amplifies lower notes, but as the pitch goes up the the noise level is actually filtered out. One exception to this is mom's voice, it actually gets amplified by about five decibels while all other voices are muted. You can read the article here.
     After a few more deep rumbles, Catie looks over at me and says, "You know, we never really thought about what this might do to developing ears, did we". In my defense, this is new to me. So I whip out my handy dandy internet enabled phone, and start reading about how loud noises and vibrations can retard mental development or even miscarriage. We decide not to chance it, and walk outside to listen to the rest of the show. It was a great show and Caleb Followill can scream like no one else. The baby's first show was a blast, but for the first time in my life, I'm starting to feel my age. I know this because I ended up looking forward to my bed more than anything else when the show was closing

The Kings.

     The Kings of Leon are playing at Cox Arena and Catie and I are on the guest list. I'm excited. Then Catie reminds me this is probably going to be one of the last shows we go to for a long time. I think I've written about anticipating my loss of freedom, but it's starting to get more and more concrete. That's it. I'm mourning the loss of my freedom! How much am do you really want me to talk about it? Sheesh, ya jerk.

The Infomercial.

     Have you ever seen one of those infomercials where they make extremely simple tasks appear nearly impossible? Tasks like pulling clothes from a closet, stacking Tupperware, making cereal, or breathing are brutally bumbled by hapless idiots who are obviously in desperate need of whatever product they'll be selling for the next hour. This, of course, is designed to make the product look more useful and its ability to simplify our lives is supposed to come into stark relief amongst a background of chaos.
     I can't help but think there are some parents out there doing the same thing. Well, at least I hope that's what's happening. There seems to be some things that should be on the same level of taking clothes out of the closet, but it just get's all messed up. The other night I saw the box for a car seat in the parking lot of Target. Our Target happens to be across the street from a hospital. I would like to think that at some point before we get to the hospital in the throws of delivery pains, I would realize that though only two are going, three will be coming back. Hopefully I won't be putting it together, fresh out of the box, while my wife is giving birth.

The Sweeping.

     There's an asteroid called Asclepius that came close to hitting Earth back in 1989. Then, in 1996, the Near-Earth Asteroid Tracking (NEAT) project was started by the JPL in order to monitor big hunks of stuff floating through space that cross the same path of Earth's orbit in case we turn out to be on a collision course. Everyone with me on this? There are people, who go to work five days a week, and get paid moderate sums of money, in order to figure out if a giant chunk of space dookie is going to not allow us to merge on the solar system's version of a highway. Good. Just one question: say we figure out we're going to be side swiped by a drunk driving celestial body with malicious intent, then what? While it wasn't necessarily a high point in my life, I can admit I've seen Armageddon, but the fiction part of that movie is more accurate than the science part. We're not going to a comet to blow it up. It's not going to happen. And a nuke? Well, have you ever wondered what would happen if you urinated on a forest fire? I think you get the picture. Why are we monitoring something we can do nothing about? I'd rather be surprised.
     What does this have to do with Fatherade? Well, the last down of the up's and down's of fatherhood is Sweeping Down. I think this is the one that comes naturally to most fathers. Catie is probably going to be more nurturing, more comforting, and better at anticipating the acts of our children than me, but this one is just built for men. This is the reason comic books sell, it's why guys work out (or at least say they do), it's why we polish shotguns when our daughter's first date comes over: We want to be hero's. Hero's save people, often miraculously or with super powers. Jerry Seinfeld once said, "All men think of themselves as some kind of low level superheros in their own world. When men are growing up and they're reading about Batman, Spiderman, Superman,.. these aren't fantasies, these are OPTIONS! This the deep inner secret of the male mind." It's true. What he neglected to talk about is the motivation behind this desire. I like saving people, I really do. I'm looking forward to saving my kids from something...anything really. That's what dad's do! We "sweep" in, and save the day! Mom's get all the credit on game day ("HI MOM!!!"), but who gets the call when a car breaks down in the middle of the night in central downtown and they don't know what to do? We're the ones! We get the call! And we love it, even when we act like we don't. It makes us feel (finally) useful. That's what father's do.

The Simmering.

     Not sure if it's coincidental, correlational, or causational, but the more I love someone, the more they can make me mad. And not just mad, but boiling, riotous, über mad. The kind of anger that doesn't dissipate quickly, easily, or with just a couple of deep breaths. Now, before I tell you this next story, there are several background things you need to know:

• When I was a toddler, I was a handful. More like two handfuls really. I was a mess. I just came that way
  
• My father was working, going to school, and already had a daughter (who hadn't really prepared him for me((which is part of the reason I'm so glad we're having a daughter)))
  
• It was the middle of the night
  
• and we were living in crappy, poorly made apartments.

Please keep these things in mind as I tell you this story.
     So, it's the middle of another one of my father's sleep-deprived and short nights, when he hears me crying about something in my crib. My mom must have elbowed him with at least some gusto, because he came in and asked me what I wanted. In, what must have been the definitive whiny voice, I demanded water before going back to sleep. Since he was already up, and a good sport, he strolls into the kitchen, gets me a glass of water, and pops back into my room. It was this point when things started going south.
     He offers me the water, I reach my hand out, push it away, and probably with the same whiny voice I originally asked for the water say, "NO!" That was pretty much the breaking point for my pops. Not sure what the final destination was for that cup of the water; if it ended up in my face, on the floor, or in the sink. What I do know is that my father was so hacked off, and rightfully so, that as he left the room, he slammed the door hard enough that it went past the door jam. I always thought this was an incredible feat of strength, but my father reminded me the apartment was pretty shoddy and it's not like the door jam was built to withhold much pressure at all. He had to put his shoulder into it to get the door back on the right side. In the fear of casting my father in a bad light, please understand that he has never abused me, and in spite of me being a righteous punk, he did not shake the baby!
     Here's the point. No matter how much I love my daughter, she's gonna make me mad. It's gonna happen, there's nothing I can do about it. It's what I do while I'm mad that's going to decide if I'm a good father. There will be some simmering, it's just gonna happen, and it'll probably hit its peak around the same time she starts dating, but "if I don't master my rage...my rage will become my master", right (Mystery Men)? If you need some help, I suggest you get it before the rage begins, maybe at Don't shake a baby.com.

The Settling.

     The picture on the left is how I remember Hugh Hefner. Suave, debonair, powerful, rich, and surrounded by beautiful women. All of it effortlessly done while wearing pajamas. How fantastic is that? But if you put your cursor on the image, you'll see what he's become: old. He turned became the same thing everyone turns into if they live long enough. He was married, has children, but left them to delve into his lifestyle. When I was young(er), I wanted to be Hugh. Everyone guy I knew wanted to be Hugh. Why wouldn't we want to be Hugh! He runs Playboy! PLAYBOY! Everything men are supposed to want, right there, all the time! I'm sorry about all the exclamation points, but it's HUGH! and PLAYBOY! for crying out loud.
     At least, that's what I thought I wanted. One of my philosophy profs once said you can't want what you already have. I struggled with trying to understand that for a long time. Eventually I start to get it, that in order to want something, it has to be outside of your possession. If you have it, you can no longer want it, it's impossible. Kinda. I think the exception to this rule are relationships. People are always in flux and the relationships I have with them change as a result. Settling down is kind of a misnomer because there's no settling involved. Not even a little bit. The world Hugh lives in seems great because he's Tarzan, swinging from vine to branch, never having to put real work into any relationship because there are no real relationships. He lives in a fantasy world. For more on what I'm talking about, go out and rent High Fidelity with John Cusack. It perfectly says what I'm trying to talk about here.
     Regardless, I don't want Hugh's life anymore. Not even a little bit. It's too much work for not nearly enough pay off. I hate to put it in those kinds of terms, but it's true. I get so much more out of my family than I ever have out of shallow, temporary, flighty relationships. And you know what? I get WAY more out of my family than I put in. It's not fair, but it works great. I'm not settling for less, I'm settling for more.

The Sitting.

     For some reason, the image of a father sitting in an overstuffed chair, reading a story to the child sitting on his knee really sums up what it means to be a father. I still remember my dad reading The Lion, Witch, and the Wardrobe to me and my sister when we were little. Every night after he got back from grad. school, he would read us a chapter. Kasey and I would beg to hear just one more, but he'd refuse, say the story was to be continued, and read again the next night. Now I know there's a pretty good chance he was just so tired from working and going to school that to read one more chapter would've taken an act of heroic proportions, but it also gave us something to look forward to. Now "they" say reading to children is a good way to jump start their education and encourage their love of reading. I don't know if that's true, but the time my father took each night to sit down and read to us not only opened the world of literature to me, but it also showed me how much he cared.
     Sitting down is part of slowing down. It's pretty much the culmination of all the up's and down's previously listed. But it means more to me. I think about the times I'm going to rock my baby girl to sleep while sitting down, how I'm going to probably put her over my knee while sitting down, how I'll be clenching my butt cheeks together so hard that I'll make coal into a diamond in the passenger seat of her first driving lesson, and how (if I'm lucky enough to grow old) I'll probably be seeing her for the last time while sitting down. She won't remember me rocking her to sleep, and I may not remember the last time I see her, but everything else in between will be shared. Yet, that doesn't detract from the times I rock her to sleep and the times she says good bye without me knowing it. By sitting down, I hope to show her she's worth my time, that I love her, and that I want to be with her; instead of having to be with her.
     This sitting down I'm not looking forward to? Most of her recitals. Have you been to those things? Especially in the early years...just awful. But I'll be there, supporting her, with headphones on.

The Slowing.

     This is going to be one of my favorite ones. It's one of my specialties, at least right now. I have no problem just acting like a kid and enjoying the moment. There are times that everyone needs to be somewhere and that time was ten minutes ago, so we're all in a rush. But leaving work at work as much as possible and just being home, with my family, is one of my all time biggest perks. It'll only get better with another person...I think.

The Sobering.

     I don't mean not drunk when I say sobering up, I mean self-restraint through introspection. This is one that's going to really stub my toe. The other night, Catie and I were walking down to the store and I was getting frustrated by whatever we were arguing about; I think it was money. To top it all off, the dog was just not cooperating on the walk, and kept pulling on the leash, which is a big no. Well, I may have yanked back on the leash a little too hard. After the dogs legs settled back on the ground my wife just levels me with this glare and says, "don't take your frustration with me out on the dog". And she was right. She was dead on. That's exactly what I did. Now, to quell the fears of any PETA readers, the dog is fine and he had a special leash on that wasn't around his neck: he's fine.
     Am I ever going to do that to my kid? I mean, I'm pretty sure I won't yank on her leash or anything, but I will be coming home from work hacked off, or while spending time with her she's going to find my last nerve and just start jumping on it with cleats. There could be a lot of things that combined would make for a really bad day, but I can't take it out on my kid. That sobering look my wife gave me? I need to figure out how to get a portable one of those. Something that will snap me back to reality and the big picture so I can realize what's really going on, what I'm actually upset about, and what I can do about it. I wonder what it will be.
     As a post script, you also shouldn't be an alcoholic or addict. That's just bad in general for child raising.

The Standing.

     I'm kinda lazy. But I don't want everyone to figure that out, so instead I tell them I'm efficient. I don't think they believe me. There have been times when I watched entire movies, with commercials, just because I sat down on the non-remote-having couch. Apparently, my laziness will get even worse when I have children. While that may not make sense, stay with me here...
     My mother was always fond of saying, "You're young and on your first legs". I still don't know exactly what that means, other than, "go get it because I'm not getting up". My father didn't have to mow the lawn (often) from the time I was ten until I moved out. We all did our fair share of dishes and generally the share of work was fair, but there was one thing that drove me nuts. My parent's room was never filthy, but it wasn't what I'd call clean either. So, when they asked me to clean my room, I'd have a problem with that. How could they ask me to do something they couldn't do themselves? It wasn't fair and it assaulted my sense of justice, even at an early age.
     That's why I hope I'll be at least as moral and up standing as I want my children to be. I hope I'll expect them to keep their room as clean as I keep mine. I want to lead by example. But that may be a little tough. My life hasn't been one of perfection. When my kid comes to me and asks about drugs or alcohol or premarital sex, what am I gonna say; "Do as I say, not as I do"? That's not going to cut it. The honesty I exhibit, even in discussing my insane and ill advised youth, is just another example of exhibiting the morals I want my child to have. I'm stuck here, and I just hope I can send them to Catie when it comes to stuff like that. She grew up a saint.

The Speaking.

     Homer Simpson once said, "The problem in the world today is communication. Too much communication." I have a feeling the world would be better off if we did the opposite of anything Homer says. He's like the Cartman of prime time television. There is too much for me to get into here, communication is an extremely complex topic and other people much smarter than me have written far about it than I could ever put in a post. But I will say this: Catie and I's relationship didn't really get started until we had a car fight.
     I don't know if you've ever had a car fight, but they are things of wonder. We were coming back from our one year anniversary that, for several reasons I'm not getting into, and Catie was (rightfully) upset. The issue was, when she got upset she'd shut down, stop talking, just give me nothing. I then did something that was probably unadvised; I laid down an ultimatum. I declared this relationship wouldn't and couldn't work if she wasn't willing to talk to me about issues. I was lucky enough to have a strong woman who was willing to try something new. I was also lucky enough to have a mother who told me I was being dumb. It wasn't right for me to force my (potentially) future wife to argue in a specific way. That's right, to a certain extent, because each person solves their problems in a different way. But that's not my point.
     My point is that Catie and I actually talked about how we were going to fight. That's communication about communication, or meta-communication if you want to get fancy about it. Guys, it's one of the cornerstones of relationships and we've been silent too long. Also, this is why signing up is so important: because if both of you are truly committed, then a fight isn't going to ruin your relationship. It's okay. Just make sure you love each other after the fight. Make sure you speak up, because if you don't, you won't have anything to say after it's over.

The Signing.

     I knew I would get cold feet before I got married. Everyone told me it would happen, so when it did, I was prepared. I still got freaked out, though. I was only 25 and, if I do it correctly, I was only done with a quarter of my life. You mean to tell me I was prepared to decide how, barring the proverbial beer truck, I could spend another 75 years with this women I had only known for three years! That's a huge decision. As a matter of fact, if I hadn't had some cold feet, I would've been more worried. Because it's an important and (hopefully) a lifelong choice, there should be a point where I get nervous, otherwise I wouldn't be taking it seriously.
     I kinda feel the same way about fatherhood. Catie and I weren't planning on getting pregnant. Not even a little bit. When I found out, and after I changed my pants, I was really excited. But some time between the excitement of just having found out, baby showers, maternity clothes, larger breasts, looking at new houses, thinking about which car is going to get the baby seat, picking a name, and figuring out what color we're going to paint the nursery that doesn't exist yet, it occurs to me: am I really ready for this? Truth be told, I'm probably not. I'm having the fraternal version of cold feet. I know that not having a baby isn't an option, and it's not that I want to get out of it, it's just that I wasn't planning on it. Everyone tells me if I wait until I'm ready to have a baby, I'll never have one. Well, no worries there!
     That's where signing up is important. Signing Up means being committed, it means Showing Up even when you don't want to, are afraid to, or think you're unable to. If it just gets me past the cold feet, that's pretty much what commitment is all about. I'm not just going show up, I'm going to stick around and be committed; not only to my wife, but to my new family. I'm just hoping they can help me be a little courageous.

The Showing.

     Woody Allen said that 80% of success is showing up. There's more to showing up than just being around. There's a physical, mental, and spiritual aspect to showing up, and all three are important. For me, sometimes getting out of bed is the hard part. With Catie being 6 months pregnant, she still pulls more of the load around here than I do. I straight up pulled a Dagwood today. I literally laid on the couch while Catie made dinner. And I don't know if you've ever seen a woman who's six months pregnant try to pick something up, but it's pretty difficult/funny.
     Guys have an obligation to show up physically because, women's lib. movement or not, there are some things that guys are physically better at than women...usually. I'm a lot better at wrestling with my nephews than my wife is. It's because I'm a guy. I'm all for egalitarianism, but there are some predispositions towards one area or another that, either culturally or genetically, men and women tend to lean toward. Another aspect of physical support is sexual (I'll get into that later...was that tongue in cheek?) and monetarily. Now please don't think I'm suggesting men can or should earn more than women. I'm not. What I am suggesting is that two incomes can often be better than one, and that parents supporting each other can make parenting a little bit easier. Not much, but a little.
     The other aspect is mental. I'm not sure when it happened in the course of our marriage, but I started becoming slightly deaf, strictly to the sound of Catie's voice. She'll be looking right at me, I can see her lips moving and I know she's talking to me, but when she's done with the sentence, I got nothing. "What?" has become my motto. It's not that I don't care and (I hope) it isn't that I'm not listening, but there are times (college football season) when it's harder for me to hear what she's saying. For me, that's part of being mentally engaged. When I'm not tuned into her, I miss out on a lot more than I normally would (miss).
     Last, but not least, is being spiritually present. Now I'm not saying I'm the Pope, but there should be an aspect of spirituality in men's lives that seeps into the lives of their families. While I'm Christian, my beliefs don't require everyone else to be that way. But, I have noticed a trend that families who bond via spiritual guidelines tend to last longer and have more fulfilling lives. Other people who are smarter and better versed than I have written more about this than me... so I'll let them handle it.
     This is what it means to show up. Showing up for me has meant changing my priorities and realizing that my actions no longer effect just me. That my (my = her) money is our money, my time is our time. But you know? it's totally worth it. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else but with my family.

The Who.

     "Who do you think you are?" It's a good question...I haven't technically had a kid yet but I have the guts to start a blog trying to help fathers. I could see how there might be some confusion. I could give you some of my resume and background experience, how I've worked with children and youth for the last fourteen years, how I've been on panels to speak about effective communication with children with ADD/ADHD, and how I'm currently in my masters program for marriage and family therapy. But really, ultimately, none of that matters. Each child is different, each parent is different, and each parent/child pair is going to have different needs. This means, that regardless of what people say, there really are no experts. They just don't exist when it comes to family. Actually, there's some evidence that experts don't exist at all. Also here...
     Please understand I'm not claiming to be an expert. Not even a little bit. I'm not saying I have all the answers, but I am saying I can offer men skills they don't already have. Generalized skills that can help any relationship, including the one with your child. This is where men, in general, tend to fall short. They are just confused when it comes to relationships. This is what I'm good at. Part of it is a natural talent, some has come from experience, some I'm hoping that by seeing trends in fathers and drawing from my resources, I may be able to help fathers, which will help strengthen families.
     It comes down to this: even if I never have a child, I could still teach fathers ways to better their relationships with their children. This is because I've been in relationship with other people, I've lived with them, there are commonalities that are nearly universal. And when I do officially become a father, that won't matter much either because my relationship with my child will be very different than the one you have with your child. If I do it right, I should be able to package my information into something that's useful, not just theoretical. This can be through the blog, a book, speaking/conventions, affecting social change through raising awareness, or by all trying to use all of the above. As long as my recommendations and observations are true, useful, and create more robust and fulfilling family relationships, I'm doing my job.
     This is one of the reasons I value your comments so much. It helps me see what is the most useful of my posts, it helps me know what you want more of, and it helps me know what you're frustrated with. These things are important to me. Not only because they will better prepare me to be a father, but because they will better prepare me to prepare other fathers. Whether we know it or not, we are living in community. Until lately, that community has been fragmented and compartmentalized into gender roles, social assumptions, and a whole random assortment of invisible rules. But a father being physically, mentally, and spiritually available to his family is crucial. Don't get me wrong, mothers are important as well, but it's always going to be better with two people working together. America has a 50% divorce rate right now; this will have an impact on our children and future generations. While I'm not nearly naive enough to admit all divorce is avoidable, I'm also not stupid enough to think that a 50% failure rate is acceptable.
     Men of my generation are trying, and they're trying hard. They have a general lack of certain essential communication tools and concepts that can change their life, their family, and their community forever; but where do they turn? It's probably a pipe dream, but setting up national support centers for fathers would the best part. While men aren't supposed to stop and ask for directions, this is one trip where getting lost can have dire consequences. We're slowly realizing that and we know we need to do more than many of our fathers did. The good news is this: It can be done, and it can be done right now. That's why the next ten posts will cover certain ups and downs of fatherhood that men need to address. Please give feedback and let me know what you think

The Alternating.

     Being a father is about ups and downs; they alternate. It's about showing up, signing up, speaking up, standing up, sobering up, slowing down, sitting down, settling down, simmering down, and sweeping down. That's it for now, but I'll talk about each one of these in the next ten posts.

The Instructions.

     The comment about children not coming with an instruction manual has been said way too many times. I think the phrase has stuck around because it admits that every kid is different, no parent really knows what they're doing until after they've done it, and everyone is pretty much just guessing. There is no such thing as an expert on parenting. There can be good advice, general rules of thumb, or medical recommendations, but past a certain point none of them will work all the time in every situation. There has never been, there will never be, and there currently isn't a family like yours. That being said, there is one thing all children need in order to develop into healthy adults: good relationships with their parents. Without this, everything else pretty much falls apart. If you don't believe me, check out Harlow's monkey's. So what's the best Fatherade? Show up! I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Show Up! That's the first and most important step in being a father.
     One statistic I've heard many times during studying family therapy is that children in an abusive family have a forty percent chance of being abusing their family later. Every time I've read this, it's been stated this way. Why don't they say children in an abusive family have a sixty percent chance of NOT abusing their family later. It's saying the same thing, right? That means more people who come from abused families don't abuse! That means people are not doomed to repeat what their parents taught them. However, it doesn't mean it's going to be easy.
     You want an instruction book for fatherhood? I'll let you have it cheap: FREE. Be there, and don't leave or quit. Everything else can be fixed. We're going to make mistakes, that's a promise. Some will be worse than others, but there is only one mistake that can't be fixed and that's leaving. And there is more than one way to leave a family, the physical act is just the most noticeable. Many fathers are absentee's long before they leave, many times it's not intentional. There are fathers who desperately want to be involved in their families and their children, but they just don't know how. Fatherade will eventually host seminars for fathers who lack some of the skills required to get involved in the lives of their children. Expect a calendar early 2012. If you have any suggestions or requests, please email me.

The Booger.

     Boogers are cool. They really are. They keep impurities from getting to your lungs, which over time would actually kill you through slow drowning. Boogers: Mother nature's gross little life savers. Boogers are also the bane of parent's existence.
     Now, we've all seen it; the driver next to us picking away, awash in assumed obliviousness, not realizing hundred of drivers are watching them dine on what can only be described as a self-packed lunch. Regardless, it happens. Those Those green mucus corn flakes that are too low to be snorted and a just a bit too high to be blown out. The only reasonable option is the pick! So why do parents freak out when their kids go mining for nose gold? Let it go...social constructs will eventually make them embarrassed enough to only do it in the car while commuting.

The Disney.

     This picture is not all it's cracked up to be. Turns out the family to the left had a wonderful time for a straight 12 hours in the land of Disney. While that may be, the picture to the left probably describes the majority of experiences at Disney. It's not that Disney is the home of all things evil, which it may very well be, it's just that parents go in with expectation higher than the sky and it rarely works out that way. If kids teach us anything, it's flexibility. If Disneyland teaches us anything, it's that people will actually pay 100 dollars for a stuffed animal.

The Death.

     If you're worried about the health of your soon to be mom, don't be. This is a fun little fact, according to NOW (National Organization for Women) in 2001 the number one killer of pregnant women were killers. That's right, the number one cause of death for pregnant women is murder. The upside to this is that you can really help the pregnant women in your life just by not murdering them. That's pretty easy! Just don't do it. Put the knife down...

The Hormones.

     Me: Honey, are you crying?
   Her: (with a slight tremble in her voice)...I don't know...
     Me: Is that a yes?
   Her: (this time, she's straight-up sobbing) YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!!!!!!
     Narrator as the voice in my head: Really? We were just talking about walking the dog....

     Fastforward to later in the day: Scene is my parents condo, my mom is on the phone to my sister who is understandably upset and crying because she's taking the crib apart for the last time because her youngest no longer needs it and he's her last child.
     Mom: You should hear your sister, she's got so many memories around that crib...
   Me: That's nothing, you should have heard Catie this morning. We were talking about walking the....Catie? Are you crying again?
     Her: (with the same tremble in her voice) .....No?

   As the tears began to fall, the entire room is filled with an awkward waiting. She cracks a smile, then everyone bursts into laughter. Catie's the only one crying while she's laughing, but that's pregnancy.

The Nest.

     Empty Nest is more than just a terrible TV show from the eighties that never should have gotten off the ground. It happens when children leave the house and parents, who were so enmeshed with the lives of their children, have no idea what to do with themselves. It usually has a negative connotation and is associated with depression. Not everyone goes through it, some people - like my parents - were super excited to have an empty nest. Some people - like my parents - even try to move without telling their children where they went. Regardless, I think there are two things parents can do to prevent an empty nest feeling and they should start as early as possible.
     The first step is having a life outside of your children. I imagine some people would turn their noses up at this, because it may sound too selfish. Well, it's not. It's called self-care and everyone should participate in it. That lady who drove her children into the river? She had zero self-care and no life outside her children. That's bad.
     Want to prevent infanticide? Go out on a date! Get a life, more importantly, get a life that has nothing to do with your children. It doesn't mean you don't love your kids, or that your kids aren't important, it just means you don't want to kill them or go insane when they leave the house. If you want to read, write, start a blog, whatever you want! The whole point is that you have something to talk about with your significant other. Find something interesting and go to it. Because in all honesty, you may not be able to enjoy your empty nest for all that long.

The Plan.

     Birth plans are good ideas. Writing them down in a notebook for your mid-wife/obstetrician/doctor is not a bad idea either. At least, on the surface. For some people, birth plans work out great, for other people the birth process is not perfect. If you want to make a birth plan, Baby Center has some good and free tools for you. But if you're going to make one, let me suggest you keep the plan really flexible.
     When delivery starts to go wrong not a person in the delivery room, including yourself, cares about your birthing plan. The number one priority is making sure momma and baby stay healthy. So having music playing, making sure the room is quiet, or delivering in a tub full of body temperature water all becomes a secondary concern when there are complications. Afterwards, people who have had these elaborate birth plans feel like they've been cheated or missed out on something because it didn't go the way they wanted it. Instead of focusing on the fact that they have a healthy child, they focus on the fact they didn't get exactly what they wanted.
     I get it, delivery is scary. We want to believe it's all going to go off without a hitch and it will happen just like we planned. But there's no guarantee. That's probably why people started making birth plans. It's like a security blanket: it doesn't real do anything, but it helps us feel like we're more in control. So, just take it easy. If you want to make the birth plan, go for it; and I hope it all works out perfectly. But keep in mind that it's just a plan, not a prediction.