Breaking the silence of the night, the unmistakable small voice of my seven year old daughter Skylee called out, “Daddy.”

Immediately, instinctively, I was up and striding toward her room. I never knew what the midnight call would bring. About a year ago, and a year before that as well, she had wet her bed in her sleep and called to me. If only I had been so lucky this time. “I threw up,” she said meekly.

She hadn’t just thrown up; she’d thrown everything up. It’s wasn’t just everything, either, it was everywhere. It was on her, the side of her face, and matted to her hair. It was on her sweatshirt, and it penetrated to her tee shirt. Both quilts, her pillow cases, and her sheets were a mess. “Why couldn’t she have called Mommy instead,” I thought to myself.

I got her up and into the shower, with little chunks falling off her along the way. It could have been worse. After all, in the past she had thrown up on me while sleeping.

While Skylee showered, I put everything into a pile in the family room. The next day I would clean it off in the bathtub before throwing it in the washing machine, but I wasn’t going to deal with it at 1 AM. Skylee washed her hair, and I helped her out, getting her dressed and blow drying her hair. I put her in bed next to my wife, who somehow was sleeping right through the ordeal.

I snuggled down next to Skylee on the six inches of bed that were left for me and placed a towel over the quilt that covered Skylee, just to be safe. We’d used the towel method with some success previously, sparing our covers. Fortunately we didn’t need it, as Skylee got up some time later and threw up again, this time in the bathroom sink with me holding her hair back. At that point she was good; she would sleep through the night.

As for me, my portion of the bed had shrunken to Rhode Island proportions, so I sat next to Skylee and stroked her hair and told her how wonderful she was until she fell asleep.

With nowhere else to go, I ended up at the last refuge of the domesticated male: the couch.

How about you? Have you experienced something similar? Got a story that can top Andy’s? Share it below!
— Editor

Image by: Oslan Arslen, SXC

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They are some of the most vivid memories of my childhood. We carried piles of chopped wood into the house, stacking it next to the fireplace. My father mashed newspaper and leaned kindling on it, shifting the logs into the flames until the entire room glowed and warmed. Stockings dangled on the mantle. Snow tumbled from the clouds in droves. The pines grew santa beards and moaned under the weight of the ice.

The kitchen bloomed sweet scents. Sugar cookies emerged from the oven, ready to be smeared with frosting. Cider and hot cocoa perched on the stove, ready for refills. Roasted turkey and seasoned potatoes emitted their incense into every corner of every room.

Tables, littered with odds and ends, invited us to create our own ornaments. Our little hands shaped tin foil into metallic candy canes. We painted wooden shapes into colorful messes that led to endeared glances from our parents and grandparents. My brother, cousins, and I barely noticed these glances at the time, seething in sugar rushes, entranced by the holiday spectacle. We recollect those moments now as we glance at our spouses over our own children’s busy little heads, hair messy and vertical with static electricity from stocking hats, chins sticky with frosting and flecked with crumbs.

We tore out of the garage with the family dog and leapt snow drifts like surfers entering ocean surf. Geared in snow pants, parkas, stocking caps, boots, and gloves, it was a miraculous, clumsy adventure rolling snowballs into massive boulders, stacking them into snowmen or snow fort walls, throwing ourselves on the ground and carving angels into the powder. Inevitably, the first snow ball winged through the air and wooshed passed someone’s head. A declaration of war was made and the battle began!

Naps followed. Sweaty boots and soaked gloves, coats, and scarves piled next to heating vents. Melting snow pooled underneath the stack, resembling Frosty’s top hat on the floor of the greenhouse. When our eyelids finally fluttered awake and our mouths gave up drowsy yawns, we dissolved out of sleep into wakefulness to the gentle sound of Pachelbel’s Canon, drifting down the hallway.

“White Christmas” and “It’s a Wonderful Life” flickered on the television, and Bing Crosby’s voice lifted off the album after my grandmother placed the needle. Forever will the sound of his singing kindle the comforting recollection of my grandmother’s giggling and my grandfather, looming large as a giant, at the head of the dinner table.

My family has as much dysfunction as any, but these memories are nestled in a hallowed, inviolate space. The spirit of these holidays that grace our calendar express the idea that a higher power is good, beneficent, beautiful, generous, and most importantly of all, intensely concerned about the well-being of human beings. We take this time to celebrate one another, to cherish our fleeting moments while we bear the breath of life, and to invest in the poorer, the lesser among us in order that they too may share in the blessings that the fortunate experience. In the quiet of my home, when my family is tucked into bed and the winter wind is howling against the walls, I have thought of ways to try to instill similar experiences in my family. As you plan your holiday, maybe these ideas can help you make this year a sacred memory for you and yours.

Family Quirks Can Make Some New Traditions. An elderly relative is a survivor of the Great Depression. Constantly attempting to make every cent count, she generally purchases some very interesting sweaters from the local thrift store for a quarter or fifty cents. These are our gifts. Usually they are two or three sizes too small and nowhere near the ballpark of the latest fashion. But we happily put on our new sweater, respectfully masking any laughter as we try to fit into them. It’s fine by us! We look forward to snapping the photo of our new sweater. Last year, my brother-in-law looked extremely dapper with a large cardinal draped across his chest. My wife slipped on a gold colored sweater with a wreath pasted on the front. I happily pulled my new skin-tight sweater over my head and, mildly embarrassed, listened to everyone comment on every visible contour of my upper body. I sipped my egg nog and acted as if nothing was the matter until my fingers went a bit numb from the elastic tourniquets half-way up my forearms. You don’t forget things like that!

Don’t Forget the Gag Gift! One Thanksgiving, a member of the family brought a particularly unappetizing dish to pass. By the end of the day, the dish, untouched, had congealed into an even more unappetizing entity. Another member of the family who will remain anonymous, gathered a healthy portion of this food substance, and took it home. During the interlude between November and December, this food substance spent some time in the freezer as well as some time on shelf in the garage to “ferment to ripe perfection.” Said family member then placed it in a decorative box, wrapped it, and placed it under the tree. When I had the good fortune of opening this wondrous present, I got to experience this food item all over again. I also discovered why the dog had been so interested in this little package the whole day.

Cook Together. One of the major highlights of any holiday celebration is the meal. That meal takes work. If you have a family member who lavishes in the role of the holiday chef, see if you can volunteer to be their assistant. It’s fun to watch your son or daughter help create a portion of the meal and then applaud his or her efforts during the feast. If, however, the host of your holiday is not a big fan of cooking, try to balance this burden by organizing a theme and assign willing relatives a dish to pass. After all, who says the main course has got to be turkey? Wouldn’t it be fun to have Uncle George grilling ribs or kabobs on the grill, especially if it’s only 30 degrees out?

Incorporate Exercise. With all the feasting that happens on the holiday, it’s important to give your body a break. Instead of engorging yourself into a tryptophan (the amino acid in turkey which causes sleepiness) coma, treat yourself right by including some form of physical exercise in your holiday plans. Whether that means getting out in the snow for a slippery football game or going for a hike (in locales where snow is not an option), get creative and get active. This is also handy for getting your little ones to sleep long and hard, which hopefully means dad and mom get too do the same.

Your Gift Doesn’t Need to Be Expensive, Just Thoughtful. These days there isn’t a lot of money to throw around. It’s a good thing that the best gifts aren’t always the most expensive. The beginning of giving a good gift is knowing what the receiver values. That takes time and effort. That takes getting to know the person who may or may not be all that pleasant or easy to get to know. If you listen closely though, even casual banter can shed light on where a person is at internally. If you pay attention, you might receive the gift of being able to give a gift which is not a mere item, but a blessing.

Do Something Charitable. Teaching your children lessons of gratitude, thankfulness, and humility are more and more difficult in today’s society. The holidays are an excellent time to effort at instilling these values. In a family prayer before your meal or by an act of service, your children can be exposed to adults of character and learn some powerful life lessons. If serving meals to the homeless is too scary for young children, try shoveling an elderly neighbor’s driveway or attending a church service. Take half-time of the football game to pack a gift box for a service-person overseas. There’s really no end to the possibilities when it comes to helping others. As they say: “There’s nothing to it but to do it!”

Hopefully these ideas can help make your holiday one that will live in your children’s hearts and minds as well as yours. Happy Holidays!

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The instant I saw my daughter’s face for the first time, I almost fell over. Slammed directly in the chest with the proverbial two by four, I stood there enamored, trying to breathe. I stammered out her name in a near whisper. I was a completely stunned, happy idiot. My eyes watered. My knees went weak, and everything went blurry beyond her face. Prior to this she was merely the strange culprit behind my wife’s nausea and expanding abdomen. She was the reason I’d been waking multiple times in the middle of the night to whacks in the head from whirling elbows and flying pillows. My wife would grunt and sigh and mutter things like “Is it a hundred degrees in here?” as she tried to get comfortable. Once she nestled into an agreeable position, I would put my hand on her abdomen and feel my unborn daughter jab, roll, and rock. I had only been able to attempt to divine her face from the mystifying ultrasound photos. Now, after what seemed like a long strange dream, she had arrived. Seeing her actual face for the first time had me wobbling.

I steadied myself on my wife’s bedside rail and marveled at the dizziness. Prior to the birth of my daughter, I worked as a medical professional and even assisted in the births of a handful of babies. During military medic training, I crawled under live machine gun fire toward simulated casualties. I held C-spine on a man who’d been thrown from his vehicle on a road outside of Seattle, Washington, after a motor vehicle accident. I bandaged burn victims, drained abscessed wounds of homeless drug addicts, provided care to inmates who had beaten each other senseless while incarcerated over gang affiliation, and watched my grandfather deteriorate in the grip of diabetes. I thought all of these experiences would’ve prepared my nerves for the delivery of my own child. Not so. I exhaled, glanced at my wife who appeared exhausted but okay, and at the guidance of the nurse, followed into a side room where they were helping my daughter take her first breaths. Her cry filled the room like sunlight at dawn.

Soon after, we were at home, getting intimately acquainted with parenthood. I held her in my arms as she slept, bundled in our lamp-lit living room. I stared, watching her breathe, amazed at every feature. I was exhausted. My wife ascended the stairs to the bedroom an hour ago and hopefully was getting some much-needed rest. The stereo faintly played “Everything” by the band Lifehouse.

I clicked repeat on the stereo remote and meditated in the music and the moment. What everyone had said was true. Everything had changed.

Recently we celebrated our daughter’s first birthday. As I reflected over the last year, I’ve recorded some lessons I learned that might be helpful to any fathers-to-be looking for advice.

They’re counting on you. Revel in your new role as a father. Be proud. It’s reassuring to your partner who is depending on you to be a solid rock. Look for opportunities to help as you grow into your role. Get tactically and technically proficient in all the baby gear. Study the developmental stages so you’re on top of things. Show your partner that it’s not all up to her. Every day is another chance to prove to your partner that she picked the right guy.

Logistics. You may have just grabbed your wallet and keys on the way out the door two weeks ago. Now you’ve got bottles, diaper bags, breast pumps, pacifiers, and car seats to coordinate. Get familiar with it all now, while the baby is still in utero. Trust me; it’ll minimize stress once the baby arrives. That’s when time and energy are not gold, they’re platinum.

It happens to other guys too. Try to have a sense of humor about the new situations you find yourself in. When my wife sent me out on a mission to find a breast pump and some sort of special breastfeeding bra the day after our daughter was born, I wasn’t too happy about it. But I sucked it up, humbled myself, and walked straight up to the first group of female sales associates I could find at my local department store, confessed that I was a brand-new father as of yesterday, and I had officially been given a list. I think every woman knows what that means. One of these ladies had mercy on me, walked me directly to each item, and spared me a ton of embarrassment. I nominated the saleswoman for beatification and am pushing for sainthood. Although it was really irritating at the time, it has turned out to be moderately funny to hilarious when I think back on it.

Be a team player. When facing a screaming, crying baby, a partner whose body has just gone through significant trauma and is experiencing intense hormonal changes, it’s important to work together. Add sleep deprivation to the mix and your ability to sense when your partner needs a break becomes an essential skill. Remember, you’re in this together. Present your needs to each other for the day, make a plan, then make it happen. Instead of letting the challenges drive a wedge between you, let it be an adhesive which seals your bond together.

Your freedom is not gone forever. The concept of sacrifice is foreign to our society. Although you have a child that is completely dependent upon you and your partner, be patient with these new responsibilities. Give yourself time to adjust. Keep your eyes on the reward and you’ll endure the cost. Pay attention to your child as he or she grows. As the baby grows, you just might become amazed at the miracle of life unfolding before you and find a new kind of freedom, one which comes from service. Balance this with your daily personal needs. Make the most of your time, and take your family and trusted friends up on their offers of help. Don’t confuse being a martyr or a superhero with being a father. Remember, you’re a man first, a father second.

Well, that’s all the advice I can give. I have a birthday party to clean up, a bath to give, a diaper to change, and birthday cake to clean off my baby’s face, the floor, the high chair, the wall, my car keys, the cabinets, the stairs…. Good luck!

Mack Dreyfuss lives in Wisconsin with his wife and daughter. He is a freelance writer and writes on a variety of topics while doing his best to enjoy all four seasons. He has been rumored to occasionally change a diaper one-handed, but his wife states that such a feat has never been witnessed.

Original Image: Conor Ogle

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I’m lucky for many reasons. Among them is that The Wife rarely travels for work.

Last month was a bit unusual in that she flew to Washington, DC, for a daytrip and had an overnight excursion in Columbus, OH. She attended training seminars on both occasions.

For plenty of stay-at-home parents, this sort of business travel is routine. And let’s not forget the single parents who go it alone all day, every day.

For me, lone wolf parenting is something new. Even as a stay-at-home dad, I rely on The Wife to help start the day. It’s a thankless task. Most mornings, I’m about as friendly as a tollbooth operator with a cold sore.

I lean on The Wife even more in the evening. I usually have dinner prepared when she returns home. Then, she bathes the boys, puts them to bed and cleans up the kitchen. I don’t entirely quit playing after 6:30 p.m., but I definitely hand off the ball.

But, I was playing with an empty backfield in October. I dropped The Wife off at the airport. She flew to Columbus as I returned to home around suppertime. I fed the boys and made myself a sandwich. No sense in making a fancy meal for one.

I skipped baths and focused instead on getting the boys into a quiet frame of mind. We read stories about sleeping: “Goodnight Moon” and “The Going to Bed Book.”

Peter went to bed easily, as did Bubba. I had this thing licked… or so I thought.

I had just begun to fall asleep at 11 p.m. when the red lights flashed on the baby monitor. Peter’s piercing cry crackled the tiny speaker, springing me from my warm bed. This is generally The Wife’s area of expertise.

I’m confident in my parenting, but I’m also well aware of my limits. In the area of calm relaxation, I fall short. To my surprise, Peter fell asleep quickly for his dear ‘ol dad. His older brother slept through the melee.

Peter’s high-pitched cry returned 45 minutes later, though he again quickly fell back asleep. I had finally entered a deep REM sleep, when the baby monitor from Bubba’s room began to blast, “Everybody’s working for the weekend!”

Loverboy’s pop single from 1981 was coming through loud and clear. I quickly realized that Bubba had accidentally set the alarm on his clock radio. He was playing DJ that afternoon, while I was changing Peter’s diaper and headbanging with a pair of the baby’s pants on my head.

Bubba never even bothered to wake up for the 1980’s anti-work anthem. I silenced the alarm and slept until Peter woke at dawn.

The Wife returned later that evening. I told her about my long day. She told me about her flight, seminars and hotel. Then, she informed me of another out-of-town meeting this month.

Hear that? It’s the cry of a lone wolf.

Article Image: cg.lindstrom, Flickr

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Image by: Steve Woods

For big savings amid a tanking economy, I suggest thinking small. Really small.

The stock market has plummeted. People are losing their homes and retirement savings. Most of us are doing all we can to save a few dollars. That includes driving less and trading in SUVs for cars. Even General Motors may be trying to sell its Hummer unit.

I have a better solution to the credit crunch, one that even a three-year-old can understand: Trade in real cars for toy cars.

They’re the ultimate in fuel efficiency and affordability. They make an excellent first car for the young – or very young — buyer. At a few inches long, they fit in any parking space or garage.

Take my son’s Mini Cooper. Its pull-back action offers unmatched fuel efficiency. Its spoiler and sculpted aerodynamics add up to an ideal gasoline-sipping, entry-level purchase. Newly fashionable hockey moms, however, may have trouble fitting in pads and sticks.

His 1955 Ford Thunderbird’s bold lime-green finish hides a molded-plastic engine bursting with high-performance power … with a simple push and without a drop of gasoline. The tiny T-bird is green not just in color but in practice, so you can feel good about yourself while behind the wheel.

His red-and-white 1957 Chevrolet Corvette offers nothing less than rocket-like acceleration – without rocket-like gas consumption — on surfaces from carpet to kitchen. His 1961 Porsche 356B Coupe generates equally astonishing mileage on hardwood floors and rugs. It’s a perfect hybrid of tradition=2 0and technology, without losing any points for styling.

When it comes to iconic status, his New York City Checker Taxi has few equals. Alas, the engine lays down little to no horsepower. But this beauty is easy on the pocketbook, as it still charges only $1.50 for the initial fare and 25 cents per one-fifth mile. Compare that to the current rates of $2.50 and 40 cents per one-fifth mile.

These head-turners tend to roll over, they can’t accommodate a car seat, and they include some parts that may be choking hazards. But they’re also ideal family cars. Why? Because they’re a great excuse to stay home and spend more time playing with your child. Adults and children can experience the joy of driving — together.

With mom and dad at home more, they’ll spend less time shopping and there’s less need to fill ‘er up. I’ve mentioned a few classics, but feel free to choose your own make and model. You’ll find them at reputable car dealers like your local toy store or street vendor.

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When our kids are young they think we dads are gods (well, for the most part anyway). We’re smart, strong, handsome… it’s really nice, isn’t it? But, come the teen years, things can get complicated despite the best of intentions. The “because I’m your father, that’s why” argument no longer holds much water, and we realize that some of the only clout we have in our teen’s lives is the consistent time we’ve invested in them growing up.

As the teenage years progress, there are times that your child will open up and share things with you, and times that they won’t – even if you have a great relationship. Perhaps it’s helpful to understand why teens need their fathers, and what you can do to deepen that relationship.

Fathers are a boy’s role model for how to be (or not to be) a man. It’s been said “link a boy to the right man and he seldom goes wrong.” There’s an awful lot of truth in that and, ideally, a boy’s father should be that man. Whether you like or not, you are probably the #1 influence on what kind of man your son becomes. Make sure you’re a positive influence. Model for your son what you’d like him to be. Model how he should treat women by how you treat your wife and daughter. Whether it seems to be sinking in or not, he is paying attention to how you are a man and it will influence him deeply.

Fathers are a girl’s benchmark for how they should be treated. Want your daughter to think highly of herself and expect others to do the same? Than treat her that way. Girls learn relationship and love and respect from their fathers; both how their fathers treat them and their mother. There is no more formative time for this perception than during the teenage years. Girls learn how they should be treated by how their dads treat them. Show your daughter how she ought to be treated. Instill in her high expectations of herself and of how others should treat her as well.

Time is probably the most critical aspect of your influence on your teen. Kids figure out pretty quickly that their dad is a busy guy. That’s why your time means so much to them. Your teen needs you to spend time with them. They probably won’t tell you that, but they do. If you don’t spend time with them, they simply can’t learn from you. Just being in the room doesn’t count. We all have crazy schedules and there are many things vying for our time, but time with our kids should be quality and free from distractions. Turn off the Blackberry and give your teen your attention. And set aside reliable time to spend with your kids.

Welcome your teen’s friends. As frightening as it sounds, studies have consistently shown that parents do not have as much influence over their children as their children’s friends do. So, know their friends. Make your home an inviting place for them all to hang out. There’s no substitute for knowing your child’s friends and having them in your home as opposed to having them out-and-about running loose (and you stressing about it). Granted, you need to give your child their freedom, but make your home a place they can always have friends over… make sure your child and their friends know that your home is a safe place they are always welcome to come and hang out. Friends are absolutely formative to a teen’s world and you being part of that creates a better relationship with your children.

Ask the questions you know are on their mind. Teens don’t often express what they want to ask you, but if you’ve spent any time with your child, you can probably sense it. They need you as a sounding board for guidance and advice. Raise the questions you know they want to ask.

Let your teen make some choices. Within reason, give them some leeway to make choices, even if they’re awkward for you. Let them pick what’s on the radio in the car, where you grab dinner, a project to tackle together, or where to take a vacation. Remember that what seems like a little decision to you may seem like a big decision to your teen. Allow them the satisfaction of knowing you trust them enough to do so.

Ben Murphy is a husband, father, artist, and founder and CEO of The Father Life. He and his family live in upstate New York.

Article Image by: Marya, Flickr

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Work life…

In previous jobs I traveled quite a bit and although it felt good to make the phone call back home, I always wished I could do more to connect with my family and be with my family even though I was away. Through a healthy number of emails, SMS/IM messages, and webcam sessions, I could float into what they were doing, remind them that I was thinking of them and feel, in some way, that much closer and that much more a part of the numerous small, precious moments which make up the memories of one’s life. At times the content of those touch points could seem trivial (“miss u talk 2 u l8tr”) and other times monumental (“really miss u and the kids”) but they were enough to make me feel that my presence, my silliness, my daddiness/parentness was still close at hand adding to the family activities and discourse.

Another way to connect…

So while I was between jobs, this thought of “connecting” interestingly bubbled up while I was playing around with a web bookmarking service (Delicious) and the result was something which gave me one more way to be at home even though I wasn’t physically home. The idea was simple, create an account on Delicious (pretty easy) and create a “Tag” (which is simply just a word/phrase which you want to categorize things under, like “news” or “family” or “sports”. I chose “Hometone”). Then whenever or wherever I was, if I came across something on the net which I thought was interesting (and appropriate) for the kids, I would Tag it. Back home, on their play room computer (they only have one which they share in the play room and which has a nice sized screen so that they can see it from anywhere in the room), I created a shortcut that when they clicked on it, it would bring up the list of things I Tagged.

Parent / teacher…

Pretty simple and straightforward, but the result has been much more. While traveling to far off (and even not so far off) places, I would come across an interesting online gallery of Lego creations and think “if I were home, I would love to show the kids this and see if we could create one of them” and then tag it. Elsewhere I would come across a great audio clip (Baseball Driveway Moments for instance) on NPR and think “this would be something fun for us to listen to together” and then tag it. On another day and in another place, I would come across a great “learning Japanese” video and tag it knowing that at some point, far away from me, my wife and/or kids would click on the HomeTone link and be presented with a list of things daddy was sending them, a stream of thoughts and impressions daddy was thinking which brought daddy that much closer. This HomeTone is one of the things we’ve tried to set up in our home (our Learning Home) and it’s been a fun and rewarding endeavor for the whole family.

Life work…

Staying connected, deeply connected can still be difficult even in this over-connected world we are in, but it’s worth continually working toward creating and maintaining. All the noise and all the candy that is out there can pose a constant attack on what’s important and can cause you to take your eye off the ball so here is another simple and easy way to keep some of that in check and stay connected with your family in a value adding way.

G. Manto snowboards a little, runs a little and writes a little. When he’s not thinking about how to help seniors and kids, he puts his energies into helping communities use technology to do small great things. Some of these can be found at futurespot.net.

Links:

Delicious: http://delicious.com/help/getStarted
Lego creations: http://club.lego.com/en-us/Gallery/default.aspx
Baseball Driveway Moments: http://shop.npr.org/products/Driveway_Moments_Baseball-623-0.html
NPR: http://www.npr.org
Learning Japanese: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1koRXpYlHg0
HomeTone: http://thelearninghome-futurespot.blogspot.com/search/label/HomeTone
The Learning Home: http://thelearninghome-futurespot.blogspot.com/

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While I have written many articles on what it feels like to leave my three year old twins to go to work or the challenges I’ve faced in helping them to sleep on their own during the night, I have been avoiding one particular subject that is a major part of our lives. The main reason I have avoided the subject is that I am so uncomfortable by the whole discussion. I have actually handled helping our twin 3-year olds learn to use the potty better than I thought I would – especially considering the issues and major levels of discomfort I feel, but that doesn’t mean I like talking about it.

In my family, no one ever went to the bathroom. In fact, in my own mind, if people knew that I went to the bathroom (as if they don’t already), they would see me as less of a person, as if going to the bathroom is a weakness, a flaw in my being, as if the whole world doesn’t do it every single day, too. I have worked hard to get comfortable actually going to the bathroom and trying not to care whether other people know or not. But talking about it with other people, well, that’s a whole other issue.

If it wasn’t for my wife, I would probably have made essentially no progress on this issue. Ironically (or maybe, fortunately), I married a sexuality educator and she has no issues about this stuff whatsoever. In fact, she has the opposite of issues in this area, she has strengths and skills that she is (unknowingly) teaching me. Of course, there is also something about changing diapers every day that is like trial by fire – you either get used to dealing with poop and pee or you crack under the pressure running and screaming to the nearest mental institution. In the early days we were always feeding and changing diapers, about every three hours or so (yes, that was about 12-14 diaper changes a day). The only way to stop changing diapers was to stop feeding them and, as you can imagine, we didn’t think that was a good approach to the problem.

Of course, as our children get older I am constantly challenged to grow as well. Once I got used to changing diapers and talking about pee and poop, then we had to talk about what kinds of poops they were. How many times a day is it happening? Then we started with helping our kids understand that we don’t use diapers, we use the…toilet. Ugh, I hate the whole terminology of this. Really. I am cringing as I write this – my fingers are afraid to touch the keyboard since I wrote that word.

The women in our family, their mother, Tia, Nana, and Abuelita, all would let our children into the bathroom with them to help show them how people use a toilet. It took me a long time to be able to do that. Long time like months and months, not weeks. I’ve tried to never let anyone know I actually go to the bathroom, to let someone (really two someones) come with me and watch was so far beyond my comfort level it made me anxious just thinking about it.

As in all of these situations, what helped me was the idea that my role as father is more important than anything I feel as a person. My children need to see their father go to the bathroom, too, that both men and women use the bathroom and that men use it differently than women. Who else is going to show that to my son if not me? I have to rise to that challenge even if it makes me terribly uncomfortable, because it is not about me, it is about them.

Interestingly, despite our best efforts, our children had refused to participate in toilet education. They didn’t really mind diapers (though they hated having them changed – if it was up to them, they would just wear them all day regardless of whether they were wet or dry, empty or full), they didn’t care about how they looked in them, they didn’t have much interest in being like us. We tried so many different techniques, including flat-out bribery and nothing was working. Finally, on the same day, but separately, my wife and I concocted a new plan (in case you haven’t noticed, parenting is so much about problem solving – one of the things I actually like about it). We were going to let Elijah off the hook since he often doesn’t respond well to pressure and focused on Jordyn since she does and she likes the limelight, likes challenges and rewards. This approach worked and once Jordyn got it, Elijah came along shortly thereafter.

Of course, with Jordyn using the potty, I find myself sitting next to my little girl while she is peeing and/or pooping, encouraging her, congratulating her, helping her to clean herself, and even cleaning out the potty (more cringing) after she is done. How did this happen? What have I become?

I have become a man who understands that to be the kind of father I want to be, I need to be more than I am, I need to be what they need me to be. It is even more important because I don’t want them to carry my issues about this subject. I don’t want them cringing or uncomfortable about something that they will do several times a day. My children need their father to help show them how to use the toilet, they need both of their parents to show that using the bathroom, talking about pee and poop and toilet are okay, they are just words like any other.

What’s amazing is the more I say them, the more that becomes true.

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As a kid, I remember hearing adults reminisce about 8-track tapes and watching The Beatles on “The Ed Sullivan Show.” I also remember thinking these adults sounded very old.

I found myself reminiscing similarly this week. Even as a young dad (31 to be specific) there are many things I grew up with that my two sons will never know or experience.

My boys will never swing a wooden golf club or use a hockey stick with a straight blade. Modern hockey sticks are curved for better wrist shots. Years ago, golf clubs took a page from minor-league baseball, favoring hard-hitting aluminum over soft wood.

My boys will never be asked to “be kind, please rewind.” In fact, they’re unlikely to ever watch a VHS tape. They’re equally unlikely to listen to a cassette of their favorite music, and the way things are going CDs might be on their way out too.

I remember having a blank tape cued for the nightly top-10 radio countdown. Back then, pirating music was as easy as simultaneously hitting the “play” and “record” buttons on the boom box.

Or how about the week in grade school where everyone learned how to use the card catalog? Now, enter any subject, author or title into the library’s computer and the location of a book – or a Web site – springs onto the screen.

Speaking of typing, do schools even offer typing classes anymore? Or is it just assumed that kids type 120 words per minute by age 10?

My two sons are also unlikely to ever press a camera against their nose while taking a photograph or advance film with their thumb. The viewfinder pose has been replaced by framing a photo with outstretched arms. Say cheese.

Not everything is better these days. My kids will never know what “Star Wars” was like before George Lucas spliced a phony-looking Jabba the Hutt and other bogus computer-generated scenes into his sci-fi classic.

On the other hand, they’ll also never be asked if they prefer the “smoking” or “non-smoking” section of a restaurant. And, I don’t expect them to get any candy cigarettes this Halloween. (Smoking in public places and candy cigarettes have both been banned here in Illinois.) Remember blowing the sugar out of those gum-filled cigs so it looked like smoke?

Beepers and bag phones are ancient history as far as my kids are concerned. Years before text messages were invented, old fogies like me were paging friends with the number 911 for “emergencies.”

And I’ll never forget how annoyed my mom would get when she’d go into the freezer and find empty ice trays. These days almost every freezer has an ice machine, including the side-by-side at grandma’s house.

Who could forget the rotary phone? I don’t think anyone uses those things anymore unless they’re planning an escape from “The Matrix.”

I feel like I’ve aged 20 years just writing this column. I suddenly have the urge to watch “Wheel of Fortune” and place a tiny bowl of hard candy on my coffee table. I can’t think of anything more timeless than Pat Sajak and Werther’s Original.

Article Image by: A. Carlos Herrera

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Spending time with our children is obviously a huge part of ensuring a child’s self-worth as they grow. When we are spending that time with our children though, are we truly engaged with them or just taking up space in the same room as them? There is a huge difference, obviously. Jim Rohn, one of the great motivation/self-improvement gurus of our time, has a great adage, “wherever you are, be there.” If you’re in the shower, enjoy the shower. If you’re at a red light, enjoy the red light. I know, easier said than done. But we simply can’t get frustrated by these trivial things, so why not enjoy them? That being said, how many times have you caught yourself going through the motions with your child and not being “there”?

Maybe you’re on the floor playing dolls. Your daughter wants you to act out what she is imagining, yet you can’t seem to find the energy to genuinely indulge yourself. I’ve been there plenty of times. What’s amazing about kids is that they know when you’re really there and when you’re just there taking up space. Mustering that energy to really be there may be the single most difficult task of parenting. I struggle with it most times. Once in awhile, I’ll have one of those “money” days where I was just on as a dad. Kind of like a baseball pitcher who is locked in. He’s in the zone and whatever pitch he throws at the hitter, he knows that on that particular day he can’t be beat. This is part confidence and part determination. If you intend to come home after a long day of work, lay on the couch and just “be there,” that’s exactly what you’ll do. On the contrary, if you’re proactive and have a plan on what exactly you’re going to do with your kids on that same day, you’re chances for success increase substantially. Laying around being a couch potato only makes the kids restless and bored. Restless and bored is not good as a parent. That’s when trouble starts. If you have multiple kids, that’s about the time they start picking at each other and looking for alternative sources of entertainment, such as destroying things.

Please don’t take this as, “Oh, I should get home from work, never watch TV, and constantly be playing with my kids?” That’s not all what I’m implying. Quite simply, a little REAL time with your kids goes a long way. Satisfying their need to have your undivided attention doesn’t take long. Here are a few tips to help your chances for success in being present and genuinely engaged while with your children:

1. Have a plan. Have a rough mental outline for what you’re going to do that particular day. Having a plan makes you the leader. When you’re the leader, you have more of a vested interest in being there.

2. Turn frustration into fascination. This is another of Jim Rohn’s techniques that works great with kids. Jim discusses being stuck in traffic and how he tries to be fascinated with the traffic rather than frustrated by asking things like, “Isn’t it fascinating how traffic is backed up?.” Again, this is a pretty idealistic technique, specifically with traffic, but try it with your kids. For example, once my oldest daughter, Kaylee, was having an extremely difficult time sleeping at night. She’d wake up and think that the shadows on the walls were monsters. As you probably know, being woken up in the middle of the night by a screaming child isn’t the most pleasant thing in the world. While part of me wanted to crumble and simply tell her to get back in her bed, I was able, after pounding this concept into my head, to become fascinated with why she continually woke up at night. Becoming fascinated with her problem, I became dedicated to helping her solve it. The last night she woke up, I took her around the house and calmly explained to her what each shadow actually was. The reward for being this patient was huge, and she knows the next time she has a problem, I’ll help her with it, not chastise her for it.

3. Focus on the lasts. As parents, we are so overwhelmed with the “firsts” of our child’s life that we usually neglect the “lasts.” We usually know how old they were or where we were when they took their first steps, spoke their first words or called you by name. Most of us don’t, however, remember the last time we ever picked them up, changed their diaper or fed them a bottle. We are so consumed with the day-to-day that often find ourselves wishing those years away only to be overrun with regret as we look back on those days knowing we could have enjoyed them more. I know I’m guilty of it. I remember putting my kids in their car seat wishing I was putting them in a booster seat. Some time later, I’m sure I was putting one of them in a booster seat wishing we didn’t have car seats at all. I don’t remember the last time I put either of my daughters in a car or booster seat. Those days are gone, never to be recovered. While putting kids in a car seat is not exactly something to miss, it starts here and becomes a habit with bigger, more important things in life. Yet if we focus on the lasts and consider all of the minute tasks we perform as fathers, if we treat them as the last time we’ll ever do them, we approach them with a completely different attitude. We want to be perfect and to savor it if it is indeed the last time we ever did it.

A friend of mine adopted this approach with his young son who was still in diapers. His son was at the stage where dad was expecting him to get out of diapers, yet while potty-training, the child had an accident and wet himself. At first, my friend told me he was furious. One more thing to do that wasn’t on the list of things to do. “How could you do this? You’re supposed to be potty-trained,” he thought. As he angrily reached for a fresh diaper and lay his son on the floor to change it, he collected himself and thought, “What if this is the last time I ever do this? Will I want to remember that I just rushed through only to get to the next task that I would probably rush through as well?” He then changed his approach. He decided this would be the best diaper changing his son would ever have. He ensured the lining of the diaper fit perfectly around his son’s thighs so no leaking would occur. He ensured that the adhesive tabs on the diaper were perfectly square and had just the right amount of tension in them as to not let the diaper be too tight. That diaper was put on perfectly. And rightfully so. It may have been the last one he ever put on. He soaked it up by focusing on the lasts. He was really there.

4. Value their values. It’s easy to dismiss our kids’ values as childish and unimportant. This can be a huge mistake and ultimately lead to our children believing that we don’t think their interests, and ultimately themselves, are important. The bottom line though, is that what they value will shape the person they become one day. If we don’t embrace those values, or provide direction when those values may be off-target from what we believe are appropriate, we pose some serious risk to the self esteem our children carry into their adult life. One example Stephen Covey shares in his book, Seven Habits of Highly Effective Families, is of a child who has a deep love for the game of baseball. One summer, his father plans a trip across the nation to visit every major league stadium. When the father tells of his plan to a co-worker, the co-worker responds with, “I didn’t know you liked baseball that much.” The father then responds with, “I don’t, but I love my son that much.” Understanding their values and expressing interest in those values is key in really being there. This helps keep us interested and engaged in what they’re doing. Being engaged and interested in what they’re doing helps us really be there.

One final thought is to never compare yourself to other dads. Compare yourself to your own expectations. If you’re reading this, I’ll bet your expectations for your fathering skills are pretty high. Really being there takes commitment and patience. It’s not easy. Anytime anything is easy, I have to question what value it is adding. If we are pushing ourselves as fathers and committed to improving ourselves, we will experience some pain and anguish. Just know that pain and anguish subsides as your skill set increases. The more you push yourself and the more you try to really be there, the easier it gets. Just like when an athlete tries to build muscle, he tears down the muscle fiber after repeated workouts. As a result, it grows back stronger than before. The same is true for commitment and patience. The more you exercise them, the easier it gets to develop them.

Jay Fleischmann has been married to his wife, Amy, for 12 years. He has two daughters, Kaylee age nine, and Avery age six. Jay is in the process of writing a book entitled, I Like Myself, Dad, due out in 2009. When he’s not being a father and husband, Jay is an executive in the automotive manufacturing industry.

Image by: Phil Scoville, Flickr

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