Do you like me?

That was the question I overheard my three year old son ask his six year old sister.

Both of them chatting in her room, scouring the baskets of toys and odd nick-nacks for a "Clue" game piece that had gone missing.

"Do you like me?" he asked.

"Of course." She answers. A short pause. "I love you. You're my brother."

"Well I love you Lily. Even if you were not my sister."

"Me, too."

=======================

I hope that as they grow and are separated by distance, they are never too far apart. It's only now that I'm older, I realize that not only do I love my younger brother, I like him too.

Even if he weren't my brother.

I enjoy Halloween.

Not for the fact that I get to keep much of the kids candy for myself. I consider it payment for the "trouble" of taking the kids out past their bedtime to trick-or-treat, inspecting their booty to ensure compliance to my standards [safe, not too sticky, not possessing any ingredient which could cause a severe allergic reaction] and lastly, keeping calm in the face of constant negotiation from the kids as to how many pieces they wish to consume, simultaneously.

Come on, isn't one at a time enough? Trust me. Skittles and licorice pieces do not make a good combination.

I enjoy Halloween because the kids enjoy Halloween. I simply love seeing them talk for weeks about all the different characters they could be and then finally decide on the one.

This year, my two oldest choose to be characters in the Wizard of Oz. My daughter, Dorthy, complete with sparkly red shoes [wait till she reads the book] and my son, the lion.

All this banter is background to share this point. The Friday just prior to Halloween, the children were asked to wear their costumes to school. As an aside, what is it with boys and swords/sticks...every little boy in my son's class managed to incorporate one into his costume [whether it fit or not; I don't remember superman using a sword, but whatever.]

So, my son wore his lioin costume to school. It happened to be raining that day. So he wore his boots and raincoat.

Judge for yourselves, but I think he makes a good Mr. Tumnus.

Years from now I think I will remember him as my Mr. Tumnus, wishing somehow I could return to times when we snuggled close, sipping sleepy-time tea, eating tea cakes and reading about the adventures of 4 childen.

Creatives

We pay thousands and thousands of dollars to develop and nurture our creative abilities. Hours and hours of time and effort writing, crafting, building and critiquing our 'created.'

I think that some if not much of this energy is spent simply trying to recover something that was lost. Some significant of our creative capacity that died.

Why do I think this? I have children. Children who are created as creatives; who come into this place ready to pour out without killing the creation.

Who says there is only one way to swing on a swing? Visit a park and watch how many different ways a child finds to swing on a swing.

Free

Just the other day, I was driving home with both older kids buckled in the back. I had just picked them up from school and we were heading home for a quick lunch, then a time of rest [quiet time.]

As we are cruising along the lake, blue skies and very little traffic, my daughter asks me to open the windows. I do.

I looked in the rear view mirror and watched as the two half-squint into the wind, smiling.

Q&A

It was about one o'clock in the morning. Stars were out as we drove along the highway in between little towns. Not much traffic was on the road that night; just us and an occational truck.

Both my kids were alseep, stapped into their car seats; hoepfully not to awake until morning when we pulled into YaYa and Grandad's driveway.

Then it started. I should have expected it. My daughter thoroughly enjoys asking questions and discussing philosophy, human behavior and all things spiritual and magical.

The first question falls under the latter interest.

"When fairies fly, do they get tired? Because they don't use their hands to fly, but rather their wings grow out of their backs?"

Now, recongnize the car has been completely quiet for several hours; I didn't even realize my daughter was awake. So, not only was I startled by the sound of her voice, but somewhat confused by the words that came out.

"Excuse me. What?" I said in a somewhat loud voice.

"Fairies have wings right? And those wings are on their back, instead of their arms like birds. So, daddy, do they get tired?"

"Hmmm. Well, sure. Some part of their body has to make the wings move. And it's that part that gets tired."

"Oh."

"Thanks daddy. Good night."

Marbles

What brings back memories from your childhood? What childhood moment is plucked from obscurity when your child is creating a moment of their own?



I remember very vividly the weekly excursions to the city museum my mom used to take both my little brother and I. My six-years-old eyes spent hours staring at the rocks and minerals carefully displayed in the Hall of Natural History. Giant amethyst, perfectly crystallized calcite and shiny cubes of pyrite captured my imagination and ignited a desire for rock hunting that continued for many years.



It was on a recent visit to a marble factory that brought this memory out of storage.



Thank you to my daughter for drawing out these memories and thank you to my wonderful mom for providing a place to create them.

Last Day of Swim Class

There are without question many challenges to being a parent. In fact, the challenges can eclipse the blessings. Some could argue that we should reflect on challenges themselves as blessings. Just try and convice a dad in the midst of a critical conference call, attempting to bottle feed an infant, while the two older children who should be in 'quiet time' are being anything but quiet. Blessing, perhaps ask me next week. Challenge, without question; no discussion required.


So...I hope that I can be completely present and wash in the moments that are clearly blessings. Moments of joy, peace and power. My fear is that I will miss them, treat them as mundane and in doing so rob them of the opportunity to nurish my life and my relationships with those I love.


The last day of swim class. What a joy. The oldest is swimming solo and the little one is happy in the pool without daddy by his side.

Sun @ the Beach

I take for granted how wonderful my children are. It's far too easy to 'rest' in the challenges, the arguments and the 'wrestling' matches.

If I were to actually tally the time spent in battle and the time spent at peace, I think I would be surprised at the difference. And that difference would be weighted significantly in favor of peace.

Although, it can seem that the calculation would lean heavily towards time spent in "battle"...working with the kids to share, to relax, to speak rather than scream, to do what you ask, to hurry, to slow down, to listen, to treat one another with honor and respect and on and on. It can be and is so exhausting. I think that it's the amount of energy required to parent in these circumstances that skews my perspective into believing that my life is spent in the trenches, rather than on the beach under an umbrella.


Being a parent is labor intensive. Being a good parent requires divine intervention. I do not believe one can simply "happen" to parent well. It takes intentionality.

Now, my fault in this entire calculation of peace versus battle is that during those times of peace, I'm often not at peace. Not resting in the moment; experiencing the children, experiencing life at peace, but rather looking towards the next moment. The next meeting, the next activity, the next email, the next work-related crisis.

I need to spend time playing in the sand and jumping on the beach. Thank you little ones for reminding me how to be at peace.

Preparing for the Hunt

The kids have been into pets...and not the typical dog and cat type, but the snails, grubs, ants and pill bug types. Hey, honestly, it's low maintenance and if one dies, it's cheap to replace and you can't tell the difference.

A parent's perfect pet.

So, this morning, the kids and I headed out to find snails. We researched their habitats [as requested by the 6 year old] and what they eat, drink and wear [per the 3 year old].

Wish us luck!

Trouble Sleeping

Just how do they do it? How do they manage to fall into such deep sleeps; blocking out [almost] all noise, disturbances, discomfort?

Throughout my traveling life, I have slept in hundreds of different hotel beds; consequently I have my favorite hotel chain and specific bed types, pillows and sheets that aim to make good sleep much easier to achieve. If all happens to go well; i.e. thick walls, comfortable temperature, no jet lag, sleep can still be a challenge.

Perhaps it's been the three babies over the last 6 years that have conditioned me to wake at the slightest sound. Or perhaps it is my deep, internal monitor constantly scanning the local environment for little minds having nightmares; prompting me to awake and rock the whimpering little one back to sleep. Or perhaps it's my fear of that middle-of-the-night emergency call from home while I am thousands of miles away, unable to be there that instant.

Night-night little ones. Sleep tight...can't wait to see you in the morning.

Mr. Oow

That's what he calls himself, Mr. Oow. My three year old seems to constantly be hurting himself, whether it's bumping into a door frame, tripping unexpectedly and badly scrapping his knee or dropping the toilet seat on a very sensitive part of himself after going potty.

While in the park the other day, I could see it in his eyes, when he made a mental connection between his seemingly constant accidents and whining.

Did you get hurt, Mr. Man? I said [I sometimes call him Mr. Man.]
No. I'm not Mr. Man.
Pause.
I am Mr. Oow. Call me Mr. Oow.

So there you have it. Mr. Oow is in the house, "banging" himself, smacking himself, behaving like, well, behaving like a little boy. Like me when I was three...just ask my mom.

Goblin Oatmeal

Sometimes the kids wake up late...it's a treat frankly when they sleep in an extra hour after their typical rooster call. In my house sleeping in is 8am for the two oldest. If this is the case, I have finished my breakfast and moved on to emails and conference calls.

If the business of the morning is emails or reviewing documents I would rather spend it with the kids than in the office. After all, that is what spell check and grammar check is for [those who can't spell correctly and those who are trying to write while interacting with two silly preschoolers.]

Recently, in order to get him to eat his oatmeal, if gone to extraordinary measures, coloring the stuff with blue dye. He calls it Goblin Oatmeal and I laugh and think to myself...'whatever it takes to get this little goblin to eat his breakfast.'

It is not easy conversing with a six year old who is asking questions regrading an NPR story they just overhead, parrying a goopy hand from a three year old trying to touch the tiny blue laptop mouse that resides in the middle of the keyboard all the while attempting to respond promptly to a highly critical customer issue...without sounding like a man doing just those things.

It's in these moments I somehow am able to smile and think [although it's merely a shadow]; I love this moment. Not these moments, but definitely this one.

Blueberry Picking

Each summer & fall our family tries to pick enough blueberries, strawberries and apples to last us through the winter. This year has been perfect for fruit picking; plenty of rain in the spring to encourage healthy fruit growth; cool summer mornings with gentle cloud cover to make picking comfortable and two childen who can pick their own. Whether or not they contribute to the final weigh-in is a question, but my oldest, much to my surprise, been very purposeful this season. As a result, she has gathered 5 pounds of strawberries and 3 pounds of blueberries and has been asking when we plan to return and pick more.

My son, on the other hand, picks the berries to eat immedaitely. The only evidence of his participation in berry picking is a stained shirt.

And for the newest member of the picking crew...let's just say he's there for the ride.

Counting Teeth

I find myself with all the traveling to find ways I can really be with the kids. Not just 'register' present, but experience things with them; good things and not so good things. For some on my team, that means not missing any baseball games or flute recitals; swapping trips and critical customer visits with one another, so that these most important 'meetings' are never missed.

It's wonderful to be part of a professional team that functions at times as a family.

For me, my children's doctor visits are important 'meetings' I do not cancel; especially the first time appointments...this morning was the dentist for my son. He is now 3, potty trained [daytime], loves construction equipment [you know the gig: excavators, diggers and payloaders] and, as I found out today, has 20 teeth.

After watching his older sister get her teeth counted [she has 24 by the way]; he enthusiastically leaped into the robotic dentist chair ready for the 'tickle' toothbrush to clean his teeth.

Perhaps it's only me and inadequacies that reside deep down inside, but a trip to the dentist, doctor or teacher conference feels a little like it's me on the stand. It's me getting checked for cavities, for nearsightedness or assessed for intellectual capabilities.

After seeing 2 kids grow and a third child beginning the journey, I realize how much personality they a born with; how truly knit together they already come into this world.

It leaves me feeling blessed when the dentist says "no cavities" rather than boastful. After all it's not my mouth being checked, right?

Silverstein at the Park

If there is a season one must take advantage of in my home town...it is summer. The Midwestern winters are as long and difficult as the summers in Texas. Grabbing some sandwiches, a couple of ice cold Izzy sodas and heading downtown to a free open air concert of Shel Silverstein poetry is one "easy" way to entertain 3 little ones along with their personal entourage.

After a day in the road or in the office, staring through a laptop privacy screen; it is somewhat therapeutic to leave those confines and enjoy a public event with a nice crowd. I've realized after so many years of travel that in spite of being around people, lots of people and in very close proximity to people, it can be very solitary and lonely experience at times.

Connecting with others and making the effort to allow myself to be involved in the lives of others is necessary. Not necessary in the sense of a task to be completed--one of many; but rather necessary as water, air and light are necessary for life. Healthy, sustainable life.

So, heading downtown after a long, taxing Monday; making sandwiches; paying for parking; packing all the gear required for 3 kids, is desparately needed. Not another outing to be preservered, but lived and enjoyed.

Making Me Laugh

If there is one cure for my stress it's simply the silliness of my kids. Not their laughter, but rather their ability to make me laugh; their transparency and innocence. They are not foremost concerned about other people's opinions or their responses; good or bad. They just do.

Why I even bother to watch late night to make me smile; there is plenty of material right in front of me. If I would only simply observe.

Below is an example of that natural inclination to "be". Just mix 2 breakfast guests, 2 young kids and 2 pairs of borrowed stylish sunglasses.

Closing Shop Early

One of the challenges with traveling so much is that you can miss some pretty important things in life. Such as experiencing life with your kids as they grow.

As often as possible, when returning from several days on the road; I try and catch an earlier flight [with status this is remarkably easy], knock out all my email via the blackberry on the cab ride home and take the remainder of the day off.

These precious hours are sometimes spent down on the beach with the two older kids, skipping rocks, building ships with washed up pieces of wave-smoothed wood and collecting beach glass.















I wish I could spend every day with these two sillies at the beach. Not on a conference call; not responding to a 'hot' email or negotiating a 'deal', but rather simply being with them.