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.