Just the three of us

Today was a special day. A hard day. A fun day.

A memorable day.

Yesterday, I was moved by life and love to give my wife something I don't think I've ever fully given; a day to herself. With this came the promise that I'd stay with the kids and everyone would still be alive when she returned. We have a couple of wonderful kids, so this wasn't too hard a promise to make. Just the same, it was a big commitment...on both our parts. While I was promising to care for and entertain our kids totally solo, she sort of had to promise to accept the gift and have a good time. That's easier said than done for my bride. She's a woman about her responsibilities and has been in the mode of mommy long enough for it to fully become her. With either of us, having a solo time out with a couple of friends takes effort. Neither likes to leave the other behind.

But she accepted with a joy and surprise that told me this sort of gift just isn't given often enough. A mental note was made to make this a more regular thing. Still working on that. So off she went after some preparation. A quick Wal-Mart trip had to be made to replenish the rations in the house. We have one car in the family, so there would be no mid-day escape to Zaxby's for Dad and the kids. The food was brought home, sorted and Mommy was sent off for a day of fun.

It was just the three of us.

There were a number of things I wanted to get to today, and surprisingly we did. My daughter, son and I worked together to get the many loads of laundry folded, do some computer maintenance on one of our rebuilds, play kick-dodge ball, draw in my daughter's ongoing storybook, play an Xbox game together, and of course eat. There were a couple minor things that I fantasized getting to that turned out to be unrealistic, but there were far more successes than failures today. Far more.

Managing the day the way I had to, with both recreational and operational obligations to uphold, totally renewed my appreciation for the load my wife bears on a daily basis. I'm not saying I was oblivious to what she does for this family before, but I am duly reminded of the significant difference between sympathy and empathy. I did for a day what at times she would do for an entire week--especially this past week as our daughter was home from school. For five days straight, it was just the three of them. Not an easy stretch of time.

There will be more of these 'day gifts.' There needs to be. My wife is young, beautiful, outgoing, and needs to be reminded that she is not totally defined by motherhood. Then again, she is a pretty hot momma.

And there ain't nothin' wrong with that.

I am the human Segway

Often times I serve a specific purpose for my seven-month-old son, Caleb; transport. This is especially true when picking him up out of his crib. He'll settle himself in my arms then, as if I were a Segway, lean in the direction he wants to travel, which is toward his bedroom door. Sometimes I'll take him from his mommy and he'll twist his little body around until I'm holding him in the 'flying position.' Then he'll have his transport vehicle seek out his sister, Cadence for a game of 'Super Caleb' or 'Dribble Cloud.'

Yes, I am Dad; a human means of transport. And I am okay with that.

Mostly for the benefit of hindsight. Caleb is our second child which means that some of this was experienced six years ago with our daughter. As a first time dad, I can remember being devastated when Cadence seemed to show more love for her mommy than for me. I would be crushed at the sense of self-worthlessness around my daughter. Even though I was a man of logic, I found no comfort in the thought that my daughter was just a baby, wouldn't be like this forever, and had a stronger bond with her mommy because of nursing. None of that mattered at first. I loved her dearly and I wanted reciprocation. But it was rarely had.

Fast forward through the weeks, months and years and things aren't the way the were with my daughter and me. As she got older our relationship saw changes. There were roles that I played different from Mommy's. There were similarities found and forged in our personalities. And somewhere along the timeline, an unbreakable bond was formed between us. In name, deed, love, I became "Daddy" and there was none like me.

So I'll be the human Segway for my son today. I'll pick him up out of his crib and watch in amazement as he searches the common locations where Mommy can be found, or where his sister is excitedly awaiting the start of a new game. I'll read carefully his leaning and twisting as he relays directional commands. We have our one-on-one fun times besides. I know he loves me. And I know that, as with my daughter, the 'because' of his love will one day be made up of an innumerable list of reasons. Today, the list is short and begins with 'Transport.'

And that's okay with me, for all things now great began somehow small.

Church, sometimes had at home.

There was an entirely different intention going into this Sunday morning. My wife and I wanted to be sure to head to Church today if for no other reason than because we've missed a couple services in the weeks past. It's a great, comfortable, community minded, youthful sort of Church and we're starting to miss the lessons. But our plans of getting ourselves and our two kids ready were laid to rest as the morning unfolded. 

Our daughter has a rather full head of hair that just so happened to need re-braiding before we went out in public at all. She began to look as though a giant, black fuzzy spider had attached itself to her head. This meant work for my wife, lots of work. Then there was me, who for some reason couldn't get out of bed. Okay, I totally stayed up too late last night playing Xbox and watching movies, but that's besides the point. Our son was oddly the least of our troubles as he napped a little longer than usual while my wife worked overtime on our daughter's hair. 

Needless to say, we didn't make it. We certainly could have (and should have) done better preparing ourselves this morning to not only make it to Church, but make it on time for a change. But I didn't beat up myself about it like I usually would after a failed mission. I felt God wanted us to gather together and fellowship in his name this morning, but remembered that no love is lost because we miss a Sunday or two. Still, I regretted not getting out to the service. 

Now, in our home we can easily go a whole day with three out of four of us spending hours at a time in different parts of the house, engaged in different activities. But not this morning. For some reason, we were drawn together and ended up spending a great portion of the latter half of the morning and early afternoon laughing, playing, gaming, eating, and drawing together. It was natural, nurturing and memorable. 

In my mind, it was Church.

I think that, while blessed and holy the building that holds the congregation that gathers together on Sunday and throughout the week, the people themselves are the Church and they bring Christ with them to the building. Throughout the bible we are taught that, when we accept Him, Jesus resides in our hearts. Our hearts, not our buildings. 

So when a day like today comes along, and the best laid plans go awry, I'll keep the school of thought that the gathering and togetherness of my little congregation of four is too considered Church. 

And Church is sometimes had at home. 

It ain't all random. Some of it's planned.

Recently, I was changing my son on his changing table and partook in what I think was something rather remarkable. I needed a toy or something to occupy his hands so that I'd have fewer obstacles in my way as I attempted to change his diaper. Finding nothing better nearby, I handed him a fresh diaper saying "hold this for a second." I added: "and don't put it in your mouth."

A feeble request, or so I thought.

Promptly, my 6-month-old son put the double fisted diaper on a slow but deliberate path to his mouth. Offering him a stern eye and tone I said "No. Don't put that in your mouth." Now, I didn't yell at him and there was hardly an inflection to my voice, but amazingly, this kid begins to slowly lower the diaper back toward his chest. I put a poker face on trying my darndest not to look impressed. Did what I think just happened happen?

I'm not the flash like my wife when it comes to changing my son's diaper, so I'm still working on him a few moments later when I began to notice the diaper leave my periphery. Yeah, it was once again headed to that dribble-soaked tool with which my son explores the world and all in it; his mouth. I repeated my command much in the same manner as before and was again surprised by the reaction. The diaper was lowered and this time without a repeat attempt. No way was this random.

There are a number of ways to explain away what actually happened. He may have simply thought the words I was saying were at the moment slightly more interesting than the diaper he was about to sample. Who knows. But the profound thing it reminded me of as a dad was that we as parents should underestimate what our children are really capable of. There is little doubt that he hadn't a clue what exactly I was saying, but I probably wouldn't have thought that he would at this point in life be able to fathom what I was "meaning." I think that's just what he did, twice.

Just today I saw a commercial featuring Magic Johnson. In it he mentions that he was trained as a child to earn his spending money as opposed to being given an allowance. By the age of 10, Mr. Johnson continues, he owned his own business cutting lawns. Fast forward to the business smarts he seems to benefit from today and you can't help but to attribute that to a foundation set in the concept of earning a living. Someone in his family (mother, father or both) saw that this kid was capable of staying on task and working toward a goal, something many adults still can't get right today. And by the age of 10, a little entrepreneur was out there earning his own.

My son's little show of understanding was a clear reminder of the potential kids hold. It was a reminder of the responsibility I have as a parent to help them appropriately measure that potential in attempts to map the innumerable paths of their future.

Indeed, even with an infant, it ain't all random. Some of it's planned.