Moving On

At the end of next week, we are moving from Texas to Michigan. This is a big change for us. It's much bigger than our big girls know, but they are facing it with excitement.

On the horizon for Daughter Number One is kindergarten. After debating for the last five years if we were going to do public school or home school, we have decided to give public school a shot. Solstice seems to thrive on social interaction with kids her age. She seeks them out, asks them to be friends, and talks about her times with them for ages afterward. She also has an intense love of learning and can't wait to cut her teeth on the kinds of busy work that kindergarten has in store for her. We plan on keeping an eye on things and keeping our options opened.

Coming up for Daughter Number Two is preschool. We are enrolling her in a nature preschool two days a week. Luna isn't as in to other kids as her sister. All she really wants to do is play with her big sister and mother her little one. Two days a week in the outdoors with other kids will hopefully be something that will build her confidence and independence. She is a real treat to be around, but has trouble showing that to anyone outside of her family.

I will be teaching English at a different community college and am so far enchanted with my interactions with my fellow professors up there. I look forward to continuing my research on student engagement in writing and finishing my doctorate this year.

And for all of us, we're trading in the heat and humidity of the Houston area for the cool weather and snowy winters of Bay City, Michigan. We (think we) found a house and can't wait to move in to it. We've got to get used to driving in snow, shoveling snow, walking in snow, and other snowy things. We're stoked about it.

I hope to keep up with this blog more in the coming months and feel terrible that I've neglected it so hardcore since Daughter Number Three was born. Stay tuned!

Watching "Star Wars" with my 4 year old

It's Father's Day again. I don't feel like I can really write a reasonable post on Father's Day without ample repetition of my past self on the subject. So I'll share the story of how I decided to celebrate it this year, with doughnuts and Star Wars.

I woke up with the sun on this longest day of the year, because our properly named daughter, Solstice, came running into our bedroom the instant the sun peaked over the trees, hugging and kissing me and reminding me what day today is. While that is very sweet, it should be noted that this is an everyday activity; whether it is a special day or not, Soli likes to alert us to its presence.

I got the two older girls dressed and headed out the door to the only proper doughnut shop near here, about 7 miles away. And, as with every morning, Solstice talked: "What kind of doughnuts will we get?" Do you think Mommy wants some? Do they have doughnuts in Michigan? Where do doughnuts come from? What if they don't have doughnuts? What kind do you like? What if they're all out and the people say, 'Sorry, no doughnuts' and you don't have a good Father's Day?" And on, and on.

Now I love Solstice and I wouldn't change a thing about her. And though I wouldn't change it, I have never seen, heard of, nor imagined something that talks quite so much as my eldest daughter. No breath is wasted with her, all are spent with words.

On the way home, I tried to think of what else I would do to celebrate my self as a dad. I am a fan of the Star Wars saga and found myself in the mood to watch Episode III (yes, I dig the prequels quite a bit, especially Revenge of the Sith). In retrospect, I should probably have watched Return of the Jedi, the ultimate father-son movie, but honestly the ending makes me tear-up too much.

Solstice and Luna sat down to watch the movie with me. I'm not worried about the strange and sometimes frightening images they may see on the show, as they are the same things I looked at as a child. There's such a plethora of images that I feel that they mix and mingle into sensory overload. (I say this now, but no doubt nightmares of General Grievous will keep Luna and me awake tonight.)

I would like to share with you why this was such a challenging task for me to complete today. It was Solstice's talking. The following is a mish-mash of actual quotes spoken by my 4 year old during the movie:

What are they doing? Are they the good guys? Why are they in that space ship? Do you want to go in a space ship? What are those robots doing? Do you think the robots will get them? Which one is fighting that one? Why is Yoda so tiny? Did you know he is tiny? He's tinier than you! Yes he is! You know what my middle name is? No! My middle name is Butterfly House Explode! Yes it is! Do you think Chewbacca has a middle name? I think it's Princess Rainbow Bright Stupid Pirate! Well, he said 'stupid'! Why does bad guys say 'stupid'? Why are they being yucky? Do you think you could ride on one of those? Those are my friends. I don't want her to be a queen, I want her to be a princess. That baby looks like a princess.

And on, and on. Without end. She just doens't stop. I tried to answer her questions as openly and honestly as I could, with as few "Just watch!" comments as possible. But when the movie was over--and it's a long movie--I was relieved. I didn't get to revel in that last shot of the double-sunset because I was just so effing glad the movie was over and the question would subside. My dermination to finish the movie was simple stubbornness.

It gave me an idea for a money-making scheme. I thought I should watch lots of movies and record the commentary that Solstice makes throughout. People could download them and sync them up with their DVD players and have their minds blow. Butterfly House Explode, indeed.

I need a rest. Or noise cancelling headphones. Or a huge dose of patience.

Subtle Messages of Lower Expectations for Fathers

My family was at the zoo a couple weeks ago. It was a balmy Houston day and I was wearing our newborn in a moby wrap, my wife and I taking turns pulling the wagon with the older two daughters in it. We were watching some kind of smaller monkey as it carried its newborn baby on its stomach. I felt strangely primal watching it, admiring how natural it was to wear the baby instead of push it along in a stroller. We were finishing up a pleasant visit with the orangutans when I woman remarked to my wife, "Now that's an attractive husband!" Hehe, haha, we moved on. But the same thing kept happening. And it always happens when the whole family is out and I wear the baby, which is about half the time; people constantly make remarks about how awesome I am for wearing my youngest daughter. And for whatever reason, it's always moms and it's always presented as if I am somehow desirable because I yeild to carrying my baby.

And the half when my wife wears her? No guys hit on her, no women give her high-five, the baby receives her customary compliments, but my wife doesn't get the ego boost that I do.
It is a bit of an ego boost, too. I was never accostomed to walking about getting compliments or being called attractive.

Juging from my experience, it is expected that a woman should take care of a baby and it is above the call of duty for a husband to help out. That is also reflected in the incongruency of baby changing stations in bathrooms--about half of the time, there will be a baby changing table in the women's room but not in the men's.

The woman grows the baby and births the baby, I get that. And my wife nurses our babies, too. But since when does it become her charge to take care of every aspect of babyhood? I'm bigger and stronger, why wouldn't it make more sense for me to wear the baby than my wife?

What bothers me most is this: These women who gush over an involved father could easily have chosen that quality in a mate. If they find it so attractive that a husband should take care of a baby, why didn't they find that kind of guy attractive in the first place? I'm asking because I want to know.

It comes down to this: parenting (and marriage in general) is not a 50/50 thing; it's a 100/100 thing. Both parents need to give everything they have. It's not a matter of trying to get out of things easily, or pawning responsibilities on others. You give it all that you have. And when you have nothing to give, you trust that your partner's engine is still running. When you can get back on your feet, hop up.

Hidden within those very nice compliments that I get for being a father is the hidden code: our society doesn't expect as much from fathers. Low expectations create low performance. But being a parent isn't about performance, it's about joy. It is a pleasure to be involved with your children, and fathers shouldn't let mothers have all the fun!

Finding Balance

I reoccurring theme in this blog seems to be finding balance in the myriad of pressures a modern dad faces. That balance has been really hard for me lately. When juggling too many balls, the most probably outcome is to drop them all, unfortunately.

I was juggling a lot when the new baby came along. Between work, school, and home, there was a lot going on. Then the new baby comes into the picture, and things get out of focus. She's an easy baby, so far as that expression goes. She sleeps a lot, hardly cries, is easy to console, and a pure joy to hold and look upon. But saying "easy baby" is a relative term; nothing that consumes your every moment and thought is ever easy.

So how does a dad deal with all of this? Well, first of all, he appears to stop posting to his blog. Second, I have really had trouble making time to promote my book.

For about a year, this blog has been a very important project of mine. And, on and off, my fiction writing blog has been important. Writing my own books is another facet of my world that has been dormant. But the biggest problem has been my ability to sit down and work on my school work.

I've seen it a thousand times, as a professor. Students get a busy and the first thing to drop off is their school work. If they get a job promotion, or get more hours, they stop coming to class. After all, when push comes to shove, and you get too busy and tired, most students see the schooling as the lesser important task. And lots of jobs claim to support going to school, but in action things can be very different.

My school, however, boils down to one assignment. I am working on the last school assignment I will ever have to complete. And I haven't been able to touch it for four weeks.

It's a dissertation. And it's about a subject that I care a lot about. And I find it very engaging to complete a large project like this.

And yet.

At the end of the day, I have had trouble bringing myself to sit down and work. I have fallen into the trap that I have criticized more students for than anything else: treating an education like a chore.

So how does one do this? The family cannot take a back seat. Work cannot be neglected. I am in a place where I must ask more of myself than I feel like I can. But it's just for a few more weeks.

We all find ourselves here once in a while. Priorities must be kept in order, but we cannot neglect ourselves, either. I always say to people who wish for more hours in a day that they just need to use more of the hours the day has. That's what I will be saying to myself for the next week or so.

Still. It would be easier if there were two of me.