Given that Christmas is now less than a week away, I wanted to use this post to wish everyone a joyous season. However, the phrase "Happy Holidays" just seems too general. No, in an effort to be more personable and yet remain politically correct (because we all know how horrible it would be if one failed to be politically correct), I just want to take a moment to wish all of you the best holiday season ever in the language that means most to you. So, here we go:
Merry Christmas!
Happy Hanukkah!
Rockin' Kwanzaa!
Blessed Eat a Red Apple Day (No kidding, it was December 1)
Joyous Ira Gershwin's Birthday (anyone named Ira could really use the encouragement)
Happy Frank Sinatra's Birthday (I plan on celebrating this one My Way)
Glorious Holy Crap You've Maxed Out Our Credit Cards Day
Prosperous I Spent All That Money to Watch My Kid Play with the Box Day
Happy Honey the Teenagers in the Neighborhood Rearranged Our Lighted Reindeer to Make Them Look Like They're Humping Again Day.
A Bearable I Think I'll Have More Vodka So I Can Tolerate My In-laws Day (This one is actually observed over an entire week.)
Joyful Oh Look, Uncle Fred is Burping Jingle Bells after Christmas Dinner as Usual Day
A Memorable Oh Great, My Kid Just Peed in Santa's Lap Day
A Relaxing Don't Put Your Freakin' Packages in Your Car and Make Me Think You're Pulling Out of Your Parking Space Only to Remain Parked and Return to the Mall Day
Festive Atheists Who Don't Believe in Anything But Still Want Someone to Give Them a Present Day
and the Hap-Hap-Happiest New Year you've ever had!
Joyous Holidays, Everyone! I hope it's a wonderful season for you and your family!
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Monday, December 6, 2010
A Different Kind of Christmas
"Daddy, can you help us find Sam?" Sam is the Elf on our shelf that arrives at our house every Thanksgiving and then proceeds to reappear in a different spot every morning through Christmas Eve. Every day, it's the kids' job to try and find where Sam is hiding.
At night, Sam flies back to the North Pole to report to Santa on the kids' behavior and enjoy a beer with his little elf buddies. I'd imagine it's a pretty good gig if you're an elf. At least it's better than being shut up in a workshop 24/7 and forced to crank out toys at a production rate second only to the Chinese.
Still, Sam has to sit still all day. I figure that's gotta be tough. However, I do have my suspicions that Sam doesn't really stay put. I'm pretty sure he gets up and moves around when no one's home. Just the other day, I came home to find that my laptop had been tampered with. Someone had been Googling pictures of Tinkerbell while I was out. I don't have hard evidence, but I'm pretty sure I know who the guilty party might be.
Anyway, Sam's mischief aside, this year looks to be a very special one for the Howard household and a very different kind of Christmas. As I mentioned a few weeks ago in my last post, Meredith and I are adopting twin baby boys from Ethiopia. Our initial trip to Africa was awesome! We stayed in the capital of Ethiopia, Addis Ababa, and had the chance to see much of the countryside as we drove five hours to Hawassa, site of our sons' orphanage. Meredith and I absolutely loved the Ethiopian people. Despite the fact that there is much poverty and most of the people there have 100Xs less than even your poorest Americans, the Ethiopian citizens we encountered seemed happy, full of faith, and very grateful.
Most encouraging, our sons, Samuel and Asher (their Ethiopian names are Abenet and Afework)appeared happy, healthy, and well-cared for by their nannies. When we arrived at the orphanage, we were warmly welcomed, presented with a gift, and honored with a "coffee ceremony." (Ethiopia grows some of the best coffee in the world, and coffee is a part of many Ethiopian ceremonies).
Then, we met our boys. It was an amazing moment. Finally, our sons were no longer merely photos sent to us over the Internet. They weren't simply stories we were told by an adoption agency caseworker or official forms to be signed as part of an administrative process. At last, they were real. They were little hands to be held, little cheeks to be caressed, little smiles to laugh at the sight of, and little ears in which to whisper the words, "I love you." After thousands of miles and countless prayers, we were holding our boys. We were finally kissing them, tickling them, and making ridiculous goo-goo faces at them. All the while, Samuel and Asher kept looking up at me wide-eyed, as if thinking, "Holy Crap! Dad's white!"
One of the most moving parts was when the director of the orphanage told us Samuel and Asher's story. They had been born in a hut in rural Ethiopia. Their mother, sadly, died giving birth to them. Their father, a very poor man who suddenly found himself facing the prospect of raising his two older children without a mother, could not raise the twins. Distraught by his wife's death, he relied on an uncle to call the orphanage and ask them to take the boys. Born premature and fighting just to stay alive, Samuel and Asher arrived at the orphanage at a mere 4 lbs. each, with umbilical cords still attached. Rushing against time, the orphanage got them to the hospital as quickly as possible. The nannies blew on the babies' faces to keep them awake, lest they fall asleep and never awake.
Samuel and Asher's last name in Ethiopia means "God is with us." The care givers at the orphanage told us that they cried out to God collectively for days, reminding God of the meaning of the babies' name, and calling on Him to be with them. God heard their prayers! Miraculously, Samuel and Asher survived. They are the orphanage's miracle babies--and ours. Surely, God must have something very special planned for these boys.
The only downside of the trip is that we could not yet bring Samuel and Asher home. That privilege is reserved for later this month. Meredith will return to Ethiopia with my father and our seven year old daughter Emerson (a.k.a., Assistant Mommy). There they will appear at the U.S. Embassy to sign paperwork and bring my sons to the United States. I'll stay back with William, Carson, and my mom.
Unfortunately, we'll be apart on Christmas Day. But whenever we're tempted to get a little sad about not being together on Christmas, we remember the reasons. Our kids remember that Mommy is going to Africa to bring home the best Christmas gift ever: their new baby brothers. Meredith and I remember that loving an orphaned child (or children) makes Jesus smile; and what better way to celebrate his birthday than to do the very thing that would make him happiest. And we all remember that the separation is only for a few days. God-willing, we will all be together again by New Year's Eve.
Yes, it's going to be a very different kind of Christmas. But it's going to be the most memorable and blessed one we've ever had too. So please say a prayer for Samuel and Asher. Pray that they will continue to grow healthy and strong. Pray that Meredith and I will have the wisdom and spirituality to raise them the way they deserve. And pray that my new young sons can somehow deal with the fact that, "Holy Crap! Dad's white!"
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Ethiopia, Here We Come!
Hello friends and loyal dadlosophites! I am writing this entry rather quickly from a coffee shop in Washington, D.C. Meredith and I arrived yesterday on the first leg of a long trip. In a few hours we will board a plane for Ethiopia. We have a twenty-hour flight ahead of us as we go to Africa to meet the twin baby boys we are adopting.
If all goes as planned, we will make a seven-hour drive from Addis Ababa, Ethiopia to the orphanage where our sons are living on Tuesday. Then, on Friday, we go before an Ethiopian judge, hopefully to be awarded custody. Unfortunately, we do not bring our boys home right away. Next begins a month-long process of paperwork, during which Meredith and I will return to the states until time to return and pick up our sons in late December.
It's crazy! It's exciting! It can even be challenging. You go through a lot when you're trying to adopt. There's a ton of paperwork, a massive amount of financial expense, and (when adopting from Ethiopia) quite a bit of distance one has to travel to bring home their child/children.
"So why do it, Kindred," you may ask. "You and Meredith already have three beautiful kids. You have a great family. You're happy. Why spend all that money? Why put up with all the administrative headaches associated with gathering paperwork, passports, tax records, and so on? And, for goodness sakes, why get all those shots to protect you from diseases you usually only hear about on National Geographic or the Discovery Channel? Most of all, why risk it? Aren't you worried that you might mess up the kids you've got? Don't you think you should devote your full attention to them and that this will only take away from all you and your wife should be doing to ensure they have a fulfilling childhood? Shouldn't all that money you're spending on an adoption go towards Emerson, William, and Carson's futures? And what about possible issues? What if these kids you're adopting have inherited diseases, mental problems, don't adjust well, and so on? C'mon, man; what are you thinking?"
Well, I'm sure I'll get deeper into our reasoning in the weeks to come as I get to know my new sons and have more time to write (fighting the clock a bit today). But here's some short answers.
1)Why do it? -- It's right. God is described in Psalm 68 as a "Father to the fatherless." Jesus tells us in Matthew 25 that "as we do unto the least of these, so you do unto me." The Bible repeatedly tells us to remember the orphans and widows. And, let us not forget, of all God's kids, only one is begotten. The rest? All adopted if you believe the Bible. Oh, and any distance we're having to travel or trouble we're encountering is a lot shorter and easier than the distance Jesus had to travel to reach and save us so that we could be part of his family.
For me, the answer to "Why do it" goes back to the fact that I'm a Christian. I claim to be a disciple of Jesus Christ. 'Nuff said. Of course, many Christians say that they "don't feel called to adopt." Hey, it ain't my place to judge; especially since many of these people exhibit Christ-like qualities that far outshine my sinful example. But I will say this: The math doesn't seem to add up. God calls all Christians to remember the orphans, but most Christians don't feel called to give an orphaned child a home. Something to ponder, eh?
2) Why Spend the Money? -- Trust me, I've asked this one more than a few times. But the truth is, I believe this is why God gives me money. God hasn't blessed Meredith and I so that we can read monthly statements showing a growing IRA or other retirement account (although I do believe in saving). No, he has blessed us so that we can put the money towards His purpose. "A Father to the fatherless." I think God wants us using our resources to adopt these orphaned boys, not planning our dream home or the trips we'll take one day when we retire (although it will sure be cool if we get to enjoy those things too.)
3) What About the Kids We Already Have? -- What about them? They're excited about 2 new brothers from Africa. And you know what I've seen? They are more selfless and more conscious of God and what it means to care about and love others since we started talking about the adoptions. Yep, lots of money saved for college is nice (and is still a goal of mine). But I'd rather my kids value the lives of these two Ethiopian boys and see parents who live out their convictions, not just talk about how much they admire other people who do.
4) What About Health and Other Issues? -- What? Our twin sons don't need a mom and dad if they have health issues? In fact, wouldn't they need the love and support of a family even more if they have health concerns. And, if they are going to have health issues, how much more does God expect Meredith and I to be there for these kids. As for issues, the fact of the matter is this: We all have issues! Heck, I hope the twins do have issues. If they don't have issues they won't fit in with our family. In fact, don't give us kids with no issues--we'll only mess 'em up.
There's tons more I want to, and eventually will, say. But for now, so long. We're off to Africa. I'll shoot out my next post when I return (probably just before Thanksgiving) and give you an update. Take care and, if you're a prayer warrior, say one for us. We'd really appreciate it. In the meantime, look for ways to remember the orphans and widows (and sick, and poor, and hurting...) Don't forget, your adoptive Father is watching.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Parenting Style? More Like Parenting Philosophy
This week's dadlosophy is a bit different. Rather than sitting at my own kitchen table, in my office, or at the local coffee shop, I'm sitting in a room full of fellow bloggers at Atlanta's WXIA television studio. No, I haven't been called here to be interviewed on live television (hard to believe they would miss such an opportunity, I know). Nope, I've been invited to participate in a blog off.
What is a blog off? Well, it basically involves a bunch of mommy and daddy bloggers sitting around and blogging about our parental lives. After an hour and a half, judges will come around, read our blogs, and judge us. What happens if our blog falls flat? Personally, I think the losers should have to take the winners' kids for a week. Now that's a blog off!
We've been given several topics we can choose from. Topic one, My Scariest Moment as a parent. That's kind of like blogging about my goofiest moment as a teenager. Too many to choose from--next topic.
Next, How My Child Surprised Me. Again, hard to narrow down. Throw in the fact that many of those "surprising moments" nearly resulted in my needing therapy, caused me to have a life-threatening rise in blood pressure, or cost me enough money to bring tears to my eyes, and I'm pretty certain that I don't care to relive any of them again for fear that it may lead to the need for some really expensive medications. Pass.
The topic I've chosen is HOW I FIRST REALIZED MY PARENTING STYLE. Hmmm... interesting question. First of all, what is a parenting style? I'm not totally sure. Haven't really thought about it before. I would describe what I have as more of a parenting philosophy. I realized pretty early on that it is important to be my kids' dad, not their buddy. Don't get me wrong, I love hanging out with my kids and having fun together. I get a kick out of playing games, wrestling on the living room floor, throwing the ball in the backyard, and doing silly dances with my daughter to whatever is playing on the kitchen radio. But, at the end of the day, what my kids need most from me is leadership, not another pal.
I can't necessarily think of one moment at which I came face-to-face with this realization. Rather, it's more like a series of moments that continue to occur. Take, for instance, the other night. The kids and I had just finished dinner and were engaged in one of our fairly common post-meal wrestling smack downs. They were winning, but they also cheat. They call for Mommy every time Daddy starts to win. Anyway, they were laughing and thoroughly enjoying themselves when my supervisor (a.k.a., Mommy) walked in and announced, "Okay everyone, time for bed." Noticing that the kids didn't seem to notice, Meredith gave it another go. "Did you guys hear me? I said the wrestling match is over, time for baths and bed." This time, my kiddos jumped up and proceeded running around the house, thinking that it would be funny to tease mommy.
It's at moments like these that a parent has to ask him or herself a question: What do my kids need me to be right now? The answer (as I see it)is AUTHORITY FIGURE. Not that my wife wasn't more than capable of corralling this rowdy herd of little Howards, but since I was the one who'd gotten them so wound up, I felt that I needed to be the one to reel 'em back in. I stood up and, in a calm but firm voice, called my kids. Realizing Dad meant business, Emerson, William, and Carson, stopped their running and, still smiling, made their way into the living room. Were they scared of me? No. Did they know Daddy was serious? Yes. They could tell that Daddy had just flipped the switch. I had transitioned out of "let's have fun" mode into "Authoritative Leader" mode. After apologizing to Mommy, my kids went upstairs.
That's a good illustration of my parenting style/philosophy. In a word, it's leadership. More specifically, CONFIDENT LEADERSHIP. I believe kids need parents to be comfortable in their role as an authority figure. Sadly, many parents today don't feel confident. They feel that they are doing something wrong or destructive by being in charge. But kids need direction. They need firmness. They need discipline (which entails a lot more than punishment). And, yes, they need Mom and Dad to decide for them what is best--at least when they're as young as my kids.
Be confident leaders Moms and Dads. Be comfortable being in charge. Believe it or not, your kids want you to clearly define the boundaries. They don't need an adult buddy, and you shouldn't over concern yourself with whether or not your kids always like you. Nope, in fact, being a good parent often means loving your kids enough to let them NOT like you for a while. The coolest part is that, if you do fulfill your authoritative role, you'll probably find that your kids are so secure and happy that you're all having more than enough fun to go around. And that's a pretty good prize too, even if some blogger won't take your kids for a week.
What is a blog off? Well, it basically involves a bunch of mommy and daddy bloggers sitting around and blogging about our parental lives. After an hour and a half, judges will come around, read our blogs, and judge us. What happens if our blog falls flat? Personally, I think the losers should have to take the winners' kids for a week. Now that's a blog off!
We've been given several topics we can choose from. Topic one, My Scariest Moment as a parent. That's kind of like blogging about my goofiest moment as a teenager. Too many to choose from--next topic.
Next, How My Child Surprised Me. Again, hard to narrow down. Throw in the fact that many of those "surprising moments" nearly resulted in my needing therapy, caused me to have a life-threatening rise in blood pressure, or cost me enough money to bring tears to my eyes, and I'm pretty certain that I don't care to relive any of them again for fear that it may lead to the need for some really expensive medications. Pass.
The topic I've chosen is HOW I FIRST REALIZED MY PARENTING STYLE. Hmmm... interesting question. First of all, what is a parenting style? I'm not totally sure. Haven't really thought about it before. I would describe what I have as more of a parenting philosophy. I realized pretty early on that it is important to be my kids' dad, not their buddy. Don't get me wrong, I love hanging out with my kids and having fun together. I get a kick out of playing games, wrestling on the living room floor, throwing the ball in the backyard, and doing silly dances with my daughter to whatever is playing on the kitchen radio. But, at the end of the day, what my kids need most from me is leadership, not another pal.
I can't necessarily think of one moment at which I came face-to-face with this realization. Rather, it's more like a series of moments that continue to occur. Take, for instance, the other night. The kids and I had just finished dinner and were engaged in one of our fairly common post-meal wrestling smack downs. They were winning, but they also cheat. They call for Mommy every time Daddy starts to win. Anyway, they were laughing and thoroughly enjoying themselves when my supervisor (a.k.a., Mommy) walked in and announced, "Okay everyone, time for bed." Noticing that the kids didn't seem to notice, Meredith gave it another go. "Did you guys hear me? I said the wrestling match is over, time for baths and bed." This time, my kiddos jumped up and proceeded running around the house, thinking that it would be funny to tease mommy.
It's at moments like these that a parent has to ask him or herself a question: What do my kids need me to be right now? The answer (as I see it)is AUTHORITY FIGURE. Not that my wife wasn't more than capable of corralling this rowdy herd of little Howards, but since I was the one who'd gotten them so wound up, I felt that I needed to be the one to reel 'em back in. I stood up and, in a calm but firm voice, called my kids. Realizing Dad meant business, Emerson, William, and Carson, stopped their running and, still smiling, made their way into the living room. Were they scared of me? No. Did they know Daddy was serious? Yes. They could tell that Daddy had just flipped the switch. I had transitioned out of "let's have fun" mode into "Authoritative Leader" mode. After apologizing to Mommy, my kids went upstairs.
That's a good illustration of my parenting style/philosophy. In a word, it's leadership. More specifically, CONFIDENT LEADERSHIP. I believe kids need parents to be comfortable in their role as an authority figure. Sadly, many parents today don't feel confident. They feel that they are doing something wrong or destructive by being in charge. But kids need direction. They need firmness. They need discipline (which entails a lot more than punishment). And, yes, they need Mom and Dad to decide for them what is best--at least when they're as young as my kids.
Be confident leaders Moms and Dads. Be comfortable being in charge. Believe it or not, your kids want you to clearly define the boundaries. They don't need an adult buddy, and you shouldn't over concern yourself with whether or not your kids always like you. Nope, in fact, being a good parent often means loving your kids enough to let them NOT like you for a while. The coolest part is that, if you do fulfill your authoritative role, you'll probably find that your kids are so secure and happy that you're all having more than enough fun to go around. And that's a pretty good prize too, even if some blogger won't take your kids for a week.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Your Child's Greatest Need
Last Friday, I arrived home after a long day at a seminar in Atlanta. I'd left early in the morning, before my wife and kids were up, and returned roughly around dinner time. As I pulled into the drive, my children rushed to the car to meet me. They were excited to see Dad and immediately started bombarding me with information. I was glad to see my kids. I gave them all hugs and listened with "fascination" as William described how he'd skateboarded down the sidewalk without falling and Emerson shared about the sleepover she'd been invited to that weekend.
As my little paparazzi followed me, begging for my attention and expecting me to stop, I slowly kept moving as I said things like, "Really?... That's wonderful, Buddy..." and, "Sounds awesome, Emerson..."
Entering the house, I found my wife, Meredith, cooking dinner. She was wearing a sweatshirt and pajama pants. Her hair was pulled back in her customary "mommy pony tail." It was obvious from her appearance that she'd been tending to household responsibilities and kids all day. In other words, she looked beautiful as always.
It's then that I did the most important thing any father can do when he gets home at the end of the day. I turned to my children (whom I dearly love) and said, "Guys, I want all of you to go outside and play while Daddy and Mommy talk for ten minutes." That's right; I sent my children away so that I could have a few moments alone with my wife.
Why? What deep thing did I need to discuss with Meredith? What important issue demanded that we talk right away without the kids around? Absolutely nothing. The fact of the matter was, I just wanted to see my wife and have some time alone with her. I hadn't seen her all day, and I wanted to find out how she was doing.
Often, when I write 'Dadlosophies,' I make reference to how important it is that we spend time with our kids and not let the concerns of life crowd out what's most important--our families. I especially think that this is valuable advice for dads, who are often busy pursuing careers and have a tendency to define themselves by what they do for a living. We're usually the ones who can most easily make the mistake of defining what it means to provide for our families in material rather than spiritual, emotional, and developmental terms.
But even parents devoted to spending time with their children can fall into a dangerous and potentially destructive pattern (destructive for the marriage and the kids, themselves). If not careful, our homes can become kid-centric rather than marriage-centric. One of the dangerous trends I often see developing in families is when our households all-to-easily end up revolving around the children instead of the marriage. Before we know it, we parents wake up and realize we've become mommy and daddy first and husband and wife second. Mom's life is more about caring for the kids than being what her husband needs. Dad comes home and immediately engages the children rather than first making sure his wife is okay and connecting with her.
Here's the deal: Your child's greatest need (outside of a relationship with God) is a strong, loving marriage between Mommy and Daddy. Nothing--ABSOLUTELY NOTHING--makes a child feel safer and more secure than seeing that Mommy loves Daddy more than anything or anybody, and absolutely no one (not even his own child) holds a candle to Mommy in Daddy's heart. As my new friend and nationally renowned parenting expert, John Rosemond, puts it: "Mommy and Daddy HAVE A RELATIONSHIP with their child, but they are IN A RELATIONSHIP with one another." Translation: I'm my wife's husband first and my kids' dad second. Meredith is my wife first and my kids' mommy second. Our home must revolve around our relationship as husband and wife, not our kids' schooling, extracurricular activities, children's "needs" (which often are just wants), and so on.
Yes, I take time every day to spend with my children. Of course there are times when the kids get and even require our full attention. But Meredith is number one. In fact, it's no contest. When Meredith is talking to me, the kids know that they are not to interrupt. When I come home at the end of the day, I want to (and will) see my wife first. I'll take some time to play with my kids, but not until after I get quality time with Mommy. And when there is an issue that involves disobedience or requires discipline, the kids know that Mommy and Daddy stand united. We back each other up and trust each other's judgment. Trying to play us against one another is a crucial and, as my children have learned, potentially fanny-painful error.
Does that mean Meredith and I always agree? No. But we act like we do in front of the kids, then discuss any differences of opinion behind closed doors. In short, the most important relationship in the home is NOT parent-child, it's husband-wife. Our children are NOT the center of the household universe, Mommy and Daddy are.
What about your home? Is it kid-centric or marriage-centric? Does your kids' world revolve around your marriage, or do you and your spouse continually neglect each other because of the kids' activities, the children's "needs," or some unhealthy cultural standard you've bought into that erroneously suggests your worth as a parent is gauged by how much time you devote to your children or how much you've helped them accomplish in comparison to other kids?
If your kids are the center of things, then you're setting them up for failure. What happens when they get out in the real world and are met with the harsh realization that things don't revolve around them? What happens when your child, who is used to being waited on, catered to, or given precedence over everybody and everything gets married one day and is disappointed to learn that his or her spouse falls short of adequately "meeting their needs?" Can you say 'divorce after only a year or two of marriage?'
Nope, best thing you can give your kids is a strong marriage and a sober realization that they aren't the main player. Trust me, they'll be more secure and comfortable in that role, and it will provide them with a good, realistic assessment of themselves. One that will better equip them to interact with others, have strong relationships, and do well in life once all is said and done.
And moms, don't buy the lie that the best mothers pour tons of time and attention into their kids. No, the best moms are the ones who teach their kids to be people of character, to care about others, and to fend for themselves because they'll have to in the real world. This means occasionally REFUSING to do for your children, insisting they solve certain problems on their own, requiring them to do some chores around the house, not being afraid to lead and discipline your kids, and sometimes reminding your precious little angels that they aren't anything special rather than constantly shining a spotlight on every little thing they do as if it were some earth-shattering accomplishment. (A dose of humility will serve kids well, don't you think?)
So parents, show your kids some love. Send them away while you hug each other, kiss each other, compliment each other, and ask each other about your days. Chances are, there's a little kiddo who'll be peeking in, smiling, and feeling happy and secure in the knowledge that Mommy and Daddy love each other more than anyone else in the world--even the kids.
* THIS PAST WEEKEND, I SPENT TIME WITH PARENTING EXPERT, JOHN ROSEMOND. WHILE I HAVE LONG HELD THE CONVICTION THAT THE MOST IMPORTANT RELATIONSHIP IN ANY FAMILY IS THE MARRIAGE AND PUTTING THE KIDS BEFORE A SPOUSE CAN BE EXTREMELY DETRIMENTAL, MUCH OF WHAT JOHN HAD TO SAY SERVED AS A GOOD WAKE UP CALL TO REASSESS HOW I'M DOING IN THIS AREA. I CHOSE TO FOCUS ON THIS SUBJECT THIS WEEK IN LARGE PART TO SOME OF HIS REMINDERS. THANKS, JOHN.
As my little paparazzi followed me, begging for my attention and expecting me to stop, I slowly kept moving as I said things like, "Really?... That's wonderful, Buddy..." and, "Sounds awesome, Emerson..."
Entering the house, I found my wife, Meredith, cooking dinner. She was wearing a sweatshirt and pajama pants. Her hair was pulled back in her customary "mommy pony tail." It was obvious from her appearance that she'd been tending to household responsibilities and kids all day. In other words, she looked beautiful as always.
It's then that I did the most important thing any father can do when he gets home at the end of the day. I turned to my children (whom I dearly love) and said, "Guys, I want all of you to go outside and play while Daddy and Mommy talk for ten minutes." That's right; I sent my children away so that I could have a few moments alone with my wife.
Why? What deep thing did I need to discuss with Meredith? What important issue demanded that we talk right away without the kids around? Absolutely nothing. The fact of the matter was, I just wanted to see my wife and have some time alone with her. I hadn't seen her all day, and I wanted to find out how she was doing.
Often, when I write 'Dadlosophies,' I make reference to how important it is that we spend time with our kids and not let the concerns of life crowd out what's most important--our families. I especially think that this is valuable advice for dads, who are often busy pursuing careers and have a tendency to define themselves by what they do for a living. We're usually the ones who can most easily make the mistake of defining what it means to provide for our families in material rather than spiritual, emotional, and developmental terms.
But even parents devoted to spending time with their children can fall into a dangerous and potentially destructive pattern (destructive for the marriage and the kids, themselves). If not careful, our homes can become kid-centric rather than marriage-centric. One of the dangerous trends I often see developing in families is when our households all-to-easily end up revolving around the children instead of the marriage. Before we know it, we parents wake up and realize we've become mommy and daddy first and husband and wife second. Mom's life is more about caring for the kids than being what her husband needs. Dad comes home and immediately engages the children rather than first making sure his wife is okay and connecting with her.
Here's the deal: Your child's greatest need (outside of a relationship with God) is a strong, loving marriage between Mommy and Daddy. Nothing--ABSOLUTELY NOTHING--makes a child feel safer and more secure than seeing that Mommy loves Daddy more than anything or anybody, and absolutely no one (not even his own child) holds a candle to Mommy in Daddy's heart. As my new friend and nationally renowned parenting expert, John Rosemond, puts it: "Mommy and Daddy HAVE A RELATIONSHIP with their child, but they are IN A RELATIONSHIP with one another." Translation: I'm my wife's husband first and my kids' dad second. Meredith is my wife first and my kids' mommy second. Our home must revolve around our relationship as husband and wife, not our kids' schooling, extracurricular activities, children's "needs" (which often are just wants), and so on.
Yes, I take time every day to spend with my children. Of course there are times when the kids get and even require our full attention. But Meredith is number one. In fact, it's no contest. When Meredith is talking to me, the kids know that they are not to interrupt. When I come home at the end of the day, I want to (and will) see my wife first. I'll take some time to play with my kids, but not until after I get quality time with Mommy. And when there is an issue that involves disobedience or requires discipline, the kids know that Mommy and Daddy stand united. We back each other up and trust each other's judgment. Trying to play us against one another is a crucial and, as my children have learned, potentially fanny-painful error.
Does that mean Meredith and I always agree? No. But we act like we do in front of the kids, then discuss any differences of opinion behind closed doors. In short, the most important relationship in the home is NOT parent-child, it's husband-wife. Our children are NOT the center of the household universe, Mommy and Daddy are.
What about your home? Is it kid-centric or marriage-centric? Does your kids' world revolve around your marriage, or do you and your spouse continually neglect each other because of the kids' activities, the children's "needs," or some unhealthy cultural standard you've bought into that erroneously suggests your worth as a parent is gauged by how much time you devote to your children or how much you've helped them accomplish in comparison to other kids?
If your kids are the center of things, then you're setting them up for failure. What happens when they get out in the real world and are met with the harsh realization that things don't revolve around them? What happens when your child, who is used to being waited on, catered to, or given precedence over everybody and everything gets married one day and is disappointed to learn that his or her spouse falls short of adequately "meeting their needs?" Can you say 'divorce after only a year or two of marriage?'
Nope, best thing you can give your kids is a strong marriage and a sober realization that they aren't the main player. Trust me, they'll be more secure and comfortable in that role, and it will provide them with a good, realistic assessment of themselves. One that will better equip them to interact with others, have strong relationships, and do well in life once all is said and done.
And moms, don't buy the lie that the best mothers pour tons of time and attention into their kids. No, the best moms are the ones who teach their kids to be people of character, to care about others, and to fend for themselves because they'll have to in the real world. This means occasionally REFUSING to do for your children, insisting they solve certain problems on their own, requiring them to do some chores around the house, not being afraid to lead and discipline your kids, and sometimes reminding your precious little angels that they aren't anything special rather than constantly shining a spotlight on every little thing they do as if it were some earth-shattering accomplishment. (A dose of humility will serve kids well, don't you think?)
So parents, show your kids some love. Send them away while you hug each other, kiss each other, compliment each other, and ask each other about your days. Chances are, there's a little kiddo who'll be peeking in, smiling, and feeling happy and secure in the knowledge that Mommy and Daddy love each other more than anyone else in the world--even the kids.
* THIS PAST WEEKEND, I SPENT TIME WITH PARENTING EXPERT, JOHN ROSEMOND. WHILE I HAVE LONG HELD THE CONVICTION THAT THE MOST IMPORTANT RELATIONSHIP IN ANY FAMILY IS THE MARRIAGE AND PUTTING THE KIDS BEFORE A SPOUSE CAN BE EXTREMELY DETRIMENTAL, MUCH OF WHAT JOHN HAD TO SAY SERVED AS A GOOD WAKE UP CALL TO REASSESS HOW I'M DOING IN THIS AREA. I CHOSE TO FOCUS ON THIS SUBJECT THIS WEEK IN LARGE PART TO SOME OF HIS REMINDERS. THANKS, JOHN.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Life's Hectic--Take a Break
Life's hectic. There's work, life's daily odds and ends, marriage, and--if you are as blessed as Meredith and I--the parental bliss of children all requiring an adult's time and energy.
As a freelance writer, I'm constantly either engrossed in a project or immersed in the pursuit of the next available job. I don't have the security that comes with knowing an employer is depositing a paycheck every 2 weeks. Nope, I don't make any money until jobs are done. Oh, and did I mention that there are no jobs unless I go out and round 'em up? Given that my family has grown accustomed to eating, living in a house, and using electricity pretty much every day, you can imagine how much work and the pursuit thereof can--if left unchecked--totally dominate my schedule.
In addition, Meredith and I just learned last week that we have officially been approved to adopt twin boys from Ethiopia. They're 4 1/2 months old and handsome little guys (nice to know they'll fit right in). But with all the joy and excitement that comes with knowing our family is about to expand, there also comes additional worries about finances, the future, and how to be a dad to five children. At times, I'm tempted to feel overwhelmed. One minute I'm looking at my new sons' pictures and thinking, "This is SO cool!" The next I'm sitting on the corner of the bed, rubbing my temples and trying desperately to go to my "happy place."
Just the other day I experienced such an anxious moment. I was working from home, running late on a deadline and thinking about the huge check I was about to write for our adoptions. The instability of our finances and the uncertainty of our future combined with the demands of work almost left me paralyzed. "What's the use?" I thought. "I just can't do it all. There's no way."
That's when my 3-year-old, Carson, came wandering into the kitchen where I was busy writing. Holding a half-eaten yogurt tube, he shuffled over to the table, totally oblivious to the fact that Daddy was working and had a few things on his mind.
"Daddy," he said, "will you swing me?"
At first I didn't answer, my mind was too busy dividing its time between focusing on the project at hand and worrying about where all life's twists and turns might be taking me.
"Daddy, will you swing me?"
"Huh, what's that, Buddy?"
"I asked you if you will swing me?"
Feeling a bit frustrated by the interruption, I looked up from my laptop, removed my glasses, and was about to politely inform my son that Daddy was very busy and that I might have time to push him on the swing later. Only, when I glanced down to see my little man looking up at me with a ring of yogurt around his lips, something in me clicked. Despite all the work to be done and worries I could choose to dwell on, I knew in that instant that the absolute best thing I could do was get up from the table, give my son a hug, wipe the yogurt from his grinning mouth, and take fifteen minutes to push him on the swing.
And that's what I did. I made the work and worries wait. It was a beautiful day outside. The sun was shining and the early fall breeze was blowing just enough to cause a few of the leaves above us to drift down from the multi-colored tree tops. My two older children were in school, so there was no one else there. It was just me and Carson.
With every "Higher, Daddy," that came from Caron's mouth, I pushed a little harder. I thoroughly enjoyed the morning with my son. We talked about all kinds of things. I tried to explain as best I could why birds fly, why dogs bark, and how come Mommy won't let Daddy talk whenever The Bachelor is on. Conversely, Carson explained to me why Iron Man is so cool, why he wants to be Lightning McQueen when he grows up, and why he thinks it should be socially acceptable to pee in one's pants if one is engaged in a fun activity and doesn't want to stop to use the bathroom.
After the swinging was over, I still had (or, should I say, made) a few minutes to spare. Carson and I walked around the yard, looking at leaves and bugs, kicking the soccer ball, and talking a bit more. All my attention was on my son. It was awesome taking a few moments to listen to what was on his little mind, talk to him about the simplest of things, and just connect with my little buddy.
When the fifteen minutes was over, we went inside. Carson gleefully returned to what he'd been doing, and I went back to my work. But my attitude was totally different. Instead of feeling stressed or anxious, I felt at peace and happy. The moments with my son reminded me that my life is going just fine. I'm married to the woman I love the most in the world. My children love me and are happy and healthy. And Meredith and I are about to fulfill our years-long dream to adopt. Sure there are some unknowns. Aren't there always? But, overall, my life is pretty awesome. Truth is, most of the time when I get anxious it isn't because of any actual problem. Rather, it's because I'm not trusting God enough to take care of me and my family--even though He's never failed to do so. (Go figure.)
I share this simple account simply to make this point: Life will always be hectic. You have to MAKE YOURSELF TAKE A BREAK! Slow down and spend some simple but meaningful time with your kids in the backyard. We run ourselves nuts, bouncing from job to home and to activity, after activity, after activity. Why? Because we're concerned about the future? Because that's the way our culture tells us parenthood is supposed to be done?
Yes, we need to be responsible, work hard, and do our best to provide for our kids' futures. But what about today? If we're waiting for the schedule to let up so that we can play with our kids or talk about why Iron Man is cool, then guess what--you're going to be waiting a long time. Maybe too long. Maybe so long that, by the time you decide you're ready to take a break and push your kid on the swing, you'll turn around to find that he or she has already grabbed the car keys and is out the door.
Slow it on down, guys. There's likely a little boy or girl looking up at you and saying, "Daddy, will you swing me?" He or she might not be saying those exact words. In fact, he or she may not even be asking the question audibly. Maybe they're asking it with their eyes. Maybe they're asking it with that picture they drew for you at preschool. Maybe they're asking it as they kick a football or play in the sandbox all by themselves, hoping Daddy will emerge for even just a few minutes to throw them a touchdown pass or assist them in building the world's greatest sand castle.
Yes, I've got a lot to do. I've got responsibilities that require me to work and market my business. I've got bills that need to be paid and financial concerns that sometimes weigh on me. But I've learned that I will always have responsibilities and things to be concerned about. I owe it to my kids--and myself--to put them aside for a few minutes every day so that I can play a quick game of baseball, push someone on the swing, or marvel at a trick one of my kids has been practicing just so they can show Daddy. If we're not careful, we parents might get so distracted by the fact that life is hectic, that we forget to enjoy the fact that life's pretty good too.
As a freelance writer, I'm constantly either engrossed in a project or immersed in the pursuit of the next available job. I don't have the security that comes with knowing an employer is depositing a paycheck every 2 weeks. Nope, I don't make any money until jobs are done. Oh, and did I mention that there are no jobs unless I go out and round 'em up? Given that my family has grown accustomed to eating, living in a house, and using electricity pretty much every day, you can imagine how much work and the pursuit thereof can--if left unchecked--totally dominate my schedule.
In addition, Meredith and I just learned last week that we have officially been approved to adopt twin boys from Ethiopia. They're 4 1/2 months old and handsome little guys (nice to know they'll fit right in). But with all the joy and excitement that comes with knowing our family is about to expand, there also comes additional worries about finances, the future, and how to be a dad to five children. At times, I'm tempted to feel overwhelmed. One minute I'm looking at my new sons' pictures and thinking, "This is SO cool!" The next I'm sitting on the corner of the bed, rubbing my temples and trying desperately to go to my "happy place."
Just the other day I experienced such an anxious moment. I was working from home, running late on a deadline and thinking about the huge check I was about to write for our adoptions. The instability of our finances and the uncertainty of our future combined with the demands of work almost left me paralyzed. "What's the use?" I thought. "I just can't do it all. There's no way."
That's when my 3-year-old, Carson, came wandering into the kitchen where I was busy writing. Holding a half-eaten yogurt tube, he shuffled over to the table, totally oblivious to the fact that Daddy was working and had a few things on his mind.
"Daddy," he said, "will you swing me?"
At first I didn't answer, my mind was too busy dividing its time between focusing on the project at hand and worrying about where all life's twists and turns might be taking me.
"Daddy, will you swing me?"
"Huh, what's that, Buddy?"
"I asked you if you will swing me?"
Feeling a bit frustrated by the interruption, I looked up from my laptop, removed my glasses, and was about to politely inform my son that Daddy was very busy and that I might have time to push him on the swing later. Only, when I glanced down to see my little man looking up at me with a ring of yogurt around his lips, something in me clicked. Despite all the work to be done and worries I could choose to dwell on, I knew in that instant that the absolute best thing I could do was get up from the table, give my son a hug, wipe the yogurt from his grinning mouth, and take fifteen minutes to push him on the swing.
And that's what I did. I made the work and worries wait. It was a beautiful day outside. The sun was shining and the early fall breeze was blowing just enough to cause a few of the leaves above us to drift down from the multi-colored tree tops. My two older children were in school, so there was no one else there. It was just me and Carson.
With every "Higher, Daddy," that came from Caron's mouth, I pushed a little harder. I thoroughly enjoyed the morning with my son. We talked about all kinds of things. I tried to explain as best I could why birds fly, why dogs bark, and how come Mommy won't let Daddy talk whenever The Bachelor is on. Conversely, Carson explained to me why Iron Man is so cool, why he wants to be Lightning McQueen when he grows up, and why he thinks it should be socially acceptable to pee in one's pants if one is engaged in a fun activity and doesn't want to stop to use the bathroom.
After the swinging was over, I still had (or, should I say, made) a few minutes to spare. Carson and I walked around the yard, looking at leaves and bugs, kicking the soccer ball, and talking a bit more. All my attention was on my son. It was awesome taking a few moments to listen to what was on his little mind, talk to him about the simplest of things, and just connect with my little buddy.
When the fifteen minutes was over, we went inside. Carson gleefully returned to what he'd been doing, and I went back to my work. But my attitude was totally different. Instead of feeling stressed or anxious, I felt at peace and happy. The moments with my son reminded me that my life is going just fine. I'm married to the woman I love the most in the world. My children love me and are happy and healthy. And Meredith and I are about to fulfill our years-long dream to adopt. Sure there are some unknowns. Aren't there always? But, overall, my life is pretty awesome. Truth is, most of the time when I get anxious it isn't because of any actual problem. Rather, it's because I'm not trusting God enough to take care of me and my family--even though He's never failed to do so. (Go figure.)
I share this simple account simply to make this point: Life will always be hectic. You have to MAKE YOURSELF TAKE A BREAK! Slow down and spend some simple but meaningful time with your kids in the backyard. We run ourselves nuts, bouncing from job to home and to activity, after activity, after activity. Why? Because we're concerned about the future? Because that's the way our culture tells us parenthood is supposed to be done?
Yes, we need to be responsible, work hard, and do our best to provide for our kids' futures. But what about today? If we're waiting for the schedule to let up so that we can play with our kids or talk about why Iron Man is cool, then guess what--you're going to be waiting a long time. Maybe too long. Maybe so long that, by the time you decide you're ready to take a break and push your kid on the swing, you'll turn around to find that he or she has already grabbed the car keys and is out the door.
Slow it on down, guys. There's likely a little boy or girl looking up at you and saying, "Daddy, will you swing me?" He or she might not be saying those exact words. In fact, he or she may not even be asking the question audibly. Maybe they're asking it with their eyes. Maybe they're asking it with that picture they drew for you at preschool. Maybe they're asking it as they kick a football or play in the sandbox all by themselves, hoping Daddy will emerge for even just a few minutes to throw them a touchdown pass or assist them in building the world's greatest sand castle.
Yes, I've got a lot to do. I've got responsibilities that require me to work and market my business. I've got bills that need to be paid and financial concerns that sometimes weigh on me. But I've learned that I will always have responsibilities and things to be concerned about. I owe it to my kids--and myself--to put them aside for a few minutes every day so that I can play a quick game of baseball, push someone on the swing, or marvel at a trick one of my kids has been practicing just so they can show Daddy. If we're not careful, we parents might get so distracted by the fact that life is hectic, that we forget to enjoy the fact that life's pretty good too.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
The Big V
In a couple of weeks, I'll turn 42 years old. I have a beautiful wife and three awesome kids. Add the fact that Meredith and I are currently in the process of adopting one (possibly two?) children from Ethiopia, and I will soon be the father of four.... possibly five. Yes, I said FIVE!! How can we afford it? Well, for starters we'll just have to draw straws to see who gets to go to college. Blue straw, you go to a state-supported university and pursue a career. Red straw, you learn to wait tables and say things like, "Thank you, please come again."
But seriously, given that our soon to expand family seems to be nearing completion (although with the Howards you never know), I finally had to acknowledge that the time had come for Kindred to take a huge step. Knowing that we would still want to have sex but not wanting to cast our own production of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Meredith and I decided that yours truly should get the Big V--a vasectomy! And so, last Friday morning, I dropped my daughter off at school and set off to the doctor's office to break ties with my little swimmers.
Why a vasectomy? Well, there's a few reasons. First and foremost, a vasectomy is a lot safer and offers a much easier recovery time for a man than other procedures offer for a woman. Plus, my wife has already experienced three miscarriages, carried three children to term, and undergone three C-sections; so any suggestion by me that she be the one to undergo surgery could very well have led to a physical assault and the implanting of a large object up one of my bodily cavities. Thus, I decided to do the considerate (and safer) thing; I agreed to the vasectomy.
Just in case you're wondering, vasectomies aren't fun. In fact, I'd put them right up there with that exhilarating prostate exam your doctor performs every time you go in for a check-up. You know, the one where your physician puts on a latex glove, douses his finger in petroleum jelly, then tells you to bend over and "try not to move." He then proceeds to ask you how your weekend was while going the wrong way up what God definitely intended to be a one way street. All the while you're trying not to sing like Julie Andrews and praying it will soon be over.
Anyway, my appointment started out easy enough. I filled out the normal paperwork, answered the normal questions, flashed my insurance card... all the usual stuff. Then, the doctor came in. He asked me a couple of questions to make sure I understood the permanency of what I was about to do. He then told me to disrobe from the waist down and promised he'd be back soon.
There I was, lying on the table, my little buddies left hanging. I felt like a sentence with dangling participles. Then, without a word, a nurse walked in carrying a tray of surgical instruments. She set down the tray, marched straight to the table, grabbed my special places, and began spraying them with something cold. "Whoa!" I thought,"How about a little conversation first, Honey. At least tell me if you like moonlit nights and walks on the beach." Then, once our 'first date' was over, the nurse told me to wait on the doctor who would be in shortly. (Like I was going anywhere.)
I then proceeded to lie on the table for over thirty minutes waiting on the doctor to arrive. At one point, a tiny Hispanic woman I'd never seen before walked in the room, looked right at my testicles and said, "I here to get cotton balls." She then rambled something off in Spanish while searching the cabinets above me. Looking for her supplies, she seemed totally undaunted by the fact that my little Taco Bells were jingling just a few feet away. Trying to play it cool, I just hummed something while wondering to myself where a guy goes to apply to get his dignity back.
Finally, the doctor arrived. Of course, thanks to modern medicine, I didn't feel any of the cutting. The tugging and squeezing, however, were another story. At one point, I thought the doctor was under the impression that he was rolling dice in Vegas. I kept expecting to hear him yell, "C'mon seven!" at any moment. A couple of times, my toes curled up so tight that they could have broken a drum stick in half.
Still, overall, the procedure went well and only took about ten minutes. No unusual side effects. On the up side, getting the Big V at least afforded me a built in excuse to lie on the couch all day Saturday watching college football. Sure I had to do it with a bag of ice on my balls, but hey, no scenario is perfect.
And so I've crossed over. Meredith and I have closed the door on having biological children. Any future kiddos will arrive via adoption. Yes, it was a big decision and one we didn't make lightly, but it was the right one for us. We've been blessed with beautiful children. But there's a whole world of kids out there who've already been born but are in desperate need of a loving family to claim them, love them, and call them their own. As we prepare for a soon-to-be-taken trip to Ethiopia, we realize that this isn't the end of our new parenting adventures. Nope, it's just a change in course.
But seriously, given that our soon to expand family seems to be nearing completion (although with the Howards you never know), I finally had to acknowledge that the time had come for Kindred to take a huge step. Knowing that we would still want to have sex but not wanting to cast our own production of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Meredith and I decided that yours truly should get the Big V--a vasectomy! And so, last Friday morning, I dropped my daughter off at school and set off to the doctor's office to break ties with my little swimmers.
Why a vasectomy? Well, there's a few reasons. First and foremost, a vasectomy is a lot safer and offers a much easier recovery time for a man than other procedures offer for a woman. Plus, my wife has already experienced three miscarriages, carried three children to term, and undergone three C-sections; so any suggestion by me that she be the one to undergo surgery could very well have led to a physical assault and the implanting of a large object up one of my bodily cavities. Thus, I decided to do the considerate (and safer) thing; I agreed to the vasectomy.
Just in case you're wondering, vasectomies aren't fun. In fact, I'd put them right up there with that exhilarating prostate exam your doctor performs every time you go in for a check-up. You know, the one where your physician puts on a latex glove, douses his finger in petroleum jelly, then tells you to bend over and "try not to move." He then proceeds to ask you how your weekend was while going the wrong way up what God definitely intended to be a one way street. All the while you're trying not to sing like Julie Andrews and praying it will soon be over.
Anyway, my appointment started out easy enough. I filled out the normal paperwork, answered the normal questions, flashed my insurance card... all the usual stuff. Then, the doctor came in. He asked me a couple of questions to make sure I understood the permanency of what I was about to do. He then told me to disrobe from the waist down and promised he'd be back soon.
There I was, lying on the table, my little buddies left hanging. I felt like a sentence with dangling participles. Then, without a word, a nurse walked in carrying a tray of surgical instruments. She set down the tray, marched straight to the table, grabbed my special places, and began spraying them with something cold. "Whoa!" I thought,"How about a little conversation first, Honey. At least tell me if you like moonlit nights and walks on the beach." Then, once our 'first date' was over, the nurse told me to wait on the doctor who would be in shortly. (Like I was going anywhere.)
I then proceeded to lie on the table for over thirty minutes waiting on the doctor to arrive. At one point, a tiny Hispanic woman I'd never seen before walked in the room, looked right at my testicles and said, "I here to get cotton balls." She then rambled something off in Spanish while searching the cabinets above me. Looking for her supplies, she seemed totally undaunted by the fact that my little Taco Bells were jingling just a few feet away. Trying to play it cool, I just hummed something while wondering to myself where a guy goes to apply to get his dignity back.
Finally, the doctor arrived. Of course, thanks to modern medicine, I didn't feel any of the cutting. The tugging and squeezing, however, were another story. At one point, I thought the doctor was under the impression that he was rolling dice in Vegas. I kept expecting to hear him yell, "C'mon seven!" at any moment. A couple of times, my toes curled up so tight that they could have broken a drum stick in half.
Still, overall, the procedure went well and only took about ten minutes. No unusual side effects. On the up side, getting the Big V at least afforded me a built in excuse to lie on the couch all day Saturday watching college football. Sure I had to do it with a bag of ice on my balls, but hey, no scenario is perfect.
And so I've crossed over. Meredith and I have closed the door on having biological children. Any future kiddos will arrive via adoption. Yes, it was a big decision and one we didn't make lightly, but it was the right one for us. We've been blessed with beautiful children. But there's a whole world of kids out there who've already been born but are in desperate need of a loving family to claim them, love them, and call them their own. As we prepare for a soon-to-be-taken trip to Ethiopia, we realize that this isn't the end of our new parenting adventures. Nope, it's just a change in course.
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