Fatherhood

The strength of a small town was hammered home yesterday. I just spent the day away from my wife and son, helping out at a golf-scramble in memory of a tremendous young man that I worked with. His loss was a terrible accident. He came into my life for a short time, but was a part of this community. There were people in pain, but coming together to help each other come to grips with what has happened and make it into something positive ... there was so much raised for his fiance and son-to-be ... and it wasn't about the money; at the core, this was about helping each other. I spent a few hours talking to his grandfather ... every topic under the sun.  The biggest thing that ran through the conversations was the value in living in a small town ... a tight-knit community. As I sat thinking about all this last night, I realized that these are the same values that I was raised with as a "military brat." My parents were from this same type of town and had instilled th...

Patrick woke crying in his crib. Since Jen is on a quarter break, she got up and tried to get him back to sleep. Unfortunately, this was turning out to be one of those nights where something is wrong ... and we have no clue what. She brought him to bed with us ... which usually works. Not tonight. I rolled over to the cries of my son. I suggested medication; Jen agreed and went to get them. That is when Patrick got livid. Something was wrong ... and now, it was worse; Mama was gone. As he leaned her direction ... arms out, I carried him down the stairs looking for Mama. When we reached the kitchen, Jen and I swapped Patrick for the medication ... I think Jen got the better deal. We quickly got the medication into him ... Patrick then leaned forward for his step-stool ... yes, I know ... kind of unusual. Once on the step stool, he was reaching for the fridge. I placed the magnetic teddy bear near him. Patrick gave me an odd look and pushed it toward the bottom of the...

Last night was a long night ... Patrick is either sick or having a reaction to something. He has a temperature, is in obvious pain, and has a good rash covering most of his body. We have opted to wait and call his doctor ... rather than a hospital run. They will not do any more than we are with medication for the pain and temperature. But, that is not what I am writing about this morning. What I want to touch on is ... Happiness. Children know something about happiness ... the younger they are the more they show a true understanding of happiness. They are often happy for no reason ... their eyes are open and Mama and Papa are there. I think, in there is something to remember ... sometimes, we need to be happy for no reason. I keep thinking about how easy it is to take the reason that someone is happy. This all came about, not because of Patrick's issues last night, but because of a few blissful minutes when I got back to the bedroom to find my wife and son asleep on t...

Jennifer and I woke about twenty minutes ago to Patrick crying ... nothing unusual. I asked her to get him since I have to start getting ready for work in about three hours (yes, I have to work on a Saturday). Where things became unusual was the loud, sustained crash, and Patrick's cries rising to a hefty scream. Being the concerned parent that I am ... with visions of his changing table collapsed on top of him, I rushed to their aid. "What was that?" I cried. Jennifer, weakly replied, "I fell down the stairs." With Patrick screaming at the top of his lungs, I think I actually asked her to repeat what she said. I found my wife sitting, with her legs out and my son in her arms, at the bottom of the stairs. Asking if she and Patrick were OK was mixed into confused questioning about what happened. Somehow, her feet went out from under her (we suspect a couple of the leaves that Patrick likes to play with were on the steps). While my real concern was i...

Tonight was the second night of our "indoor tears" issue. Last night, not long after I got home, Patrick started to cry ... these were tears of pain, rubbing his eyes pretty hard. Since it was a Papa night (all he wanted was me), I propped him over my shoulder and started bouncing him. He settled in, as if sleep was all he wanted. Mind you, he was still crying and rubbing the eyes. Then, he rolled horizontal, letting my hold him in my arms ... still rubbing eyes and crying. This went on for about thirty minutes. I tried having Jen take him, but we had the same symptoms, but now he wanted me again. I settled in for a long night and started walking him around the house. The pain was pretty obvious so we got medication into him ... Another thirty minutes went by when I walked near the back door when he jumped up and stopped crying ... a switch got thrown. We even had a smile. Jen came down since he had stopped crying so abruptly and I started walking toward her. About ...

Patrick, like all little kids loves to play with balls. I remember the first few times with rolled a ball back and forth. His aim was interesting and took several of us to keep up with him. The same process occurred as he learned to throw the ball ... although, we added in throws that went behind him which were not as frequent when he rolled the ball. He loves to have the big rubber balls bounced off his head and chest. The laughter is almost magical. Last night, he found one of Jen's workout balls that weights about 5 pounds. Watching the look of anguish as he lifted it the first time was hilarious. He did manage to throw it about a foot and loved every second of it. Later in the evening, he brought the ball to me and "threw it" into my lap ... again, one of the "pains" that I am learning to deal with as a father.

Tonight, we had an incident ... and, by that I mean blood and screaming incident. Patrick was helping me as usual. I was installing a grounded outlet for the computer and he wanted a screwdriver (yes, the one I had in my hand, not the one off the shelf). I did convince him to take another one and he was so excited he had to show his mother. Then, it happened ... the end of peace in the household; at least for a few hours. The screwdriver fell ... and as most do for someone that small, it fell tip down and hit the big toe on his left foot. He dropped next, screaming. We got water and a wet dish towel which was quickly replaced with paper towels and ice. And, while the screaming persisted (with a visibly upset Mama and Papa), the blood did slow from a small river to a dot that reappeared every few minutes. Mama got the stickiest bandaid she could find and we got it on him ... and as far as I know it's still on. So much for peace in the house tonight ...

Patrick had a good fall last night. He was "running" from me, as only a fifteen month old child can do, when his feet slipped out from under him. He went down quickly and the back of his head slammed into the floor. I picked him up, just after the shock of the fall wore off and the pain kicked in. He cried steady until his head cleared a bit and the tears faded as he asked for "Mama." This got me thinking about the various times he has "bonked" his head. First, I should point out that he must have a very thick skull as there has been no lasting damage. Second, I will only present a few of the more memorable spills. The first I remember actually occurred at daycare. I picked him up that day and there was an Incident Report (I think I've still got it somewhere). Patrick was learning to stand, and apparently tried to use a bookshelf to pull himself up. A simple slip later and he had a vertical egg on his forehead. They tried to apply ice ... that...

We all had a rough night last night.  Apparently, when Patrick has teeth coming in, his rear end gets sore ... I don't know why, but once Jen and I made the correlation, my parents told me that's the way it was with me ... way, way, way back. He's got another tooth coming in ... and, both ends are in pain (getting better now ... rough last night). Trying to get him to sleep was challenging to say the least. I had to pat his lower back firmly while bouncing hard enough to make my calves sore in mere moments ... I wasn't given the option of just bouncing him with my arms (he could tell the difference).  Anything else resulted in screaming. As I finally got him to sleep, I was able to stop the patting and bouncing and sat down to let him get into a deeper sleep.  After about an hour, I put him into the crib ... Then, as Jen and I finally laid down, his little head popped up over the edge of the crib and another scream of pain was let out.  Again, I picked him ...

... About Becoming a Father Now that I've been a father for just over a year, I've noted a few things that I was never told. Many people offered some simple advice to me: You're going to love it; It's a lot of work; and Your life's going to change. Others often threw out a mere "you'll see" with a smirk. That smirk seems to be a secret handshake among parents, in which they are sworn not to reveal all the things they didn't tell me. Changing diapers can often be a near-death experience. If the sight of doesn't drop you to your knees, then the smell will. Packaging and disposing of the diaper often poses an added problem ... with a kicking and screaming child in the mix. The devices designed to reduce odors have attempted to take off my untrained hand, several times. I would also recommend a full-body biohazard suit for this hazardous duty. A small child will hurt you. Sometimes badly. He doesn't mean too, but he can. The u...