iParenting

I am mighty proud to have my Pardy Man guest blog this week!  Josh Pardy is more than just a handsome hubby and devoted daddy...he's also a pretty kick-butt writer.  Check out his last guest-blog here, and enjoy this week's latest lesson in his life...

Sometimes a guy just needs a reminder. And though it may sound and look trite, I can’t tell you how many times that simple alert has saved me…and more importantly, my wife and kids.  Owning a GPS-ed, WiFi-ed, podcasting, text-receiving smart phone is just the best thing ever.  Sure I had to learn to limit myself when I discovered the likes of Angry Birds and Grantland, but the technology that is forevermore in my pocket functions as not just a great time-waster (though it certainly is that), but a powerful tool to help remind me of what’s truly important.

 It all started when I upgraded my phone and discovered a little thing called “proximity reminders”.  It’s actually pretty simple, you add a reminder to your phone, and rather than have it alert you at a certain time, you set the alert for when you get close to a pre-determined place.  As long as you don’t ever check the box next to the reminder, it will alert you (ad infinitum) as you approach your destination, day in, day out.  Ok, so maybe not so simple. 

In my case, I have the reminder “Be A Good Dad/Husband” set to alert me when I arrive at destination: Home.  Unless my phone is dead, it literally never fails.  As I come driving up to our apartment, the GPS senses that I am close to “Home,” and sends me a quick little ping: “Be A Good Dad/Husband.” 

“Be A Good Dad/Husband.”  Gee, certainly easier iReminded than done.  As a man, I take the responsibility of providing for my family very seriously.  I work hard, I get exhausted and elated, I can feel frustrated and sometimes just straight down-in-the-dumps.  And though I would love to say that simply seeing my girls causes all of that tension to just melt away, the fact of the matter is, it doesn’t.  

waiting for daddy

This Dad/Husband needs himself a reminder because he can carry around all of those raw emotions and totally miss the sweet simple joy that seeing his family can bring him after a long day at the office.   

And let me tell you, if I am willing to pay attention to it, this little reminder works!  Even after my most intense or draining days, somehow (God’s grace, most likely) seeing that little ping helps me reframe my mind, marshals energy from an unknown source, and readies me for whatever I may find when I open that door to the house.  

Probably the best part about it is, I set the reminder because I know it’s important.  Therefore, I am communicating my own desires to my own self in a way that won’t drive myself totally crazy.  I have only myself and my silly iPhone 4 to blame if I begin to feel nagged.

In the beginning, it was actually sort of embarrassing.  What kind of freako needs a proximity-based reminder to alert him of the fact that his kids need a hug, his wife needs a kiss, and everyone will need a healthy amount of attention before the night is over?  Well, truly, this freako needs it!  So I would make sure to dismiss the alert from my phones notification screen prior to walking in the door.  The alert would serve its purpose, and I would walk in ready to be the best Dad/Husband ever and no one would be the wiser to my little iParenting life-hack.  

But, one day I forgot to clear the screen.  I came in, threw my iPhone on the coffee table, plopped down and began to hear about my girls’ respective days when wouldn’t you know it, Emily went to hand me my phone and discovered the secret of my success. “Be A Good Dad/Husband” right there on the screen.  I mean really, how do you explain that?

“What’s this?” She asked.  “Oh, uh.  It’s just, like… a little something that I do…”  I stammered back. Then I copped to it and told the whole story.

Thankfully Emily thought it was sweet and not at all freakish.  But, I won’t lie, it was embarrassing! It was then that she affirmed to me that with or without the alert, I was doing a great job as a Dad and Husband.  We had a good laugh about it, but even still, most days I still need that reminder.    

Now I consider my proximity alert something of a merit badge that I will forevermore be pursuing.  It pings, I unashamedly take in its simple, yet profound message, I walk in the door and try to be a good a Dad/Husband.  That is one reminder box that I have never checked, and never will, because the work of a good Dad/Husband is never done. 

Autumn

I love autumn.  It's by far my favorite season, which is sort of funny when you live in Southern California because if you plucked out any old day of the year around here, you probably couldn't tell much difference between a day in March or July or October.  Nevertheless, I detect a *hint* of crispness among the clouds, telling me that it must, indeed, be autumn.

It rained this morning for the first time in I don't know how long.  It was cool and refreshing and just fall-like enough that I busted out the old orange flannel shirt and heated up some hot cider.  While I still have pool toys on my dining room table waiting to be put away for the year (after all, we went swimming only last week!) I am determined to initiate our home fully into autumnal bliss by firing up pumpkin scented candles and crafting various fall activities with my girls.  So far, we've managed to make fall sugar cookies and a rather epic (if I do say so myself) Halloween alphabet that would scare any pre-school teacher into wondering if I was trying to steal her job (well, maybe if that pre-school teacher was a zombie witch monster...I'll admit it's creepy factor even exceeded my own expectations).

"No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace, 

as I have seen in one autumnal face.”

John Donne

Ahhh, fall. What is it about this season that makes all things seem more nostalgic and magical?  Maybe the cooler weather makes me miss the days of my childhood, watching the leaves change, or coming home after school to the smell of a fire burning in the fireplace.  Maybe it's because this season is perfectly nestled between the relaxing nonchalant of summer and the restless chaos of the holidays.  Or maybe it's just the fact that all-things-autumn happen to be wrapped in the cozy warm hues of orange and red and brown, welcoming us into the beginning of the end of yet another year gone by.

"I cannot endure to waste anything as precious as 

autumn sunshine by staying in the house.”

Nathaniel Hawthorne

Something about it makes me happy and weepy all the same.  I sip cider and feel a little more in love.  I put on my boots and get a little kick in my step.  I carve a pumpkin and suddenly I've created a new memory that makes my life resemble a Norman Rockwell painting just a little bit more.  I love it.  And it makes me hug my girls a little closer and snuggle them a little longer with each chilly day that passes.

“Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were 

a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.”

George Eliot

As the evenings get darker earlier and earlier, it feels like time is speeding up.  Maybe that's the real trick to autumn.  As the days end earlier, it feels like time is more and more precious.  The dark, cool evenings remind me that nothing lasts forever, and especially not autumn.  This season is here for merely weeks in California.  There are no trees telling me when the season has come and gone, no pile of leaves to signify the next stage of the calendar.  There's only a wisp of some breeze and few rainy mornings before the hub-bub of Christmas is upon us and this grateful feeling has been whisked away into a frenzy of holiday stress.

 "Thy bounty shines in autumn unconfined, 

and spreads a common feast for all that live.”

James Thomson

But, maybe this year will be different.  Maybe, this year, I can try to keep a little of this autumn bliss in my heart for a while.  Maybe, this year, I can put the iPhone down and stare into my girls' faces and just listen to the rain instead.  Maybe, this year, I can stop worrying about capturing every moment on camera, and just look and be and enjoy the present as it is happening.  Maybe, this year, I can let go of the holidays stress (the presents, the money, the food, the weight, the family, the travel, the work) before it gets hold of me.

“ Swinging on delicate hinges the 

autumn leaf almost off the stem.”

Jack Kerouac

I love autumn.  I wish it would last year-round, but then again, maybe that's what makes it so special.  I can't change the seasons.  I can't stop time.  But, I can focus on who and what I love, on what's really important, and what will serve me best in the long run.  This autumn, I'm trying hard to soak in these short, beautiful days of wonder.  Trying hard to breath more deeply and love more genuinely and speak more thoughtfully.  Trying hard to not try too hard.  Trying hard to be okay with that.  Trying hard to be present and available and as transparent as the orange autumn sun that saturates that smoggy, pink, hazy California horizon.

 Maybe, this year, autumn will last.

Kicking & Screaming

large and in charge
(or so she thinks)

 There are many times in parenthood when I am confronted with how the way I love my child is characterized in the same way that God loves us.  (At least, it should be, right?)  How my love strives to be immeasurable, unconditional, and long-suffering.  How my forgiveness should be without limit, my patience without resentment, and my selflessness without expectation.  (Again, emphasis on the word "should"!)

The unpredictability of parenthood is like living out a daily devotional, a constant barrage of new challenges and opportunities for instant application right at our fingertips if we so choose to follow what we believe instead of simply reacting how our (that is, my) nature gives way to.  Never is this "opportunity" more apparent around here than at nap time.  **sigh**

Matilda (who will turn 3 in less than a month!) is like many of us, and is most happy when she believes she is in charge and running the show.  Usually this belief of hers can be held and sustained harmlessly  simply by walking the fine line of getting away with as much as possible without her sister screaming too loudly or my not noticing if she is pushing the boundaries too far.

Loopy with exhaustion

That is, as long as she plays by the rules and no one gets hurt, I'm fairly flexible on what the day holds for us.  If she wants to go to the park and the weather is nice enough without anything else on the schedule - fair enough, we'll head to the park!  If I'm doing dishes and she wants to help - okay, sure, we'll put your galoshes on and get to it!  If she is eager to paint and the baby is preoccupied eating her snack - why not, let's get out the paint set!  You get it.

Obviously, I know what our schedule holds in case something necessary comes up, but one of the grand luxuries of being a stay-at-home-mom is that I have the flexibility to mostly go with the flow and see how the day pans out hour-to-hour, granted the main chores for the day are eventually accomplished.  This seems to work well enough for us, and Matilda and Daphne both appear reasonably adaptable as long as they adhere to a normal eating and nap schedule.

Matilda still needs a nap.  I know some kids drop their naps by this age, but she is just not there yet.  We've had a few days here or there when she has entirely missed her nap, and it's just not a pretty sight.  Come 4, 5, 6 o'clock or so, she starts to get stars in her eyes, weepy at the least of obstacles, and blabbering like an incoherent bum.  Yesterday was one of these crazy days.  Finally by 6:30 she was loopy as a clown on nitrous oxide.  She was so out of it she was barely making sense:

Matilda:  Mom.  Flowers (points to her flower jammies) And it's a flower and Minnie Mouse.  

Me:  Yes, that's true.

Matilda:  I tell you what's true is Minnie Mouse and flowers.  Minnie likes flowers and big ones and small ones.  

She stares at me with crazy eyes and starts to point.  Her hand gets closer and closer until she is zeroed in on my teeth.  She stares and points at my teeth.

Matilda:  I like these ones.  

Me: Okaaaay, Matilda, time for bed.

You get the picture.  Yikes.  The kid then slept for 13 hours straight, thankfully making up for the nap she had so willfully skipped.  

The thing is, without fail, every day when it comes to going to bed she will always always always start by telling you "I'm not tired".  Maybe I will even believe her the first time she says it.  Maybe I will even extend our activity a bit longer or read her one more story just so I can witness a yawn that clinches the deal that it is, indeed, time for bed.  Nevertheless, yawn or no yawn, the girl will continue to try and convince you "I'm not tired".  This would/could/has gone on for quite a while.  Usually she will adhere enough to our regular routine to make it to bed somewhere after that second, yawn-o-rific "I'm not tired".  

Daphne doesn't look so sure either

But, if that window is missed and the sleepy Matilda starts to escalate into a full-on exhaust-o-monster, then the final time I ask her to get in bed she responds with an utterly pathetic, whining, crying, screaming, kicking, total tantrum fit of "I'MMM NOT TIIIIRRRRRRRED!!!!"  Which is exactly confirming to me the complete opposite of what she is screaming.  Oh man.  The girl has lost it.  Get that child in bed.  Do not pass go.  Do not collect $200 or read a storybook.  Lights out, buddy.  Good night.

It was after one of this oh-so-lovely screaming fits of rage which I wondered to myself about how this might roll out as a daily-devotional-life-application-God-to-me-as-His-child analogy?  Hmm.  It only took about half a second for it to sting me to my core.

How many times am I screaming and yelling in a resistant fit to God about what I think I need better than He does?

I suddenly pictured myself as a squirming, angry toddler, full of mischief and defiance and completely misunderstanding why in the world my life was being tortured in a certain way and when I least expected it.  I found myself frustrated by not knowing the bigger picture, and felt invalidated for my anger and misunderstood for my dramatic reaction.  I felt alone and scared and really tired from the confusion of why my efforts were so fruitless. 

I snapped back to my reality and thought of my sweet Matilda.  Was she defying me because she was stupid or slow or hateful?  No.  She simply just doesn't have all the information or fully understand the information she does have.  In the same regard, while I might not purposefully be choosing sin because I know it is utter defiance against what God wants (that is, many of us don't head towards sin simply to spite what God wants for us), I too often think I know better than God does. 

I don't have the big picture.  I don't have all the information.  I don't have the foreknowledge of how things will make a difference in the future or why/how certain circumstances happen when they do because of a greater need down the road ahead.  I can't possibly fully understand why/how everything happens for a reason, but I can trust a God who does.

Too many times I approach lessons in life like the way I watch TV.  These days, with DVRs everywhere, we get to watch pretty much whatever we want whenever we want to.  Super-convenient and totally in our control.  This is how I want my lessons in life to roll out:  

Okay, God, gonna need some more patience here!  So, um, if we could just fast-forward through this toddler tantrum and get to when she is napping peacefully, that would be real awesome.  Also, could you get that baby to calm down?  Cause I'm gonna need to work on speaking to my husband with more grace and this baby's teething makes me really frustrated.  If we could then rewind and replay that super cute thing Matilda did earlier and pause on whenever I get to sip some coffee, I'd really appreciate it, God, thanks!

Yeah, this doesn't work so well in real life (shocker).  There's no fast-forward or guide to knowing what's happening next.  There's no pause button either.  We don't get to pick and choose what we think we need if we are going to live wholly dependent on a God that we proclaim "knows better" than we do! 

Most of the time, I "know better" than my toddler does.  That's how this parenting thing works, and I've scarily been put in charge of making sure she stays alive and learns how-to's in order to navigate life.  But, in order for this to work well, I need her to trust me and obey me, and believe that even if she is kicking and screaming in anger that somewhere amidst the mayhem she knows I love her enough to let her be confused and frustrated for a time.  

So, there you have it.  You can stop kicking and screaming now.  You can stop the resistance and rest.  The truth is, you were never really in charge after all.  

Who knew a lesson so full of promise and hope could come out of that angry little sleep-monster?  Well, I guess there's just another thing God already knew.  

(Gosh, I have so much to learn.)

   

The Unicorn Effect

2009, pregnant with Matilda

Let's just clarify something right off the bat so there is no confusion about this post:
I'm NOT pregnant.

Okay.  Just had to get that out of the way before people start texting me and posting confusing/excited comments and before I know it my mother is shopping the newborn clearance section at Target before I can tell her there has been some massive misunderstanding.  No, I'm not with child.  I have two daughters only 20 months apart, and that is plenty for my pocketbook, my sanity, and my blood pressure.  For now, anyway.

But, there are plenty of friends around that are walking-wonders-with -bundles-of-joy and ever so occasionally I will glance at their expanding bellies and get a slight dose of awe sinking down into my gut.  It's not exactly the "baby fever" I once experienced prior to having children (you know, that all-consuming, gotta-get-pregnant, totally frenzied, inner overachiever in us that sparks up at the sight of chubby cheeks and little toes...that feeling of something missing in your life that you never even knew you wanted so badly until you couldn't control whether you got it or not...that glorious phase of wanting a little, mini-combo person of you and your spouse who would bring endless hours of joy and entertainment).  No, no...I'm afraid "baby fever" is only really a one-time disease, because once you know what motherhood is truly like, you know better than to symptomize something so insane into such perfect ideals.  I mean, the "baby fever" phase was fun...just like falling in love with my husband was fun before we got married...but, it's just not something you can emotionally or physiologically sustain for an extended amount of time!  Whew.

Awe and wonder

I'm just talking about getting that little inner glimpse into feeling a glimmer of the memory of being pregnant.  I'll just say it - sometimes I miss being pregnant when I see my beautifully, glowing, waddling friends who are growing live humans in their bodies.  I don't look at them and remember the back pain, the nausea, or the sanity-shattering-irritability that drove me nuts for 9+ months.  No, I look at them and think about how my crazy, loud-mouthed, whine-machine children were once part of me, silently and perfectly developing from cells into actual, living, thinking, moving persons.  I remember the wonder, not the work.  And I remember how people would stop and stare and notice me for simply being a vessel of that wonder.

And that's when it struck me - do I actually miss being pregnant?

Or, do I kind of, maybe, sometimes just actually miss being that wonder-carrying-miracle-vessel that people noticed???

As a dear (and currently with-child) friend of mine put it, "When you're pregnant, people stop and stare like you are a magical unicorn".  Bingo.  Not only that, but she and I agreed that people actually go out of their way for you!  You score free stuff, move up spots in line, doors get opened for you, and strangers tilt their heads in sympathy and awe of how lovely you are...all because they, too, remember the wonder and spectacular specialness of it all.

Yes, maybe that's what I miss!?

2011, pregnant with Daphne

It might sound superficial or silly or even selfish...but, the truth is, when that baby pops out of you, you no longer can play the I-am-sorry-I-can't-do-such-n-such-because-I'm-so-pregnant card.  And the but-I-just-had-a-baby card expires shortly after.  Months and months of people caring for you, asking how you are feeling, reaching out to meet your needs and accommodating your every comfort...and then, BAM, done.  You immediately fall back into the shuffle of normal people, regular Joes, and total suckers, having to fend for yourself again.  You've gone from magical unicorn to boring stable mare all in one night.  Shucks, that stinks.

Of course you are so glad to get that baby out of you.  As pleasant and wonderful as pregnancy is, I can still recall the final weeks of utter discomfort taking their toll on my body and life.  Definitely, by the end of the pregnancy the last thing I wanted was to remain that way forever.  But, there is something confusing and shocking about losing that unicorn effect.  Suddenly, you've returned to your normal skin (albeit, forever changed in your heart and soul by parenthood) and people don't look at you as if something surreal and supernatural just happened to you.  But, IT DID!

There are all kinds of novelty shirts out there for pregnant women.  You've seen them/worn them/given them as gifts.  We laugh at how adorable they are with "Baby on Board" and "Here's my Bump" with arrows and hearts and smiley faces branding the bellies.  Those shirts always draw attention and questions and smiles from anyone who takes time to notice them.  But, there's no t-shirts for the new mother!  There's no "High Five Me Because I Just Had A Baby" shirt.  I've never seen a "Wonder Woman = Mother" tank, or a "Not Pregnant, Just Awesome" polo.  Nope.

Hmm.  Maybe us moms could start a new business here?  Just kidding.

This is not to say we shouldn't revel in the wonder that is the pregnant-woman.  On the contrary!  Let's continue the encouraging glances of awe!  Just don't let them stop when the baby is out.  The next time you see a new mom, especially one with a tiny, fresh baby who is possibly unknowingly-sad that doors are no longer being opened for her...open the door for her.  Compliment her.  High five that lady and marvel at her for a second.

I'm not ready to be pregnant again just yet.  I mean, as much as I have a say in these things, I'm fine with waiting and enjoying the two crazilicious girlies that I've got.  Still, I do look forward to being pregnant again someday and walking around like a magical unicorn, partaking in the privileges that only a short-lived sliver of time offers us.  But, I hope, until that time comes again, I can bestow a little bit of wonder-ful-ness to us normal, non-pregnant, types.  We might not be as blatantly, obviously, miraculous as our child-carrying friends...but, we are all carrying rainbows in our pockets.  Memories of miracles, countenance of courage, stomachs of strength, and guts deep down in us that can recall in an instant how we were once growing actual human beings in our very own bodies.

You just don't turn that kind of wonder off when the baby leaves.

High five, mamas.  You remain wonder-ful.