It happened; it finally happened. I finally realized that I am responsible for this tiny human. The last 31 days have been an experience for the ages. The feeeding, changing of clothes and diapers, burping, crying, screaming images are forever implanted in my brain. But this morning, at approximately 1:35am PST, it happened...
I was up changing Benji when I decided to try and feed him. We sat in our glider chair, swaddled and fussy, and I plopped the bottle in his mouth. He didn't want it. I tried to stimulate him a little, to see if he'd cry so I can plop the bottle in his mouth; nothing...
I set the bottle down, held him and proceeded to rock in our chair, hoping that he might fall asleep; he didn't. Then, it happened...
In the sudden Zen tranquility of our nursery, slightly awash with the low glow of our LED night light and the ocean sounds coming from his "Sound Sheep" hanging on his crib, we became father and son. I felt it. I looked down to see if he was falling asleep and what I saw was the complete opposite. Benjamin Lee was awake, alert and aware. His eyes were wide open and they were fixed on me. Usually, they dart around at anything and everything in the room, but not this time.
During this early morning epiphany, we realized that we were in this together; we were in this nursery as one, walking through this life as father and son. I suddenly realized that the most important thing I can do in my life, for my family and my son, will happen within the confines of these four walls in our home. Our experiences, lessons, teachings and failings. He will learn how to swim, how to speak Spanish and to never ask a woman if she's pregnant. He will learn to not fill up on bread, not to feed the seagulls and never to swing at the first pitch. Finally, he will learn not to choose his own nickname, to stop talking after he's made his point, and that he can always do his homework after he's finished playing outside. (not the other way around)
For nine months, Josie formed an incredible bond with Benji in her womb. This bond has only grown stronger as she continues to feed him and take care of him. I finally realized my bond, this morning, at 1:35am PST.
In the end, I leave you with a quote that not only men should live by, but everyone. From Ernest "Papa" Hemingway...
"Always do sober what you said you'd do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut."
It is what it is...
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
My daily thesaurus...
ex-haust
/ɪgˈzɔst/ [ig-zawst]
–verb (used with object)
1. to drain of strength or energy, wear out, or fatigue greatly, as a person: I have exhausted myself working.
2. to use up or consume completely; expend the whole of: He exhausted a fortune in stock-market speculation.
this is exactly how I feel...
all in, beat, bone-tired, burned out, bushed, conked out, crippled, done in, dead tired, dog-tired, done in, drained, drawn, drowsy, enfeeble, exhausted, fag, fatigued, frazzled, impoverish, knocked out, out of gas, overdone, overexerted, overextended, overfatigued, overtired, overworked, petered out, pooped, pooped out, prostrated, punchy, ready to drop, run ragged, sapped, sleepy, spent, sucked dry, taxed, tuckered out, used up, weakened, wearied, wiped out, worn down, weary, zonked
It is what it is...
/ɪgˈzɔst/ [ig-zawst]
–verb (used with object)
1. to drain of strength or energy, wear out, or fatigue greatly, as a person: I have exhausted myself working.
2. to use up or consume completely; expend the whole of: He exhausted a fortune in stock-market speculation.
this is exactly how I feel...
all in, beat, bone-tired, burned out, bushed, conked out, crippled, done in, dead tired, dog-tired, done in, drained, drawn, drowsy, enfeeble, exhausted, fag, fatigued, frazzled, impoverish, knocked out, out of gas, overdone, overexerted, overextended, overfatigued, overtired, overworked, petered out, pooped, pooped out, prostrated, punchy, ready to drop, run ragged, sapped, sleepy, spent, sucked dry, taxed, tuckered out, used up, weakened, wearied, wiped out, worn down, weary, zonked
It is what it is...
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
And so it goes...
On November 28th, the wifey and I had an appointment for inducing her labor at 5am. This is how things went down that day...
11/28/09-
4:30- the alarm goes off. I roll over and tell my wife that it's time for us to have a baby. She replies with a "yep."
"Are you ready to do this?"
"Let's do it, baby..."
4:56- the wifey put into the microwave a Jimmy Dean Sausage breakfast sandwich to fill our bellies before we head out. As it turns out, it will be the last thing she is allowed to eat for the next 14 hours. She is a saint, I'm a shmuck.
170 seconds later- delicous goodness!
5:14- we leave the house one last time as just husband and wife; next time we enter our house, we'll enter as a family...
5:30- we arrive at the hospital in one piece. Irony is detected when we hear the songs "Hurt So Good" and "Mad About You". I switch the station to KROQ and we hear "Nothing Else Matters" and "LUMP". I think to myself "...these songs probably have some meaning today. I wonder the last song will be?" We pull into the hospital and park illegally into the structure. The last song we hear before we get out of the car...Green Day's "Welcome to Paradise."
6:40- nurses try to start an IV on the wifey, but she's always had terrible veins to draw blood from. The wifey jokingly offers to call down to the ER and get one of her colleague friends to do it, since they're real pros down there. The nurse doesn't find it too funny.
6:57- still, no luck with the IV...
7:05- I realize I left my phone at home and cannot be cut-off from family and friends on this day. I leave the hospital and make it home and back in record time.
7:15- after much poking and prodding (3 times!), the main nurse has started an IV...the wifey is upset and hopes this isn't a sign of things to come.
8:45- Dr. Linzey comes in and breaks the wifey's water...now the fun begins!
9:05- the anesthesiologist comes in and gives the wifey her epidural. He says that she'll feel it kick in about 20-25 minutes.
9:50- I go down to the cafeteria because this shmuck is hungry. I anticipate breakfast since they stop serving at 10am. On my way down, I get lost and make it to the cafeteria at 10:01. I see people eating all types of pancakes and waffles and eggs and bacon. When I get to the counter, all they have left for me are bagels and cream cheese. The shmuck pays for his food and heads back to the room. The wifey is eating ice chips...
10:00-12:30- nothing really happens. We get some visitors and they hang out and see how the wifey is doing. Her lower half starts to go numb and she comments that she can't tell whether her butt is exposed to the world. I tell her it isn't, but she doesn't believe me. She feels like it is...
1:00- I walk across the street with my parents and Mustafa, my best mate, to a grease joint called Dukes. We meet my sister for a bite to eat. The shmuck orders an amazing bacon-avocado-cheeseburger with fries and a rootbeer. Meanwhile, the wifey is wolfing down two sugar-free jellos and some more ice chips...
1:45- wifey just received her second epidural shot; numbness in her legs is amazing. She can't feel her legs and the way she moves in bed is somewhat akin to the giant seals you see on National Geographic. Don't get me wrong, I'm not calling my wife a giant seal. It's just that, when you see her wiggle and waggle in the bed so she can get better positioning, her lower half is limp and just lays there. It's like she's trying to get away from the killer whale that charges the shore to eat her cubs...
2:00-4:45- an array of visitors stop by the room to check on us and see how things are going, get an update. I'm glad I have my phone, because the texts and phone calls start pouring in...
4:55- and so it goes...our nurse kicks everybody out so the wifey can begin her practice pushing. We now begin the steps to get this kid out into the world.
4:58-5:38- for the next 40 minutes, the wifey pushes and pushes. Our wonderful nurse and I keep cheering her on, telling her she's doing amazing (which she was) and being supportive. Dr. Linzey comes in near the end and that's when I know that it's cloes to happening...
5:39- wifey becomes a mommy, I become a daddy and we welcome Benjamin Lee Gonzalez into the world; at 8lb 10oz and 20 1/2 inches, he becomes the most important and impressive thing in our lives.
Simon Soloveychik, the Russian educator and philosopher who wrote the amazing book Parenting for Everyone, once said:
The previous 39 week journey is over and a new one begins. Some say it lasts 18 years, others says it lasts a lifetime. All I can say is that I accept it and love it and feel this utmost unification with my wife and my son. I sense learnings and experiences and failures and mistakes and challenges and successes. And so it goes...
It is what it is...
11/28/09-
4:30- the alarm goes off. I roll over and tell my wife that it's time for us to have a baby. She replies with a "yep."
"Are you ready to do this?"
"Let's do it, baby..."
4:56- the wifey put into the microwave a Jimmy Dean Sausage breakfast sandwich to fill our bellies before we head out. As it turns out, it will be the last thing she is allowed to eat for the next 14 hours. She is a saint, I'm a shmuck.
170 seconds later- delicous goodness!
5:14- we leave the house one last time as just husband and wife; next time we enter our house, we'll enter as a family...
5:30- we arrive at the hospital in one piece. Irony is detected when we hear the songs "Hurt So Good" and "Mad About You". I switch the station to KROQ and we hear "Nothing Else Matters" and "LUMP". I think to myself "...these songs probably have some meaning today. I wonder the last song will be?" We pull into the hospital and park illegally into the structure. The last song we hear before we get out of the car...Green Day's "Welcome to Paradise."
6:40- nurses try to start an IV on the wifey, but she's always had terrible veins to draw blood from. The wifey jokingly offers to call down to the ER and get one of her colleague friends to do it, since they're real pros down there. The nurse doesn't find it too funny.
6:57- still, no luck with the IV...
7:05- I realize I left my phone at home and cannot be cut-off from family and friends on this day. I leave the hospital and make it home and back in record time.
7:15- after much poking and prodding (3 times!), the main nurse has started an IV...the wifey is upset and hopes this isn't a sign of things to come.
8:45- Dr. Linzey comes in and breaks the wifey's water...now the fun begins!
9:05- the anesthesiologist comes in and gives the wifey her epidural. He says that she'll feel it kick in about 20-25 minutes.
9:50- I go down to the cafeteria because this shmuck is hungry. I anticipate breakfast since they stop serving at 10am. On my way down, I get lost and make it to the cafeteria at 10:01. I see people eating all types of pancakes and waffles and eggs and bacon. When I get to the counter, all they have left for me are bagels and cream cheese. The shmuck pays for his food and heads back to the room. The wifey is eating ice chips...
10:00-12:30- nothing really happens. We get some visitors and they hang out and see how the wifey is doing. Her lower half starts to go numb and she comments that she can't tell whether her butt is exposed to the world. I tell her it isn't, but she doesn't believe me. She feels like it is...
1:00- I walk across the street with my parents and Mustafa, my best mate, to a grease joint called Dukes. We meet my sister for a bite to eat. The shmuck orders an amazing bacon-avocado-cheeseburger with fries and a rootbeer. Meanwhile, the wifey is wolfing down two sugar-free jellos and some more ice chips...
1:45- wifey just received her second epidural shot; numbness in her legs is amazing. She can't feel her legs and the way she moves in bed is somewhat akin to the giant seals you see on National Geographic. Don't get me wrong, I'm not calling my wife a giant seal. It's just that, when you see her wiggle and waggle in the bed so she can get better positioning, her lower half is limp and just lays there. It's like she's trying to get away from the killer whale that charges the shore to eat her cubs...
2:00-4:45- an array of visitors stop by the room to check on us and see how things are going, get an update. I'm glad I have my phone, because the texts and phone calls start pouring in...
4:55- and so it goes...our nurse kicks everybody out so the wifey can begin her practice pushing. We now begin the steps to get this kid out into the world.
4:58-5:38- for the next 40 minutes, the wifey pushes and pushes. Our wonderful nurse and I keep cheering her on, telling her she's doing amazing (which she was) and being supportive. Dr. Linzey comes in near the end and that's when I know that it's cloes to happening...
5:39- wifey becomes a mommy, I become a daddy and we welcome Benjamin Lee Gonzalez into the world; at 8lb 10oz and 20 1/2 inches, he becomes the most important and impressive thing in our lives.
Simon Soloveychik, the Russian educator and philosopher who wrote the amazing book Parenting for Everyone, once said:
“I am sent a child. He is a dear guest. I
thank him for his existence. He is called to this life as am I, and this unites us – we are people; we are living. He is the same as I am. He is a man; not a future man, but a man today, and therefore he is different from any other person. I accept him as I accept any other man. I accept my child… I accept him and protect his childhood. And I understand, tolerate, accept and forgive him. I don’t force him. I don’t humiliate him by my strength because I love him. I love him and thank him for who he is and for that I can love him, and thus, I elevate in my own spirit."
The previous 39 week journey is over and a new one begins. Some say it lasts 18 years, others says it lasts a lifetime. All I can say is that I accept it and love it and feel this utmost unification with my wife and my son. I sense learnings and experiences and failures and mistakes and challenges and successes. And so it goes...
It is what it is...
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
If this really is a man's world, what about the boys?
Yesterday was a great day for me, a fun day, an eye opening day. I had the privilege of taking 7 wonderful, energetic and dynamic young women (all high school students) to the Women’s Conference in Long Beach. It’s an event that hosts more than 20,000 people (about 98% being women) and features an array of guest speakers, from actors and athletes to journalists and political experts. They were all committed to bringing something new, something authentic and something personal and powerful to the conference. Many of these women’s stories have the power to change people’s lives and make an enormous impact on their way of thought, especially high school students. The overall theme was “Be Who You Are…An Architect of Change.”
Truth being told, all 7 of my girls that I chaperoned have the potential to be an Architect of Change, if they are empowered to see themselves as one. Sometimes all they need is a little bit of encouragement from a supportive community to help them along; usually that catalyst can be a story of struggle, courage, revelation, fear, inspiration and transformation. Sometimes the person telling the story and starting that catalyst is a teacher, a mentor, a coach, a mother or even a friend. My hope is that they heard someone at the conference to help light that spark, from First Lady of California Maria Shriver to Governor Schwarzenegger to Katie Couric to Madeline Albright to Geena Davis to Alicia Keys (the list of conference speakers is incredible.) I just hope that they were “present” at the conference and not wandering the hallways of their minds, thinking about boys and homework and high school drama and Miley Cyrus and “Gossip Girl.”
As I sat there and heard all the speeches, saw the shedding of tears and witnessed the absorption of knowledge and inspiration, I couldn’t help but think that this may be the first step for many young women to go out and battle the world, and change it at the same time. But what about the boys??
I can understand that the fear, all of these years, has been that men have always run the world. We own the corporations, control the media, run the governments and make the decisions. There is no glass ceiling for us, but we have access to the “glass escalator”; since the day we are born, we have a lifetime membership into the “good ole’ boys” club. But, at the end of the day, we sometimes need that chance to embrace empowerment. Just hear me out…
This conference was amazing. Women helping each other, giving each other the tools to transform their lives and embracing the courage to speak of their failures, their successes and their battles. Men have a hard time doing this. We have a hard time sharing; we have a hard time discussing our challenges and failures; we have a hard time expressing our innermost demons and fears and thoughts. Why is that?
I’m hoping that one of the many things I can provide for Benji, one of the skills that he can learn from my interactions with the wifey, is the ability to open up when needed. It was a struggle at first, opening up and exposing yourself to reveal your fears and inadequacies. My wife can attest that it still takes some prodding for me to open up. But once it’s done, it’s cathartic and relieving.
Most entertainment media would have you believe that a man’s world consists of cars, sports, beer, money, big breasts, and sex; news media would have you believe that a man’s world consists of white-collar crime, violence against women, war and destruction, and philandering and skirt-chasing. Unfortunately, most media outlets seem to be hitting the nail right on the head. Don’t get me wrong, I love my wife and respect my boss (a very strong woman) and adore my mother and sister; however, a straight bourbon with a cigar while cavorting with the fellas never did any of them harm. I like to call it self-control.
Unfortunately, not every male can lay claim to this. More and more, men are just sucking at being men. There has been a casting aside of basic morals and values for the sake of profit (Bernie Madoff), cultural imperatives that insist that “…being #1 is the only way to go,” the lack of honest and caring bonding between most men (I’m not afraid to admit that I love and respect my best friend Mustafa), and the fear of feeling your true emotions, including sadness and grief. I did a little research and found that when you type “Men’s Conference” into Google, the first few hits are for conferences sponsored by churches and ministries. Believe me, I’m not against religion. If that’s what helps you and guides your choices in being a better man, husband, father, brother and friend…by all means do it. But there has to be some secular guidance out there. A way for men to be engaged in dialogue that fully charts the depth and breadth of our hopes, fears, strengths, weaknesses, possibilities, and challenges; a secular place where men can gather and support one another, learn from one another and empower one another. A place where boys can be taught how to respect women, each other and themselves; a place where we can explore pressing contemporary issues affecting men from a perspective of thoughtfulness and insightfulness. The “Million Man March” was a heap of non-secular garbage; we need to teach our boys right. I need to teach Benji right.
We may be the architects and engineers of our cities and buildings, but we (men)need to help build each other. We need to take our boys to a place that is designed to be an environment for growth, for positive change, for self-discovery, and for rediscovery; a place that teaches us inner peace, true contentment, and a sense of unlimited possibilities. Our women are doing it right; engineering and building up themselves.
James Brown sung it best, in 1966, in “It’s a Man’s Man’s Man’s World.” Rolling Stone magazine calling the lyrics “almost biblically chauvinistic”, James Brown sings that “This is a man’s world…but it ain’t nothing without a woman or a girl.” Women have many things to teach and boys have many things to learn. Let’s just hope that we’re listening.
I’m aware that this post has deviated from the more humorous observations I am prone to make. Now that we are a little more than a month away, I’m sure I’ll share my take on diapers, placentas, throw up and bath time with Benji. My journey as a newborn dad is set to begin and can only be a humorous one. However, this conference was an eye opening experience. I feel privileged to have gone through it with some of my beloved girls from my teen programs. One of them told me “thank you for bringing me here; no sarcasm, no joke…thank you so much for bringing me today; I learned a lot.” Believe me, the pleasure was all mine…
It is what it is…
Truth being told, all 7 of my girls that I chaperoned have the potential to be an Architect of Change, if they are empowered to see themselves as one. Sometimes all they need is a little bit of encouragement from a supportive community to help them along; usually that catalyst can be a story of struggle, courage, revelation, fear, inspiration and transformation. Sometimes the person telling the story and starting that catalyst is a teacher, a mentor, a coach, a mother or even a friend. My hope is that they heard someone at the conference to help light that spark, from First Lady of California Maria Shriver to Governor Schwarzenegger to Katie Couric to Madeline Albright to Geena Davis to Alicia Keys (the list of conference speakers is incredible.) I just hope that they were “present” at the conference and not wandering the hallways of their minds, thinking about boys and homework and high school drama and Miley Cyrus and “Gossip Girl.”
As I sat there and heard all the speeches, saw the shedding of tears and witnessed the absorption of knowledge and inspiration, I couldn’t help but think that this may be the first step for many young women to go out and battle the world, and change it at the same time. But what about the boys??
I can understand that the fear, all of these years, has been that men have always run the world. We own the corporations, control the media, run the governments and make the decisions. There is no glass ceiling for us, but we have access to the “glass escalator”; since the day we are born, we have a lifetime membership into the “good ole’ boys” club. But, at the end of the day, we sometimes need that chance to embrace empowerment. Just hear me out…
This conference was amazing. Women helping each other, giving each other the tools to transform their lives and embracing the courage to speak of their failures, their successes and their battles. Men have a hard time doing this. We have a hard time sharing; we have a hard time discussing our challenges and failures; we have a hard time expressing our innermost demons and fears and thoughts. Why is that?
I’m hoping that one of the many things I can provide for Benji, one of the skills that he can learn from my interactions with the wifey, is the ability to open up when needed. It was a struggle at first, opening up and exposing yourself to reveal your fears and inadequacies. My wife can attest that it still takes some prodding for me to open up. But once it’s done, it’s cathartic and relieving.
Most entertainment media would have you believe that a man’s world consists of cars, sports, beer, money, big breasts, and sex; news media would have you believe that a man’s world consists of white-collar crime, violence against women, war and destruction, and philandering and skirt-chasing. Unfortunately, most media outlets seem to be hitting the nail right on the head. Don’t get me wrong, I love my wife and respect my boss (a very strong woman) and adore my mother and sister; however, a straight bourbon with a cigar while cavorting with the fellas never did any of them harm. I like to call it self-control.
Unfortunately, not every male can lay claim to this. More and more, men are just sucking at being men. There has been a casting aside of basic morals and values for the sake of profit (Bernie Madoff), cultural imperatives that insist that “…being #1 is the only way to go,” the lack of honest and caring bonding between most men (I’m not afraid to admit that I love and respect my best friend Mustafa), and the fear of feeling your true emotions, including sadness and grief. I did a little research and found that when you type “Men’s Conference” into Google, the first few hits are for conferences sponsored by churches and ministries. Believe me, I’m not against religion. If that’s what helps you and guides your choices in being a better man, husband, father, brother and friend…by all means do it. But there has to be some secular guidance out there. A way for men to be engaged in dialogue that fully charts the depth and breadth of our hopes, fears, strengths, weaknesses, possibilities, and challenges; a secular place where men can gather and support one another, learn from one another and empower one another. A place where boys can be taught how to respect women, each other and themselves; a place where we can explore pressing contemporary issues affecting men from a perspective of thoughtfulness and insightfulness. The “Million Man March” was a heap of non-secular garbage; we need to teach our boys right. I need to teach Benji right.
We may be the architects and engineers of our cities and buildings, but we (men)need to help build each other. We need to take our boys to a place that is designed to be an environment for growth, for positive change, for self-discovery, and for rediscovery; a place that teaches us inner peace, true contentment, and a sense of unlimited possibilities. Our women are doing it right; engineering and building up themselves.
James Brown sung it best, in 1966, in “It’s a Man’s Man’s Man’s World.” Rolling Stone magazine calling the lyrics “almost biblically chauvinistic”, James Brown sings that “This is a man’s world…but it ain’t nothing without a woman or a girl.” Women have many things to teach and boys have many things to learn. Let’s just hope that we’re listening.
I’m aware that this post has deviated from the more humorous observations I am prone to make. Now that we are a little more than a month away, I’m sure I’ll share my take on diapers, placentas, throw up and bath time with Benji. My journey as a newborn dad is set to begin and can only be a humorous one. However, this conference was an eye opening experience. I feel privileged to have gone through it with some of my beloved girls from my teen programs. One of them told me “thank you for bringing me here; no sarcasm, no joke…thank you so much for bringing me today; I learned a lot.” Believe me, the pleasure was all mine…
It is what it is…
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Reality is here...
I'm always looking for something to write about when it comes to my newfound experience and this blog. Whether it's something I've read, or something I've heard or learned from a valuable source. My musings may even come off as long-winded and off topic. As I was trying to come up with a new subject to write about, the wifey called me over to the couch and told me to feel her belly. As I placed my hand on her belly, I felt the strongest kick I have felt so far during this pregnancy. Wow...
As I placed my head on her belly, Hootie proceeded to turn, flip, kick and spin. It was the most amazing thing I have ever been witness to. My son, in my wife's belly, was responding to our voices and giving us a show.
I'm not going to write about a memory or a lesson learned or a quote from my favorite author that sparked something in my head. All I am going to mention is that this pregnancy is real; Benjamin is due in less than two months and, like it or not (love it, in fact), I am going to be a dad. I've seen the ultrasound and I've heard the heartbeat; I've seen the wifey's belly grow and I've painted the nursery and built all the furniture that adorns it. However, it wasn't until I layed my head down on my wife's belly and felt those kicks that reality set in. I'm about to be a dad.
It is what it is...
As I placed my head on her belly, Hootie proceeded to turn, flip, kick and spin. It was the most amazing thing I have ever been witness to. My son, in my wife's belly, was responding to our voices and giving us a show.
I'm not going to write about a memory or a lesson learned or a quote from my favorite author that sparked something in my head. All I am going to mention is that this pregnancy is real; Benjamin is due in less than two months and, like it or not (love it, in fact), I am going to be a dad. I've seen the ultrasound and I've heard the heartbeat; I've seen the wifey's belly grow and I've painted the nursery and built all the furniture that adorns it. However, it wasn't until I layed my head down on my wife's belly and felt those kicks that reality set in. I'm about to be a dad.
It is what it is...
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Greetings from "Daddy Bootcamp"
This past Saturday, I went to Daddy Bootcamp, a course which the wifey found through the Mother and Child Assessment Center at St. Joseph's Hospital. She asked me if I wanted to attend the class and I told her I would; it sounded like it would be interesting. The concept is that "veteran" dads come in with their new babies and teach us "rookie" dads all about fatherhood. I've been told that when the nurses give the father the baby for the first time, it could be somewhat akin to the guy at Home Depot handing you a fern to take home; neither one of them really come with a brochure on how to take care of them. Unfortunately, for this particular weekend, the two scheduled veteran dads had to back out at the very last minute, leaving us with 7 rookie dads and one facilitator. Oh let the games begin...
I must tell you that the class still served it's purpose, somewhat... Our facilitator, a great guy named Robert, decided to just ask us what we were hoping to learn, what our fears and concerns were, and how our trip had gone so far. It was unique in the sense that men our age were open to sharing those fears and concerns. (by the way, the youngest of our group was 33 and the oldest was 46!) I say this being fully aware that there has been this paradigm shift over how men think about fatherhood, especially from 30-50 years ago. It appeared that we were very open about what to share and about what was on our minds; this is something that wasn't happening with our fathers, I can assure you. While men are stereotypically non-communicative about their fears and feelings, we seemed to have missed that particular memo. Verbal communication is the best way of releasing information and feelings. If a father does not share his feelings of worry and anxiety, fear or avoidance of these feelings continues to grow, and new fathers are taking a larger role in their baby's upbringing. It definitely helped put me at ease while I reached a better understanding of the entire pregnancy and what's part of the process after the baby comes. It was just a great opportunity that allowed us to process our impending new fatherhood with one another, while at the same time providing us with some new found confidence.
However, as we each went around the room and shared our individual stories, one general theme kept emerging as we all spoke about our journey: what in the hell is going to happen to the mother of our child and how do we prepare for this inevitable change? This was going to be our lesson.
The more we learned about and discussed our new mothers-to-be, the more we began to appreciate the contributions and sacrifices they make for our children. Because there are many millions of moms doing what they do, it is simply expected of them. Millenniums of evolution and socialization take effect when our wifey becomes pregnant. They are hard wired to love their babies and develop an intense bond which may drive them to sacrifice a great deal as they carry, give birth and care for them. In fact, we also talked about how she herself may take for granted what she does best as a mom, while dwelling on any inadequacies she may feel, and how perhaps we can help offset those feelings. We talked about how moms will often feel they are not good mothers if they do not know why their baby is crying, or if they have anything less than saintly thoughts about their screaming baby. What will be our role in helping sway these thoughts? It is up to us dads to let them know they are doing great things, and how much we greatly appreciate it; to tell her that we can see this incredible bond she has with our baby, that we are grateful for the sacrifices she is making, and that we understand (somewhat at least) how tough it can be. I came to the conclusion that being appreciated by me (it's apparent that no one else over two feet tall will count) will make all the difference to the wifey and will help make the downside of motherhood worth it. Benjamin will essentially do the same for her, and together we can make her motherhood a beautiful experience, along with Beaumont and Marley of course.
At "bootcamp", we also discussed the change in the dynamics of our relationship; respecting her as a mom, and loving her for what she does for Benji, will also serve as the foundation of my new relationship with her. In our discussions, we came to the conclusion that what goes around will come around. Our honor and respect for her as a mother will hopefully result in her doing the same for us dads. No one can encourage us more as parents than our own spouses, and the better we both do, the more we'll be able to appreciate each other, as well as ourselves. We figured that when two people are covering each other's back, and when they have it coming at them from all directions, they'll develop a very strong relationship. This will be our plan and this was our new learned lesson.
It was an eye-opening class. I'm glad I was able to share my thoughts and it was nice to hear that some other potential fathers have the same concerns and questions that were resting on my mind. Sitting in that class, we were struck by the fact that a mother's love for her baby stands no matter what, and there is no limit to its depth. The only thing that can match it is the often untapped potential of a father's love; I think I may be ready.
It is what it is...
9/28 POST SCRIPT: I was left a very nice comment by a facilitator from the Strong Fathers program in Maine. First of all, it excites me that someone outside of my close family and friends read the blog. After visiting the site, I am encouraged by the strong bond that not only a father can have with their son, but with other fathers...especially "rookies." It's nice to see this web of support that reaches out into all corners of fatherhood. I never joined a fraternity in college, but come December, it looks like I'll be pledging into a lifelong membership. Strong Fathers in Maine, KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK!
I must tell you that the class still served it's purpose, somewhat... Our facilitator, a great guy named Robert, decided to just ask us what we were hoping to learn, what our fears and concerns were, and how our trip had gone so far. It was unique in the sense that men our age were open to sharing those fears and concerns. (by the way, the youngest of our group was 33 and the oldest was 46!) I say this being fully aware that there has been this paradigm shift over how men think about fatherhood, especially from 30-50 years ago. It appeared that we were very open about what to share and about what was on our minds; this is something that wasn't happening with our fathers, I can assure you. While men are stereotypically non-communicative about their fears and feelings, we seemed to have missed that particular memo. Verbal communication is the best way of releasing information and feelings. If a father does not share his feelings of worry and anxiety, fear or avoidance of these feelings continues to grow, and new fathers are taking a larger role in their baby's upbringing. It definitely helped put me at ease while I reached a better understanding of the entire pregnancy and what's part of the process after the baby comes. It was just a great opportunity that allowed us to process our impending new fatherhood with one another, while at the same time providing us with some new found confidence.
However, as we each went around the room and shared our individual stories, one general theme kept emerging as we all spoke about our journey: what in the hell is going to happen to the mother of our child and how do we prepare for this inevitable change? This was going to be our lesson.
The more we learned about and discussed our new mothers-to-be, the more we began to appreciate the contributions and sacrifices they make for our children. Because there are many millions of moms doing what they do, it is simply expected of them. Millenniums of evolution and socialization take effect when our wifey becomes pregnant. They are hard wired to love their babies and develop an intense bond which may drive them to sacrifice a great deal as they carry, give birth and care for them. In fact, we also talked about how she herself may take for granted what she does best as a mom, while dwelling on any inadequacies she may feel, and how perhaps we can help offset those feelings. We talked about how moms will often feel they are not good mothers if they do not know why their baby is crying, or if they have anything less than saintly thoughts about their screaming baby. What will be our role in helping sway these thoughts? It is up to us dads to let them know they are doing great things, and how much we greatly appreciate it; to tell her that we can see this incredible bond she has with our baby, that we are grateful for the sacrifices she is making, and that we understand (somewhat at least) how tough it can be. I came to the conclusion that being appreciated by me (it's apparent that no one else over two feet tall will count) will make all the difference to the wifey and will help make the downside of motherhood worth it. Benjamin will essentially do the same for her, and together we can make her motherhood a beautiful experience, along with Beaumont and Marley of course.
At "bootcamp", we also discussed the change in the dynamics of our relationship; respecting her as a mom, and loving her for what she does for Benji, will also serve as the foundation of my new relationship with her. In our discussions, we came to the conclusion that what goes around will come around. Our honor and respect for her as a mother will hopefully result in her doing the same for us dads. No one can encourage us more as parents than our own spouses, and the better we both do, the more we'll be able to appreciate each other, as well as ourselves. We figured that when two people are covering each other's back, and when they have it coming at them from all directions, they'll develop a very strong relationship. This will be our plan and this was our new learned lesson.
It was an eye-opening class. I'm glad I was able to share my thoughts and it was nice to hear that some other potential fathers have the same concerns and questions that were resting on my mind. Sitting in that class, we were struck by the fact that a mother's love for her baby stands no matter what, and there is no limit to its depth. The only thing that can match it is the often untapped potential of a father's love; I think I may be ready.
It is what it is...
9/28 POST SCRIPT: I was left a very nice comment by a facilitator from the Strong Fathers program in Maine. First of all, it excites me that someone outside of my close family and friends read the blog. After visiting the site, I am encouraged by the strong bond that not only a father can have with their son, but with other fathers...especially "rookies." It's nice to see this web of support that reaches out into all corners of fatherhood. I never joined a fraternity in college, but come December, it looks like I'll be pledging into a lifelong membership. Strong Fathers in Maine, KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK!
Sunday, September 13, 2009
A boy by any other name would be just as sweet, right?
So the wifey and I have already settled on a first name for our boy...Benjamin. The book I've been reading, The Expectant Father, tells me that at this stage, the 7th month, we should be coming up with lists and methods on name selection. It offered up some ideas and solutions for choosing a baby's name. Some of these we already did; others...let's just say we never considered naming our child after a number. ("Michael, this is 7; 7, this is Michael") This is what the book had to offer...
Think About the Future: It reminds us that as cute as we might think that Binky Ramon Gonzalez sounds now, it might sound funny when he gets nominated for the Supreme Court, however not so funny if he becomes a rap star or a cartoon monkey. It also mentioned to be wary of the initials. So far, all we have is the B and the G while we still decide on the middle name. Bless his heart, my dad's full name is Francisco Antonio Gonzalez. I'll let you connect those dots...
Peculiar Names: According to the author of The Best Baby Name Book in the Whole World, boys who have peculiar names (it gives the example of Armin...really?) have a higher incidence of mental problems than boys with common names. Is that right? Maybe I shouldn't mention the kid I knew back in 5th grade who still ate paste, rolled around in poop in the little boys room (ok, only once), tried to set our classroom on fire (twice), and finally got in trouble because he was making a parachute in his bedroom so he can jump off his roof. His name was David. Last I heard, he was in Florida working as an engineer. Go figure...
Name Meaning: Apparently, Javier means new house, but my parents just liked the way it sounded. They told me that it was a toss up between Javier, Oscar and Sylvester. Some parents really pick a name that has a deeper meaning to them, in the true definition of the name. Someone very special to me, whom I absolutely adore, has the beautiful middle name of Kahiapo, which means "first born" in Hawaiian. Her parents put special thought into her name. As it turns out, Benjamin means "son of the right hand." If you knew what the wifey and I went through to conceive this child (specifically what I had to do), the procedure and everything in between, you would just smile and shake your head. By the way, it turns out that it also means "beloved youngest son", so chew on that.
Honor a Relative/Family Tradition: We've been all over the map with this one. I wasn't named after anyone at all, my parents just liked the name. In fact, my dad specifically said that he wanted me to have a name that nobody else in our family had (I think that's still the case). The wifey carries the name of her great-grandmother, which is beautiful. My dearest of my friends has his dad's name as his middle name, an old family tradition passed down through the boys on his dad's side. Before we knew the gender, we had already settled on a name for our little girl, honoring her with my wifey's late mom's first name. But it turns out our baby has a penis and that kind of threw us off. We've been going back and forth on what to insert as a middle name; something to honor my dad, something to honor my father-in-law, something to honor the wifey's heritage and family. Whatever it ends up being, I don't think it'll be too peculiar.
Nicknames: I never had a cool nickname like "Skip", "Sparky", "Bugsy" or "Roach". Growing up, it was just Jav or Javi which turns out I like them both. My wife calls me one and my sister calls me the other. All my friends call me one or the other. Most of my wonderful campers call me Javi. Hell, my mother calls me Jav. We didn't pick Benjamin because it might be cool to be called Ben, Benny, or Benji sometime in the future; we just liked the name. For now, I've been referring to him as Hootie as he lay in the wifey's belly. The name came about since a lot of the stuff we've been buying (and receving) has had an owl, or many owls on it..."hoot" owls. (by the way, did you know that a group of owls is called a parliament?) Whether it be Benji, Benny or even Hootie, I think our boy should be fine.
The chapter in this book went on to spew out some research and data that I found to be interesting. A survey of two thousand people asked them to judge several thousand first names and rate them according to success, morality, health, warmth, cheerfulness, and masculinity/femininity. Not surprisingly, some were found to evoke certain stereotypes. Bunny, for example, scored high on femininity but low on morality and success. Weird that some "dancers" continue to choose this name as their stage name...but I wouldn't know. Meanwhile, Ann and Holly were highly rated in all categories. For boys, Grover and Aldo were big losers in all categories, while Hans (go figure) was rated highly across the board; no wonder Grover was one of my most hated muppets on Sesame Street.
Additionally, there was another study that asked fifth- and sixth-grade teachers to grade identical essays called "What I Did Last Sunday." The essays "written" by Michael and David were given one full grade higher than those "written" by Elmer and Hubert. Similarly, Karen and Lisa outperformed Bertha by one and a half grades.
I don't know about you, but when our little girl Karen Ann Holly Lisa Kahiapo Gonzalez enters kindergarten, she's gonna kick everyone's ass.
It is what it is...
Think About the Future: It reminds us that as cute as we might think that Binky Ramon Gonzalez sounds now, it might sound funny when he gets nominated for the Supreme Court, however not so funny if he becomes a rap star or a cartoon monkey. It also mentioned to be wary of the initials. So far, all we have is the B and the G while we still decide on the middle name. Bless his heart, my dad's full name is Francisco Antonio Gonzalez. I'll let you connect those dots...
Peculiar Names: According to the author of The Best Baby Name Book in the Whole World, boys who have peculiar names (it gives the example of Armin...really?) have a higher incidence of mental problems than boys with common names. Is that right? Maybe I shouldn't mention the kid I knew back in 5th grade who still ate paste, rolled around in poop in the little boys room (ok, only once), tried to set our classroom on fire (twice), and finally got in trouble because he was making a parachute in his bedroom so he can jump off his roof. His name was David. Last I heard, he was in Florida working as an engineer. Go figure...
Name Meaning: Apparently, Javier means new house, but my parents just liked the way it sounded. They told me that it was a toss up between Javier, Oscar and Sylvester. Some parents really pick a name that has a deeper meaning to them, in the true definition of the name. Someone very special to me, whom I absolutely adore, has the beautiful middle name of Kahiapo, which means "first born" in Hawaiian. Her parents put special thought into her name. As it turns out, Benjamin means "son of the right hand." If you knew what the wifey and I went through to conceive this child (specifically what I had to do), the procedure and everything in between, you would just smile and shake your head. By the way, it turns out that it also means "beloved youngest son", so chew on that.
Honor a Relative/Family Tradition: We've been all over the map with this one. I wasn't named after anyone at all, my parents just liked the name. In fact, my dad specifically said that he wanted me to have a name that nobody else in our family had (I think that's still the case). The wifey carries the name of her great-grandmother, which is beautiful. My dearest of my friends has his dad's name as his middle name, an old family tradition passed down through the boys on his dad's side. Before we knew the gender, we had already settled on a name for our little girl, honoring her with my wifey's late mom's first name. But it turns out our baby has a penis and that kind of threw us off. We've been going back and forth on what to insert as a middle name; something to honor my dad, something to honor my father-in-law, something to honor the wifey's heritage and family. Whatever it ends up being, I don't think it'll be too peculiar.
Nicknames: I never had a cool nickname like "Skip", "Sparky", "Bugsy" or "Roach". Growing up, it was just Jav or Javi which turns out I like them both. My wife calls me one and my sister calls me the other. All my friends call me one or the other. Most of my wonderful campers call me Javi. Hell, my mother calls me Jav. We didn't pick Benjamin because it might be cool to be called Ben, Benny, or Benji sometime in the future; we just liked the name. For now, I've been referring to him as Hootie as he lay in the wifey's belly. The name came about since a lot of the stuff we've been buying (and receving) has had an owl, or many owls on it..."hoot" owls. (by the way, did you know that a group of owls is called a parliament?) Whether it be Benji, Benny or even Hootie, I think our boy should be fine.
The chapter in this book went on to spew out some research and data that I found to be interesting. A survey of two thousand people asked them to judge several thousand first names and rate them according to success, morality, health, warmth, cheerfulness, and masculinity/femininity. Not surprisingly, some were found to evoke certain stereotypes. Bunny, for example, scored high on femininity but low on morality and success. Weird that some "dancers" continue to choose this name as their stage name...but I wouldn't know. Meanwhile, Ann and Holly were highly rated in all categories. For boys, Grover and Aldo were big losers in all categories, while Hans (go figure) was rated highly across the board; no wonder Grover was one of my most hated muppets on Sesame Street.
Additionally, there was another study that asked fifth- and sixth-grade teachers to grade identical essays called "What I Did Last Sunday." The essays "written" by Michael and David were given one full grade higher than those "written" by Elmer and Hubert. Similarly, Karen and Lisa outperformed Bertha by one and a half grades.
I don't know about you, but when our little girl Karen Ann Holly Lisa Kahiapo Gonzalez enters kindergarten, she's gonna kick everyone's ass.
It is what it is...
Thursday, September 3, 2009
O.D.D.-Outdoors Deficit Disorder...
When the wifey and I bought our home, I had this fear that there was going to be a lot of noise. You see, our home goes right up against the community greenbelt, equipped with a backstop for kickball or baseball and a playground not too far away. I thought to myself, we’ll probably have a good number of kids playing games here, or running around the greenbelt having fun and making noise. Well, the wifey and I have been here almost three years and alas…everything is calm as a Hindu cow.(in loving tribute to PLKM)
Nothing. Zilch. I one time saw a dad tossing some softball pitches to his daughters, once. Another time, the family next door organized a piñata party/family kickball game; I believe that was last spring.
I thought about this wonderful story that my favorite author, Kurt Vonnegut, once told on public radio. He mentioned to his wife that he was going to the corner to pick up an envelope…one envelope. She reminded him that he had enough money to just buy a whole box of envelopes, to save him from future trips. Vonnegut replied that he enjoyed going out and getting envelopes one at a time,
“…because I'm going to have a hell of a good time in the process of buying one envelope. I meet a lot of people. And, see some great looking babes. And a fire engine goes by. And I give them the thumbs up. And, I ask a woman what kind of dog that is. And, I don't know…The moral of the story is, we're here on Earth to fart around. And, of course, the computers will do us out of that. And, what the computer people don't realize, or they don't care, is [that] we're dancing animals. You know, we love to move around. And, [it seems as if] we're not supposed to dance at all anymore.”
I think about this quote and think to the greenbelt right next to my house. No moving around; no kids; no “dancing animals.” Benji will be growing up in an uncertain time. A time of uncertainty when it comes to safety, technology, games, kids, humans, Earth. I often wonder what he will be doing during that valuable afterschool time. When I was a kid (I sense a rant coming), I would come home, get on my bike and just ride; it’d be to a friend’s house or the local construction site or to the park or to the back of the local supermarket that had boxes and wooden pallets so we can make jump ramps for our bikes. We explored and ventured; we got skinned knees and splinters; we would meet up with friends and ditch them, or get a game of wiffle-ball going using trees as our bases; we would run out of the house the second we got home from school and stay out until the sun went down. We were kids and there was no shame in it.
As I grew up, so did the technology. Our game systems graduated from the Commodore 64 and Atari 2600 to Coleco Vision to Nintendo to Sega to Playstation to Xbox to the amazing Wii. Scary to think what Benji could be playing within the next 10 years. I often wonder if this technology existed 20 years ago, how I would be different. Would I text my friend that I was coming over, or would I just jump the wall and walk over to his house? Would I load up a new game of Halo or Call of Duty, or would I load up a BB gun and practice shooting cans off of my friend's doghouse? Would I be playing Tony Hawk’s video game about skateboarding, or would I actually ride my skateboard to the local irrigation canal (we just called it “the ditch”) and watch the guys doing tricks in the makeshift half-pipe?
It seems as if though our love for technology and our love for the progression of technology have interfered with our innate ability to be curious and creative and playful and free. Kids now seem to be overscheduled, electronically addicted (as I type this from my computer while listening to my iPod…iRony), and kept indoors and safe from perceived dangers that are “out there.” The scales have been tipped and the balance needs to be realigned. “No Child Left Behind” (an epic failure) should be transformed to “No Child Left Inside”; too much emphasis on testing and scores and aptitude needs to be nudged aside for exploration and outdoor learning opportunities (send your kids to camp!!!). There is definitely something to be said about outdoor environmental education, hiking trails and their utilization as up-close “mobile classrooms.” So c’mon...let’s let kids be kids.
It’s easy for me to say that I’d let Benji run loose like a wild banshee through the streets so he could explore and grow and learn. Who knows what I’ll be thinking some 7-10 years down the road. What I do know is that I don’t own an Xbox, but I own some baseball gloves; I don’t own a Playstation, but I own a skateboard; I don’t play Halo, or Call of Duty or World of Warcraft, but I play Ultimate Frisbee with my friends; I don’t own the latest MLB baseball game for my computer, but I tailgate with family and friends at Angel Stadium and support my beloved team. Grass stains are being replaced by fruit punch stains, scraped knees are being replaced by carpal tunnel syndrome, and blurry vision from being in a chlorinated pool all day is being replaced by blurry vision from staring at a screen all day. We may not be hiking or rock climbing or kayaking Class IV rapids, but at least we’re not always plugged in. Back in the 1960’s, Timothy Leary coined the phrase “Turn on, Tune in, Drop out”, urging people to embrace the counter-culture; he later changed it to “turn on, boot up, jack in” for the emerging cyber-culture, seemingly connected and plugged in to everything. I suggest we “turn off, tune out and drop on in”; let’s get reacquainted with summer breezes, June bugs, dirt under our fingernails and our bikes. Just as long as you don't ditch me.
It is what it is…
Nothing. Zilch. I one time saw a dad tossing some softball pitches to his daughters, once. Another time, the family next door organized a piñata party/family kickball game; I believe that was last spring.
I thought about this wonderful story that my favorite author, Kurt Vonnegut, once told on public radio. He mentioned to his wife that he was going to the corner to pick up an envelope…one envelope. She reminded him that he had enough money to just buy a whole box of envelopes, to save him from future trips. Vonnegut replied that he enjoyed going out and getting envelopes one at a time,
“…because I'm going to have a hell of a good time in the process of buying one envelope. I meet a lot of people. And, see some great looking babes. And a fire engine goes by. And I give them the thumbs up. And, I ask a woman what kind of dog that is. And, I don't know…The moral of the story is, we're here on Earth to fart around. And, of course, the computers will do us out of that. And, what the computer people don't realize, or they don't care, is [that] we're dancing animals. You know, we love to move around. And, [it seems as if] we're not supposed to dance at all anymore.”
I think about this quote and think to the greenbelt right next to my house. No moving around; no kids; no “dancing animals.” Benji will be growing up in an uncertain time. A time of uncertainty when it comes to safety, technology, games, kids, humans, Earth. I often wonder what he will be doing during that valuable afterschool time. When I was a kid (I sense a rant coming), I would come home, get on my bike and just ride; it’d be to a friend’s house or the local construction site or to the park or to the back of the local supermarket that had boxes and wooden pallets so we can make jump ramps for our bikes. We explored and ventured; we got skinned knees and splinters; we would meet up with friends and ditch them, or get a game of wiffle-ball going using trees as our bases; we would run out of the house the second we got home from school and stay out until the sun went down. We were kids and there was no shame in it.
As I grew up, so did the technology. Our game systems graduated from the Commodore 64 and Atari 2600 to Coleco Vision to Nintendo to Sega to Playstation to Xbox to the amazing Wii. Scary to think what Benji could be playing within the next 10 years. I often wonder if this technology existed 20 years ago, how I would be different. Would I text my friend that I was coming over, or would I just jump the wall and walk over to his house? Would I load up a new game of Halo or Call of Duty, or would I load up a BB gun and practice shooting cans off of my friend's doghouse? Would I be playing Tony Hawk’s video game about skateboarding, or would I actually ride my skateboard to the local irrigation canal (we just called it “the ditch”) and watch the guys doing tricks in the makeshift half-pipe?
It seems as if though our love for technology and our love for the progression of technology have interfered with our innate ability to be curious and creative and playful and free. Kids now seem to be overscheduled, electronically addicted (as I type this from my computer while listening to my iPod…iRony), and kept indoors and safe from perceived dangers that are “out there.” The scales have been tipped and the balance needs to be realigned. “No Child Left Behind” (an epic failure) should be transformed to “No Child Left Inside”; too much emphasis on testing and scores and aptitude needs to be nudged aside for exploration and outdoor learning opportunities (send your kids to camp!!!). There is definitely something to be said about outdoor environmental education, hiking trails and their utilization as up-close “mobile classrooms.” So c’mon...let’s let kids be kids.
It’s easy for me to say that I’d let Benji run loose like a wild banshee through the streets so he could explore and grow and learn. Who knows what I’ll be thinking some 7-10 years down the road. What I do know is that I don’t own an Xbox, but I own some baseball gloves; I don’t own a Playstation, but I own a skateboard; I don’t play Halo, or Call of Duty or World of Warcraft, but I play Ultimate Frisbee with my friends; I don’t own the latest MLB baseball game for my computer, but I tailgate with family and friends at Angel Stadium and support my beloved team. Grass stains are being replaced by fruit punch stains, scraped knees are being replaced by carpal tunnel syndrome, and blurry vision from being in a chlorinated pool all day is being replaced by blurry vision from staring at a screen all day. We may not be hiking or rock climbing or kayaking Class IV rapids, but at least we’re not always plugged in. Back in the 1960’s, Timothy Leary coined the phrase “Turn on, Tune in, Drop out”, urging people to embrace the counter-culture; he later changed it to “turn on, boot up, jack in” for the emerging cyber-culture, seemingly connected and plugged in to everything. I suggest we “turn off, tune out and drop on in”; let’s get reacquainted with summer breezes, June bugs, dirt under our fingernails and our bikes. Just as long as you don't ditch me.
It is what it is…
Saturday, August 22, 2009
This acorn is staying close to the tree...
It recently occured to me that I've played numerous roles in my life up to this point-husband, brother, son, coach, employee, provider, friend...some have gone on to even call me a mentor, an advisor and a role model (I know, scary...). I even know someone very special to me that has gone so far to tell me that I have been a better father to her than her real dad! She is such an amazing person that she deserves only the best and for her to have this deadbeat dad in her life just breaks my heart. However, I have learned so much from her that I feel I may be ready...maybe. This is the role she is preparing me for come December 5th; the role of daddy. (Thank you AGMD)
With nervous anticipation, I was looking through my "The Expectant Father" book and it told me that during the 6th month of pregnancy I would probably take the time to re-examine my relationship with my father; sometmes even dream about it. It goes on to mention that I'll probably look to my friends and family who already have kids and see how they do things; how they "father", so to speak. Eventually, however, I'll realize that my own father is the one that will have the most profound impact and influence on the kind of father I will be. I think I'm okay with this...
There's nothing like impending paternity to bring back all the memories and emotions of what it was like to be fathered as a child. In an earlier entry, I briefly mentioned some nice things about my dad. But that man deserves more to be written about him. My dad has been there every step of the way. He didn't have a job that required long business trips; didn't work nights (actually, he did for a little while but he'd take me with him so I can earn an actual allowance); didn't come home from work and ignore his kids; didn't work weekends. All the memories I have of my dad are fond and special and wonderful. For me, it doesn't matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was. He was a great dad and fortunately, that's what I remember.
First and foremost, the most important thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother. My dad loved my mom...still does, as far as I know. He treated her with respect and love and sincerity. I hope that I have picked that up from him, because I truly love my wife. I resepect the woman that she is now and I love the woman/mother that she has the ability to become. I truly hope that Benji will see that love between us and feel nurtured and safe.
However, my dad taught many more things. He taught me a love for baseball and being active. He would come home from work and would immediately grab the gloves and the ball and take me to the field across from our apartment, where we would practice our flyballs and grounders. When I was a kid going to the pool with my old man, he would make me do 10 laps before I could join my friends in regular pool horseplay. Turns out I go to high school and college and play/coach waterpolo and swimming for 11 years. Who knows best?
He showed me that it was okay to have a beer with friends, and a stronger drink with family. He showed me how to not smoke, by not smoking...ever! He showed me how to make amazing scrambled eggs, a "7-and-7", a love for nature and a love for books. He taught me how to shave, how to make oatmeal and how to light a match. My dad was the center of my universe and I only hope to the skies above that I can be just a fraction of that to my little Benji. Many of the things I learned from my dad, I cannot begin to type down in this blog. They're immeasurable. I just watched what he did.
It brings to mind a quote from Teddy Roosevelt's famous speech, "Strength and Decency":
“It is peculiarly incumbent upon you who have strength to set a right example to others….You must feel that the most effective way in which you can preach is by your practice.”
By no means was my dad preachy. He did, I watched, I learned. He was/is a generous and caring and unselfish man. While we all grabbed drumsticks, he would take a wing for himself. He never beat us, didn't beat my mom, didn't abuse drugs or alcohol, didn't kick animals and he didn't belittle any of us. He set the right example and I am going to do my best to follow. I will be the best father that I need to be for Benji, but I have a good blueprint living in Anaheim. The old saying goes that "any man can be a father; it takes someone special to be a dad." Now, it's my turn to be a dad. Here's hoping I don't disappoint.
It is what it is...
With nervous anticipation, I was looking through my "The Expectant Father" book and it told me that during the 6th month of pregnancy I would probably take the time to re-examine my relationship with my father; sometmes even dream about it. It goes on to mention that I'll probably look to my friends and family who already have kids and see how they do things; how they "father", so to speak. Eventually, however, I'll realize that my own father is the one that will have the most profound impact and influence on the kind of father I will be. I think I'm okay with this...
There's nothing like impending paternity to bring back all the memories and emotions of what it was like to be fathered as a child. In an earlier entry, I briefly mentioned some nice things about my dad. But that man deserves more to be written about him. My dad has been there every step of the way. He didn't have a job that required long business trips; didn't work nights (actually, he did for a little while but he'd take me with him so I can earn an actual allowance); didn't come home from work and ignore his kids; didn't work weekends. All the memories I have of my dad are fond and special and wonderful. For me, it doesn't matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was. He was a great dad and fortunately, that's what I remember.
First and foremost, the most important thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother. My dad loved my mom...still does, as far as I know. He treated her with respect and love and sincerity. I hope that I have picked that up from him, because I truly love my wife. I resepect the woman that she is now and I love the woman/mother that she has the ability to become. I truly hope that Benji will see that love between us and feel nurtured and safe.
However, my dad taught many more things. He taught me a love for baseball and being active. He would come home from work and would immediately grab the gloves and the ball and take me to the field across from our apartment, where we would practice our flyballs and grounders. When I was a kid going to the pool with my old man, he would make me do 10 laps before I could join my friends in regular pool horseplay. Turns out I go to high school and college and play/coach waterpolo and swimming for 11 years. Who knows best?
He showed me that it was okay to have a beer with friends, and a stronger drink with family. He showed me how to not smoke, by not smoking...ever! He showed me how to make amazing scrambled eggs, a "7-and-7", a love for nature and a love for books. He taught me how to shave, how to make oatmeal and how to light a match. My dad was the center of my universe and I only hope to the skies above that I can be just a fraction of that to my little Benji. Many of the things I learned from my dad, I cannot begin to type down in this blog. They're immeasurable. I just watched what he did.
It brings to mind a quote from Teddy Roosevelt's famous speech, "Strength and Decency":
“It is peculiarly incumbent upon you who have strength to set a right example to others….You must feel that the most effective way in which you can preach is by your practice.”
By no means was my dad preachy. He did, I watched, I learned. He was/is a generous and caring and unselfish man. While we all grabbed drumsticks, he would take a wing for himself. He never beat us, didn't beat my mom, didn't abuse drugs or alcohol, didn't kick animals and he didn't belittle any of us. He set the right example and I am going to do my best to follow. I will be the best father that I need to be for Benji, but I have a good blueprint living in Anaheim. The old saying goes that "any man can be a father; it takes someone special to be a dad." Now, it's my turn to be a dad. Here's hoping I don't disappoint.
It is what it is...
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Simple poems are simple pleasures...
So I am what is known as a "bibliophile"; I love books...always have. When I was a kid, I grew up down the street from a used bookstore called the Book Baron and I loved going there more than I loved going to the arcade, or going to the beach. The second you walked in, your senses were overwhelmed by this incredible smell of pages and writing and history and adventure and romance and humor and...just books. If you happen to have an old paperback laying around, open it up and just smell it. That smell is one of my first loves. I used to go on my bike and just sit in the back and read either MAD magazines, books about World War II or "Choose Your Own Adventure" books. I do believe that this had a lot to do with my going to college and being an English major. I figured it would be cool to read and learn and be able to pass along my passion for reading and books to students in a classroom. Alas...
So why am I bringing this up? The wifey and I did a little cleaning of our spare bedroom to make way for our son and prepare the nursery. I found some books that I always like to keep around, for a quick re-read right? The Tao Te Ching, the Tao of Pooh, The Last Days of Summer and my very beat up and ripped and worn copy of Vonnegut's "Welcome to the Monkeyhouse", my all-time favorite book. These books are always within reach whenever I'm bored or just need some inspiration, spiritually or humorously. However, as I was clearing out this jungle of junk in my closet I came across two old favorites that I haven't seen in a very long time, and I thought I had lost them some time ago. I found two of my Shel Silverstein books, which were given to me as a gift when I first started college 18 years ago (by an old girlfriend, but don't tell the wifey...); my beloved copies of "Where the Sidewalk Ends" and "A Light in the Attic".
I immediately ditched the deforestation of my closet and embarked on a new mission...getting caught up with an old friend. I started to imagine myself reading to Benji, (I think we've decided on Benjamin as a first name...surprise!!) on a nightly basis, these incredibly stunning and visual poems from Silverstein. If you haven't had the chance, I encourage you to reacquaint yourself with some his poems, including "Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me Too", "For Sale", "Spelling Bee", "Deaf Donald" and "Hug o' War." However, the poem that stopped me dead in my tracks was one called "Listen to the Mustn'ts"(go ahead and click to read it). I remember this poem vividly because my fourth grade teacher at Dr. Jonas E Salk elementary school, Mrs. Fielder, kept it posted on the wall of her classroom. I will never forget that poem. She pointed it out to us one time, reading it aloud and stressing the last two lines...
Anything can happen, child,
ANYTHING can be.
I read that poem everyday, maybe twice a day. I memorized it. During a poetry class in college, our professor asked us if any poem had a profound afffect on us, and if we could recite it. One student memorized Sonnet 18 from Shakespeare while another recalled e.e. cummings; I recited this one.
I plan on reading to Benji whenever possible. I plan on introducing him to the new stuff and the old classic stuff. Nothing wrong with reading a little "Captain Underpants" alongside some Mark Twain. I even plan on doing funny voices.
But I just got so excited when I found these two books; these two books that reminded me how important it is for a child to go on adventures, not only outside on bikes and in parks, but from the comfort of their bed with daddy reading to them. My love for literature has been renewed.
On a side but related note, this October will hold the premeire of an exciting new movie. One of my favorite books from childhood was "Where the Wild Things Are" by Maurice Sendak. Granted, the kid in the book was a little shit but the illustrations and monsters were fun and unique. Click on the book title to be taken to a link to view the movie trailer. The first time I saw it I got goosebumps and teary-eyed; it looks amazing. I really hope the movie is good.
I argued with my wife that I just didn't feel like reorganizing or cleaning today; I was a big baby about it. I just felt like having a beer and watching some baseball. But, with apologies to the wifey, I reconnected with an old love...my first love. I hope she doesn't mind some company in bed.
It is what it is...
So why am I bringing this up? The wifey and I did a little cleaning of our spare bedroom to make way for our son and prepare the nursery. I found some books that I always like to keep around, for a quick re-read right? The Tao Te Ching, the Tao of Pooh, The Last Days of Summer and my very beat up and ripped and worn copy of Vonnegut's "Welcome to the Monkeyhouse", my all-time favorite book. These books are always within reach whenever I'm bored or just need some inspiration, spiritually or humorously. However, as I was clearing out this jungle of junk in my closet I came across two old favorites that I haven't seen in a very long time, and I thought I had lost them some time ago. I found two of my Shel Silverstein books, which were given to me as a gift when I first started college 18 years ago (by an old girlfriend, but don't tell the wifey...); my beloved copies of "Where the Sidewalk Ends" and "A Light in the Attic".
I immediately ditched the deforestation of my closet and embarked on a new mission...getting caught up with an old friend. I started to imagine myself reading to Benji, (I think we've decided on Benjamin as a first name...surprise!!) on a nightly basis, these incredibly stunning and visual poems from Silverstein. If you haven't had the chance, I encourage you to reacquaint yourself with some his poems, including "Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me Too", "For Sale", "Spelling Bee", "Deaf Donald" and "Hug o' War." However, the poem that stopped me dead in my tracks was one called "Listen to the Mustn'ts"(go ahead and click to read it). I remember this poem vividly because my fourth grade teacher at Dr. Jonas E Salk elementary school, Mrs. Fielder, kept it posted on the wall of her classroom. I will never forget that poem. She pointed it out to us one time, reading it aloud and stressing the last two lines...
Anything can happen, child,
ANYTHING can be.
I read that poem everyday, maybe twice a day. I memorized it. During a poetry class in college, our professor asked us if any poem had a profound afffect on us, and if we could recite it. One student memorized Sonnet 18 from Shakespeare while another recalled e.e. cummings; I recited this one.
I plan on reading to Benji whenever possible. I plan on introducing him to the new stuff and the old classic stuff. Nothing wrong with reading a little "Captain Underpants" alongside some Mark Twain. I even plan on doing funny voices.
But I just got so excited when I found these two books; these two books that reminded me how important it is for a child to go on adventures, not only outside on bikes and in parks, but from the comfort of their bed with daddy reading to them. My love for literature has been renewed.
On a side but related note, this October will hold the premeire of an exciting new movie. One of my favorite books from childhood was "Where the Wild Things Are" by Maurice Sendak. Granted, the kid in the book was a little shit but the illustrations and monsters were fun and unique. Click on the book title to be taken to a link to view the movie trailer. The first time I saw it I got goosebumps and teary-eyed; it looks amazing. I really hope the movie is good.
I argued with my wife that I just didn't feel like reorganizing or cleaning today; I was a big baby about it. I just felt like having a beer and watching some baseball. But, with apologies to the wifey, I reconnected with an old love...my first love. I hope she doesn't mind some company in bed.
It is what it is...
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