All good things ...

It ended as quickly as it began.  I have been trying to come up with some profound summation to my life as a stay at home dad, but regrettably nothing has come.  I have started writing this post about a half dozen times, but keep coming up blank.  I want to talk about how much I learned or share some funny anctedote about my time, but again, nothing.

All I can say is that staying at home with your kids is not easy.  When you work a job you can turn off your computer or office light and go home.  Not so easy with kids.  I can truly appreciate now the job that Julie has done for all these years and is now doing again.

I have also realized that I am not built to be a stay at home dad.  I have my fathers patience and an inborn need for peace and quiet.  As a stay at home parent patience is essential and peace and quiet is extremely elusive.

So the decision became and easy one.  Julie longed to be home ... I was not fitting into the role ... so here we are.  

I will continue to write.  I thought about changing the blog to something like this ...

But that seemed a little corny, so I have begun a  new blog at:

http://steven-wagner.blogspot.com/

The first post is up, I hope that you enjoy.

My Life As A Stay At Home Dad?

It began with a much needed night out.  A night away from the kids.  Away from the chaos.  We had been at each others throats for days.  The stress of life was overtaking us and we needed a break.  Thank you God for a little place called the Wine Vault.  That night it was a bottle of Woop Woop Shiraz, live music and  a sobering, yet freeing conversation about the state of our state. 

It was decided that it was time for Julie to come back with the kids and for me to head back into the work force.  Me as a stay-at-home-dad was born from necessity.  It was promissing at first, we were optimistic that it could work, but as the months clipped by, it had become obvious, Julie needs the kids and my patience might be better suited for other endevours. 

That was a few months ago and the job market was bleak.  Not a nibble, not a bite.  Nothing as humbling as applying for postions that you know you are well qualified for and not even getting a sniff.

But we have come full circle.  Julie's Birthday.  We were back at the Wine Vault.  A bottle of Jam Jar Sweet Shiraz, live music and an expectant and anxious converstation taking place about the state of our future.  My Blackberry buzzed (finally) with an email containing an offer sheet from my new employer.  I will be starting after Labor Day. 

We are excited and apprehensive about the changes coming our way.  I will have more to come on what this means for my life as a blogger. 

The Walk

The first time was in my college apartment, after graduation, but before life started.  It caught you by surprise, it wasn't how you pictured it and it sent you running.  But you came back.  The second time was at the college Arboretum.  This is the one we talk about.  Picnic, wine, conversation, pictures, the way it is supposed to be.  Then there were others.  There was a ballpark, on the water, in different states, anywhere that felt right, that felt special.  The last came on THE day, delivered to you with roses.  I am so glad the answer was still yes.

A lot has happened since that day.  The world has moved fast and we have done our best to keep up.  We have faced trials and tribulations, but also joy and wonderment.  There has been laughter and tears, humor and disputes, excitement and fear.  We are different from those wide-eyed kids from that day, but yet we are just the same.

You still excite me.  You remain my most best friend.  You make me smile and in turn I love to make you smile; because when you smile ... you can brighten the world.  I love you so much.  And I am so glad that on this day you were born.  I can't offer you money or houses or gems, but I can offer you this ....

WILL YOU MARRY ME!!

Wordless Wednesday

My comedy relief ...

Zoe's vocabulary and personality is evolving rapidly.  Here are a few recent quips that she has graced us with:

"When I grow up, I am going to drink princess wine."

When told that Daddy will take everyone fishing in the fall, "I'm gonna catch a princess fish and keep it in my princess bed."

"I can't pee-pee on top my poo-poo."

While donning her new princess sunglasses, tilting her head down, wearing a snear on her lips, raising her eyebrows to see out above them, "I'm a Secret Agent."

"Stop it Zane, I not want to hear your voice."

Zane struggling to open the front door.  "Zane, move out the way, I can open it." She pushes Zane out the way to get to the front door.  After pushing on the door once, without even touching the door handle, "Daddy, open the door please." (I did, so I guess she accomplished her goal)

The Pursuit

The goal is in sight.  It is shiny, it is mysterious, it is new and I want it.  There was a time that I did not have the ability or wherewithall to traverse this great distance, but that time has come to pass.  I will claw and sratch and push my way toward the finish line if need be, but I will not be denied.  The route is filled with obstacles to manuveur, but I will prevail.  I will claim my prize. 

The treasure is within reach.  I can almost taste the victory ...

But what is this?  A force lurking in the shadow ... casting his shadow down upon me.  I must move faster. I must outrun my pursuer.  I must savor the flavor of triumph.

Just a few more inches and the thing that I covet, the thing that will make me whole will be mine ...

But there they are.  They have come again.  The vice grips of disappointment grasping at my chest ... pulling me back, up and away from the spoils of my sojourn.

Don't misunderstand me, the darkness, the shadow is not frightening, not scary.  The force is simultaneously constricting, yet comforting, impeding, yet reassuring.  In a strange way, it feels proper, it feels right.

I am not afraid.  I am determined, insistent, unrelenting and resolute.  But not afraid ... for I know that no matter what dangers may lie ahead, my salvation will be prowling in the shadows waiting to draw me back and cast me into a new direction.

Auto Care and all that entails ...

So the car needed to be fixed.  Simple enough, cars need to be fixed every day.  Ours needed a serpentine belt, an oil change and tire rotation. Hour and a half, in and out, no problem ... except ... Julie and I only have one car.  Julie had to work and we are setting out on a little road trip tomorrow.  That meant Me, three kids under 3 years of age and Firestone Auto Care.  To my advantage, they recently opened a new Firestone in the same parking lot as Concord Mills Mall.  So the plan ... drop Julie at the church, drop the car off, trek the 1/4 mile across the parking lot, GET MORE COFFEE, visit the play place, see the fish at Bass Pro Shop, maybe have lunch and go back to pick up the car.  So simple.

I packed the diaper bag.  Diapers for Zadie, Pull-ups for Zane, Wipes, extra outfits, Goldfish, Puffs, toys, 4 apple juice sippy-cups, 1 apple juice bottle, food for Zadie, spoons, bib and gum (for crowd control).  We were well stocked and on our way.  A few minutes down the road Julie asked, "Did you get the double-stroller?".  We were well stocked, but evidentially not completely stocked ... back to the house.

After that brief inconvenience we were on our way once again.  Julie was dropped off.  The belt for the car was not in stock, but easily gotten.  Price was in line with my expectations.  Good, time for the mall. "Daddy I have to go pee-pee" says Zoe.  And of course her echo, Zane, chimed in "Daddy I have to go pee-pee too."

I need to stop here and paint a picture for you.  For this trip I blew the dust off of our double jogging stroller.  The width of most retail doors is 36".  The wheel base on our double jogging stroller is 35.9999".  The bathroom at Firestone is a unisex, 60" x 60" room, with a peculiar, rather unpleasant smell.  The only way I can explain the scene within the bathroom is to have you picture a revolving door, but replace the door with a large jogging stroller.  To move from the toilet to the sink, you must pivot the stroller to the left.  To get to the paper towels, pivot to the left again.  To coordinate the movement, everyone must work in unison, which does not come even close to falling in the twins vocabulary.  But we managed to perform the bathroom waltz not once but twice, Zoe being successful, but not so much for Zane.

To the mall.  Uneventful to the play place, except the Starbucks that I had been craving for an hour, closed and I had to settle for what Cinnabon passes off as coffee.  But I digress.  Zoe and Zane of course enjoyed playing, but my focus was on Zadie.  The mall was not open yet, so the play place was empty and I was able let Zadie crawl around without a fear of being trampled (at least by strangers; Zoe and Zane are another story).  Zadie is the kind of baby that would make you want 15 more kids.  If she cries, she is hungry, tired, stuck (a new one since she has become mobile), or was just run over by one of her locomotive- like siblings.  I put her down in the middle of the play place and she spent the next half an hour moving form one attraction to the next just exploring, smiling, laughing and looking around to make sure I was watching her pull herself up to a standing position (and once again laughing when she realized that I was indeed watching).  How lucky are we, that in this time, that has brought many new stresses, we are blessed to have an even-keeled, low maintenance, angel of a baby.

A dirty little secret.  Well, not so dirty I guess, but still something no one knows about me.  I like it when my children stop people in their tracks.  This may happen with all kids, but I am going to pretend that it is only my kids because I am their father and I can do that.  It started with Zack.  When he was a baby, people stopped us all the time and said how cute he was.  He was curly haired, fair skin and bright blue eyes.  We were stopped with the twins all the time, but they were twins and somewhat of a spectacle just in their numbers.  But once again with Zadie, people just stop and stare.  This happened half a dozen times today and the truth is, I liked it.  So there.

As we were walking to Bass Pro Shop I realized something.  Zane is following right in Zach's footstep with his curiosity.  Zane's new favorite thing to say is, "I've got a question."  He never follows that statement with a question, but he has heard his brother say it so much that it is now ingrained into his lexicon.  But he does have questions. He wants to know what everything is.  If he follow in Zach's path, right now it is what everything is, next it will be what is it for and then how does it work.  As I said in Oh yeah ... I was going to write about the kids, while questions can get a bit overwhelming and time can not always be made to answer, I pray he never stops asking them.


The other thing that I observed is how the marketing machine driving our society has claimed another victim in my young Zoe.  For her, it's the Disney Princesses.  In Bass Pro Shop she was collecting anything pink and Princess.  At one point she had a Princess tackle box, two princess outdoor kits (sunglasses and what not), a princess fishing rod and a pink butterfly net, going on about her "birfday" coming up.  Our house couldn't fit all of the stuff she has asked for, for her "birfday".  This isn't unique to Bass Pro Shop either.  She came up to me in Target the other day with half a dozen Barbie Dolls in tow.  The other thing she likes to do is find spare change, show it to me and tell me that these are, "pennies fo pwincesses".


As we were leaving Bass Pro Shop I heard the familiar "Daddy I have to go pee-pee," of course from Zoe AND her echo.  This time we had a little more room to spread out, which has its advantages and disadvantages.  Zoe took one stall, Zane took another and I set up camp at the diaper changing station.  I changed Zadie then went to help Zane.  He had shed his shorts, diaper, shoes and was straddling a toilet trying to do his business, wanting "pwivacy".  So I set off to help Zoe.  She was done and wanting to get dressed again.  I helped her and turned to go back to Zane, but he was gone.  He decided the toilet was not for him and had wandered over to the kids urinal; sans anything on his bottom half.  The next event remains a bone of contention between Zane and I.  I did not see him go pee-pee, but he adamantly told me, over and over and over (and over and over), until I gave up, that he did in fact have a successful trip to the urinal (he didn't).  I washed Zane's hands.  As I was washing Zoe's hands, I turned to look for Zane and found him, head under a stall, looking at someone trying to use the bathroom.  How embarrassing (for everyone involved).  I grabbed Zane washed his hands and got out of that bathroom as fast as humanly possible, taking only a minute to chuckle at my children's absolute fear of the XLerator hand drying system (they are absolutely terrified of how loud they are and for some reason it amuses me).

One more stop at Books-A-Million to peak through the discount bins.  I found three Illustrated Classics that will be great for Zach and of course Zoe found an armful of books, for her "birfday".

Back across the parking lot, where it was much hotter than it was an hour and a half ago, when we made our first foray across the asphalt.  I paid the bill and one more time heard the now all-to-common chorus of "Daddy, I have to go pee-pee" (maybe 4 sippy-cups of juice was too many).  The bathroom was just as small and much to my chagrin had not been relieved of that unpleasant odor.

In the car, everyone exhausted, but great prospects for naps on the horizon.  All in all, a good day.

Wordless Wednesday

Christmas Morning

What could possibly bring a young girl to tears and a grown woman to point of utter frustration?  Well clothes and hair of course.  You see, Zoe knows what she likes.  At the same, Julie knows what Zoe is supposed to like.  Recently a friend of Julie's was about to consign some of her girls clothing.  The look on Julie's face was that of a child in a candy store.  You see (as explained to me by Julie), this women has her kids looking good.  You know when you go into a boutique children's shop, pick up an item and say to yourself, "who would pay $45 for a onesie?"  Evidentially Julie's friend would.  The woman lives in Alabama, but offered to take pictures of each of the items and send them over.

It was like Christmas morning when the e-mails started to arrive.  The decision on which to buy was discussed, pondered and fretted over, discussed again and again and again.  Finally (and I do mean Finally) a decision was made.  Money changed hands.  The package arrived.  I believe there was a squeal of delight (from Julie).  The tape was cut.  The box was opened.  Another squeal of delight (Julie again).  The clothes were laid out.  The cutest was pulled from the pile.  The question was asked.  "Zoe, do you want to try this on ... do you like it?"  Julie grinned form ear to ear, visions of young débutantes dancing in her head.  And Zoe, of course filled with excitment and gratitude for her new cache of designer clothes, responded in a way that only Zoe can ... she gave a flat "no", not even offering a glance up from her sippy-cup.

The smile once gracing my wife's face was slowly but deliberately replaced with a scowl.  The kind of scowl you will only see displayed on the face of a woman scorned.  The look on Zoe's face, utter indiference.  I don't know whether this behavior is intentional on Zoe's behalf or not, but she sure knows what buttons to push with her Mother.  I have a feeling we are going to be in for a long next 15 or so years.

But hey ... there is always Zadie.

Oh yeah ... I was going to write about the kids

Zachary is spending a couple of weeks in Virginia with his Nanna. When he is gone, I realize how much he helps me each day. When he is here I find it hard to remember that he is only 7. He is so smart. He is so big. We will be starting 2nd grade with him next month. He loves to learn. He can't get enough of it. The most common thing we here from him is "I have a question". And we have learned that if you answer that question, he will remember and he will be able to access that information at just the right time. And while questions can get a bit overwhelming and time can not always be made to answer, I pray he never stops asking them.

Our biggest struggle with him right now I think is tied to a lack of peer relationships. Julie was great at making play-dates and making sure that he had an outlet for friendship. Adding to my propensity to be introverted, is a stigma (probably my own) of not fitting in to normal stay at home parenting circles because I am a man.

Zoe's vocabulary is exploding. She and Zane are almost 3 and I can already see that she will be an early learner. She has learned to count to ten and she knows a few of her letters. She is picking up more and more of what we say and then use it correctly later. And following in her brother Zach's footsteps, she is a memorizer. She is starting to repeat books and songs back to us. But of course as exciting as this stage can be it comes with its drawbacks, like when today she told me to "shut up". I would like to say that I can blame it on TV or her brothers, but I have to own this. A couple of days ago, after fighting with them to try and get them to take a nap, exhausted from the whole experience I walked to the bottom of the stairs and yelled, "Shut up, just go to your bed and shut up!" Not my finest moment ...

But Zoe is a stereotypical girl. She cries at the drop of a hat. When this is a real problem is when she gets in trouble. At the first sign of trouble she drops to the ground and sobs. Do you know how hard it is to discipline a girl who is sobbing uncontrolably. You know you are being manipulated, but what recourse do you have.

Zane ... ahh Zane ... My Wonderful Nemesis. I have never seen someone who enjoys life quite like Zane does. He attacks each day. With Zane's day to day antics it can be hard to focus on his development, but develop he has. He is not as advanced with his speech as Zoe and he is not yet potty-trained (I think he just doesn't have the time to be bothered). But he is very athletic and much more social than Zoe. He has also picked up a habit of putting things into order and lining them up in straight lines. Also following in his brother Zach's footsteps, he loves to help and shows a sense of pride when he helps we around the house. Yesterday he helped me build some frames for some canvas prints and hammer some nails to fix our fence. Julie said when he came back in he had a smile on his face and strut in his step when he announced "I helped Daddy."

Our biggest struggle with Zane, to disipline him while not crushing his spirit. I want him to keep that exhuberance that makes him who he is, but he needs to be respectful when he displays it.

Zadie's growth seems like it went to overdrive within the last two months. First she sat up. Then she developed her own mode of transportation. She would sit up, do a split, fall forward, roll over, sit back up and start the whole process over again.  Now she is crawling and pulling herself up to a standing position.  She has had two teeth break ground and she can say da-da.

I know it is not a contest, but Zadie gets the award for best baby ever.  She is the sweetest, most docile baby that we have had.  Now that she is mobile, I can just sit her down and she will "explore" for what seems like forever (I am talking an hour or more).  I have always said that if Zadie is crying, one of 3 things are wrong, hungry, tired or needs a diaper change.  Now that she is mobile I have added a bumped head to that list.

Zadie is very social.  We first took notice on a crowded Metro ride, returning to my parents house from a day in Washington DC.  It was a work day and the Metro was filled with weary travelers returning home after a long day at work.  Zadie was helping to brighten up the days of the travelers by flashing some (non) toothy grins.  But for some reason she became fixated on a woman sitting behind Julie.  At first the woman, probably in her 50's, just gave Zadie a cursory smile, then returning her gaze toward the window and the passing Suburban Maryland landscape.  When the lady would look away, Zadie would cry, which would once again catch her attention and she would look and smile.  This went on for a few minutes.  Finally the woman gave up trying to distance herself and succumbed to my little girls relentlessness.  Turns out that she lived a long way from her daughter who had recently given birth to a little girl.  We chatted for the rest of the ride and I think Zadie really brightened this ladies day.  Babies can have an uncanny way of making people smile and my Zadie is a master of that gift.

An update on the Kids

I have come to a sort of realization that I am not doing a whole lot of writing about the kids.  They are growing so quickly and keeping so busy that it is all I can do to keep up their basic needs, much less keep tabs on the happenings of the day and record it in blog form.

Also, somewhere along the way, I have misplaced the ability to be funny (I think I sat it next to my ability to carry on a conversation with another adult; they are bound to show up any day now).  Now I am not claiming to be a world class comedian, but from time to time I could write to invoke a LOL, an ROFL, or even the elusive ROTFLMAO.  But that time has seemed to have passed.  I hold out hope that I may once again be able to find my funny, but I will not hold my breath though.  Recently, I have been able to narrow down its location into the vicinity of my lost sleep.

In my younger days (I know that I am only 31, but they say you are as old as you feel and these days I feel like I could be writing to you from beyond the grave) I thought that tired was a state of mind.  I could just will myself to have the energy to make it through the day, completing all that needed to be done.  But either my will has diminished or I am humbly learning what it means to really be tired.  Take a look at the excerpt below from an article about the affect sleep deprivation has on the brain:

The frontal lobe is the most fascinating section of the brain with relation to sleep deprivation. Its functions are associated with speech as well as novel and creative thinking (5). Sleep deprived test subjects have difficulties thinking of imaginative words or ideas. Instead, they tend to choose repetitious words or clichéd phrases. Also, a sleep-deprived individual is less able to deliver a statement well. The subject may show signs of slurred speech, stuttering, speaking in a monotone voice, or speaking at a slower pace than usual (6). Subjects in research studies also have a more difficult time reacting well to unpredicted rapid changes. Sleep deprived people do not have the speed or creative abilities to cope with making quick but logical decisions, nor do they have the ability to implement them well.


So that's it, I have located my funny and my conversation skills.  They are hidden away in my frontal lobe under lock and key, guarded by unobtainable sleep (and the boogeyman and possibly a goblin or two).  


But I digress ... Would you look at what I have done.  I stated writing about one thing, but then I spent 3 paragraphs talking about me, biology and my frontal lobe.  


It reminds me of a joke:


How many sleep deprived parents does it take to change a light bulb?
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"Honey!  Why am I in the utility closet?"

What was I talking about anyway?  Oh well, time for bed ... 

Wordless Wednesday

Joys of Parenting

While sitting at my computer, mindlessly wasting the day away (see Time to Unplug?), I heard a sound similar to a cat coughing up a pesky hairball.  Seeing that we don't have a cat (we had a cat once, but Julie returned it because she thought that it was possessed by an evil demon that caused it to pounce on her at all hours of the day; but I digress), the sound peaked my interest and unglued my gaze from the screen in front of me.  I turned to see Zane heading toward me with a red face, gagging from the banana he was given just a few minutes before.  Having been through this before I began to frantically look for anything to put in front of his slowly opening mouth.  Coming up empty, I reluctantly cupped my hands and offered them as source of relief to my soon to be three year olds predicament.  And so it flowed.  Into my hands poured the slimy glob that was once part of Zane's nutritious breakfast.  I then stood up, walked to the garbage disposal, dumped the clump of goo, washed my hands and headed back toward the computer, pausing for a moment to reflect ... This is normal ... this is commonplace ... these are moments that are at first repulsive, then become routine and will one day be a fond memory of days long ago.

A great person that most of us do not know...

This is a story of a young goat-heard named Kaldi.  He noticed a certain exuberance from his flock when they chewed on the berried of a certain bush.   Wanting to check it out, he himself nibbled on the berries and noticed the same energizing effects.  In his exhilaration he gathered some berries and rushed them to a Muslim holy man in a nearby monastery somewhere in Arabia.  The holy man disapproved of the use of the berries and tossed them into the fire.  The rest as they would say, is history (or at least pretty cool folklore).


It is easy to pass over or ignore the story of young Kaldi, but on a day like this, when I awoke to realize that we were out of the very product that Kaldi and the Muslim holy man discovered that day, I truly appreciate their accomplishments.  


You see, when the berries began to burn in the fire, they noticed an enticing aroma pouring from the smoke.  They raked the embers, ground them and dissolved them into hot water, creating the world's first cup of coffee.


Thank you Kaldi and thank you Dunkin' Donuts for supplying me with my daily fix of caffeinated goodness this morning.

Wordless Wednesday

Time to unplug?

When I was six my parents bought about 7 acres in rural Maryland, not far from the Pennsylvania state line.  The land was raw.  My parents cleared an area for our house to be built, but a lot of the property remained wooded and untamed.  Let me explain what I mean by rural.  We had neighbors, but there was some distance between us.  We were 15 or 20 minutes from both Westminster, MD and Hanover, PA.  Not metropolises, but you could find grocery stores, gas stations, clothing stores, entertainment, etc.  We actually had what I would consider a "general store" about five minutes away that served as our convenience store.  On our land we kept pigs, a goat, a few dogs, a duck (until it was eaten by the pigs, very tragic), a rabbit and other various and sundry insects and animals.  We had a small garden with corn, tomatoes, pumpkins, watermelon, peppers, etc.  We had a stream running down one side of our property.  We did not have cable television.  Trash pick-up day involved putting the trash in our pick-up and taking it to the dump.

My brother and I entertained ourselves by exploring the woods, playing with the dogs or riding bikes.  We had a rope swing over the stream.  I was in the 4-H, cub scouts and little league baseball.  I learned to trap turtles to keep as pets.  When we moved from the house after about two years, we had forged a series of paths through once untamed woods.  We forged our "own" paths.

My son Zachary is now about the age that I was when we lived in this house.  Here is how we compare.  We have two immediate neighbors.  Their houses are both within 10 feet of our property line.  We have a basketball hoop in the driveway, a trampoline and play-set in the backyard.  We have a big screen TV, a Wii, Nintendo DS and four computers that are internet ready (one belonging to Zach).  We have seasons passes to Carowinds (an amusement park) and YMCA membership, mainly for use of their outdoor pool and water-park.  He has tried baseball, but prefers football.

Where am I going with this?  I don't know exactly.  As a busy, harried and often stressed parent of 4, modern technologies can often provide a much needed break.  But a lifetime spent plugged in seems like a bit of a waste.  I could care less how long Lindsay Lohan's jail sentance is or where LeBron James is going to play basketball next year ... but with that being said I do know about Lindsay and I will know about LeBron.  For some reason I feel like I need to know and I do care.  I don't want to care.  I don't want my children to care.

Our society has evolved into a 24/7/365 media machine, fueled by TV, internet, mobile phones, blogs, tweets, status updates, diggs, and on and on.  We are told what is important instead of learning from our families or finding out for ourselves.

Now a little truth telling (conviction bearing).  My life can revolve around the modern technologies.  I enjoy TV.  A lot.  The radio is constantly on in the car (music or talk).  I read the news everyday on The Drudge Report, Fox News, AP, ESPN and Yahoo.  I have multiple e-mail accounts, a Facebook account and of course this blog.  I let my children watch more TV than I probably should.  Zach had an e-mail account and a facebook page.  It seems that I am grooming him to follow right along in my digitally enhanced footprints.

I am an addict.  I am an addict to the consumption of information.  Information that when broken down to its simplest level has little to no bearing on my life or the lives of my family.  I have been addicted to other things before.  Cigarettes.  I was able to kick that habit.  Eating.  Still struggle with that one, but I am better than I have been in the past.  Golf.  Well, budgetary and time constraints kind of took care of that one.

They say the first step to recovery is admitting that you have a problem.  Well then, "My name is Steve and I am addicted to using modern technology to aid in the consumption of seemingly useless information."  I am still working on the steps after that one, a cool acronym and a way to advertise it without feeling  like a total hypocrite.

I want to get back to a simpler day, when I looked at the forest in front of me, picked a spot and blazed my own trail.  When I had the imagination and the willingness to explore with fervor.  Most importantly, that is what I want my children to do.  I don't want them to see obstacles, but opportunities.  I want them to do things because they believe in them and it is right ... not just because it is the cool, hip or trendy thing to do.  I want them to make an impact on the world, not be consumed by it.  They have their whole lives in front of them and want them to forge their "own" paths, just as we did on that 7 acre tract of land in rural Maryland.

Twin Tuesday ... err ... Thursday

I am sitting at my computer blogging, while Zane and Zoe are watching a show.  Zane comes into me and says, "I put them up high."  "What did you put up high?"  "Goldfish."  As he is saying this I turned my chair 180 degrees to face the pantry just in time to to see Zoe emerge, Goldfish in hand.  She looked at the Goldfish, then looked and Zane and sinisterly stated "Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha."

Memories

I was five years old and in kindergarten at St. Johns Lutheran Church.  I guess curiosity got the best of me and I was caught swapping peeks of "private areas" with a girl “napping” in the cot across from mine.  I think that I was literally caught with my pants down.  

Also at five I remember a boy riding his two wheel bike into me and my big wheel, leaving a gaping wound in my leg.  My brother tells me that after we returned from the hospital I paid that eight year old a visit and exacted my revenge with a bit of fisticuffs (I don't remember that part).

I was seven.  We were watching that American classic, 'Three's Company'.  Someone had put an egg into Jack's pocket and proceeded to squish it with an open palm.  A discussion ensued between my brother and Mother.  She thought that having an egg broken on you would hurt.  He did not.  The dialog ended with my Mom chasing my brother around the house with an egg and my brother deciding it was a good idea to escape the house through his bedroom window.  It wasn't.  Emergency room.  Broken Leg.

I was seven.  I was awoken in the middle of the night while sleeping at an aunts house.  I was told my mother had died.

I was ten and it was the Fourth of July.  We had just gotten back into the pick-up truck at the snow-ball stand. We were all (brother, sister, friends) riding in the back, carrying on, having a grand time.  But as always, my timing was impeccable.  While enthusiastically telling a story and laughing I put my arms out the bed of the truck and back toward the cab of the truck ... just as my Dad was closing his door.  With the level of noise coming from the bed of the truck, my Dad had no idea that his youngest son was screaming in pain, so he began to drive away.  If not for the quick action of some snow-ball stand patrons, who knows how long my finger would have been stuck in that door.  

I was twelve.  My father was a newlywed.  My sister had gone back to live with her Mom.  I was still relatively new to our area and only had a few friends (really just acquaintances).  And I found out that my brother had joined the Navy.  I sobbed, feeling so alone.

I was thirteen and in middle school.  I was called to the office for an early dismissal, which was unexpected to me.  My Dad didn't say anything to me until we were out of the building (I think because he thought he was doing something wrong).  When we got to the truck he asks "Want to go golfing?"  My clubs were in the back of the truck.

I was seventeen.  I was leaving for college.  I was ready for some freedom.  But as we were pulling out of the driveway, there was fear and a sense that something was ending.  It was hard.  

I was eighteen.  I was walking to class at Godwin Hall at JMU.  I caught sight of a girl walking near the tennis courts.  I had met her, she lived in my dorm, but this was the first time that I had that feeling.  You know the one.  Excitement, nervousness, a wave of awkwardness that forces your words to come out slow and twisted.

I was twenty-one.  I was sitting on the deck at the clubhouse at Lakeview Golf Course in Harrisonburg, VA.  I was about to graduate from college and was taking some time to create some goals for my life.  I had a few jotted down.  But right then I decided that I didn't want to do any of the things that I had written on that paper, alone.  Goal number one ... marry that girl I saw by the tennis courts outside of Godwin Hall.  

I was twenty-two.  I witnessed an angel walking down a red carpeted church aisle in Hampton, VA, headed toward the luckiest man in the world.

I was twenty-four.  I met my son for the first time.  People look at Julie and I strange sometimes because we have four kids.  But who can get enough of the miracle of a child being born.  Nothing measures up to the moment that hours (you can even say months) of labor culminate into that magical moment when your child, created by love, is here, safe in your arms. 

If you made it this far, thank you for indulging me.  I promise that there is a point.  I don't have many vivid memories of my life.  The ones above are just a few of maybe a couple dozen that I have.  When I use the word vivid, I mean that I can see them, feel them, smell them, taste them.  They can be triggered by a number of things such as a person, a place, a song.  I can return to the moment in my head.  And it always surprises me some of the things that I do remember.  The big ones, Julie, Zach, I get it.  But a big wheel accident, a trip to a snow-ball stand, a round of golf?  And there are others, seemingly random, meaningless interactions that stand-out in my journal of memories.  I can only think that somehow these apparently insignificant interchanges have helped to mold who I am.  

It brings me to wonder what will my children remember?  What have they seen and experienced that will shape who they become?  What encounters are in their future?  Most importantly, what can I do to be a well thought of character if I may play a starring role in one of those memories?  I know I have said it before, but it deems repeating, there is nothing, NOTHING, more important than raising your kids.  A parent is literally responsible for the future of the world and I know a lot of us, especially me, do not take that charge serious enough.  

But luckily, I have tomorrow to start.

My Wonderful Nemesis

He embraces the day with youth and with vigor.  Each day he sets out to conquer new heights and obtain the unobtainable.  He is a storming marauder set to reap the spoils of the castle.  To him, I am the gatekeeper, the sentry, who's job it is to repel his progress, to spurn his advancement.

Then one day, in the wee hours, he awakes to a fever.  His enemy, his combatant, transforms, suddenly, and once again becomes Daddy.  This once brave and formidable knight is now groggy, confused and wanting someone to remove the pain that has settled in his two year old head.  Medicine administered, consoling concluded, the brave warrior takes once again to sleep, dreaming of the day he will be well enough to fight once more.

As I lay alongside my foe and calm him to sleep, wiping his tears with the back of my hand, I realize that I am truly blessed to be the father of such a "Wonderful Nemesis".

The Understudy

As I sit here writing, Julie is perched in the family room captivating the children.  There are a couple of dozen books strewn about and the kids are taking turns (yes, actually taking turns) bringing them to Julie for her to read.  I try my best to take care of them and keep them stimulated, and for the most part I do an adequate job.  The problem is, it does not come naturally for me.  I love to play with them, to cuddle on the couch and relax, but it does not come naturally to me on how to keep them stimulated throughout the day (sans TV).

Julie has a teachers heart and soul.  She wants to answer all of their questions, whether trivial or profound.  She has a patience that eludes me for the tasks of crafts or finger paints.  She creates an aura of learning that feeds the children's excitement and wonder.

On Thursday I had a business lunch to attend so I dropped the kids off to Julie at the church.  She had some work to do in one of the classrooms and they were going to "play" and/or "help".  I put those two words in quotes because the kids rarely play without clambering for attention or help without creating more work.  When I returned to the church I noticed little work had been accomplished.  I know that this would be frustrating for Julie because the deadline for the work to be done was fast approaching.  Put me in a similar situation, you will experience a grouchy, short tempered man.  Put Julie into this situation ... and I received a hearty welcome and was ushered to my seat to observe a concert and a play.  Instead of giving into the frustration, she rolled with it and engaged them in an activity that brought them all together.  Julie can really bring the fun!  Julie grabbed the microphone, played the music and they performed a two number set with singing, dancing and some expert tambourine playing.  Then we watched as Zach and Zane put on a play featuring a prince and his new throne.

Stereotypes are stereotypes for a reason.  While often exaggerated they are rooted in common characteristics and truth.  Women are known to be better suited to care for children while men are built to be the provider.  I once thought "That is just a choice, I can do this".  But the truth is, God has built us differently, so that we can achieve a singular goal.  Julie was given the temperament and upbringing to be a Mom.  To care for her children.  To teach them humility, respect, caring, along with there ABC's and 123's.  And the further we get into this "experiment", the more that I realize that  I am just the stand-in or the understudy to the true star of the show.

I sense that there may be change in the air ... stay tuned.

Wordless Wednesday

Grown Up Ordinary

Most of us have allowed ourselves to settle for "ordinary" lives.  We have ordinary jobs, live in ordinary places and spend our time doing ordinary things.  It is not entirely our fault, most of our parents are "ordinary" people too.  And we are following right in line by creating "ordinary" children.

Now that I have offended everyone, let me see if I can walk this back a bit.  I will start by saying ordinary is not in itself a bad thing.  "Ordinary" people make huge contributions to society.  "Ordinary" people are doctors, nurses, police and fire fighters.  They are teachers, ministry workers and parents.  They fight for our country and help to build the infrastructure we depend on.  "Ordinary" does not mean boring, apathetic or purposeless.  I use "ordinary" only to draw a distinction between it and what I term to be the "extraordinary".

This topic (along with another that I may have to release in book form) has been weighing heavily on me lately.  Being at somewhat of a crossroads, pondering what to do next in life, a central longing continues to nibble at the edges;

"I want to make a difference".

I spent almost six years pouring myself and my resources into a business.  I poured everything I had.  But in the end we disappeared from the business landscape of Charlotte without creating as much as a ripple.  Our clients, while maybe slightly inconvenienced by our closing, I'm sure found one of the other hundred companies that do basically the same thing that we were doing for them.  What seemed so important while entrenched in the day to day turned out to be so "ordinary" with hindsight.

"I don't want to be ordinary."

We were in the car one day and I got a great reminder of how many things Zach hears and interprets (It constantly amazes me that he is only 7 years old and not a teenager).  There was a song on the radio by Michale Franti called "Say Hey".  There is a line in the song "The more I see the less I know" and Zach wanted to know what that meant.  Now I had "heard" that song probably a dozen or more time and never picked up on that lyric.  It took me a minute but here was my explanation, "the more you see the less you know means that you may think you know "everything" when you live in your own bubble.  But when you start to look outside yourself and your immediate surroundings you realize that it is a big world and every new experience you open your eyes to, opens a host of new questions and adventures to explore.  And you realize how little you knew before."  I equated it to Zadie and her exploits into learning the world.  Right now she is not mobile.  She knows the world where we set her.  Her crib, the car seat, the swing.  When she crawls, that will open up a new window for he to explore.  Then there is walking, talking, running, riding bikes, and on and on.  Each step she will realize that there is a much bigger world out there than she had ever imagined.

When do we lose the wonder of the world?  I think that is what separates the "ordinary" life with an "extraordinary" one.

"Wonder."

da Vinci.  Galileo.  Newton.  Magellan.  Washington.  Einstein.  Shakespeare.  Edison.  King Jr.  Kennedy Jr.  And on and on.  These were "extraordinary" lives.  Galileo gazed at the shadows and craters of the moon and deduced that the Earth was not the center of the universe.  Newton sat in a contemplative mood, wondering why an apple that fell from a tree always went straight toward the Earth's center.  Eventually this led to his law of gravity. Magellan's crew thought that they were literally going to fall off of the edge of the world at some point during their voyage.  Magellan thought differently.  John F. Kennedy Jr. boldly stated that we would land a man on the moon within a decade, while the guys at NASA still had no clue as to how to do it. We all know how that turned out.  Stories such as these are scattered throughout history and share a common characteristic.  They originated from a person or group that had a true sense of wonder and then the ambition and aspiration to achieve solutions to their questions.

"Quest for solutions."

From the time a new baby is brought into the world, they face a daunting series of challenges and obstacles.  they hear voices, but do not yet have the muscles in their neck to turn in their direction.  They crave mobility when placed on the ground, but they cannot move.  They have so much to say, but no words to express themselves.  And so it goes.  Children see one challenge after another, observe those around them, and with amazing persistence, conquer the task.

This is a process that is rather unique to the human race.  In nature,  most "babies" are born and within a few weeks and sometimes just days are walking, flying, hunting, launching out on their own.  They must, it is the difference between survival and death.

We weren't made that way.  We were made vulnerable, in need of protection.  We were made to ease into the world.  To soak it all in, building our skills, both mental and physical, slowly and with purpose.  We are forced, from birth, to "wonder" and achieve.  I can't imagine that this is by accident or happenstance.  We are built for greatness.  We are built to be "extraordinary".

I don't know how to achieve the "extraordinary".  But if I stop, look, listen and learn from their examples, I believe I have four little miracles that can help to open my eyes to the prospects of becoming once again "extraordinary".

I will leave you with a clip that speaks to a lesson I want to instill into my children.  Also a lesson that I need to re-instill in my own life.

What do you get when you combine 3 Z's, a hose and a pool?

Zane grasped the garden hose and was haphazardly spraying the air in no particular direction, having the time of his life.  If any landed in the pool, it was purely happenstance.  Zachary fumed and stomped around the pool shouting, pouting and pleading for Zane to fill the pool the "right" way.  When Zach did have control of the hose he remained exasperated by the constant cannonballs from his younger brother, leaving little water for the others to enjoy.  Zoe stayed far away, avoiding the spray, bemoaning the fact that Zane is "mean and not sharing".

How a $10 pool and the process of filling it shows us a window into their ever developing personalities.

Wordless Wednesday

Twin Tuesday part 3

Sound-off Sunday: episode 3

Sound-off Sunday is a concept that I came up during an abnormally loud car ride.  The shear volume of the car would have probably cause a normal person to lose their mind, but I realize that it is just part of the soundtrack of our lives.  Each Sunday I will share with you an audio recording that will allow you a window into our chaos.

Twin Tuesday part 2

Let me set the scene. Zane came into our bed sometime around 6am and promptly fell back to sleep (thank God). Zoe remained in her (well, actually Zane's) bed.

Julie got up to get Zadie at about 7:30. Zoe was up roaming the hall at this point. Julie returned to our bed with Zadie. When Zane saw that Zoe was up, he climbed down from our bed, walked over to Zoe and they gave each other a hug. They embraced, as if to say, I love you and I missed you.

There is something about the bond that exists between these two that will be so interesting to observe as they grow and mature.

... but the beauty of the moment was quickly erased when after the hug, Zoe announced, "I got poo."

Meandering Monday: volume 2

One of the things you here most from kids struggling with higher level math is "are you really going to have to use this in the real world?"  You know, I never heard an answer to that growing up.  In my previous job I found myself using things like geometry, algebra, trigonometry all the time to figure things like prices, profit and construction specs.  

Now I am back in school, a little wiser of the world and I realize that even the mundane of functions, logarithms, polynomials, radicals, etc, etc, play a role in everyday life.  There was a time in our country when school was not completely taught in a classroom.  Kids learned math by taking their crops and livestock to the market with their parents learned to add, subtract, multiply and divide through monetary transactions.  Now we teach in schools with 20 to 30 kid classrooms and it has forced us to teach to a common denominator.  We have reduced math to a series of definitions that must be memorized and regurgitated.

Even as I sit in this college level class, filled with a lot of engineering and pre-med students, we skip the practical applications of what we are doing.  Each chapter in the book has a section included that teaches real world practices of the math we are learning.  To this point, our professor has skipped all of this.  How easy would it be to say, this is the equation you use to keep a building from falling down (or something along those lines).  


Now, is this a solution to all of kids frustrations with Math?  No.  But if you can peak a few more kids interest in the field of Math, (which opens up the world of science) maybe we can stop the downward spiral of our kids math and science scores when compared to the rest of the world.

Wordless Wednesday

Sound-off Sunday: episode 2

Sound-off Sunday is a concept that I came up during an abnormally loud car ride.  The shear volume of the car would have probably cause a normal person to lose their mind, but I realize that it is just part of the soundtrack of our lives.  Each Sunday I will share with you an audio recording that will allow you a window into our chaos.

This is a recording from the car ride leaving church on Sunday.  The phrase that is being uttered is "Hey big daddy! Want a house call?"  You are probably asking yourself, where in the world would our kids have been exposed to a saying like that.  For that, I have to take you back to my college days.

My wife Julie was a psychology major in a speech communication major body.  She attempted to reverse the paradigm of men hooting and hollering from a construction site or car window in the direction of an attractive woman.  She did this by using the phrase, "Hey big daddy! Want a house call?" yelled from a car window she would study the effect it would have on an unsuspecting male coed.  Or at least that is what she told me ... I believe she just thinks that she is hilarious when she does it, providing her hours of good entertainment.

Fast forward about ten years.  I am a college student again.  We live close enough to the school that I attend that, as long as the weather cooperates, I ride my bike to class.  One such day about a week ago, I left for class and was trudging up the hill leading from our house to the community exit, when I heard a surprising but familiar chant of "Hey big daddy! Want a house call?" from somewhere over my right shoulder.

It was funny, well timed and took me back to a time when life was just beginning ... but it has also produced this:

Wordless Wednesday

click on image for a larger view

Twin Tuesday part 1

Grammy and Pop-pop are in for a visit for a few days.  Today we went to Sports Authority and A.C. Moore to pick up a few things (yes I had to go to the craft store).  After leaving Sports Authority, Grammy walked Zoe, Zane and Zadie to A.C. Moore while Zach and I went back in to Sports Authority to scour the store for the sunglasses Zane apparently sat down somewhere inside.  We didn't find them.

The story that I want to tell was relayed to me by Grammy and occurred on their sojourn from Sports Authority over to the craft store (I have taken the liberty of putting the story into my own words).

While we were walking, we saw a bug that looked a lot like a dragon fly, resting on the sidewalk.  Zane was hunched down looking at the bug, saying hi, and really examining it.  Zoe walked up, took a quick look at the bug and proceeded to step on it, killing it in cold blood.  Zane paused, thought about the senseless killing that unfolded in front of him and responded by telling the bug "that's alright, you be okay".  Zoe in her sweetest most delicate tone, soothed her grieving brother by chanting "no, he's dead, he's dead" and continues her trek toward the craft store.

Meandering Monday: volume 1

Meandering Monday is a revival of my first blog attempt ramblingsofacommonman.blogspot.com where I write about current events, everyday occurrences, random thoughts, etc.


I don't know what to say about the spill in the Gulf.  A horrible, horrible catastrophe that we will feel the impact of for a long time.

But I do know that a lot of people are going to use this as a springboard to diminish our use of fossil fuels (crude oil).  When we think of uses for crude oil, the primary use that comes to mind is gasoline used for cars.  But its uses also include Lubricants (oils and greases), propane, wax (like the ones used in frozen food packages), sulfur, tar, asphalt, plastics, polymers, solvents, chemicals, etc, etc, etc.  What I am trying to say is, you may be drive a Chevy Volt, but the car body is made of oil, the road you are driving on is made of oil (asphalt), the oil for the engine is made of, well, oil, the stop light you wait at is made of oil (plastic), the cell phone you are texting on while driving is made from oil,  the drive-thru speaker you speak into is made from oil, and on and on and on.

Before we look to demonize an entire industry for an accident (an accident of an unprecedented magnitude, but yet still an accident) think about what it could mean for our own lives.  I know I didn't like it when gas was $4.30 a gallon.  But that is just the tip of the iceberg.  The products that we have become so accustomed to, that have become staples in everyday life (cell phones, laptops, cars, trains, planes, food packaging, cleaning supplies, the keyboard I am typing on now) would not be possible without that gooey mess that is spewing into the Gulf of Mexico.

Do companies need to better regulate themselves?  Absolutely! Should we explore ways to limit our dependence on oil?  Yes!  Should we jump to make wholesale changes to an industry that impacts our lives more than we could probably fathom?  I do not think so.

Sound-off Sunday: episode 1

Sound-off Sunday is a concept that I came up during an abnormally loud car ride.  The shear volume of the car would have probably cause a normal person to lose their mind, but I realize that it is just part of the soundtrack of our lives.  Each Sunday I will share with you an audio recording that will allow you a window into our chaos.

This recording was from a short car trip to Target.  The picture does not match the audio (just one that I liked), but it does feature the two main players in the audio recording (Zach and Zane)

I was barely unpacked

I have been finding it hard to blog lately.  I could blame it on time.  I started my class, four kids to take care of, housework, homework, etc.  I could blame it on being tired.  Seems like most days it is a sprint from 7am (or earlier) to 9pm (or later).  I wasn't able to put my finger on a reason why something that was coming so easy, now was so difficult.  Then my brilliant wife said 5 words that helped shed some light on a possible reason why.  "The honeymoon has worn off".

When I first began as a stay at home dad everything was fresh and exciting.  I was seeing the kids through newly opened eyes.  Spending all day with them brought me so much time for me to observe and explore their individual personalities.  But the newness wore off and everyday life settled in, and somewhere along the way, I have forgotten to pay attention.

The "honeymoon" wearing off is a quite common occurrence for any new situation.  It happens with new jobs, new houses and new relationships to name a few.  This phenomenon gives me pause though.  Why can't we just be content?  Why does the newness and wonder wear off?

Have you ever met someone in their 40's, 50's or older who is working on their 3rd degree, masters, Phd?  They have spent their life learning.  They are constantly educating themselves in new fields, experiencing new insights and points of view.  A lot of us look at those types of people as a bit crazy; we were just happy to make it through our schooling unscathed and with bright job prospects on the horizon.  But I think they just may be on to something.  Maybe learning, keeping your mind active, gaining knowledge is the secret to remaining youthful.  Look into the eyes of a child when they are encountering something new.  You see wonderment, intrigue, excitement, fear, questions, wanting, and on and on.  New experiences for a child requires all the senses.  They want to see, hear, touch, smell and sometimes unfortunately, taste every new adventure.  So maybe the secret to remaining youthful is act as if you are youthful (flying in the face of the old adage, "act your age")

There is a line from a song, "the more I see, the less I know."  There is so much to see and learn in the world.  We have all only just scratched the surface.  There is so much we can see and learn from books, experiences, traveling and interacting with the people right around us.  Life can be tiring and stressful.  We all have our reasons why we end up wading in the mundane.  But we need to pay attention, to experience the joys that are all around us.

I am in the process of retraining myself to do this.  I am going to start theme days for my blog to re-energize myself and force me to pay more attention. I have not come up with themes for all of the days, but I do have a few.  I have Wordless Wednesday (which a lot of bloggers use), a day when you use pictures to tell a story (or more accurately, a picture that prompts the reader to derive their own story).  Sound-off Sunday will give the readers a window into the soundtrack of my life (I have one that I will post later).  Twin Tuesday will be stories past and present that show the trials, tribulations and triumphs involved with raising twins.  The last that I have assigned will be Meandering Monday, which is somewhat a revival of my first blog attempt ramblingsofacommonman.blogspot.com where I write about current events, everyday occurrences, random thoughts, etc.

I will entertain other suggestions on theme days.  Any suggestion must include a corny name like the ones I have come up with above.

Just a note:  When I write things like this, they are not written into the direction of anyone but me.  I use the term "we" for literary purposes.

GO!

It all started this morning with a bit of misinformation.  On their website the YMCA announced that their water-park opened this Saturday.  As you can imagine this has been a date that the Wagner Z's have been frothing at the mouth to come.  While at child watch today (where, as I predicted when he demanded to put them on this morning, Zane pooped in his underwear; potty training is not coming easy to that one) we saw an ad flash on their big screen television that the Y water-park opened on Friday, May 29th.  This was confirmed by the front desk staffer that it did indeed open at 4pm.

Now this information was parenting gold.  Like finding the golden ticket in the last Wonka Bar we could muster up enough change for.  "Get in your seat or we won't got to the pool", "stop screaming or we won't go to the pool", "Zoe and Zack are listening well, so they get to go to the pool, Zane stays here", "the pool won't open unless you take a nap"; we got our money's worth out of this one.

Small problem (and if you are a detailed person you may have already picked up on this).  As Zoe and Zane sleep in their beds with visions of waterfalls and duck slides in their minds, their mother decided to confirm that indeed the pool did open today.  It did not.  The ad read Friday, May 29th.  May 29th is a Saturday.  No pool today.  Problem.

Zach was really disappointed.  We had to come up with something.  Earlier in the day we stopped in a video game store and Zach got really excited by the new Mario game, Mario Galaxy 2.  So Julie and I devised a way that he could use his savings ($24) dollars and some trade-ins to get close enough that Julie and felt comfortable making up the difference.  This did the trick.

When Zoe and Zane woke up and we told them the news that the pool was not open.  They took the news surprisingly well.  We piled in the car and head off to get Zach's video game.  We were about a quarter of a mile away from the house when the first drop hit the window.  Then another drop and another and by the time we traveled the mile and a half to the video game store the weather looked like something you see some poor, brave soul from the Weather Channel reporting from in the heart of hurricane season.

I dropped Julie and the kids off under cover that allowed them to walk to the store without getting wet.  I went to search for a parking spot in one of the most ill-conceived parking lots in America, too few spaces, blind spots and spaces that were seemingly built for the 1994 Mazda Miata.  By the time I found a spot the rain somehow was coming down even harder.

I took a deep breath, opened the door, hit the lock and started my daunting trip across the parking lot.  Despite dodging cars and cursing my decision to wear flip flops, I made it to the door and made my way to the counter where Julie and the kids were working out the details of the trade-ins.

Julie caught me up to speed with where they were in the process while keeping an eye on Zoe and Zane.  Then she looked at me and did a sort of double take.  She looked at me with a very puzzled and ever increasing concerned look and asked, "Where is Zadie."  I peered back, puzzled at first, but with growing recollection that Julie had the 3 older Z's and I was responsible for our youngest.  That's right, I left Zadie in the car.  I felt the need to reflect on the fact that I forgot that one of our kids was left in the car alone and what that represents for our life, but Julie's response of "GO!" led me to the conclusion that I should probably make haste in returning to check the status of our stranded infant.

Zadie, of course, was fine with the whole ordeal.  There was silence when I entered the car and when I peaked back over the seat, she gave me the biggest smile.  When I smiled back and told her, "Zadie, I left you in the car", and by the way she laughed and kicked her feet I think she thought it was all pretty funny.

Maybe all those random strangers I meet are right ... maybe I do have my hands full (well I guess the problem tonight was that I didn't have my hands full enough). (Hands Full?)