Sweet Zadie

It was late 2008, early 2009 and we were ready. Things has calmed down with the twins and Zach was doing well with school. Business was slow, but it always was during the winter months. With all of that being said we thought the time was right to bring the fourth and final (?) Z into the world. And a little truth telling, Julie and I love babies. I could not do justice describing the feeling of joy and wonderment that washes over me when I see that sweet baby for the first time.

So ... we were pregnant. Zadie Ella was due to be born in mid to late November. But all was not joyful ... business stayed slow. Very slow. When the housing boom, burst, so did a large percentage of my business. We had to start to cut expenses, which meant staff ... and health insurance.

Adding to the financial worry, people did not meet our news with the same cheery reaction as they had with the previous 3. Zach was our first, so of course people were elated to hear the news. The second pregnancy produced twins, and the responses were very enthusiastic, probably because twins are somewhat of an anomaly. But the reaction to the fourth, told with your twin toddlers running around or whining at your feet ... not so harmonious.

So, needless to say we ventured through this pregnancy with much trepidation and angst. But time marched on, with little to no consideration for our situation, as time tends to do. The jaunt toward B-Day this time felt less like anxiously awaiting the ball drop on a chilly New Years Eve in Time Square and more like a forced tramp down the green mile.

But something happened. On November 8th Two Thousand and Nine, Zadie was born. ²⁶He replied, "You of little faith, why are you so afraid?" Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the waves, and it was completely calm. (Matthew 8:26). In the storm of life, we were given an amazing gift of Grace.

We were given a tiny angel that was just ... content. If she cries, it is easily fixed. Change her, burp her, feed her or put her to bed ... and then she is again, content. Brush her cheek, get a smile. Laugh to her and she laughs back. Just a beautiful baby princess, full of hope and possibility.

By no means are the seas calm; but are they ever? A lot has happened since November. The business has closed. Julie and I have switched our roles. Zach is now home-schooled. But in the ebb and flow of life, there is something in the smile of a child that says, "everything is OK ... life will go on ... now lets have some fun".

Julie and I are lucky; no privileged to have 4 wonderful children that remind us every day, that the most important things in life typically do not come with price tags ... just a few (thousand) messy diapers.

The "Unrealiable Narrator"

I find a blog to be an interesting information vehicle. As in any piece of writing the audience is held captive of the one crafting the message. In literature there is something called the "unreliable narrator". This is a narrator who, consciously or unconsciously, lies to or deceives their reader. An example of this would be in Moby Dick, when Ahab recounts tales, in the first person, that occurred at a time and place that he could not have been present for.

A blog affords a writer even more opportunity to mislead their reader. Blogs are by and large anonymous. They do not have fact checkers, editors, or opportunity for unfiltered editorial feedback from the reader.

As the writer of this blog, I have creative license for the content of these pages. For those of you reading that have never met me or my family, I could very well be a 20 year old college student working on an English Lit project or a 45 year old housewife looking for a creative outlet. Of course, I am not.

I am a 31 year old father to four. As of two months ago, I was the owner of a signs and graphics business. Now my wife, Julie, has gone back to work and I am staying home with the four Z's (Zack, Zoe, Zane and Zadie). Starting in May I will be going back to school to work toward an Engineering degree.

So why I am I telling you all this. Well ... I like the attention really. You thought you were going to get a cute story about my kids and then wham, I hijacked your ear to tell you all about me. Please don't click away, it is not exactly like that. I am going to talk about me in this post (which takes me far from my comfort zone), but for a very specific purpose.

The more you know about an author, their station in life and their motivations, the easier it is to connect with and understand their writing. As I have become more interested in politics and political commentary, I have found it an important exercise to know who is writing and what their predispositions may be. This practice has even spread into my spiritual life. A couple of years ago I was looking to get a new bible. I finally found the perfect one for me. Julie calls it the "smarty pants" bible. It has all of the biographical information about the authors, along with dates, places and an overview of the time period and setting in which the books were written. Knowing the background and details is just something built into my DNA.

The reason I want to talk about who I am, it to avoid being an "unreliable narrator". I try to write daily, but a lot can happen in a day. I will typically pull one event (or maybe a series of events) to write on and expand upon, but it will be just a small fragment (and usually a pleasurable one). As the writer/narrator, I can shape your impression of me and my family using the information that I have and you do not.

So who am I? First thing I will own up front. I am far (far, far, far...did I mention far) from perfect. In parenting I feel that my largest vice is that I am short tempered. This is especially a problem when sleep deprivation is a factor (I have 2 year old twins and a newborn that until last week spent a lot of the night in our bed, so ...).

I am an introvert. I am able to express my self so much more freely typing on the screen than I could ever do in conversation (unless a few glasses of beer or wine were involved.) Julie has described the thoughts I share on the blog as, "finding beautiful hardwood floors in your house, hidden under old, worn-out, stained carpet".

I do not express my emotions publicly. I could be in the throws of the worst day or enjoying the best day and you probably could not tell the difference. Along with this, I can not stand public conflict and will avoid it at all cost.

I like to have independent, quiet time (just writing this makes me laugh). As a friend of ours said once after observing our children in action, "Your house is really loud." What a contrast to my house as a child. Until I was seven years old I was taught to literally tip-toe around the house so not to disturb my mother, who was suffering from clinical depression. Also, I spent most of my adolescence as a quasi only child. I have two half-brothers, a half-sister and a step brother, but most of the time I was the only child in the house. Through a series of circumstances involving divorces and death, my siblings and I were spread out, both geographically and by age. So I learned to entertain myself and to this day I find any time I can to just be alone with my thoughts.

I feel as though I should be lying on a couch as I write this. Actually my hand is slowly moving to the delete button.

Despite the faults (and there are many more), I love my family. I like to think I am quick to apologize for my short temper. Though emotionally guarded, I have no problem showing love and affection to my children when we venture out in the world. I have also learned to give up some time to assure the kids have what they need from me.

Children change you. You think they are not paying attention, that they will develop independent of your vices. Then one day you see yourself in your 7 year old, who has just snapped at your 2 year old, using the same tone and inflection that you yourself did just a half an hour before.

Children say what you say, eat what you eat, act the way you act, laugh the way you laugh, read the way you read, pray the way you pray, love the way you love. Oh to remember this before I act, rather than after.

So as I go forward, I will paint a picture of great times, humorous experiences and thought provoking discourse. But remember, behind the anecdotes and prose, is just a guy trying to work past my liabilities to raise loving, caring, responsible, kind-hearted children that love their mother, love me, love each other and love God.

If you made it to here, thank you for indulging me. I am going to spend the next few posts letting you get to know the rest of the family. So I hope you stayed tuned.

One Night at Fuddruckers

Isn't it weird the things that stick with us? Julie and I have a long standing joke in our relationship inspired by a family that we observed at a Maryland Fuddruckers about 9 years ago.

Julie and I had just sat down to eat, when we noticed a family of seven walk in. They ordered and headed to their seats in the game room at the back of the restaurant.

Just a quick set up of the scene, the game room is on the opposite side of the restaurant from the register/food pick-up/fixins' station. Julie and I were sitting near the drink area in the center, on the main aisle.

I don't think we even noticed until the third or fourth trip, but we could barely contain our laughter as the number of trips the father took from their table to the register/food pick-up/fixins' station grew and grew and grew.

He went for spoons, knives, ketchup, crackers, etc., etc. As young newlyweds, with no kids in our horizon, it was quiet humorous to see this harried father walk back and forth with no real end in sight. "Why couldn't he just get it together?"

Over the years whenever Julie or I took a couple too many trips to do a seemingly simple task, Fuddruckers would be mentioned to draw out a laugh. Oh, but how things come full circle...

A couple of days ago we were trying to get out of the door to take Julie to work and for me and the Z's to the YMCA. I went out to start the car and unlock the doors ... I walked out to get Zoe and Zane into the car and drop the diaper bag ... Then back in to get my bag for the Y ... Time to put Zadie in the car ... Oops forgot Zoe and Zane's juice cups ... Oh yeah, my coffee, can't leave without that ... My MP3 player ... Snacks for the kids, because we were planning on going to the mall after the Y. All in all 9 trips back and forth from the house to the car, and three times locking and unlocking the front door ... I realized something on Tuesday. I have become the Fuddruckers guy. I have become the butt of my own jokes.

Now I am sure there are studies about sleep deprivation and lack of stimulating conversation and the affect on the parental brain that might explain the whole situation, but I think it goes deeper than that. I think good parents change their priorities. At the time of the trip to Fuddruckers that night, we were still looking for a good party. Now our good parties end at 9pm so we can get a good nights sleep.

People are by nature inward focused. A survival mentality. If you want to be a good parent, I think much (but not all) of your focus must be then directed outwards, toward your children. It may be cliche, but parents do hold the future in their hands and it is a tremendous responsibility.

Being a stay-at-home dad is a very rewarding and fulfilling endeavour ... if I step back and take a 30,000 foot view of my life. But on the days when you are removing the breakfast dishes at lunch and the lunch dishes at dinner, it can seem a bit overwhelming and trivial. My previous job was filled with deadlines. Hard and fast deadlines. If someone was having an event at 8am on Saturday Morning, they needed their signs and graphics by close of business on Friday. With kids, you have small deadlines; make it to the store and back before nap time meltdowns or making it to Julie's work in time to collect milk for Zadie's next feeding, things like that.

The deadline for growing your children, though, never comes. When would you say your job as a parent ends; college, marriage, kids of their own? A parents job is never done. The relationship dynamics change, but in our eyes they will always be the sweet, vulnerable newborn, that depends on you for absolutely everything. We would do anything to make life easier and more enjoyable for them.

While nine trips to the car in a five minute span could make me feel as though I should be fitted with a straitjacket and sent away somewhere. That is just a small blip in time when compared to the lifetime that we spend in the act of parenting.

The Kingdom of Wagnonia

A couple of weeks ago I talked about a new found appreciation of musicals. Well the theater is a different animal for me. Something about seeing a good play on stage that leaves with a different feeling than a movie or television show can achieve. I went as far as to take Drama as an elective in High School (which at an all boys, private school was a risky proposition, if trying to maintain a favorable reputation).

Over the past few days we (me and the four Z's) have turned our living/dining room into the Wagner Family Playhouse. We rehearse during the day, make costumes and perform for Julie when she arrives home from work.

Zach plays the recurring role of Sir Asks-A- Lot, a brave knight, with many questions and a heart of gold.

Zoe plays the role of the princess (of course). Although tonights performance was a bit much for her and we had to call on her understudy, Scooby Doo. You see tonight's performance involved the princess being kidnapped by a fire breathing dragon and that was a little much for Zoe. We attempted convincing, bribing, cajoling and a nap, but the answer remained the same, a lip quivering "No". But as you'll see Scooby did an admiral job on such last minute notice.

Zane begins as a squire, but is quickly knighted to become, Sir Screams-A-Lot. He is also a brave and noble knight, with little fear of putting himself in harms way to protect the kingdom.

And a quick plug for homeschooling. Though definitely not for everyone, we have enjoyed homeschooling Zach this year. With our business not doing well in the fall, sending him back to private school was not really an option. We also did not like his assigned public school. So we decided to home-school. We didn't know a lot about it, but we are learning more and more every day. We are able to take concepts that he is excited about (the theme at church this month is honor and is being displayed using a medieval theme) and apply them to learning which really makes it a lot of fun. I will steal a line from Julie's previous employer, but it really is true, "When Children Love to Learn, They'll Learn".

It is a lot of fun working with these wonderful and talented young actors, but enough from me ... I will let the videos do the rest of the talking...

Play 1, 2/22/10

Play 2, Part 1, 2/23/10

Play 2, Part 2, 2/23/10

Play 2, Part 3, 2/23/10

Nap Time

About a month ago Zoe and Zane decided that a nap every other day was enough for them. Today they may have started their quest to spread that to every third day. As I sit here at 6pm, listening to Zane cry that Zach paused 'Electric Company' to use the bathroom, I can tell you that they are struggling to make a convincing argument for me to allow them to skip any more naps. But the fit happening now is nothing compared to the events of earlier today...

First I need to take you back to Friday, when we decided it was time to move Zadie from our room and the bassinet to Zoe's room and her crib. This meant that we had to turn Zane's toddler bed back into a crib and move him to the bunk beds in Zach's room. This involves splitting apart two children that have literally slept together every day for the past two and a half years (plus 8 or so months in the womb). We expected some bumps.

Today's nap started with Zoe and Zane both laying in Zane's bed. We could not find Zane's pillow. In place of it I substituted a nice full sized, flannel covered pillow. Zach, Zadie and I went downstairs to start to build the fire breathing dragon that would play a vital part in the play we put on for Julie when she came home from work. After being down a few minutes, Zane came downstairs crying and holding out his finger. Turns out my pillow substitution had created some tension in Zane's bed. The best I could piece together was that Zane tried to take Zoe's pillow and she fought back, by trying to take a piece of Zane's finger, with her teeth. When I asked Zoe if she bit him, see gave me an emphatic and excited "YEAH", while smiling, bobbing her head and doing a little celebratory dance (She was very proud of maiming her brother). When I asked Zane if he tried to take her pillow he said, "no". I asked again, "Zane, did you try to take her pillow?" This time I got a pouted face, head hung low, "yes". I reprimanded them both (banged my head against the wall a few times), made them hug, say sorry and then I tucked them back into bed.

But, it wasn't long before tempers flared again upstairs. It sounded like two fighters sparring before the big fight. By the time I could make it upstairs they were both at the top, heading down to find me and plead their respective cases. I decided it was time to split them up. I told Zoe to go to her room and Zane to his. They both said "no". Zane wanted to go to Zoe's room and vice-versa. Fine. I put them in bed and started to again head downstairs to rescue Zach from a now screaming Zadie.

This is when the games of petty theft and pugilism turned to a more age appropriate activity...tag, you're it. They were running back and forth between the rooms, having a grand old time. And wouldn't you know it, just as they start having the time of their young lives, mean old Dad's already paper thin patience disintegrates into a pile of goo on the floor. I am up the stairs in a flash. I lay Zane as gently as a lamb (if you are new to the concept of sarcasm, this is a great example of it) into Zoe's bed, threatening who knows what if his feet hit the floor again. I put Zoe back in Zane's bed with similar rants and warnings. As I pass back by where Zane is supposed to be laying down, I see that he has eluded the child lock, opened his door and was balancing himself on the edge of Zoe's bed frame, looking very proud of himself. I then utilized the only tool that we as society still have to keep toddlers from ruling the earth ... the baby gate. I put the gate in the doorway and walk away with smug smile, exaggeratedly wiping my hands, showing a job well done.

I checked on him after a few minutes and he looked so pitiful looking out over the gate, realizing that he had lost and I had won. I had won, I had a quiet house. Zach and I went about building our dragon, then ... I heard a strange sound. I determined that the it was the sound of an electric toothbrush ... coming from upstairs. As I rounded the corner of the stairs and peered into the bathroom I felt my victory was still in tact since it was only Zoe playing in the bathroom. The barricade set for Zane had held? As I entered the bathroom to collect Zoe and take her back to bed, I was suddenly face to face with an overjoyed Zane. Now I may be reading too much into his smug, almost sinister smile, but as he stood there, eye to eye with me, on the bathroom sink, I couldn't help but think he was trying to show me that he is on equal footing with me. That he was up to any challenge I may pose on his freedoms. Zane who has learned to escape a child proofed room by running head first into the knob, splitting the child lock in two, now he has escaped the baby gate. I am afraid to see might be next ... maybe he is smarter than me?

I know when I have been beaten ... But I live to fight another day. Tomorrow it is set to be in the 60's and sunny. I will have at my disposal my newest nap time weapon ... I call it "Trampoline".

Because I said so...

I have moments when I take pause and wonder if when I was kid, and my imagination was still functioning on all cylinders (or some cylinders), if I could have imagined some of the things I find spewing from my mouth. Of course I say all the classics, "because I said so", "we'll see", "you have 3 (or 5 or 10 or whatever other arbitrary number comes to my mind) seconds to ...". And it does not really bother me that I do. I was reading on a few sites, the things you should never say to your kids and one of the phrases was "because I said so". The reasoning was logical enough. Your child is asking why, typically to learn more about the situation. So I think I nipped that one in the bud. I told Zack that if he wanted to know why I was asking or telling him to do something that he could ask "Why" as long as it was preceded by, "Yes Sir, but..."

Now some of the things that I find myself saying are probably not found in many parenting books or blogs. Here are a few:

I will call this the category, The Answer is a Resounding NO:

• "Do you want a spanking."

• "Do you want to go to your room?"

• "Do you want to go to bed?"

The princess category:

• "Zack, tell your sister she is a princess."

• "Zane, take off the princess shoes and give them back to your sister."
  

Kids being Kids?

• "He is not playing dodge ball, he is sitting there drinking his milk. That's not dodge ball, that's just called hitting someone in the face with a ball."

• "Zach. if you say anything more than 3 times in a row, it is officially annoying."

• "Zoe, oranges are not balls to be thrown around the house."

Why you shouldn't speak before coffee:

• "Zane, you need to focus your focus."

• "You have to finish your juice before you can have milk."

And, finally, Zane:

• "Zane, don't lick the floor."

• "Zane, don't lick me."

• "Zane, don't lick your brother."

• "Zane, get your head out of the Trash Can."

• "Zane, get your head out of the Toilet."

McDonalds, Target and Discovery Place, Oh My! Concluded...

After Target, Valentines Day concluded without a hitch. I made homemade bread and lasagna. We watched Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs as a family. Then we finished the night off off with some Double Chocolate Ghirardelli Brownies. Yum!

Presidents Day was the Monday after Valentines and Julie was home from work for the day. A few weeks ago we became members of the Western North Carolina Nature Center which gave us reciprocal privileges for Discovery Place in uptown Charlotte. So we packed up the car and headed out.

A couple of points to set up the day. It was cold. Not too cold, but hovering right around 40 degrees. It was also raining. Not too hard, but a good steady rain. Finally, as it turns out, a rainy Monday, when banks are closed (Charlotte is a huge banking town) and kids are out of school makes for a perfect day for half of Charlotte to go to Discovery Place.

We arrive at the parking deck and Zach is totally excited. We kept it as a surprise for him. I start up the parking deck and there are no spots to be had. We make it all of the way to the top and only see one parking spot that our van may or may not fit into. So I circle back and stop to let Julie out with the kids while I try to find a spot.

I hop out. Unbuckle Zoe and Zane. I open the back of the van to get the stroller. Retrieve Zadie from her seat and place her in the stroller. Julie grabs Zoe, who has fallen asleep on the ride, and lays her next to Zadie in the stroller. Zach gets out. I grab the diaper bag and drinks that we had packed and put those in the stroller. Finally I grab Zane, who has been playing around in the front seat, and put him with the rest of the crew. Julie starts to head in with the kids.

I close the passenger doors, front and sliding. Close the back door and the driver side sliding door and grab the handle to open my door. It doesn't budge. I grab the sliding door, no luck there either. I go to the back door and give it a tug, uh-uh. Two things happen. My heart starts to beat a little faster and an image shoots into my mind. I can see it plain as day. It was an image of Zane in the front seat ... playing with all the buttons.

First thought, how much is this going to cost me? Second thought, I am going to ring Zane's neck? Third thought, (since the car was running) how much gas is in the tank? Fourth thought, why was I not watching my kid? (This is becoming a theme)

The locksmith came and went. It cost $45 to open the door. Cost for admission if we did not have the passes ... $44. Oh well, what are you going to do?

To tell you the truth, the time in Discovery Place was relatively uneventful. The kids had a great time. We saw a 3-D dinosaur movie that Zane added his commentary to and Zoe was too scared to put her glasses on for.

We did have a bit of an issue at lunch when the cafe was out of ... well, everything. But it did help Julie to discover a new sandwich concotion, Sunflower Butter and Apricot Jelly on Whole Wheat.

With the risk of sounding insolent, I tell this last story. As we were leaving, Julie and I both had to use the restroom. Julie went first while I held Zadie and made sure the other kids did not run off. I was standing up, waiting for Julie, as I was approached by one of the custodial workers. She made a comment about Zadie which I did not hear because I was completly focused on her two front teeth, which were covered with blood. What an off-putting situation. Luckily she moved away fairly quickly. Julie came out and I handed her Zadie. The woman at this point made her back to Zadie and this time was reaching out to touch her. I decided that I could hold it and we made a beeline for the elevator.

What a character check moment. I knew nothing about her except that she was a custodian and her gums were bleeding. Based on that sketchy information, I determined that she was not worthy of interacting with my children. We want out kids to not judge based on color, race, social status, etc., but it can be hard to teach when you are dealing with your own preconceived notions. How can I learn to see ...

39 Then Jesus told him, “I entered this world to render judgment—to give sight to the blind and to show those who think they see that they are blind.”
40 Some Pharisees who were standing nearby heard him and asked, “Are you saying we’re blind?”
41 “If you were blind, you wouldn’t be guilty,” Jesus replied. “But you remain guilty because you claim you can see." (John 9:39-41, NLT)

Quick Break in the action...

I am two-thirds of the way through a series of posts, but I could not wait on this one. We have been having a little bit of a problem with Zoe and her sleeping habits. First of all, both Zoe and Zane have gone to every other day naps, just in time for the entrance of their new stay at home dad. Thanks for that.

Lately though Zoe has been giving us a fit about going to bed at night. She uses questions, requests, whining, and even hysterical crying at times to manipulate us into extending bed time. Now, over the last few nights, she has ended up in our bed at 3 or 4 in the morning. Tonight we decided to try to put a stop to this by having a good old fashioned "cry-it-out session". I don't know who won, because she is not in her bed, but I was literally on the floor laughing my a** off. Take a look...

McDonalds, Target and Discovery Place, Oh My! Continued...

They don't build shopping carts for our family. Target has one that has two seats with buckles and I can put Zadie in the grocery part of the basket. But where do you put everything else? I need to invent a little tow behind trailer that can hook to my belt. But I digress ...

We went to Target to buy 6 items:

• Pajamas and Chocolate as a present for Julie
• A card to Julie, from me
• Glue Sticks for the kids to make their Valentines to Julie
• Diapers
• Wine

Simple enough, right? We started smooth. We headed to the Woman's department to look for Pajamas. As we approached the section, Zachary told me that we should ask Zoe about "what Momma likes and what her size is because she is a girl." He also told Zoe while we were looking that "when you get older, you are going to spend a LOT of time in this section." It is good to know that Zach is already well schooled in gender stereotypes. The pickings were slim, but we found a cute set and headed for the Valentines Day section.

Now this is where the Target Store Designers make their money. To get from Woman's intimates (A Valentines Day staple), where the pajamas are, to the heart shaped chocolate (another Valentines Day staple), you must go through the gauntlet known as the Toy department.

Julie and I have always done a good job of not purchasing toys on the spot for the kids, so that was not my concern. The Toy department does seem to be a sort of time warp. You enter intending to only spend a few minutes looking around and you emerge an hour later, exhausted, disheveled and wondering if you blacked out for a little while.

To my surprise we made it through the candy aisle with little to no problems. I retrieved the wine and diapers without incident and we headed over to school supplies. I found the glue sticks and as I was deciding 2-pack or 6-pack, name brand or Target brand, I heard a crash. I looked to the end of the aisle to see the twins standing amidst a pool of sparkly green water and a slew of broken glass. You see, the twins had never seen the inside of a St. Patrick's Day snow globe and thought that there must be a first time for everything.

My first thought, who buys a St. Patrick's Day snow globe? Second thought, who at Target thought it was a good idea to put them on a low shelf? Third thought, I am going to own a broken St. Patrick's Day snow globe (see first thought). Fourth thought, why wasn't I watching my kids? (The world would probably be a better place if we had the fourth thought first, rather than looking for someone else to blame.)

I run over to make sure that they do not move or try to pick anything up. Zach immediately starts to look for a worker to tell what happened, because that is what first born, type-A's do. Zane is repeating just one word, "Happen"? That is Zane's way of asking "What Happened". I wanted to say, you tell me, you are the one with a broken snow globe base in your hands and green sparkles in your socks. Zoe ... is crying. No scream this time, but she is awfully upset that her pants are wet. That of course was my number one concern also.

Meanwhile Zach returns with a worker who looks all too happy to have to clean up the glittering mess. I offer to pay for the broken piece, he of course tells me not worry about it. So I collect my kids and slowly but with increasing speed head toward the check-out, snagging a greeting card for Julie on the way.

It is 11:30am at this point and a quirky law in North Carolina says that you can not buy alcohol before Noon on Sunday. I always forget that, but no big deal I would get it later. It was the question from the cashier was what left me with a blank stare. She asked, "Do you want to go do something for a half hour and come back to get it?" ... Speechless ...

To be concluded ...

McDonalds, Target and Discovery Place, Oh My!

On Sunday morning, after dropping Julie for work at Meck (Mecklenburg Community Church), I took the kids to McDonalds to eat breakfast and play a little before we went to the 9am service at church. The plan was, Zack takes Zoe and Zane into the Play Place while I order the food. Mistake; mine.

One small problem, the Play Place was locked. Immediately a look of concern washes over Zach's face. See Zach is pretty easy going, as long as he know the plans well in advance. He does not do so well though, when the plans change at the last moment. I told him to stay calm, I would check with one of the workers. Turns out they had just forgotten to unlock the door that morning, no problem ... except she decided to take my order before unlocking the door. Mistake; hers. She definitely doesn't know my kids. By the time the words Large Coffee came out of my mouth, she was practically throwing the keys at one of her coworkers so that he could unlock the door. Why, you ask (if you are asking that, then you haven't met my kids either). Zoe and Zane had decided to form a tag team against the door, trying to force it open. They were both using all of their might to both push and pull the door open (2 year-olds aren't able to read the word push, so they cover their bases). The pushing though was accompanied by loud grunts, moans, maybe a scream or two and chants of the word "Open". I have to wonder if they really thought that they would open the door or if they knew the commotion would expedite the process.

Once inside, shoes were removed and Zach helped Zoe and Zane up the series of levels toward the slides. One problem. To get to the slides the children must pass through a tunnel made out of a cargo net material that is perched about 12ft. off of the ground. Zach flew across. Zane hesitated, but made his way over. Zoe ...well Zoe cried ... then she screamed. See, she was too scared to go across the net, but also too scared to go back down the platforms to the ground. She was paralyzed with fear, yelling for me out of a porthole window built into the side of a yellow tunnel. Luckily I had nothing else to do at the moment but to climb up a claustrophobic passageway to rescue my little princess. Oh wait ... I was trying to get the breakfast divvied out for the kids because at this point we had 15 minutes to eat, get shoes on, get in the car and make it back to church ... oh, and Zadie was screaming her head off.

But all turned out well, the girl was saved, the baby was soothed, the children were fed and we made it to church ... almost on time (but I think I read somewhere that we will be forgiven for that).

Church was good, the children had fun, I enjoyed the message and music. Now we were off to Target for some last minute Valentines Day shopping ... Mistake; mine.

To Be Continued...

Musicals

I have never been a fan of musicals. I can bear musicals on stage, because I enjoy going to the theatre. But when it comes to movies, The Sound of Music, Grease, and Annie can move over and make way for Pulp Fiction, American Beauty and Wedding Crashers. My biggest argument against musicals is how unrealistic it for a group of people to break out into song on a whim. Then I had kids ...

Kids sing. They just love to sing. They can't help themselves. It is part of the infectious joyousness kids have in their hearts. I have three children that are able to speak and I can already see what sectors of the music industry they are destined for.

Zoe will be a christian folk signer. Put a guitar in her hands, she will sit down strum the strings and sing "Jesus, Jesus". She typically follows that by falling out on the floor and wriggling around. I believe we may have a pentecostal on our hands.

Zach will be a world class beat-boxer as long as two things happen, he practices a lot and his father does not lose his mind and ban the act of beat-boxing from the house.

Zane's talent has the most potential of all of the children because he has already perfected the genre. When I was in high school I went through a phase of listening to heavy/speed/death metal. You know the guys who listen to this stuff, long hair, tight jeans, doc martens, chains on their pockets. Thankfully I never looked the part, but I did partake in the music. If you have ever spent time with Zane, particularly when he might have been cranky, you know he would fit in well as a lead singer for any number of heavy metal bands that may still be around (I would name a few, but I think I might date myself, plus highlight my once questionable taste in music).

Music permeates our lives, in ways that we are not even aware of. Doing a quick Google search, I found countless studies on how music affects mood. Listening to a grunge song like Pearl Jams 'Jeremy' can invoke feelings of aggression and violence. Classical music, like Beethoven or Bach can calm and relax a person. An upbeat, fun song like Jason Mrazs' 'I'm Yours' can actually induce joy and happiness.

With or without us realizing it, our life has a soundtrack. We are exposed to music in the car, the mall, on tv, in movies, church, through ipods, itunes and the list goes on. Songs, like sites and smells can take you instantly to a time or place. To this day if I hear the song 'Molly' by Sponge, I am taken back to my '96 Honda, driving to work while in high school. 'In the arms of an Angel' by Sarah McLauchlan sends me back to Denton Apartments where Julie and I first met.

Music has power. We use it to mark events like weddings and funerals. We use music to set a mood for a situation be it a candle-lit dinner or a room full of hyper toddlers. We use it as background noise so not to feel alone.

In our house now, we do sometimes break out in spontaneous song. We do it as a family, we do it to have fun, we do it to show love.

So maybe, just maybe musicals are not that far fetched ...

All I can do is smile and hold back a tear...

"Dear Jesus. Thank You for making Zane my brother. And thank you for making him my best friend. Amen."

"Dear Jesus. Thank You for making Zoe my sister. And thank you for making her my best friend. Amen."

They spend half the day fighting over who knows what, with screaming, tears, pushing and hitting. But at the end of the day, after everyone had had their say, these two statements from the heart flow from the mouth of a seven year old.

I don't have the words to describe the feelings...Speechless.

Amen.

The human race has lost the ability to communicate outside the world of cliche. I am going to answer this once and for all (yes I realize that I am using the cliche of "once and for all" to express my point about over-used cliches), I DO HAVE MY HANDS FULL.

Why do people find it necessary to tell me I have my hands full when I am in public with my kids? What is their motivation? Do they think I am in over my head? If so my response should be "You know I really do have my hands full here, I really can't set the baby down and Zane has made a mess of his diaper. You will find everything you need in the diaper bag to change him."

Do they think I have too many kids? If so then I should respond "Yeah, my wife and I are really struggling. We were barely hanging on with the twins and then surprise, little Zadie. Do you know any nice families that have been looking to adopt?"

Do they think that I am a saint for giving their poor mother a chance to rest from the burdens of taking care of so many children. In that case my response should be "Yes I am a saint and I deserve your praise and adoration." Or, you know, something like that.

While these questions and others may be the motivation for their comment, I think we go through life having conversations of such little consequence, with so many people, that we learn to survive using a list of canned phrases that are time tested to fit into any situation. Julie and I have been noting this type of communication for years. When we were dating the question was, "when are you two going to get married?" After we were married it was, "when are you going to have kids?" After you have one child it becomes, "are you going to have another?" (it's odd, we don't get that question any more) And it keeps going like this, I assume until you die.

How's work? Staying busy? How's business? Sure is cold out there.

Now truth telling time, I use these all the time. I am an introvert (and evidently a hypocrite) by nature and I rely on phrases like these to get me through social interactions. I understand exactly why people rely on them so heavily. But I also believe it is a glaring example of nature vs. nurture. God made us to be in community with one another, to do "deep" with people, but we have made it our life's goal to exert our independence. Our decision to do it on our own, to not seek nor accept help has left us longing for real community. Commune is the root of both the word community and communication and it literally means a group living together. Since we no longer really live "together", the need for good, rich communication is less and less important.

I was reading recently from Thomas Paine's, "Common Sense", a short narrative about the role governments are formed. This is the first paragraph:

In order to gain a clear and just idea of the design and end of government, let us suppose a small number of persons settled in some sequestered part of the earth, unconnected with the rest, they will then represent the first peopling of any country, or of the world. In this state of natural liberty, society will be their first thought. A thousand motives will excite them thereto, the strength of one man is so unequal to his wants, and his mind so unfitted for perpetual solitude, that he is soon obliged to seek assistance and relief of another, who in his turn requires the same.

"Unfitted for perpetual solitude." God built us all with special talents. Those talents are supposed to work in harmony together to achieve more than we can imagine. We are meant to be in community, to have relationships, to know more than how someone spent their weekend or where they are going for lunch. Julie shared something with me that said we do not have the ability to have the thoughts and dreams that our grandparents generation were capable of because we do not possess the vocabulary to express them. It is the old, "If you don't use it you lose it" (I couldn't resist using another one).

How do we reverse the trend? How do we grow a new generation of great communicators that can break the cycle of cliche and start to rebuild a society of real communities.

Family Night

We attended family night on Friday at Mecklenburg Community Church in North Charlotte. In the past this has been an activity geared toward Zach. Last night we took the whole family into the main auditorium rather than depositing the twins into child care. As you can see from the video, they all had a great time.



Something very interesting is occurring in the development of Zoe and Zane's social personality. When they are home, Zoe and Zane are rarely far from each other. Zoe will play with tools, guns, balls, and other traditional "boy" toys. And as much as it pains me to see sometimes, Zane with play with dolls, princess paraphernalia, tea sets and other traditional "girl" toys. (I did breathe a small sigh of relief watching Zane take a play drill and hammer to one of Zoe's dolls the other day; is that weird?) In contrast though, when we are out amongst other children you will rarely find them together.

After eating dinner at the church the kids of course all started to play. Zane immediately gravitated to the boys, looking for a ledge to jump from or a willing participant for a wrestling match. Zoe is the complete opposite though. She skirts the edge of the play area looking for an entry point that will give her the least amount of resistance. If you have ever seen a brawl during a baseball game, Zane would be the one who sprints from the bullpen and leaps head first directly into the center of the fighting mass. Zoe would be the one standing at second base chatting with the opposing teams shortstop, watching the melee. It is so interesting to watch two children that were born from the same parents, just minutes apart, who are forever linked together, start to diverge and become their own person.

I also witnessed something that just melted my heart. During the service Zoe made an attempt to dance with some girls that were probably about five years old. She hopped over to them, nudged one of the girls arms and started dancing. The girl gave Zoe a look that even Zoe's two year old intellect could deduce was one of exclusion. Zoe kind of moped back over closer to her brothers and had stopped dancing. Feeling bad that I may have just witnessed my little girls first social rejection, I reached out and gave her a little tickle. She turned around slow at first, with a bit of a pout, then a smile leapt to her face and she jumped up and tickled me and Zadie, who I was holding at the time. Everything was right with the world again for little Zoe. It did give me a small glimpse into what the future will hold for us. I am sure that we have not seen the last of snobbish girls. (and one day in will be mean little boys; does anyone have an emoticon for a shiver going down your spine.)

Growing Up

My children are all in various stages of establishing independence. We now trust Zack to do things like pick up the baby, hold Zoe and Zane's hand while crossing the street, and watch all the kids while Julie and I go out for a quiet dinner.(One of those statements are false, but I will let you guess which one)

Zoe and Zane are fighting tooth and nail for their independence. Zane on occasion recently decides that he is too big to wear a diaper. He will very quietly take it off and go about playing. Luckily I usually see this before we have a problem, but sometimes I see the puddle, before I see his bare but streak by. Don't quite know how to handle this, scolding and punishment has not worked. I have been considering duct tape, or possibly employing the old dog training technique of rubbing his nose ... better not finish that sentence or my wife may have words for me.

Zoe has figured out her God given skill that all little girls possess; working their parents by using a series of smiles, pouts and panicked desperation. Now that I think about it, my wife has the same power over me.

I figure the first sign of independence we will see from Zadie will be rolling over. We have learned our lesson though, we don't allow Zadie to lie on her back without being chained down somehow. Three sets of feet scampering around is quite enough for the time being.

To be serious for a second though, a few things that Zack did today really stood out. We installed the pole for a new basketball hoop in the driveway today and Zack actually helped. I will always let him "help" and I enjoy that quality time, but things usually take twice as long, finding things he could "help" with. Today he was wielding a shovel like he has been doing it for years.

Then tonight at basketball practice, I saw him have multiple conversations with his coach. When watching from a distance you can tell that he feels what he is saying is important and the coach responds to him not as a little kid, but as a young man, capable of higher forms of dialogue.

It is cliche, but they do grow up fast. We spend the first years encouraging them to roll-over, crawl, walk, talk, run, count and on and on. But then one day they are 7 and while you still encourage them, it is different. Instead of counting to ten, it is multiplying by tens, instead of learning to throw, it is how to lead a receiver open down the field. We are building on the basic skills, which seems less monumental than when they learned the skill in the first place.

It will only get harder as they get older, dating, driving, going to college, marriage, children of their own. I can understand why parents long for their children to be small again. Now I know why parents of 20 and 30 somethings can not wait for grand kids.

It is probably not a big secret that Julie and I love babies. Babies are easy to stay engaged with because they seemingly grow a little every day. The challenge is to stay engaged for all seasons of your child's life. If not you will wake up, like I feel as though I have recently, and wonder how your baby is now 7 and wonder if you paid enough attention along the way.

Quiet

I had every intention of blogging daily when I started this blog. I guess my good intentions could only carry me through the first day.

I am sitting here in a quiet house; quiet except for the sound of Arthur on TV and the crunching of popcorn coming from the mouth of my eldest son Zachary. In this house that is practically pin-drop quiet. The twins are asleep in their beds. Nap time has become interesting. We have gone to every other day naps, because banging my head against the wall daily was giving me a splitting headache. As I announced bedtime today, (the bedtime announcement is "everyone grab your pillows, lollies (blankets), Elmo and baby and head upstairs; why all this stuff must come downstairs every day is beyond me) Zoe started the chant of "nannies house" that lasted for the next fifteen minutes and escalated from uber-cute and sweet to a piercing shrill. To expand on the origin of "nannies house", Zoe will from time to time put on her Peppe (Princess) high heel shoes, throw on her pink boa, and grab her purse and head for the door saying "nannies house". We do not know which grandmother she is going to see, but we do know that Zane is driving. I'm tempted to give them the keys and open the door to see how far they might make it.

Meanwhile, Zane seemed as though he was OK with nap today, or so I thought. After about twenty minutes of relative quiet from upstairs Zane jumped from the around the corner of the stairs yelling TA-DA with his lolly and Elmo in hand. In my head I had the immediate reaction to yell and scream, demanding he go straight back to bed. Unfortunately the filter that might block the outburst was out of service today because that was exactly what I did. I watched the cutest, happiest smile disappear from my 2 year old boys face. It went from shock, to frown and ultimately to sob. I immediately walked over, picked him up, gave him a hug, a kiss and took him back to his bed. I take some solace in that I made him laugh before I gave him one last hug and kiss and told him goodnight before he rolled over and fell fast asleep. Boy did I feel like a jerk.

It is an absurd proposal, but there should be classes in your senior year of college that are taught by children ages 2-7. It would be a great reminder to make sure you continue learning, asking questions, having fun, trusting and loving people. Imagine if we could be delighted by life when leaping from a corner and yelling TA-DA, or loving family (or anyone) so much that the thought of not seeing that person can induce inconsolable tears. When did fun stop being an everyday pursuit rather than an occasional luxury. There is a lot to learn from these kids...

Must go, the quiet has been broken, Zane needs juice and I must pick up the banana that for some reason is on the Wii room floor.