Ends of the Spectrum

Once again, we found ourselves at Target ... me and the Z's.  The inside experience was relatively uneventful.  (Except of course the obligatory, "you have your hands full" comments, see http://imasahd.blogspot.com/2010/02/human-race-has-lost-ability-to.html)

It was the parking lot experience that left me dejected and encouraged by the hearts of strangers.

To set the scene a bit, Zane had pooped (because that is what Zane does at Target) and Zadie was crying (probably because we all enjoyed lunch, while having nothing for her).  We were approaching the car when I noticed an SUV next to us backing in and out of their spot, I assume trying to get centered.  To my amazement, with the gaze of me and my four children upon her, the driver gave up trying to get it right.  Her passenger took a look out her window, saw how close she was parked to our car.  She then glanced at me, then quickly down and decided to climb over to the driver side to get out. 

OK (deep breath), van doors slide open, we will make it work.  Anyway, there is no car on the passenger side, it'll be fine.

Zoe, Zane and Zach got in the car (not buckled, just in), I put the bags in, then Zadie and headed to put the cart away.  As I got to the cart at the front of the car, I see our blue and white playground ball, that for some reason made its way into the car, rolling down the parking lot.  I immediately took off after it, catching up to it about 50 yards behind the car.  How did it get so far away you ask?  Well we had quite a bit of wind today and that can really play havoc on a light, little play ball.  You know what else wind can play havoc with?  Shopping Carts.  As I turned with the ball in hand, I see my shopping cart making its way down the sidewalk, right along the front of a row of cars.  All I could think of was ... Hit the SUV, Hit the SUV, Hit the SUV.  Really, I started my second sprint in the last 30 seconds, this one trying to stop a run away shopping cart from doing damage to something or someone.  But before I could even get close to it a teenage boy came running down the sidewalk, stopping the cart before it could hit anything.

This struck a cord with me, because so many people would have just watch to see what calamity may be caused by a runaway shopping cart.  But this boy, with his family walking behind him, sprinted to stop it and was heading to put it back with the rest of the carts by the time i could get to them.  There may just be hope out there yet.

Alright, catch my breath, change Zane's diaper, hopefully squeeze into my door and then go pick up Julie.

Now, do you ever have the feeling that you are being watched?  I had just started changing the diaper on the Passenger side front seat when I got that feeling.  I glanced over to the left and saw a lady sitting in a car, waiting at the mouth of the parking spot next to me.  Even to a casual observer, it is pretty obvious what I am doing (wipes flying and naked 2 year old legs hanging out of the car door).  But, she waits.  I finish wiping and apply the new diaper.  She waits.  I put his pants pack on and forgo putting shoes back on; why, because ... She waits.  I open Zane's door, set him in and buckle.  She waits.  I "finally" close both doors and make my way around the car.  She glares.  I glare back.  Then I gazed around at the multiple parking spots within 20 feet of hers and I just shook my head.  She could have already been inside, shopping for that replacement stick to go up her butt.

But I digress...

I carefully opened my door, so not to hit the car next to me (because that is how nice of a guy I am).  I squeezed in, without damage, but with two kids crying (Zadie and now Zoe for who knows what reason), grinding on my nerves and the fresh wounds from two inconsiderate bi*****, I felt the overwhelming urge to open my door with considerable force a few times, but then I saw it.  The door to the SUV had at least a half a dozen small dents and nicks along the door.  It wasn't personal, she does it to everyone, she just can't park.  Phew, I feel a little better. 

My thoughts turned to the teenager, sprinting to stop my cart, undoubtedly coached or trained to do so by his trailing parents.  In this 5 minutes of exchanges I felt like yelling, cursing, screaming and even causing destruction, but what would that have taught my children.  Nobody was out to get me.  There was nothing personal, just some minor inconveniences.  I want my children to react, when faced with impulsive situations to act more like the teenager rather than the lunatic raging inside of their father (at least I kept it inside).

But then again, it all can provide for some good comedy when it happens to someone else ... Take a look:

12:38 am

It is Friday, March 19th at 12:38 am and I am awake, watching the end of the Maryland game.  About 10 minutes ago Julie came down to get some water and informed me that Zach was upstairs, in the bathroom, throwing up.

Now I can imagine, for someone reading this that has no kids, or is not involved with bodily fluid cleanup on a regular basis, this may seem a little gross.

As I came up the stairs Julie was handing Zach the water and I had one burning question on my mind, "Where".  Where had he thrown up?  What was I looking at here?

"Zach, did you make it to the bathroom?"  (Please say yes, Please say yes, Please say yes)

"Not the first time." (Rats)

I went in and took a quick look and saw a few drops on the bunk bed ladder and a couple on the floor, not too bad.  But wait ... there's more.  Zach's first installment of the night landed square in the middle of his bed. 

So now, it is 12:38 and I am up for at least another hour to switch the laundry.  Poor Zach, but who's next...

It's Sunday.  Went to southern Virginia to meet someone to sell them a piece of equipment for the sign shop.  Since it is Sunday and Julie is working, I took Zach, Zoe and Zane with me.  We made it back to within an hour and a half of Charlotte and the stomach bug claimed it's second victim ... Zane.  We were at the Starbucks drive through and something urged me to turn and look at Zane.  Silently, calmly and with little emotion, Zane was throwing up.

No spare clothes, no way to clean his seat and an older brother who gags at the sight of Zadie's spit-up. (Just a note to anyone who may have this happen to them.  It saves a lot of clean-up to remove the seat with the child still buckled).  So I stripped him down, cleaned him up and stuck him back in the car.  Here is what the rest of the ride looked like for Zane...



The bug bit Zoe that night, Julie and I on Monday. 

It is now Sunday, March 28th at 11:24pm.  It was a rough week with everyone starting off sick.  I am finally finishing the blog post I started over a week ago.  I have missed writing, but the good thing about kids... I may have stopped writing, but they have not stopped providing me with material.  I am looking forward to the next few days of posts.

What the ...

So Zoe came in from outside today holding out her finger, saying "dirty".  The kids were outside playing in the yard, so I figured, mud, dirt or something of the like.  Zoe is a bit of a drama queen when it comes to getting dirty.  But, as I looked a little closer, I quickly realized, "that's not mud ... that's poop".  One hand holding a lolly-pop, the other with a poop-finger.

"Zoe, did you poop?"

"No, Zaney."

So it wasn't even her poop.

So I now had a few decisions to make.  I was holding Zadie who was being a little fussy, ready to take a nap ... where do I put her down to minimize screaming?  How do I keep Zoe from touching anything while I get something to clean her up ... did I just see her switch lolly-pop hands?  Am I really sure about this stay at home dad thing?

Zadie ended up on the floor ... screaming was not avoided.  The baby wipes were closest, so I wiped the finger, gave her a couple of splashes of sanitizer.  And I guess I will remain a stay at home dad a little while longer.

I was, however, left with a few questions (that all really come to one central theme).  WHAT ... what the hell was she thinking?  WHY ... why on earth would she stick her finger in his diaper?  WHERE ... where have Julie and I gone wrong that we have a daughter that has someone elses poop on her finger?

Well, I guess, kids will be kids.  I shouldn't be surprised.  Her brother Zach once took his diaper off and rubbed it all over my parents dog Bear.  Her brother Zane enjoys sticking his head in the toilet.  I just the other day reached to grab Zane to keep him from climbing where he wasn't supposed to and ended up with a little surprise on my finger.  So I guess she comes by it honestly. 

Can't Pass up Free

If dinner is not on the table by 5:30 in our house a couple of things happen ... tempers flare, children whine, decisions become harder, judgment is clouded, chaos ensues ... That brings us to Wednesday.

We didn't arrive home from picking Julie up from work until a couple minutes after 5.  On the meal plan for Wednesday was spaghetti.  Simple enough, but with thawing the sausage, heating the sauce, boiling the noodles, we were looking at dinner around 6.  To complicate the matter, a discussion was intensifying on whether we should take advantage of a coupon Julie had received via email.  Turns out, on Wednesday only, Panda Express was giving away servings of a new shrimp meal and this had caught Julie's eye.  While her mouth said, "Yes, lets just have Spaghetti", I could tell her heart was telling her, "Get the free shrimp".  I am a people pleaser, especially when it comes to Julie.  So, against my better judgment, we all got into the car and headed off to Panda Express ... at right about 5:30.

The ride over was smooth and uneventful.  In the drive-thru we (well Julie) ordered 2 large fried rices and 6 shrimp meals.  I mentioned Julie ordered because for some reason, buried deep in my subconscious I have developed a phobia about looking like a mooch.  Ordering 6 free meals, including one for a baby, still in a carrier, was just too much for me.

I remember watching a show about one of these families that has like 12 kids.  On Saturday they took the whole family to Sam's Club to do their shopping.  They planned that the whole family would eat lunch from the sample carts.  I remember that giving me the heebie-jeebies.  My deal, I know, I'm working on it.

So we escaped Panda Express spending $6 for the rice.  The kids were starting to rumble a little, so we headed for home.  There was, however, one roadblock in our way.  CUPCAKE BAR.  Next to Panda Express is a local bakery called Nona's Sweets.  They have a concoction that some genius came up with in the form of an on the spot, customized to you cupcake bar.  You tell them what flavor cupcake (choice of 3 or 4) and what flavor icing (choice of about 20) and they make it right there in front of you.

Julie spotted it first with a "MMM, Cupcake Bar."  I had already driven past the shop, but something in my head was screaming, "REVERSE".  So that was what I did, right into Nona's reserved parking spaces.

Julie hopped out and it began.  A chant of "cupcake" came from Zoe and Zach.  Zane had a different Chant of course, "ME GO, ME GO, ME GO."  Zadie even got in on the action, screaming because of a blow-out poop (and me with no diaper bag).

Meanwhile, looking through the glass window front, I am realizing another problem with this plan.  It is now nearly 6 o'clock, Julie is hungry and now has to decide between the possible 27,405 cupcake to frosting combination's.  We could be here a while.  After being in there for a few minutes, she came out concerned that the price was too high, but I thought that the price I had already paid for sitting in the car with our crazy children offset whatever Nona could charge.  Don't let the agony I have felt be in vain, "Bring me a cupcake."

Cream Cheese frosting, Chocolate cupcake ... Score!

With Julie back in the car, we headed for home.  " Should I go back and get Zadie?"  "Nothing you can do, we had a blow-out and we have no spare."

Besides this time of day being dicey when it comes to meals, it is also happens to be rush hour.  And with one of the major outlet roads near our neighborhood being closed it makes rush hour just oh so much more special.

A quick aside ... one of the worries of having the number of children outnumber the number of parents is the conspiracy factor.  If the children mobilize against us and cooperate to overthrow our little regime, could we stop them.  I see this as being the subject of many sleepless nights for me in the future.

We caught a glimpse of this cooperation on the drive home.  We were sitting in a seemingly endless line to make a left heading toward our neighborhood.  A chant began.  Actually not so much a chant, but what resembled to me a Native American war chant of some sort.  Have a listen...

So, it was now about 6:15, and we finally made it home.  My nerves were a little shot.  Our free shrimp dinner cost us about $20.  But, Julie and I learned another valuable lesson as it pertains to the children and I got a story to write about.

The shrimp was good.  The cupcake was fantastic.  There was some drama, some tears, some screams, some laughs and we were together, and that made it a pretty good day.

So I made a list...

So, I made a list ...

Own a business.  Have a child.  Out of debt.  Own a dog.  Own a home. 

So, I had a list ... but I had no plan.

I was 21.  The fun was over.  Time to decide ... What do I want to be when I grow up?  I had a degree in Business ... but no job (and nothing on the horizon.)

I had a list ... but absolutely no idea how to go about accomplishing anything on it.

In a time in my life when all seemed gray and hazy, one thing was clear ... whatever was to come, be it greatness or failure, pleasant or somber, simple or foreboding ... I needed Julie by my side, in my corner, cheering me on, each step of the way.   

I have a hard time putting into words exactly what makes Julie unique to me.  I think the answer lies in our differences.  Julie loves to be with people, to talk to them and hear their stories.  I tend to hide in the crowd.  She listens and reacts to people with true empathy. That is something that has always escaped me.  She makes an impression and leaves a mark with many that she meets.  I can typically fade off without a trace.  Being a person who tends to be very private and introverted, I am left in awe at how Julie can draw people close to her and really make an impact on them.

It is a cliche, I know, but it is so true that opposites attract.  I think that it can be a real uniting relationship when two people, who are seemingly so different, use those differences to become "whole".  "AND THE TWO SHALL BECOME ONE FLESH; so they are no longer two, but one flesh." (Mark 10:8)

Julie and I hold common values; respect, caring, compassion.  I think you need to have core values in common with someone to use as a base when trying to navigate through your differences.  Now, not to mislead you, it has not been all candy canes and lolly pops.  We have had to work really hard to keep things moving in the right direction over the years.  We have maneuvered past college (where we dated for 3 years), the loss of a parent, the birth of a child at a relatively early age, crazy work schedules, moving to a new and unfamiliar city, opening a business, twins, closing a business.  But through all of that I think we are as strong a couple as ever.

Our pastor put it best when speaking about his marriage, that no matter what happens (with certain and obvious exceptions), or how bad things might be right now, you can't have an exit sign hanging over your marriage.  If you love and respect each other, and you were sincere when you spoke 'till death do part, then you should be able to handle just about anything.  I think that it helps our marriage to have this mentality.  We know we are here for the long haul.

So what else can I say?

I love my wife.  I love how she laughs.  I love how beautiful she is.  She is a wonderful mother.  She is my best friend and I can't begin to describe what that means to me.

It continues to amaze me, no matter how I mess up (and believe me, I know how to screw up), she continues to show me love and grace.  She continues to me my greatest fan and number one cheerleader. 

So, I had a list ...

I am 31.  Time to decide ... What do I want to be when I grow up?  I have a degree in Business ... but no job.


So, I had a list ... it might be time to make a new one.

The list will change this time around, but one thing will not ... I still need Julie by my side, in my corner, cheering me on each step of the way.

Eggs, Eggs, Everywhere There's ... Well you know

Our church, the church that Julie works for, had last year and is again this year celebrating Easter at Verizon Wireless Amphitheater.  For those of you reading this from outside of the area, Verizon is a outdoor concert venue that holds approximately 18,000 people. 

One of the activities is a huge Easter egg hunt.  Well not really a hunt, but a scramble (excuse the egg pun), to collect as many eggs as you can in a cordoned off section of the lawn at Verizon.  Julie's job today was to count the eggs left over from last year to know how many items she needs so she is able to stuff all of the eggs.  So, the Z's and I went to help.  We were set up in the infant room at the church

Now, all in all, there will be about 7,000 eggs used for the event.  The share we were working with ended up being 1,190.  It is amazing how a task like that so brings out the personalities of everyone involved.

I wanted to make sure the color of the top of the egg matched its bottom.  I also was fighting the urge to sort top and bottoms first to make the whole process more orderly.

Julie, did not care if they matched and thought the mismatched eggs were more fun.

Zoe was quietly loading up bags with finished eggs, occasionally commenting about a pretty one.

Zach was talking non-stop ... about the best way to divide the labor ... occasionally yelling at Zoe or Zane because they were doing it "wrong" ... obsessing over the final count of eggs ... etc.

Zadie ... slept.

Zane ... well ... Zane kept getting stuck in an exersaucer ... and a crib ... oh and at one point he pretended to be one of those Russian ice breakers boring through the Bering straight.  He was the ice breaker and the ice was a huge pile of eggs.  As you can imagine this didn't make big brother very happy.

The job was done, we had fun, we all worked together (well almost all of us ... Zane) and we learned something about ourselves.  We can all be so different.  But if we take what makes us all different and combine it together, we can accomplish almost anything.  We are starting to see what it means to be a large family.

Time - out

We use timeout.  It seems corny, and my 19 year old self would have probably snickered at the thought of it; but it works for us ... sometimes.  We use it mainly when one of the children can not get it together.  Something has upset them and they are crying or screaming, seemingly uncontrollably.  We also use it to curb whining.  Typically they only need a minute or so, then they will calm down and rejoin our society of sane people. 

We use the stairs for the timeout area.  In our house the stairs to the second floor secludes the child from the rest of the downstairs.  Tonight I renamed the timeout area from the staircase to the "Zane-case".  It is like a second home for him.  At minimum, he makes 6 trips to the stairs a day, typically just to calm down (for a description of Zane see The Zane-Meister).

Recently I gave a power to Zach that I may come to regret later.  After throwing a little fit myself; in response to Zane doing who knows what, to who knows who, I told Zach that if he thinks that I need to calm down, he can send me to the stairs.  Of course, as Zach found out on Thursday, I have veto power on his decision.  He was so cute as he gingerly approached me and said, "Um ... Dad.  Do you think maybe that this might be a time to uh ... you know ... (nod to the stairs)."  I replied, "No Zachary, this is not a time for that."  But about ten minutes later, where was I?  In a self imposed timeout, on the stairs, trying to simmer down.  I might be wrong, but I think I saw a small smirk come across Zach's face, as to say, "ha ... I knew you needed a timeout Dad."

Kids are so wise sometimes.

the eldest Z

The Father, The Son and the Holy Ghost

said a thousand times
he gave it meaning
    to me
HE sacrificed his son
we sacrifice for ours

BIRTH ... what a feeling
indescribable
the first Z

grow up
so quick
my little boy

there was the builder bob
those guys that wiggle
elmo, cookie and big yellow bird

only child ... no more
brother to Z's
attention?
finding his role
he loves them
he hates them
just one day

school starts
so scared
so smart
so respectful
teachers joy
parents pride

not cute, but cool
football in the field
jedis on the jungle gym
all boy

loves football
role plays
with guns, lightsabres and blocks of lego
twin Z's; his best friends
'til reinforcements arrive

enter ... baby Z
so sweet
so helpful
not a parent
differs
daddy's helper, not so little

my son
my friend
my buddy
my charge...

grow him

teach him

respect, love

kiss him
hug him ...

love him

teach him how ...

Brief intermission

You know, you would think that if you had 5 days to decide what to write in a post about your oldest son, it would not be a problem.  But for the life of me, I could not come up with a start to my post about Zach.  A little bit about my writing style.  The start is everything.  I have a topic in mind before I start.  I come up with the first few sentences, then I sit down to write.  I really have no idea where it might go from there.  I often come to the end of a post and wonder how in the world I ended up here. 

I have been struggling for days to find my start for Zach.  But of course, the moment I stop thinking about it and focus my mind on something else, it started to come to me in waves.  Tonight, it happened while I was in line for communion at church.  Unfortunately that did not leave me enough time to write Zach's post tonight (Well there is probably time, but I can't seem to peel my focus from my Maryland Terps taking on Duke).  So tomorrow, then.

I will leave you with a couple of nuggets from the last few days:

Zach:  Zoe, since you are not in the show, you can not pronounce the actors. (We were doing another show, see Musicals, and Zach was annoyed that his sister would not play the role as the princess.  Oh, also replace pro- with an- and the line might make more sense.)

Me: Zoe, did you poop?
Zoe: No, just gas.

Zach:  Zoe, don't drink that water (overheard when the kids were on the trampoline today)

Me: Zane you have two choices; You can go lay and take a nap with Zoe.
Zane: No
Me: You can stay in here and continue to cry and scream.
Zane: No
Me: Do you want to go to church tonight?
Zane: Yes.
Me:Then you have to take a nap.
Zane: No
(Me trying to rationalize with a 2 year old about bedtime.  I might have had more luck banging my head against the wall; but after a bit of screaming, he did finally sleep)

Me:  (internal) What can I bribe them with today for them to just get in there d*** car seats without a huge ordeal (I might need a vacation)

Princess Zoe

I peered across the table, into the bright blue eyes of an anxious 2 year old, waiting for validation that she was in fact, a princess.  You see, she had just proclaimed herself to be a princess and her type A older brother informed her that she was in fact not a princess, because Daddy and Mommy are not a King and Queen.  Her mouth dropped a bit and her gaze slowly turned to me, unable to quite comprehend the news that was just so harshly delivered to her.  She now looked at me, with her young fragile ego resting on the next set of words that I would deliver from my lips.  "You are my princess", I said.  Her look changed from trepidation to tranquility to triumph all in a split second.

It is moments like that when it really hits home to me, raising girls is a whole different animal.  I would describe Zoe as "all girl".  She loves babies and all things pink.  She can be reduced to tears, just by getting dirt on her shoes. The words that come to mind when trying to describe her are, 'Diva', ' Drama', 'Careful', 'Observer', 'Repeater'.  Repeater you ask?  Zoe says things twice.  "Chunney, Chunney" (her name for Zane), "Zadie, Zadie", "Baby, Baby" and so on.  We don't really know where that came from, but we have been calling her ZoZo-head as a nickname for most of her life, so maybe from there.

She is very friendly, but cautious when entering a new situation.  A good example of this can be found in a previous post, Family Night. 

We see Zane as strong willed, and he is, but Zoe is also strong willed in a sneaky kind of a way.  She is usually easy going, but there are certain times when she decides that "this is a cause worth fighting for".  Recently, Zoe decided that she wanted to sleep in Mommy and Daddy's bed.  We had some real knock down, drag out nights, two of which ended like this ...

(notice her empty bed in the background)

There was another time in Target that Zoe was so insistent on holding and eating a can of "puffs" that she bit Julies finger when she tried to take them from her to give to the cashier.  I can already see this being a problem for her when boys enter the picture (just keep on fighting baby).

But, she is my princess.  And hope that she always will be.  Zoe and I have a lot of living left to do together and I hope that she always knows that no matter what, she is my little girl.  See, we as fathers have a very important responsibility.  The bond between fathers and daughters is key to the formation of their self confidence.  A father who fails to provide love and affection to their little girl, will find themselves with a pre-teen or teenager who is looking for that love and affection from someone else.  Unfortunately, there are a lot of guys eager to step in and "fill" that role.

Julie teases me about something that happened when Zoe was just a few weeks old.  Zoe was our fussiest baby and once again I was in her room rocking her in the chair, trying to get her back to sleep.  In Julie's words, what she heard come across the baby monitor was a "very breathy, very heartfelt, I love you".  She says that I never tell her I love her with that level of fervor.  Of course I don't remember it that way ... But there is something different in the relationship with a girl versus a boy.  A boy should be rough housed with, playfully teased, toughened up to get them ready for the life that lots of boys live.  Girls need to be protected, nurtured, but at the same time have a self esteem and self worth developed to handle relationships with those "tough boys".  Can't wait to see how it all turns out.

 (Thank you to Mellisa Boyd for providing the pictures)

The Zane-Meister

Have you every been a part of, or seen video of a hoard of people bursting through the doors of a store on Black Friday?  I want you to get an image of that into you mind ... got it?  Good.  This is how Zane approaches each day.  Julie calls him the child of "More" ... more fun, more tears, more smiles, more screams ... more life, more love ... more to love.

Zane means 'God is gracious'.  We also found that it is an English derivative of 'John', which was Julie's fathers name.  But I am going to provide a different definition, 'ludicrously or whimsically comical; clownish'.  This is the definition of the word 'zany', which happens to be a fitting nickname we use for Zane. 

I recently wrote a blog entry called 'Because I said so'.  (http://imasahd.blogspot.com/2010/02/because-i-said-so.html)  The post chronicled some of the things that I have said to the children that I could have never imagined having to say to anyone ... ever.  Zane had his own category.

As I sit here, I am struggling to put into words the richness of Zanes' character (and Zane as a character).  He is extreme (like before, the child of more).  He loves life.  He wants to be just like his older brother.  His 'big' sister (20 minutes) is his best friend.  Everything is "Mine".  Everything is "Now".  He loves to explore new situations.  He's all boy (even when he is playing princess with Zoe).

A couple of stories...

Tonight, Zane hit Zach in the eye.  Julie, who is quick to show grace and slow with a hand, told Zane to apologize to Zach.  Zane ignored her.  As you can imagine this did not sit well with Momma.  "Zane, tell Zach you are sorry or you will get a spanking". (I realize this might be a hot button topic, but we use spanking only in cases of direct disobedience and has been effective for us)  Zane proceeded to scamper into the other room, giggling.  He was given to the count of 3 to return.  He did not.  Julie went after him and I did not see the rest.  Later Julie called me over and whispered into my ear, barely able to contain her laugh, that she found Zane in the corner of the room, laughing hysterically (the kind of laugh that you can not catch your breath), covering his butt with his hands.

We were taking Julie to work today.  Getting the children into the car can be a bit of an issue.  So, I am not above a little bribery when time is of the essence.  This morning, at 9am, the bribe was lolly-pops (don't judge me).  Well, evidentally the bribe was not enough for them this morning and both Zoe and Zane missed out on their prize.  They were not very happy with my decision and they let their displeasure be known (in Zoe's case, for the entire car ride).  Zane though, while in mid shriek, was distracted by two blue jays outside the window and that was it.  Just like that, done, from 100mph to 0.

A couple of weeks ago we went to Discovery Zone for the day.  Zoe, Zane and Zach spent a lot of time at one particular exhibit.  It displayed how machines work by creating a continous process of lifting small plastic rocks up, over, down, back up and then down again, with each step requiring a person to work the wheels, levers and pulleys.  They probably spent an hour at this one exhibit.  All of the sudden, Zane is gone.  "Julie do you see Zane?"  "No".  "Stay here and keep a look out".  I started to make a pass through the room as my anxiety grew with every step.  I made it around the entire room, without a glimpse of Zane.  It is amazing the thoughts that start to come to your head in a situation like that.  Julie still had not seen him.  I took another pass.  Then, I spotted him, whew, relief.  He was watching an exhibit that showed the affect wind had on a sail.  As I approached him, I got his attention and the scolding he was about to receive just disappeared from my tongues tip.  He turned with a look of boyhood fascination, saying, "Daddy, look", turning his focus back to the boats on wheels that were blowing around the table.  He wasn't scared.  He wasn't worried.  He was mesmerized by the boats ... I was mesmerized by him.

He is not easy.  He lives the definition of a strong-willed child.  But people like Zane change the world.  If everyone fit into the mold and fell into line, what would this world be.  I know with out my Zaney, my world would be a lot less interesting .. and a lot less fun.