Lately, Ethan will appear out of nowhere walking oddly… his chin tucked into his chest with his eyes raised barely high enough to see where he is going. He’ll be hunched over with a slight tilt to one side with his arms crossed or hands folded over a hip. Or, he will come streaking past inexplicably and try to avoid your line of sight. Once, he darted behind the Christmas tree and peeked out with his eyes bright and wide with “nothing to see here!” expression on his face. You know; inconspicuous things like that.

The first incident that stood out to me was with his new art easel. I had opened a box of chalk and placed a single pack in the chalk tub of his easel. Ethan wanted a second pack as well. Only one pack fit at a time, and the packs contained the same color chalk, so I told him no and put the chalk away. I leave for a few minutes and come back to see what Jaden and Dillon are up to, and I see Ethan standing behind the chalkboard side of his easel almost fully doubled over. At first I thought something might be wrong with him, but then it became very obvious that he was trying to keep me from seeing him. I stood still, and after a few seconds he peeked up to see if I was still there. His head rolled back and his big brown eyes appeared from behind the curls. He startled a bit and then flashed a sly smile. He remained bent over a bit and kept his arms folded over his chalk.

“Ethan, what do you have?”

“No daddy!”

“Ethan.”

“No daddy. My chalk!”

My first thought was just to grab the chalk from him and put it away in a higher location but I wasn’t sure that was going to result in any lesson other than “I am stronger than you” which I am pretty sure he had established. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to laugh or raise my voice, but watching his physical response to the situation made me opt for the lighter path. I decided to tell him why I only put one packet of chalk in the tub. I let him know that he could keep that pack of chalk and I would put the other pack back in the box since it was his new gift and I didn’t give him a chance to pick which chalk he wanted to use first. He knew he was doing something that he probably shouldn’t have and his behavior indicated that. I let it go at that. He put the chalk in the bin and I returned the other packet to the box… which was somehow lying in the middle of the pantry… and placed it in a much more secure location.

We’ve had a few more incidents since then… mainly involving candy canes… but each time, we are measured in our reactions. If it is something he didn’t ask for, he needs to ask and he may or may not get whatever it is. If it is something he asked for and was told no, he loses it immediately. So far, he has willingly relinquished whatever he has been found to have and is doing it more as playful gesture now than as an act of deviousness. He is pushing the envelope and exploring his boundaries. The reaction he gets when he does what he is not supposed to is simple correction and redirection. There isn’t a lot of emotion and animation. There is no fun in him trying to elicit that response. He sees that the main reaction he gets from us is laughter when he does those things in a silly manner and praise when he does things well so that is what he likes to recreate. I would rather he become accustomed to my laughter and smile than to the sound of my anger.

I really credit Kendra with us taking this approach… that wasn’t the approach my brother and I experienced, and it wasn’t what I came to the table willing or ready to try right off. I had a hard time when we started doing this type of thing with Jaden and Dillon. I really didn’t feel the need to explain myself to my kids when I told them not to do something. It seemed ridiculous to talk through the rationale behind my actions or decisions. But, when I started to do that, I realized that I really didn’t have any rationalization behind a lot of my “rules” and that I was just enforcing things for the sake of having control over things I didn’t really need to control. They have responded well with the trust we’ve placed in them and I think it has helped me be a better parent. We draw lines where lines need to be drawn, and they don’t have to make judgments about which rules are the really important ones and which ones they can break.

It isn’t easy. I continually struggle with maintaining that focus; especially if I am tired or stressed out. But those are the times when it is probably most important that I stay consistent. I have slipped, but I’ve also apologized when I approached a situation in a way I shouldn’t have. That is never fun… but I know the boys appreciate it. Being a man is not about being perfect, but it is about accountability and growth. I can’t expect them to honor a code or an ideal that I cannot model for them, and I don’t want them to feel like it’s not okay to make mistakes. We celebrate our successes… when we make mistakes, we own them, learn from them, and move along… nothing to see here.

Thanks for coming along for the ride…

It’s a hectic ritual at times… and it seems like the request for the treat often comes when I wish it wouldn’t. Either I just sat down, or I want to watch a game, or I am just “busy”… like I was at that particular moment. Busy doing something so important that I cannot recall what it was…and I watch them and see the contentment that results from a few seconds of inconvenience… and it makes me sick that I would ever allow selfishness like that to interfere with a moment of happiness for my kids. I get caught up in those moments of self contempt and guilt… when I’ve lost patience and responded unnecessarily in a raised voice… or when I’ve lingered too long when they’ve called out for me so they had to call out again. I destroy myself over those moments. Then, I gain comfort from two things. One: she never would. The second is more complicated.

I think about the child I was and the development of my life between then and now. I guess I always saw fatherhood as an inevitability, but never gave much thought to any detail around when or with whom, what kind of father I would be; none of that. I figured, my dad was around so I will be around. I like kids; kids like me. Simple. It will happen when it happens. But of course it isn’t that simple. Sometimes, when it happens, it’s just a guy and a baby… there’s no connection, there’s no obligation. Sometimes, when it happens, it’s cool for a while… you try real hard, but maybe you tell yourself you just aren’t cut out for it and the kid is better off without you. Sometimes everyone is to blame. Other times, no one is to blame. Sometimes, when it happens, it’s just milk and syrup… and chocolate milk doesn’t make itself.

For guys… for men, I believe there has to be a decision and a commitment he makes to himself to be a father…whether it is a father in a relationship, or a father on his own. That’s the spoon. The thing about the spoon is, you can’t do it halfway. If you stir it just a little the ingredients don’t mix. If you stir it some, but not long enough, the mixture separates and you are left with two independent ingredients again. You have to stir it fully, and make sure you scrape all the syrup from the bottom of the cup, and the globs that want to cling to the sides. You have to get it all, and commit fully in order to get it right. I remember the point at which I was prepared to be a father for all four of my boys and the commitment I made to do whatever necessary to be their light and shield… and I remember being very afraid. And I am still afraid. But I know I’m committed. And I know that when I fail them and when I fall down (and I will fail, and I will fall – and you will too) that there will be an opportunity for wisdom in all of it that I will have an opportunity to apply the next time.

So, what gives me comfort is this: when I go into the kitchen hours later and I see those half-full cups of chocolate milk… I still see chocolate milk.

We went to the lake last weekend to celebrate Independence Day with my in-laws and we took their boat out on the water. We planned to arrive around 9am to get a few hours in prior to the heat of the day setting in. As usual, it took us a while to get out of the house, and by the time we gassed up and grabbed some food 9am had passed (I would mention my “shortcut” but it didn’t really impact us since we were already late, so…). We drove through the winding canyon roads and pretended we were on a roller-coaster ride. The boys threw their hands in the air when we went down the hills and dips, and leaned into every twist and turn. We were all in high spirits and looking forward to playing at the lake. We arrived about an hour late (not too bad), found out the marina was nowhere near capacity, parked right next to the cove (had we arrived too early, the space may not have been available… maybe), and unloaded all our kids and gear. It was shaping up to be just another fun Saturday…until we went out on the water.

The stage was set… I was steering us out into the lake toward the canyon walls. The water was wide open with very little chop. Kendra held Ethan on her lap and sat across from her mother on the bow seats. Jaden and Dillon sat at the stern near the prop so they could watch the wake behind us. I was soaking in the serenity of the beautiful sky and glide of the vessel toward the canyon passage. The spray from the lake offered periodic relief with bursts of mist. Sound faded away… I caught the satisfied smiles of the passengers as we sped along, my head on a constant swivel to be watchful of skiers or other sea traffic. I was completely given to the moment when I heard it, and the looming shadow crept forward.

“Wow! He’s a really good JetSkier!” was the proclamation that came from behind me. As I heard it, I saw Ethan’s face glow with elation as he smiled widely and pointed off the starboard side. I turned to see the JetSkier zipping along beside us, and watched as he skipped back and forth across our wake.  He sped up beside us to wave then fell back again to continue the entertainment. Logan had become an impressive skier! He followed us through the canyon and to the other side of the lake. Turning away now and then to find new wake to jump or to reposition himself out of the way of the other watercraft. I wrestled with that JetSki years ago and never could get it going. He was out on the lake making it look as simple as walking. I was very proud to see him out there, and I knew the time he spent working to get to that level.  I started recalling his first bike ride, his first tree climb, the time he gave up the floatation support and committed to learn to swim… all these things rushed to mind. It seemed as close as yesterday. I watched the boys study him. I knew they were contemplating the challenge. The shadow inched closer. I slowed the boat.

Logan is 13…and a half.  It seems like tomorrow that will be leaving home for college…next week the twins… next month Ethan. The shadow was on my mind completely.  It is too harsh a reality that these moments are ever fleeting. They have their lives, their paths to follow. I couldn’t shake those thoughts, but I was able to push them far enough back to enjoy the ride back to shore. I laid off the throttle, despite the urgings of my thrill-seeking children. And after we anchored in the cove, my only thought was to let the day drag on as long as it could. I made no mention of leaving, nor did I seek out the time of day. It would end when it ended, and after a few glorious hours it did.

We don’t really speak about it, but I know Kendra feels the shadow too. The boys will be running around the house and she will grab whomever she can catch and just hug and kiss him. They hate this, or at least pretend to, but I know why she does it. The same reason I do, and the same reason that makes us go into their room at night and watch them sleep peacefully. The time. One day, that time will return. And I will hate it.

Thanks for coming along for the ride…

A few minutes of burning thighs and several mouthfuls of dust into the ride quickly lowered my expectation to that of merely surviving the trip. It had been years since I had attempted anything as physical as this ride, and every crank of the pedal drove home how young I no longer am. By the time we were midway up the second major incline my arms and legs were burning, I was out of breath and I was doubled over my handlebars desperate for some type of boost or second wind. I looked around at the desert wilderness that enveloped us: cholla cactus, saguaro, wild grass concealing desert rodents and insects, loose rocks and drop-offs, and the silence of the hills was only penetrated by the exaggerated pounding of my heart as I struggled to catch my breath.  We pushed forward… every so often we would stop and try to regroup and curse our path. We came to what we thought would be the halfway point as we encountered more downhill path than up. We began to laugh at how ridiculously we had been behaving about the previous obstacles and congratulated ourselves on making it through. We proclaimed our manliness and vowed to conquer the trail with ease the next time out… and then we came to the big hill.

This section of the trail was not so much an incline as it was an instrument of torture designed to crush a rider’s sense of accomplishment and capability. We somehow managed to push ourselves over the first couple of summits, but each time we would come to the top of a section, the trail would hairpin and climb again, or it would drop down into a sandy riverbed and then climb sharply to a point and gradually wind further upward. Each time we thought we had arrived at our stopping point or pinnacle, the trail moved onward and upward. We were physically and mentally spent.  We had put ourselves down this path and we could not continue on the way we planned. From where we stood, we could see the parking area off in the distance. The terrain prevented us from giving up and setting off in that direction, and we had come too far to merely turn around. Besides that, the road back did not seem any easier than what we hoped would be the short distance ahead. I could not pedal forward; I had no strength. I could not rest on the trail because it was barely wide enough for us to ride through and it was beset by cactus. I leaned against my bike for support.  I quickly started drawing parallels between that hopeless place on the trail and times in my life when I put myself in situations that I needn’t have.  It seems I never have trouble riding myself off into some desperate situation and end up crying out for some intervention. As I straddled my bike and waddled myself the rest of the way up the hill, I began to recall 2 Corinthians 12:9 – “My Grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” I pondered on this verse as I approached what was ultimately the crest of longest incline. I had definitely been in a place of personal and spiritual weakness and He was taking this opportunity to show me He was there waiting and ready to help me.

The path widened, and it would be mainly downhill from this point. A few other riders passed through casually and waved as did a woman on horseback. Families hiked down below. We had not traversed some impassible stretch of trail. Our lives were not in peril. But, there was wisdom on that trail that afternoon. There are so many times in life that I want to shine or be the focal point… and I have to try to be mindful that His light through me shines brightest. He is my strength, and with that nothing is impossible or hopeless. His Grace is sufficient… and as I continue to relearn to rely on that and lean on His unwavering strength I will know not to doubt or worry.

This is a difficult lesson to embrace as a father… I want to appear strong and in control as a parent so I struggle with this at times. I have to keep in mind what I am modeling for my sons so they can gain comfort in leaning on His strength as they grow into men… not only when times are difficult but in all things at all times.

Thanks for coming along for the ride… Kiss your kids!

All three boys have been fantastic big brothers; they are constantly concerned with making sure Ethan is comfortable or has what he needs. They often stop what they are doing if he cries to try to lend a hand. They always ask to hold him and help out with tummy time. There has been no indication of jealousy or resentment. I think that we have been so relieved with how things have transitioned that we have given our remaining attention to the details of maintaining the house and keeping all the plates spinning at work. Dillon helped me to realize that we still have three other boys we need to dote on and have special time with. This is a humbling lesson that I had not thought I would have to learn, but as I honestly reflect on the last several weeks it has been quite convenient for me to lump the boys together in some activity and use the time with all of them as my “family time”. This is a cop out. I refuse to continue down this path. My four-year-old should not have to wake himself up in the middle of the night in order to spend some quality time with his father. 

Dillon and I took a trip to grab breakfast for the family… it was a simple trip and it took all of about 25 minutes, but it allowed me to connect with him in a way that we had not been able to in a long while. My committment to him and to Jaden and to Logan (Ethan tends to find ways to get alone time) is to continue to find little ways to spend bigger and bigger slices of time together that are individually significant. This time slips by so quickly, and we only get one chance to try to parent these guys. I want to make the most of the time I have in front of them while my opinion still matters and while they still see hanging out with me as a “cool” thing to do. The sands in the hour glass don’t pause… family has to remain the higher priority over the distractions of life… hopefully I can stay on track and we can find enough time in the day for our dedicated time, and we can all go back to sleeping peacefully at night.

Thanks for coming along for the ride… Kiss your kids!

I felt compelled to share this story… It seems a lesson I have to relearn from time to time. Our boys are entering different milestones of independence now. Logan is entering adolescence and will be faced with many new choices and situations that he will have to manage. Jaden and Dillon are expressing individuality and the desire to do “big boy” things more frequently and consistently. Our offerings for help will go unaccepted quite often I am sure… but we will have to remain patient and allow them to recognize that we are there for them when they need us and we will not force our support. It will be difficult to see them struggle with things that I could easily make better for them or show them how to do differently. It will be very difficult to watch them fail knowing I could have interfered or offered some assistance. But when they do come for help, we won’t mention the times we could have helped in the past… we will only do what we can and continue to offer our love and support… and keeping this perspective, I think I have some things to go set down.

Thanks for coming along for the ride…. Kiss your kids!