My extraordinary inheritance

The first time I remember feeling like a father was ... let me explain.

When I showed up for my first date with Amelia, I knocked on the door and, when she opened it, I thought three things: "She is beautiful," "She's out of my league. Enjoy this one date." and "Her kids seem really great." She was a single mom of a boy (Aidan, 6) and a girl (Isabella, 18 months).

I was 34. I had never been married but had dated women with kids before. Some I got very close to and some I never really got to meet. If I was allowed to be around my various girlfriends' kids, it was always heartbreaking when things didn't work out. I mention this because it's important to understand that I definitely knew what was at stake, having been through it before.

By the time I met Amelia, I was more confident about who I was, what I wanted, and where I wanted to go in life than I had ever been before. I was on the right track—finally—and in just the right headspace. I had come to grips with the fact that I could be single forever or, at least, for a really long time. It was all right. That didn't mean that I would avoid marriage; it just meant that I wouldn't let the pressure of finding someone to spend life with make me choose someone just because they were nice or pretty or cool. I wanted to be a dad almost as much as I wanted to be married, but, again, I wasn't willing to stress, settle, sacrifice, or impregnate just so I could be.

When I started dating Amelia, I fell fast for her. Because I loved her so much, it was inevitable that I would love her kids. I'd arrive to pick her up and, while she perfected her make-up, I'd play Ring Around the Rosie or London Bridge with her daughter and have pillow fights or play Find the Hotwheels with her son. These kids were amazing individuals. In six months, Amelia and I were married. Insta-family.

On that day I became a guardian to two wonderful kids. Aside from hiccups here and there, I really took to the role of father figure. But, you see, as I recall the events of the last seven years, it's difficult for me to single out one defining moment where I finally felt like a father because every moment with them kept defining it.

But, I think I can narrow it down to a handful of them.

With Aidan, I'm his step-dad. We've always gotten along but it's been a challenge to know how to fit in to his life like a dad without it feeling like I'm trying to be his dad. We do a pretty good impression of a father and son though. For us it's been soccer in the backyard, me letting him win. Laughing at jokes that only he and I get. Playing video games and screaming at the action. Nerding out about some show or game or film. Showing him something I loved, like Back to the Future, for the first time and him loving it too.

There are the moments Patrick wrote about where you've been driving and they're all asleep and you have to unbuckle them and, without any words, you pick them up and their hair is wet with sweat and their fists are clenched and they nuzzle into your neck and you carry them to bed and kiss them on the forehead and they make that noise that can only be interpreted, in that moment, as thank you.

One time, when Amelia and I were engaged, Bella needed to spit out her gum and I, without a thought, held out my hand and she, without a thought, spit it into my hand and I threw it away.

The day of our sealing (pictured above).

The times Izzy got hurt or scared and I was the first person she ran to.

There's the baptisms, blessings, confirmations, and ordinations. The recitals, performances, and concerts. The bedtime prayers and tuck-ins. Christmas shopping and Christmas morning. The middle-of-the-night stories or jokes to soothe them.

Adoption day.

There is Bella's adoption day when she legally became my daughter and I got to testify, before a judge, that I wanted to be her dad and how I would always do my best to love and protect her.

Then, there was the day I married Amelia. Right before the ceremony, Bella was crying because she couldn't see her mom. The sweet two-year old couldn't be consoled. I watched as moms, dads, sisters, brothers, and others tried to help out. Finally, I walked out from under the arbor, gently picked her up, put her blanket over my shoulder and just held her. She nestled her head on my shoulder and stopped crying. Instantly.

So, it might be that moment. Still, maybe you should ask Bella if she remembers when she first felt it. Because, as much as these moments feel like "dad" to me, until I became Dad to her, I never truly was one.

Good Dad

Images via Flickr.com

Sometimes people's lives on the internet drive me crazy. I see there instagrams of the Moustache Party they threw with their kids and I think "Who has the energy for a moustache party? On a weeknight?" Or they post pictures of the family vacation they took to Thailand and I wonder "I can barely survive a 45 min car ride to Provo with my kids, let alone a 15 hour flight to Thailand."

But I try and remind myself that it's not Truth. The life we project on social media, or blogs, or Facebook, or Instagram is simply that, a projection. We get to pick and choose what we talk about and what we present and how we curate our lives for the outside world. And I'm saying that sometime's people's carefully curated lives get annoying.

But sometimes you see something that is deligtful and makes you smile. David LaFerriere is a graphic designer who has been drawing pictures on his kid's sandwhich bags since 2008 and then photographing them. Click on over to his Flickr site and check them out. There are over 1000 and they are pretty amazing. How do you not run out of things to draw after about a week? I would imagine this makes his kids smile when they open their lunchbox every day.

I like this. It's small, simple and memorable. His kids get a kick out of it, but other than recent internet attention, this isn't something that he is parading out for the world to see. Just a Dad doing something nice for his kids, trying to make them smile. And that's something I can get behind.

Wrapped Around My Little Girl's Finger

Can anyone say "No" to that face?

Lately we have been using a website at our house called MyJobChart.com. The idea is pretty simple: you assign jobs to your kids. When they complete them they log in and check them off. Each job is worth points. Maybe 10 points for getting your homework done, or 15 points for loading the dishwasher after dinner. Then, your kids can cash in their points for rewards. There are a bunch of preloaded rewards, or you can make them up. You can even pick a toy from Amazon and then order it right from the site when your kids earn it.

We've been using it for about 3 or 4 weeks and it has been great. The kids have gotten pretty good and setting and clearing the table, emptying the dishwasher, cleaning the family room before bed, etc. It still requires a lot of micro-managing (honestly, do kids just not see messes? When I point to the 55 pieces of trash on the ground and say "Now someone pick up all the paper on the floor" and all of my kids say "What paper?" I just don't get it.) but I feel like our kids are learning some responsibility, and the house is a little cleaner (and Amy and I don't have to do it all.)

We've gotten to the point now where the kids have enough points to start redeeming them for prizes. My boys, of course, wanted lame things like new texture packs for Minecraft or some virtual coins so they can download new Pokemon for Pokemon Tower Defense. But when Lulu, my 4 year old daughter, saw that one of the rewards was "Date with Daddy" she immediately declared that that was what she was saving up for. I mean, if that doesn't melt your heart, what does? She could get a new small toy, or a trip to the pool or whatever, but she wants to spend the day with me.

So today was the day to cash in. And I felt like because she had worked so hard and saved her points and been so good and agreeable about doing her chores, we needed to do something funner than just a trip to the McDonald's playland. So we went to lunch and then to the Zoo. As we were getting ready to leave, I said to her "Should we have Mom come to Lunch with us and then you and I can go to the zoo for our date?" and there was a long awkward pause. She answered "Um, let's just start our date now and go to lunch with just us."

I've joked before that Lulu is my favorite. She's not really, even though she is by far our easiest kid to raise (and don't tell me she'll be a terror when she is a teenager. I refuse to believe it.) My boys are amazing - funny, sensitive, smart, energetic. I think the world of them.

Honestly: when did she get so cool? Clearly I am the Nerdy Dad in this picture. 

But when you are a Dad and you have a daughter, there is just something different about that relationship. She's my baby and always will be. And I never want her to not be the smiling happy little girl she is now. Part of it is that I know that there are so many forces out in the world that are going to try and make her feel small. So I want her to know, no matter what, that she is loved, safe and important. And part of it is that I don't want her to date (or marry) a jerk so I want her to think I am the most awesome person ever so that any lame hipster dude named Blaze or Kagen who wants to date her has big shoes to fill. And I just like to make her laugh and smile. Which is why we rode the Carousel two times today. (Also, because she really wanted to get the zebra and she didn't get the zebra the first time.)

Yes, I am a pushover. And yes, Lulu's 500 point reward cost about 5 times what her brothers' 500 point rewards cost. But she's my little girl. And I wanted her to have a great day, and we did. And I realize that some day she probably will think I am lame and ridiculous (please see above photo for reference) so I should try and have as many of these kids of days as I can while they last. Even if I pretend she has to "earn" them by picking up the 55 pieces of paper left on the family room floor. Seriously, does no one see those things but me?

Why Are Our Expectations of Dads So Low?

Last weekend my wife was out of town. She had taken a much needed vacation with some friends to spend a weekend in San Francisco. While she was gone, I was on Dad Duty. On Friday, while the older kids were in school, I took my youngest out for waffles. Mostly because it was a good excuse to try the new Belgian waffle and french fry place that opened by our house (mini review: my two waffles were topped with cookie butter, sliced strawberries and vanilla bean ice cream. Hold me. Hold me and never let me go.)

While we were there I Instagramed the above photo, as a modern, hip, iOS loving Dad is want to do. When I posted the photo several of the comments were to the effect of "You are a great dad!" And to be clear, it was super nice of people to say that. And, for the record, I do think I am a great Dad. But why was going to breakfast with my daughter (something that my wife does frequently on any give day of the week I am sure) suddenly shoot me into the stratosphere of awesome dad-ness?

Another example: One summer when my boys were little we lived a couple of blocks away from a 7-11. I have a Diet Coke obsession and one day, I wanted a frosty beverage, as a modern, hip, thirsty Dad is want to do. So I loaded the boys into the double stroller and took the short walk to the 7-11 to get them Slurpees and to get me a drink. As we walked home from the store, beverages in hand, not one, not two but three people driving past leaned out of their car windows and yelled to me things to the effect of "You are a great Dad!!"

Basically, if you are a Dad and you don't beat your kids in public or feed them to lions, you are winning in the world's eyes. If a dad is on an outing with his kids, and all the kids seem to be living and not bleeding, we cheer them like they have exceeded our wildest dreams. Why do we have such low expectations of Dads? I have had Dad friends get free drinks at a restaurant, or free balloons, or compliments just because they were out with the kids without a wife present.

I guess maybe the question isn't why we are so easy on Dads, but why we are so hard on Moms. If a Dad is struggling to keep his kids under control at the grocery store, he's likely to get sympathetic comments, or offers to help. Because clearly he is totally helpless. But if a Mom is with her kids and they are acting up, she is much more likely to get the stink-eye from her fellow shoppers. What's wrong with that Mom? Why can't she keep her kids under control?

So maybe when we see a dad out eating waffles with melted chocolate on top of them we should think "That's a great Dad! Is that a melted chocolate bar on top of that waffle?! Where can I get one of those?" And when we see a Mom at the grocery store with her kids, unruly or not, we should think "What a great Mom. Grocery shopping sucks and she is trying to get it done with her kids in tow. And kids can be jerks sometimes." We're all in this together. Let's just cheer each other on, OK? Moms included.

But seriously, I took the kids to get haircuts and to go swimming while my wife was gone. I mean, I AM AWESOME!