An optimistic and humorous blog about fatherhood, marriage and life in general told from the perspective of a working dad who does his thinking behind the dash.
email
Insert email address above to subscribe to Dashboard Dad with email notifications.
Hands down, without a doubt, my favorite part of a typical week day is the very moment I walk in the door from work. I'm sure all of you working parents know exactly what I'm talking about. There's nothing else like it. I'm a hero simply for walking through the door and I'm home with the three people who mean more to me than anyone else in the world.
My wife freaks out, drops what she's doing and runs towards me with a smile that lights up the room. She tries to hug me with all her might but she underestimates how fast she's running and bounces off my leg and ends up on the floor as she frantically starts filling me in (two inches from my face) on which bad guy she's been fighting today. Scarlet Overkill? El Macho? The Shredder? If no bad guys have stopped by the house she enthusiastically fills me in on the latest episode of Bubble Guppies or tells me all about her adventures at school or in the backyard...
Wait a minute... I always get confused here... I think it's actually the kids who lose their minds when I arrive. Their mother is only slightly more calm. Slightly...severely... it's all the same. I'm still trying to figure out how to convince their mother that she should react the same way they do when I walk in the door. I should have her convinced any day now. I can feel it coming. I'll be sure to blog about it when it finally happens. ;)
Regardless of who reacts how, I'm just happy to be home in a house so full of love. I'm happy to see my wife's beautiful face whether she's in a good mood, stressed to the max, or just ready to tag me in so she can tag out and get a break. I'm happy to hear the excitement in the boys voices as they drag me into the playroom to help them find the Hulk or as they ask me to bury them in a pile of pillows. I'm happy to take a lick of my two year old's fake ice cream cones that he has developed such an affinity for. His favorite flavor is "Fadilla." I'm happy to be the bad guy that they've been searching for ever so impatiently while I was at work all day. I'm just happy to be home.
That's usually my favorite part of the day but every now and then something happens to overtake the reigning champ. The past two days have been prime examples. At some point during the dinner, bath and bedtime routine we usually ask the boys what their favorite part of the day was. The answers range from nonsensical and imaginary to sweet and heartfelt. My two year old's favorite part of the day often has to do with cheetahs. I'm still trying to figure out why. My four year old's favorite part of the day used to often be something like, "when I went to time out" or "when Fletcher bit my finger and I cried." At a certain point we sat down with Cooper and had a descriptive explanation of the definition of the word "favorite" and we got back on track.
We started getting answers like, "when we swam in the pool" and "when we hopped across the gym like kangaroos."; The type of answers we were looking for. My four year old has even started asking me and Mom what our favorite part of the day was. It always turns into a fun conversation.
Two nights ago I had just put the boys pajama's on when I remembered to ask them what their favorite part of the day was. Cooper's response was my favorite yet.
I looked at him with anticipation in my eyes.
"Cooper, what was your favorite part of the day?"
He replied, "You Dad" ...accompanied by a "tackle hug" as he calls it.
Well, it doesn't get any better than that now does it? Thanks buddy.
Last night when I asked his little brother what his favorite part of the day was I got the same response from a tender and slightly smaller little voice.
"You Dad."
He must be paying attention to his big brother's example. I hope I never forget this.
People always say that parenting is the most "rewarding" thing in the world. Well, this is the type of thing they are referring too. I can't imagine much more rewarding than this at this point of our parenting adventure. Unless, of course, I came home from work one day and my wife reacted to my presence the same way the boys do.
Now that would be rewarding and by rewarding I mean hilarious.
I've been doing this since the day our second son was born.
I'm not exactly sure why.
I never have an answer.
She never really does either.
Well, I take that back. Some days I have an answer but the next day it changes. Then it changes back and so on over and over and over. Sometimes my wife and I have different answers on the same day. We both go back and forth. It's crazy! I've never struggled with coming to a decision like this before. Most of life's big decisions have come pretty easy for me. They've come pretty easy for my wife and I as a couple too.
Not this one.
When it comes to answering this particular question I'm like a teenage girl from the valley trying to decide whether to stay with my high school sweetheart or to break up with him and go get crazy at college. I'm constantly weighing out the pro's and con's and pondering the best and worst case scenarios.
(Cue the valley girl accent)
"OMG guys!! I mean, like, he is such a sweet guy, like, total marriage material. He drives a Range Rover. He sends the sweetest texts from his I phone 10...not to mention the snapchats. OMG! He bought me the most epic pair of rainboots. His parents are like totes rich and he has a totally sexy bod...but girls just wanna have fun you know...like, How am i supposed to rage at my sorority parties with my besties when I've been dating him for 4 years?!? We're practically married old people already...ew... and there are so many other fish that swim to see in college...er, whatever..."
Or something like that.
What do the cool folks say these days on social media?
Oh yeah, "The struggle is real" only I'm not an 18 year old sorority girl. I'm a 34 year old father of two young boys trying to make a tough life decision with the help of my wife and it's really difficult.
The question is:
Should we try to have a third child?
Toughest decision ever... but why is it so hard?
We were incredibly excited to have our first child. As soon as we felt like we had a decent grasp on parenthood we forged ahead with baby number 2 with no hesitation whatsoever but for some reason it's different this time.
When we first started out as a married couple we thought we wanted to have four kids. However, we got a late start. We didn't start having children until our thirties. We also had no idea how much work a child is when that child is ours... full time.
We have plenty of love to give to a third child but do we have the patience to go back to a life just trying to stay afloat in a sea of breast milk with a constant barrage of mid-night feedings and diaper changes, gas, indigestion, teething and God forbid...COLIC?!? Our first child was an easy baby. Our second child tried to kill us in his first 5 months of life. They were both perfectly healthy but I think our second child has scarred us. The "What If''s" and "Will we's" are constantly rattling around inside my brain. (Her's too, I'm sure... though they may have different priority and she may not ask some questions with the same frequency that I do.)
What if we have another baby? Will we have enough time to give all three of them the attention they need and deserve? Can we afford it? Do we want to afford it? Will we ever have sex again? Will our children miss out on fun because of the change of family dynamic? Can we have a third child and still be friends? Will we still find the time to go on dates? Will my wife go crazy? How will our boys react? Once they out number us will they start a mutiny and overthrow us? Things are as easy as they've been in years. Do we really want to take the chance of messing that up? Will we ever have sex again?...
What if we have another miserable baby? What if we have twins? What if we have a baby with a birth defect or some kind of developmental delay? Downs Syndrome? Autism? Some kind of rare disease I don't even know about?
Or worse... what if we have A GIRL!?!?!?!
We are both scared to death of having a baby girl. My wife often says that she "speaks boy fluently" and would be lost trying to learn "girl." I think she's more scared than I am of having a girl, which is odd to most people. She's said on more than one occasion that if we could guarantee a third boy then she would sign off on getting pregnant a third time. The only difficult thing about having a boy in our eyes is having to care for the circumcision as it heals. Your heart breaks for the poor little guy. What made it easier for us was just looking at it as a pretty small price to pay for never having to buy a prom dress, tampons or pay for a wedding.
Winner! Winner!
I guess it's all about perspective.
Oh, speaking of that, I left out one "What If."
What if the baby is PERFECT? What if he is the perfect final addition to our family no matter how he turns out? What if she is the perfect blessing we didn't think we were ready for? What if we just need to pray a little bit more and have faith that God won't give us anything we aren't capable of handling?
I think we'll be just fine whether we try for a third or not. It's just crazy to me that we haven't come to a conclusion after putting so much thought into it. Patience. Patience. I know. It'll work itself out.
Do you guys have any advice on the subject? Have you struggled with a similar decision? The same decision?
Help!
...and oh yeah, I can't believe I forgot to mention this...
If we did have a third child I wonder if we'd be able to find time to have... oh, nevermind... maybe I did already bring that up once or twice.
One day you just squeeze your way out from between two legs or a doctor pulls you through some ladies guts and out of a big cut in her stomach.
TaDa!!!
There you are. On stage.
It's really bright and everyone is watching you.
You don't know what else to do so you just start screaming for help.
Then, if you're fortunate, that lady who just sent you sliding out of her womb picks you up and shoves her breast in your mouth.
Wait! What?
Who is this lady?
You never even had a chance to do a background check.
A meet and greet.
Mom speed dating.
You know...10 mom options.
You get to sit down for 5 minutes with each of them, pepper them with questions and pick the one who seems the most compatible.
Nothing.
It's a lot like the lottery.
You get what you get and you're stuck with it. That is, if she even wants you.
If she doesn't want you, you can't go back into that nice comfy womb. You just get put on hold and you don't even get to watch the clear plastic container of balls dancing in the gale force wind, while you wait for your number to be called.
If she does want you there is still no guarantee that you should actually want her to want you. Last I checked, there is no such thing as a mom license. Are you going to a good home where you will be loved and nurtured the way a baby is supposed to be loved and nurtured? Many mothers bring their beautiful babies home to the safety of their nest with the best of intentions only to fail miserably.
Take the mother bird from "Are You My Mother" for example. Motherhood looked bad on that mama bird from the jump. First, she managed to find a way to miss the birth of her baby. Second, she let her baby fall from the top of a tall tree. And as if that wasn't bad enough, the poor baby bird had to wander aimlessly for the first hour or so of his life thinking that a kitten, dog, hen, cow or perhaps the dreaded SNORT might actually be his mother. Poor baby!
Luckily, that scary SNORT was a hero and returned the baby bird to the nest and the mama bird was none the wiser. She didn't even know that she had already failed miserably. Ignorance is bliss, right?
Like anything else in this world, mothers come in all shapes, sizes and forms. Just because you are a mom doesn't mean you are a good one.
Anyway, back to the Lottery.
I've never won the lottery we play today at convenience stores with miniature pencils like the ones you get at putt putt golf courses and tiny scan tron like pieces of paper with rectangles full of numbers. I've never come close.
However, I did win the "Mom Lottery" some 34 years ago and something tells me that the odds of winning that are even more slim than the lottery we play today. The stakes are definitely higher.
Have you ever sat back and really thought about it?
Be careful if you haven't. It can be a lot like plugging in one too many kitchen appliances into the same outlet.
Boom.
Overload.
Someone needs to go flip a breaker.
How much of who you are today is a reflection of your mother?
There are a plethora of women near your mothers age that could have ended up being your mom yet your mom ended up being your mom.
I know. When I put it like that it sounds silly...and No, I'm not on drugs... unless you consider sweet tea a drug. In that case, I'm sitting at my computer high as a kite on sweet tea typing a blog post about how mind blowing it is that my mom is my mom.
Boy. She must be proud.
Seriously though, I'm not sure what your situation is with your mother but for me it truly is mind bottling (or mind boggling for those of you who aren't familiar with Chaz Michael Michaels) to think about how blessed I am in the Mom department. I was born into this world to a mom who would literally do anything for me. She's disciplined yet forgiving. She's tough yet kind and understanding. She's like a finely tuned, well rounded athlete with a highly developed craft and her craft is motherhood... and she's good at every aspect of it. It's like I got the Bruce Jenner of moms.
Wait a minute. You have to remember that I was born in 1980. Back then Bruce was a man. I mean, he was THE man. Not only a man but THE man. On the Wheaties box, might I add, a highly trained Olympic male athlete at the top of his game.
My mom is THE MAN... but she's a woman. Now that I think about it, she may be the exact opposite of Bru... nevermind.
I'm Sorry. This is going nowhere fast. Yet another bad comparison on my part.
Carrying on...
In all seriousness, if you read my blog frequently you know that I go on about my relationship with my dad constantly and my mom often takes a back seat. That's only because my dad and I are both sports addicts with a whole lot in common and a lot to talk about. I wont let dad high jack this post mom. This one is for you.
In reality, my mother is the one thing in this world that I am most grateful for, including my wife and kids. I was able to choose my wife. I've been able to influence and mold my children. I had absolutely NO SAY in who my mom was going to be though. If it weren't for my mom's example of what a wife and mom should be I wouldn't know what qualities to look for in a wife/mother of my children. I wouldn't know how important it was to find a woman:
whose priorities are faith and family
who understands the love and nurturing children require
who holds her husband accountable with just the right amount of patience and understanding
who prays with her children
who goes the extra mile to teach the things that some let slip through the cracks
who is capable of staying at home with the kids or providing for her family depending on what life asks of her.
who is honest and stands behind her word
who loves her husband and leaves no room for doubt
who willingly sacrifices what ever it takes for her children's well being
ETC.
I could go on all night.
My mother possesses all of these qualities and many more.
What did I ever do to deserve a Mother like this?
When we were young my mom was a stay at home mom. As we got older things changed and she had to go to work full time so she delivered mail for the next 20 years. She adjusted. She sacrificed. She went with the flow of life with a smile on her face.
She was the spiritual leader of our household. She made sure we woke up and went to Church. She dragged my lazy butt out of bed every single day for school. Because of her I had perfect attendance from Kindergarten through 12th grade, which is no easy task, just ask her. All these years I thought it was something fantastic that I had done. She's the one who did all the work. She deserves the credit.
To this day I still don't know how she did it. After I went to sleep she stayed up cleaning my filthy baseball uniform. I was the dirtiest kid on the team always sliding head first every chance I got but come the next game I was the cleanest kid, for a few minutes anyway. That woman could work mind blowing magic on a dirty baseball uniform and she still woke me up in time to get to school the next morning after putting in the over time. If it wasn't a baseball uniform it was a school project. She would NOT let us get a bad grade, even if we had to stay up all night.
We used to... who am I kidding... we still always give my mom grief because she can fall asleep anywhere at the drop of a hat. The couch... a red light...Church...the bath...the toilet...the middle of a conversation... it doesn't matter, Mom can fall asleep anywhere.
Mom was notorious for staying up all night wrapping Christmas presents. She was always dozing off on Christmas day. One year my brother and I got a Sega Genesis for Christmas. When we were done opening presents we decided it was time to play the Sega. There was only one problem. We didn't get any games. After a couple days of searching the house we found them in my Grandma's closet. Santa must have hidden them there. Another year mom lost the turkey altogether.
One time when my mom dozed off sitting up on the couch my brother and I decided it would be a good idea to start putting change on her face to see how much we could get on there before she woke up. We went to my dad's change drawer and grabbed a hand full of pennies, dimes and nickels and went to work. I'm not positive but I think there may be a picture of this floating around somewhere. I'll have to ask dad. Mom wasn't too happy with us when she awoke to a change face avalanche.
Anyway, I bring all of this up to say that we should have just cut mom some slack. We should have just let her catch up on her sleep. I don't think my brother and I realized why she was so exhausted all the time. The woman devoted every second of her life to raising and providing for my two older sisters, my brother and me and she didn't care how much sleep she lost doing it. She was forgetful and she was chronically exhausted but more than anything, she was DEVOTED to her family. She still is.
Because of her example I was able to recognize these same qualities in my wife when I met her. My dad recognized them too. We met her on the same day and only hours after meeting her he told me that I needed to marry her one day. When all my friends told me it wasn't time to settle down, I knew better. I knew I'd be missing out on a woman who shared so many amazing qualities with my mom.
That type of woman doesn't come around every day.
Now, because I won the Mom Lottery I've also won the Wife Lottery and therefore my sons have also won the Mom Lottery. What a beautiful cycle. I hope it continues. I hope one day my boys find their own little minds blown, their own little breakers flipped, when they attempt to wrap their heads around the fact that they ended up with the amazing mother they have, because she is amazing too. Would you like to know how I know?
Because my mom tells me all the time.
How did I end up with a wonderful mother like this?
How did my kids end up with a wonderful mother like this?
I'll tell you how...
My genius dad chose them both.
Ha.
Happy Mother's Day to all you Moms out there, especially to my mom and the mother of my boys.
My wife is a stay at home mom. My good friend Mike Smith is a stay at home dad. I converse with these two people on a daily basis, probably more than I do with anyone else besides maybe my Dad. It's safe to say that I've heard my share of "venting" on how "difficult" their "JOB" of being a stay at home parent is. Needless to say, this is a very difficult subject for me to broach because of these relationships. While I love them both dearly and I never mind listening to them vent, I just don't think they get it.
Job (noun): 1. A paid position of regular employment.
As for me, I wake up every morning before the sun rises and I drive 45 minutes to work. I get into a work truck, drive to a neighborhood and run in a race against the clock to finish my work allotment before I run out of time. All the while I'm being threatened by customers, chased by dogs and at the mercy of mother nature (Who is also a stay at home mom, coincidentally). When I'm finished I get back in my car and take the 45 minute drive home in rush hour traffic. I do this every day 8 a.m to 5 p.m (plus drive time) Monday through Friday. Every two weeks I get paid for my work and my family uses that money to pay the bills, eat and buy a few things we might need. I've done this job for 15 years.
What exactly does a stay at home mom do?
Rolls out of bed and takes a nice peaceful shower
Makes a delicious breakfast to eat while catching up on some television shows
Enjoys a nice warm and peaceful cup of coffee on the back porch
Feeds the kids a Pop Tart
Scrolls through her Facebook news feed for a few hours commenting on a picture of a cute Pinterest idea and a status of another stay at home mom complaining about how her toe nail painting got interrupted by her toddler who knocked over her nail polish and how frustrated she is now that there is a big ugly stain on the new plush carpet she just paid for with money her husband made at his job.
Calls a friend and talks on the phone for an hour
Feeds the kids a sandwich
Does some online clothes shopping
Calls the kids over to pose with her for a picture with her new selfie stick.
Sits the kids down in front of the television until daddy gets home from work.
Sends a few texts to her bestie about how she doesn't feel like cooking dinner
Does that sound like a job to you? Would you "vent" about the "job" you had to perform every day if this was your daily routine? I don't think so. Some people just need a reality check. These people need to count their blessings and be grateful for what they have and the people who make it possible.
Don't you agree? I'm sure you all do and I look forward to reading your comments. There won't be any debating this one. It's pretty cut and dry. Thanks for reading and have a great day.
Oh, wait...
Check your calendar before you start calling me a chauvinist and berating me for my jingoistic comments waging war against the stay at home parent.
Ah, yes, 'tis April Fools day. Well, it was when I wrote this anyway... I may be a child but I'm not a chauvinist. Allow me to offer you a second definition.
Job (noun): 2. a task or piece of work.
Is there a more important piece of work one can be called to pour her blood, sweat and tears into? This leads me back to a question I asked earlier.
What does a stay at home parent really do?
Wakes up on command
Feeds on command
Struggles to make time to actually brush her own teeth and take a shower.
Changes ungodly diapers at all hours of the day
Cleans up mess after mess after toy after puke after coloring on the wall (you get the point)
Plans three meals a day
Pays bills
Handles Doctor visits
Shapes and molds tiny humans into well mannered and respectful children
Shops for groceries
Disciplines
Manages melt downs (for both child and self)
Forgets to feed herself lunch.
Remembers to feed herself lunch but the baby needs her so it'll have to wait.
Runs all of life's little annoying errands that come up at inopportune times.
etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc.
Do I really need to list anything else? Because I can, but I'd like to wrap this thing up and get some sleep tonight so I can be well rested for my job in the morning where I really just drive around in a work truck listening to sports talk radio and get some exercise running through sub divisions while occasionally dealing with an upset customer or an angry gang of chihuahua's who, for some reason, view me as a threat in their sub divisional turf war.
I guess it just depends on your perspective. I could choose to describe my job the way I did at the beginning of this blog post or I could choose to describe it the way I did just now. I prefer the latter. However, no one should choose to describe the job of a stay at home parent, whether a mom or a dad, the way I did at the beginning of this blog post because it's the most important job on earth. The list of responsibilities is endless and thankless. To top it all off, Daddy (or the working parent) gets to barge through the door when he gets off work and be welcomed home like he spent all day saving the world when Mommy is the one who truly deserves that super hero's welcome. After all, she was protecting our world all day while Daddy was At work. Some people just need a reality check. These people need to count their blessings and be grateful for what they have and the people who make it possible... it's usually us working parents. I know my boss is a lot more understanding than a couple of tiny tyrant toddlers.
Stay at home parents just don't get it...they don't get the respect and appreciation they deserve for the job they do. The next time you feel like taking a break and catching up on Grey's Anatomy, go right ahead. You deserve it.
Once upon a time there was a happily married husband and wife who lived in Jacksonville, Florida. They were approaching the age of thirty years old and had a few of life's ever so important questions that needed answering. Before we get into those questions it's only fair that I help you paint a proper mental picture. The once upon a time I am referring to is way back in the year 2010 and the couple I am referring to is Casey and Daphne Grice.
Yes, that is me and my beautiful wife. It was time for us to make some important life changing decisions. You know the kind of questions couples without children begin asking themselves around this time in their life together:
Q: What's next?
A: Uhh...
Q: Do we buy a boat or something?
A: No. If I don't accidentally sink it, it will inevitably break down and just end up being an eyesore in our yard. I'd rather have a child. As crazy as it sounds, a child just seems like less trouble.
Q: Do we get a dog?
A: Absolutely not. Growing up I was forced to take care of my sister's dogs. She couldn't take care of them so she dumped them off on my parents. My brother and I had to feed them, walk them and scoop up their poop for the better part of a decade. And oh yeah, coincidentally they just happened to be chained to my dad's old broken down boat in the yard for all those years. My prior experiences with boats and dogs have scarred me. If I'm going to be cleaning up poop I want it to be the poop of someone who's not going to end up tied to a boat collecting fleas.
Q: Do we have a child?
A: YES, PLEASE.
So, on April 3, 2011 we had a son.
We named him Cooper.
The Grice Family in early 2011.
Daphne, Casey and Cooper.
Meanwhile, approximately 10 minutes down the road lived another couple who were going through some of the same life changing decisions. At the time we did not know these people even existed. Two University of Florida graduates who were married in 2007. I introduce to you Adam and Amy Anker:
They already had a boat. They already had a dog. What was next for these two love birds?
Q: Should we have a child?
A: Sure, it seems like the right time. Q: Do we sell the boat? A: Yes. We have no family in Jacksonville and few (if any) baby sitting resources. This means the chances of us actually using the boat in the next few years are slim to none. The marina fees are too expensive and the last thing we want is for that beautiful 17 foot Chaparral to become an eyesore in our yard. Q: Do we get rid of the dog? A: Yes. We chain her to the boat and make it a package deal. Just kidding. Just kidding. What kind of person would chain a dog to a boat?!? We keep the dog. Non-negotiable. We sell the boat, keep the dog and have a child. Deal? Deal!
So, they begrudgingly sold the boat.
They kept the dog. It was never truly a question. The plan was made.
On April 22, 2011 they had a beautiful baby boy.
They named him Grayson.
The Anker Family in early 2011.
Adam, Amy, Grayson, and Layla
Beauties, all of them.
Two baby boys born with only 18 days between them. The decision to bring a child into this world is what brought us into each other's lives. How we met is a story in itself. I had never met anyone in this fashion before this day and I seriously doubt I'll ever meet anyone in this fashion again.
It was a typical hot summer Saturday. Daphne, Cooper and I headed to the beach to one of our favorite old spots for lunch. Cooper was only 6 or 8 weeks old at the time so we were still able to leave him in his seat asleep (No, not in the car) and only worry about feeding ourselves. We could actually still use both hands and eat our food while it was still hot. We had no clue how meal time was about to change.
Anyway, I'm sure we just talked about Cooper for the entire meal like first time parents tend to do, then we headed to the parking lot to get in the car. About half way between the restaurant and the car we passed a couple on the sidewalk carrying an accessory similar to the one we were carrying: a tiny brand new bouncing baby boy.
We all four smiled as if to acknowledge that we all recently joined the same new and exclusive club of sleep depravity. There may have been some of your typical first time parent pleasantries exchanged:
"Awe, he's so cute!"
"How old is he?"
"Congrats and have a nice day."
Or maybe not. I don't particularly remember. We continued on our separate ways.
What I do remember was about 30 seconds later when I was putting Cooper in the car and a homeless person approached my wife begging for change. I thought it was a homeless person begging for change anyway. Turns out it was Amy...begging for friendship maybe? She must have prepared for this moment. She started with a pretty smooth pick-up line.
"Hey, do you know of any Mommy & Me classes around here or anything?"
I don't remember Daphne's reply. All I know is that a few smooth lines later and this strange gal had coerced my ladies phone number from her lips. Literally, like 3 lines from this silver tongued she devil and she scored my wife's digits. Impressive.
Now that I think back to our dating days, I scored the digits pretty easily too, so maybe I'm giving Amy a little too much credit.
I digress.
They chatted for a few seconds, exchanged numbers and then Daphne sat down and closed the car door. We looked at each other with a look of bewilderment and I asked, "What was that all about?" Daphne replied something along the lines of, "I don't know. She seemed normal enough so I gave her my number. We might get together with the boys." I couldn't believe it. Now, I could see me doing the same thing if some lonely new dad came up to me in a parking lot asking my son and I on a play date because I always feel compassion for people but Daphne is not the most compassionate broad in the world and she is very on guard about stranger's intentions so this seemed out of character for her.
Turns out, Daphne made a great decision that day. Actually, Amy is the one who made the great decision. Amy wasn't some lonely new mom who didn't have any friends because she had some freaky deaky skeletons in her closet. (Although I haven't personally checked the closet.) She just didn't have any friends with kids the same age and thought it would be a great idea to try to find a playmate for little G. Pretty great intentions if you ask me.
It worked out.
Years down the road we've talked about our atypical meeting multiple times. Amy's version of the story goes something like this: "When we passed you guys on the sidewalk I thought you looked normal. I wasn't going to let you get away!! Plus, Cooper had on those cute Gator shoes. Grayson had them too. It was a sign."
Here we are almost 4 years down the road and the Anker family are some of our best friends in the world. I even happen to like Adam just as much as Daphne likes Amy. It's hard to find friends who are married that you and your wife get along with equally. I would suggest that the chances of this mutual admiration plummet significantly with two strangers who harass you and your new baby in a parking lot. But for whatever reason it worked out.
We have so many memories of the boys growing up together. Most of them are fantastic.
Some were a little tougher to deal with. Regardless, these boys are each other's first friend and you can never change that no matter what happens.
Daphne and Amy started taking the boys to a place called My Gym. Grayson and Cooper learned to play, climb, roll, grab, clap, slap bang and hang together. They have learned to do almost everything together. Here they are literally learning to hang together at My Gym.
They learned to swing together. Even tandem swing sometimes when they were small enough to fit in the same swing.
We even tried cookin' 'em up for Thanksgiving dinner that first year. They weren't having it.
So we dressed them up as Pilgrims and Indians and forced them to play nice!
Even though they are Jewish and we are Christian they still came over for the ugly sweater Christmas party to celebrate friendship. Cooper and Grayson had matching sweater vests.
Tell me these little cupids couldn't turn that spark into a flame!
We take them to the pumpkin patch every year. It's tradition.
2011
2012
2013
2014
Grayson, Fletcher (our second son) and Cooper
As you can see, we have had some great times. Too many to count, actually. But it hasn't all been as smooth as we would have liked. Far from it actually. Throughout all these amazing memories something just wasn't "right." There were multiple signs along the way.
If you noticed earlier on I talked about all the things Cooper and Grayson learned to do together. I wanted so bad to type the words, "They learned to do EVERYTHING together." But I just couldn't. There were a few things I had to omit. You see, Grayson never rolled over and he wasnt much for crawling. He took his time getting around to those first steps. One might say he was a little behind schedule, but for Grayson, he was right on time. When Cooper was learning to communicate and talk to mom, dad and his friends, Grayson was not. Grayson was diagnosed with Autism a few months after his second birthday but Adam and Amy say they knew since he was 6 months old.
When Grayson was in social settings that he wasn't comfortable with he would have some major melt downs. They would tell us about other situations that would set him off and none of us could understand why. I remember trying to give them parenting advice on things to try; Things that worked for us, but it never worked. They had already tried it all.
I was just trying to be a good friend, but as it turns out, I had no idea what I was talking about. At that point I guess none of us did. It was frustrating for me. I just wanted to help them figure it out. I can't imagine what it was like for Adam and Amy. I would guess that parenting an autistic child who you do not know is autistic might be one of the most difficult things to do on this earth. I'm sure at some times they felt like incompetent parents. I can assure you that they are anything but. Adam and Amy have no idea how much they have taught me about parenting, dedication, love and resolve in the 4 years that I've known them.
Once Grayson was diagnosed with autism (non verbal; he still does not talk) Adam and Amy took the bull by the horns. I'm sure it's been much more difficult than they let on but they've learned how to communicate with him in his "language." They are potty training him with flash cards and he's starting to make progress. Are you kidding me? Potty training Cooper with words was the hardest thing I've ever done as a parent and I whined about it all the time. Adam and Amy have stepped up to a much tougher challenge and I know they will succeed. I didn't know anything about autism before Grayson's diagnosis but I've learned my fair share since. Not only about autism in general but how to be a better friend and how to be a better parent.
Here we are in downtown Jacksonville at the Annual Autism Speaks walk.
I've learned that parents of children with autism don't need you to feel sorry for them. They don't need anything special from you. They just need support. I've learned that children with autism are different. They are unique and special. I would hope that no one would take offense to that statement. True, I don't know first hand what it is like to have a child with autism but I do know what it is like to love a child with autism.
Adam and I recently had a moment with the boys that taught us a great lesson. A few months back when the they were 3 1/2 Cooper must have all of a sudden realized that Grayson has never talked. We were at Zaxby's after dinner and as we were headed to the car Cooper made a point to make eye contact with Grayson and he asked,
"Grayson, do you talk?"
Grayson doesn't talk yet so he did not answer Cooper. This left the explaining up to me. I dropped the ball and said something along the lines of, "No buddy, he doesn't" and I apologized to Adam. I clearly wasn't prepared for this. I thought for sure we had at least another year until we needed to explain this to Cooper. I had no need to apologize to Adam. Adam wasn't offended. He made that very clear but I guess I was just put in a situation I didn't know how to handle so my human nature took over and I apologized while completely dropping the ball on an explanation as to why Grayson doesn't talk. Cooper deserves to know why his very first friend hasn't spoken a word to him since they met so long ago and Grayson deserves to have someone speak up for him and explain to his buddy why he doesn't talk to him.
It all hit me on the way out to the car and I explained it to Cooper the best way I knew how. I told him that Grayson is our quiet friend. I told him that he doesn't talk right now but we hope that one day he will. I told him that he is special to us and that we love him no matter what and then I used one of his favorite movies to help him understand.
UP
"You don't talk very much. I like you."
For some reason he has always loved this part of the movie when Ellie tells Mr. Fredrickson (when they are kids) that she likes him because he doesn't talk very much. We would say it and he would laugh or he would randomly say it during the day. It just struck a chord with him.
He smiled really big and said "Okay Daddy."
I think I got the point across.
A few weeks later Adam and Grayson came over for a guys play date. We were playing with the boys in the playroom. Cooper brought it up again. He said something along the lines of "Grayson doesn't talk." I reminded him that Grayson is our quiet friend and that he is very special to us. When Adam told this story, he said that Cooper's response was innocent, positive and matter of fact:
"He'll talk one day."
Adam also said that it's not the easiest thing in the world to stay positive about Grayson one day being verbal but if he ever needs a glass half full kinda guy he's going to head to the playroom to find Cooper.
There are no words to describe how proud it made me feel to read those words when Adam typed them. I guess that is fitting.
Since the day that Cooper was able to communicate with us it became obvious that he has a very tender heart. When his little brother Fletcher would cry as a baby, Cooper would cry too. He would get sad because Fletcher was sad. There is one instance that stands out in my mind when Cooper accidentally ran into a little girl at the zoo and knocked her down. He stood up and he was fine. He noticed she was hurt and crying. He helped her up, gave her a hug and a kiss and then cried right along with her until her mommy came and got her. He's tender, caring, supportive and understanding. When he learns how to harness those emotions as he gets a little older he'll be the perfect teammate to be in Grayson's corner. Grayson might need a friend to understand him and speak up for him but maybe, just maybe Grayson will just need a friend to encourage him to speak up for himself. It is my responsibility and my challenge to continue to teach Cooper how to be that friend.
The further we get away from that day in the parking lot at the beach when something told Amy not to let us get away, the more I'm convinced that we didn't meet by chance. There is a reason why we've been put in each other's lives and it might just be this special little friendship or it might be something more. I heard a rumor that God works in mysterious ways.
Do you remember those super cool pictures with the hidden 3D images that became really popular back in the nineties? They just looked like some type of pointless radical design at first glance but then your buddy who already had it figured out taught you how to look deeper into the picture. Maybe he showed you how to put your nose against it, slightly cross your eyes and slowly move your head away from the picture while gradually uncrossing your eyes until you finally saw it.
What took you so long?
For crying out loud, there's an angry three dimensional shark with two rows of flesh hungry teeth exploding out of the murky water (that you thought you actually felt splash your face) seconds away from chomping down on a tasty unfortunate surfer that the shark had mistaken for a manatee!!! ...and this is all happening mere inches from your face! You were practically giving him a cross eyed kiss only seconds ago!!!
BOOM!!!
Your mind was officially blown.
How in the world did they do that?
Well, the answer is: I don't know.
I read some stuff on Google but I don't really remember... or maybe I'm just too elementary minded to comprehend what I read. Maybe that's why I have such an appreciation for these pictures in the first place.
What I do know (thanks to Google) is that the super cool picture with a hidden 3D image actually has a name. It's called:
THE STEREOGRAM:
Blast from the past, right? When was the last time you saw one of these bad boys? Did you know it's called a Stereogram? I'm impressed if you did. To be honest with you I had completely forgotten about these things until about two years ago. I remember exactly where I was when the memory of the stereogram re-entered my mind. I was sitting in a chair at the hospital while my stunningly beautiful pregnant wife was paying the receptionist for our 19 week doctor visit. We were anticipating the birth of our second child. We were approximately half way through the pregnancy. I was pouring over 8 or 9 pictures that were somehow even more mind blowing than the stereogram...
and that's before I saw it.
What is "it" you ask? I'll get to "it" momentarily. For now, let's talk about those pictures.
THE SONOGRAM:
( Our second son, Fletcher, in the womb @ 10 weeks all by himself)
I'd venture to say that pretty much everyone knows what a sonogram is. Those of us who are parents could never forget. I'm sure you remember that feeling you had the first time you saw a sonogram of your child/children; the first time you heard the heart beat. It's really the first chance to bond with your child. Even though your wife may have taken a pregnancy test or had her pregnancy confirmed by a doctor it just doesn't hit you until you see that tiny little guy and hear that beautiful breath taking heart beat. I will never forget that feeling... instant chills and an instant rush of the happiest tears to my eyes... true love.
Okay... I'll stop.
I can feel you tearing up on me. (or maybe it's just me.)
What I'm trying to say is that it's one of life's mind blowing moments. I'd be lying if I said it was the same feeling I felt when I saw my first stereogram. That would be silly. It's similar but it's different. I already told you that I have an elementary mind. Don't get me wrong, I'm a smart enough guy but I guess I just really appreciate things that are "super cool" to me. A stereogram and a sonogram are both "super cool" in their own special way. Even though you have to look "deeper" into a stereogram to see what it has to offer, the super cool pay off moment is much deeper with the sonogram. When comparing the two, it's kind of funny when you think about it that way. But why would anyone bother to think about it that way? What would possess anyone to even bother comparing the two?
(Fletcher @ 19 weeks presumably still all by himself in the womb
don't worry, he doesn't have a twin.)
Am I right? Are you asking yourself why I even bothered to make this comparison?
Well, the answer is: I don't know.
Just kidding. I actually have an answer this time but before I tell you, let me ask you a few questions that may seem like they are coming out of left field.
You've seen Toy Story right?
If you have kids they probably love the movies. You may even love them yourself.
Are you familiar with Woody, Buzz and the gang?
My oldest son, Cooper, LOVES Toy Story. At the time of our 19 week appointment with Fletcher it is safe to say that we were watching parts of Toy Story on an every day basis. It is also safe to say that my wife and I were seeing the Toy Story characters in our sleep. They had basically become part of the family.
This was the scene at our house on Christmas morning that year.
Back to the question at hand.
Why would I bother to compare a stereogram and a sonogram?
This is why:
When I first saw him while sitting in that chair at the doctor's office I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. I thought I had watched so much Toy Story that I was just seeing things. When i mentioned it to my wife she rolled her eyes. When she saw him for herself she couldn't believe her eyes. In case you haven't seen him yet, I will help you out.
WOODY!!!
Cowboy hat, vest and all.
Inside my wife.
Propped up against my unborn son's face.
"There's a snake in my boot!"
Once you see him you can't unsee him. We showed the receptionist. She cracked up laughing. She started showing Woody to everyone in the doctor's office. We were all laughing. The doctor even heard the laughter and came around the corner to see what was causing such a commotion. When he saw Woody he laughed heartily and explained to me how the babies right hand, jaw and nasal cavity lined up perfectly to make it look like Woody was hanging out in there. He even made a joke about there being "a Woody" inside my wife.
Gee. Thanks Doc.
As if Woody and the gang weren't already a big enough part of our family, now we're bonded forever and I'll never believe that those toys don't really come to life when no one is watching.
It was a fun moment. One I'll never forget. Right there in that chair in the doctor's office I actually had a stereogram moment for the first time since the nineties.
BOOM!!!
My mind was officially blown.
How in the world did they do that?
My first grade teacher was named Mrs. Alford. In her class I did a project where I had to give a speech about what I wanted to be when I grew up. Although I can't remember much of anything from that long ago, this particular project really resonates with me to this day. Would you like to know why? Because I told the class that I wanted to be a Marketing Representative, that's why. You may be asking yourself, "Why on earth does that make this so memorable?" Ha! Let's see, possibly because I couldn't pronounce my R's properly in 1st grade so my entire life since then I've had to listen to my parents and older sisters talk about how cute it was to hear me say "Mawketing Wepwesentative" over and over in front of my class. I guess the definition of cute and embarrassing mean roughly the same thing, depending on your perspective. Truth is, I don't even know exactly what a mawketing wepwesentative does. I doubt I really understood in first grade, even though my parents did their best to explain it. I never truly wanted to be a mawketing wepwesentative but my dad was a mawketing wepwesentative by day and my hero by night and I wanted to be just like him so... why not? If it was going to make me more like my dad then sign me up.
Side note: He was also my baseball coach. Nice knee pads Dad.
So, I didn't want to be a Marketing Representative. There was a brief stretch in fourth grade where I wanted to be Garth Brooks. (Today I'm not a fan of country music but let's be honest, the dude was a genius when I was 8 years old.) I don't know what I wanted to be. I guess I just wanted to be happy like my mom and dad and maybe one day have a son who I could make this for:
Yep. Eat your heart out! My very own Garth Brooks lunch box that my parents made for me in fourth grade. It's a one of a kind. Limited Edition. Yeehaw!
As I got older I don't remember ever wanting to be anything other than a baseball, football or basketball player. Poor guy... what I didn't understand as a young boy was that...well, I was a runt. I still am. 34 years old and I go about 5'9 160 lbs. Professional sports just wasn't in the cards for me but I kept plugging away anyhow. I prayed about it.
In the eleventh grade my focus began to shift from sports to music. I started playing guitar and formed a band with a few friends from school. My dream job officially changed. I wanted to be a rock star now. Yep, I wanted to graduate high school, move to California and travel the country playing music in bars and various other venues. Man, I just hope mom and dad didn't blame Garth for this. It truly wasn't his fault.
Look at that face.
Nope. It was punk rock music that had stolen my heart this time around. No more country for me. Looking back I'm sure mom and dad weren't too thrilled about this. I played guitar in a punk rock band for somewhere around 8 years and rare was the night that my 60 something year old (at the time) parents weren't in attendance with the video camera avoiding the mosh pit to support their baby boy. I was truly blessed. What an example those two set for me.
Okay. Let's recap. The only jobs I ever really wanted to have were a professional athlete or a rock star. I'm not exaggerating when I say that I really really wanted to do one of these two things. After high school I put all of my time and effort into music. Our band had a lot of talent. We were about to hit it big. I could feel it! I prayed about it...but it just never happened. Maybe that had something to do with the fact that we named our band, "Breaking Up." Foreshadowing? Needless to say, we broke up.
Who was that old singer? You know that old song? How did it go?
"Sometimes I thank God for unanswered prayers." If 8 year old me was here right now he'd look me dead in the eye and say, "I told you that guy was a genius." I guess I'd have to concur. I'd bet that I thank God for unanswered prayers at least once a week. A professional athlete and a rock star, huh? What a sweet juxtaposition. If I had become one of those I might be married. I might still have children. I wouldn't be home though, in THIS home living THIS life with THIS wife and these two boys. I wouldn't be able to invest time into my boys lives every single day and teach them how to count with flash cards at the dinner table or help them learn their ABC's with foam letters in the bathtub. I wouldn't be able to experience the utterly odd joy when my sons eyes start to water as he finally grunts for the first time while sitting on the potty and poops somewhere other than his diaper or the tub. Oh, sweet victory! I wouldn't have near as much time to teach them how to swing a baseball bat, catch a football or shoot a basketball. I wouldn't have as much time to teach them manners or how to treat a woman. I wouldn't have as much time to teach them about character and accountability. I'd be having fun. I'd be making more money. I understand that some people do it and make it work. Not me though. God wanted me at home every day a few minutes after 5 for those, "Daddy's Home" moments. He wanted me to have no excuses if my boys didn't turn out to be better men than I am. That's the challenge. That's the goal. I accept. I am who I want to be when I grow up. Thanks God... thanks Garth.
