What was your favorite part of the day?

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.

Quick Read: Brotherly Love!

This morning at Church my wife and I taught the 2 year olds class during the first service. We had 4 children including our youngest son, Fletcher.

After a few minutes of free play we sat them all down at the table, which is blue and shaped like a horseshoe.

Fletcher referred to the table as  "The Colts" all morning, which made me proud. You see, he is learning his NFL football helmets and he just learned the Colts a few days ago. 

That's my boy! Way to recognize a similarity. That's not the point of the story but I couldn't help but include that proud dad moment. Please, allow me to carry on.

Once we sat the children down we asked them all what they were thankful for before we prayed. Some of them listed off a few things like "toys", "mommy", "daddy", "my hair" etc.

Fletcher said he was thankful for his grandmommy and granddaddy which was very sweet. The best part though, was after every other child said what he/she was thankful for, Fletcher exclaimed passionately... "AND COOPER!" (his big brother) every single time. What an amazing big brother he must have. He just needed everyone to know that Cooper is so great that we should all be thankful for him. We just can't forget about Cooper.

As if this wasn't heartwarming enough, when we left church and headed home we overheard Cooper in the back seat talking to his little brother. He said, "Hey Fletch, I love you so much... and don't you ever get a..." ...to which Fletcher replied, "dinosaur!"

If you keep up with my blog you know that is the right answer. If you've never read about it, you can do so Here: DON'T YOU EVER!!!

I'm so proud to see that love reciprocated between the two of them. What a great way to start the week. We can learn so much from our kids if we just try to. I hope this little story gets your week started on the right foot as well.

Don't forget to love each other!!!

DD

Should We Do It?!?! I ask myself every day.

Every day.

Every single day.

I ask myself the same question.

Sometimes I ask my wife too.

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.

DISCIPLINE: It's okay Dad. You're doing the right thing.

Oh man! 

Parenting is the best. It really is. There is nothing like it. It's the most rewarding thing in the world. There is no way to understand a parents love until you become one. I love my kids more than life itself.

Sound familiar?

If you are a parent you've probably said all of these things and you've probably said them multiple times at some point or another along your parenting journey. You probably also meant them too because they are all true statements.

However, parenting is not only the most rewarding thing in the world. It's also somehow simultaneously the most frustrating thing in the world too. I'm not breaking any news. I'm sure this also sounds familiar. In parenting circles we typically replace the word "frustrating" with the word "challenging" because we don't like to admit that the children we spend most of our time trying to convince others are angels, are actually not. They are nowhere close. I guess challenging is a much more positive word and it makes us parents, especially those of young children, feel like we haven't been defeated...yet. Truth is, they are VERY frustrating and its okay to admit that.

Why? Because once you've spent enough time around a two year old you come to the realization that it's a lot like being in a relationship with a tiny bipolar tyrant midget who doesn't speak English very well and makes way too many demands for someone who has such a major deficiency in the tenure department.

The good news is that we, as parents, hold the power to turn these tiny tyrants into human beings who resemble something a whole lot closer to angels than belligerent drunks with an attitude problem. That's where DISCIPLINE comes in. Ah, yes, it is such a necessary evil. There is nothing I look forward to LESS than disciplining my boys. It's simply in my nature to be loving and fun and nurturing and I don't feel like any of those things when I'm sending my boys to time out or God forbid, giving them a spanking. However, I also understand that implementing and adhering to a sturdy set of rules teaches a child his boundaries and if followed through on, one day turns him into an accountable young man.

The above picture is what we're trying to prevent down the road. I don't think they'd look near as happy in real jail.

We are a time out family. Nine times out of ten time out is an effective way to discipline both of our boys (ages 2 and 4). Taking away a privilege is another effective tool and a spanking is certainly not out of the question but it is used as a last resort and rarely do we visit that resort. (Hmmm, speaking of resorts, visiting a "resort" sounds nice right about now.) 

Anyway, consistently disciplining your children is tough. Resisting the temptation of letting a threat become empty may seem mean and unnecessary at the time, but it's actually the best thing you can do for your child.  I always thought the whole, "This is gonna hurt me more than it's gonna hurt you" thing was a bunch of hippy dippy bologna but it turns out there's a whole lot of truth to it. We all just  want to see our kids be happy and the last thing we want is to be the cause of unhappiness. Unfortunately, when we follow through on our disciplinary threats, our children associate that unhappiness directly with us. Who knew it was this tough to be on the other end of the discipline?

Like any difficult part of life a little encouragement  goes a long way. My wife and I do a great job of communicating our feelings to one another as we discipline our boys and it helps to keep us on the same page and keep us accountable for our actions. We are firm believers in disciplining out of necessity and teaching rather than disciplining out of anger or frustration. Our boys understand that we love them tremendously as we discipline them because we always make sure to communicate that to them but sometimes it's a little more challenging when both of us aren't home.

Tonight my wife was on a girls night and I was home alone with the boys. My two year old, Fletcher, was being especially challenging at the dinner table. Something I'm very used to. Fletcher had a rough go at it for the first six or eight months of his life. You can read about that here. Since then, however, he's been such a perfect addition to the family... except for at the dinner table. If it's not a pop tart, grilled cheese or cereal he usually does not want to eat it. It really just depends on the night. Tonight he was doing his typical "store the food in the cheek like a squirrel and no one will notice I'm not actually swallowing" routine. Needless to say, the stash of "nuts" in his cheek built up and I wasn't in the mood. So I hastily sent him to time out and told him he could come out after he swallowed his bite. We went back and forth for a good thirty minutes and my 4 year old, Cooper, devoured his meal and began to play. 

At this point I began to get discouraged. Doubt started to creep into my mind. Was I being too hard on him? Should I just give in and let him eat something else? Is he just exhausted? I really wanted it to be a fun night and this was the furthest thing from fun. What should I do? I didn't have my partner in crime, my wife, there to ask for advice. Just then I heard the sweet voice of my innocent little four year old from a few feet behind me

"It's okay Dad. You're doing the right thing."

What?!?!

Did he really just say that?!

Yes he did.

Is he infinitely wise beyond his years?!

I don't know if he said it because he thought that's what mom would have said if she was here or if it's something he's seen on a movie, or if he was just really enjoying watching his little brother get sent to time out, but whatever it was, it really helped. It helped me remember that I was fighting the good fight and that this would pay off in the long run as long as I was coming from a place of love.

I just replied to him, "Thanks buddy." and he said, "You're following the instructions."

At that point I began to wonder if his mother had left a set of instructions that I wasn't aware of.

Probably.

Oh well.

I just gave him a big hug and carried on, feeling encouraged, and knowing that I was doing the right thing.

Everybody Loves Byron: Death in the Facebook Era

Disclaimer: There are so many people more qualified than me to write this post but I just felt the need to take advantage of the forum that I have... out of respect for a friend... and to bring light to some pretty amazing observations I made in the days following his passing. Much Love...

Grieving is not something that anyone ever wants to do but eventually we all have to do it. There are no instructions for grieving. Unlike many things in life, no one ever really sits you down and teaches you a lesson on how to grieve or mourn the loss of a loved one. As a general rule, I'd say that most people just figure out what works for them as they go, because everyone grieves differently. What works for some may not work for others when facing some of life's most difficult situations.

For some, grieving is a very private matter and they don't want any added attention on them during the process. Others, however, want the world to know just how much they miss the deceased (no matter how close they may or may not have been) and they seem to enjoy the attention. Their grieving can become a very public ordeal, even more so living in the Facebook era. Everyone else falls somewhere in between. I'm not judging people for the way they deal with loss. I'm just pointing out the fact that people are very different. When it comes down to it, whatever helps you feel better... DO IT!  (Unless it's smoking crack. Don't smoke crack under any circumstance!!) Hopefully, we all get some good advice or a shoulder to lean on from a family member or close friend in times like these.

In my 34 year life I've been blessed to be able to say I haven't lost anyone too terribly close to me. However, a few years back I lost a childhood friend from my one red light hometown to a freak accident. His name was Scott and he was a great guy. I was able to see how the viewing, funeral and celebration of life afterwards really brings people together to grieve, grow and come to some kind of closure or acceptance of their loss... a process that seems impossible when the news first surfaces.

It was truly a beautiful thing to see everyone go from devastation and tears of sadness to tears of  happiness and acceptance (considering the situation) as they recollect a life cut short. I was overwhelmed by how much that process really seemed to help, which brings me to the reason for this post.

Three days ago I lost another childhood friend from my small hometown of Keystone Heights, Florida to a car accident. Don't go feeling sorry for ME. That's not what this is about. He has family and much closer friends who need your condolences. His name was Byron Nelson. We called him TANK. We grew up playing baseball together in our elementary years.

We were always on the same team.

Byron was only slightly more handsome than I was. Mostly because I was too busy trying to be cool.

 We both always used the same bat to get us out of a slump. We called her "Old Faithful." We didn't always use Old Faithful because, in reality, she was a pretty ordinary bat but she just seemed to get the job done when we needed her most. To this day, when Byron and I would run into each other Old Faithful was always a topic of conversation. Oh, the good old days!!

 We were friends in high school but we weren't super close. As adults, other than Facebook interaction, we only bumped into each other once every couple of years, but I was always met with the biggest sincere smile, a giant hug and great conversation. Byron was a friend for life. Apparently, he was a friend for life with every single human being within a 100 mile radius of our hometown and probably beyond, which is no surprise if you knew Byron. This explains why Facebook EXPLODED when he died. I just have a few things I'd like to say about this explosion and the fallout afterwards.

On the grief spectrum, if there is such a thing, I fall very strongly on the side of a private griever. I share my feelings about a lot of things with the world on social media but I'm not the kind of person who takes to Facebook to write my own personal eulogy to someone when they die. When I heard the news of Byron's accident I was really sad. It was a gut punch. However, I am by no means one of Byron's closest friends and I didn't find it necessary to express my sadness on social media. (I certainly didn't expect to end up writing this blog post.) I thought I would just leave that up to his closest friends and maybe comment here or there on something that struck a chord with me...

AND THEN IT HAPPENED! 

Three days straight of nothing but Facebook statuses about Byron and the impact that his life had on almost everyone. LITERALLY, ALMOST EVERYONE. Everyone but me...it was like I was the only one who decided not to shout out to the TANK and THAT really struck a chord with me. I've never seen anything like it. This guy got more out of life in 35 years than most people could squeeze into 70. He touched so many different people in so many different ways just by being himself... just by being happy and sincere. It was sad but beautiful to watch this play out over the last three days. It was like I was watching the whole viewing, funeral and celebration of life process that I spoke of about Scott's funeral before. It was playing out in front of me on social media and it was big and it was amazing, just like Byron. No matter how sad people were they couldn't help but share stories of good times because that's really all there was to share, even though Byron had been through more than his share of loss in his life. If you are reading this and you are friends with him I know that you know what I'm talking about.

I got to thinking and I realized that if everyone just grieved privately (like I chose to do)... and kept their comments to themselves during these sad moments... and left it up to those closest to the deceased... then the impact of that persons life would never truly be felt the way it should be. I felt the impact of Byron's life over the last three days like nothing I've ever experienced thanks to people who grieve differently than I do. Thank you for that. I definitely learned a lesson from you all. In the world we live in today, like it or not, people communicate on social media about everything and death is certainly fair game. A lot of people criticize Facebook and social media for causing drama and strife but fail to see the good that can come from it in a close knit community like ours in such a difficult time.

I just hope that somehow Byron knows that on the day he died he almost took the internet with him. He almost broke Facebook. I hope he knows that he was grieved and celebrated on social media like the rock star that he is for at least three days straight. I hope he knows that his death made everyone stop and wish they were a little more like him. I hope he knows that when we all think about his smile from this day forward we'll get chills knowing exactly how sincere it was and how treasured it should have been. I hope he knows that his death and all his friends caused me to do some deep thinking and share the effect his light had on me rather than keeping it to myself like I had originally planned.  

You know, it dawned on me earlier today that the one person I still specifically remember seeing and having a meaningful and uplifting conversation with years ago at Scott's funeral was Byron. He is and will always be truly memorable.

Definitely not ordinary, just Old Faithful!

The Mom Lottery .

Mom.

You don't get to choose her.

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.

We love you guys.

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Brothers Gotta Hug!!

Brothers.

These two have no idea how blessed they are to have each other.  I hope that one day they are able to look back on their lives and truly understand the gift they have in one another. The bond between brothers, brothers who really love each other, is like no other bond in the world. In my 34 years on this earth I've seen examples of brothers who would do anything for each other and I've also come across a few brother duos who didn't seem to care much for one another at all. "Love" might be the absolute last word I would use to describe their interactions together. I understand that brothers show their love in different ways, depending on a multitude of variables that may or may not exist in their relationship. However, there are certain behaviors I've seen or heard throughout the years that send up a major red flag; Words and interactions I hope I never see, hear or associate with my boys.

I have an older brother myself. His name is Stacy and he's 4 years older than me. I guess you could say he's a pretty decent dude, but we'll get back to him later.

I'll never forget one day years and years ago when my mom was babysitting for a neighbor who just so happened to have two boys about the same age as my brother and me. If I had to guess I would say that I was 8 and my brother was 12. The other two boys were probably 9 and 11. We lived on a lake and since it was a nice hot summer afternoon we all thought it would be a good idea to go swimming so we suited up and hit the lake. We were all so full of excitement and anticipation for the fun we were about to have.

 I still have a clear mental picture of the events that followed. I can't remember if we just ran down to the lake as my mom was still gathering towels or if he just waited for the first opportunity when my mom wasn't 100% locked in on us but the big brother of the other boys grabbed his little brother and held him underwater for what seemed like 5 minutes in my eight year old brain. I remember my excitement turning to fear and my eyes were probably bulging out of my head. I thought he was going to kill him. I just froze. When the little brother finally emerged from the water, a knock down drown out fight ensued until my mom could get them under control. It was like a good hockey fight but the ice was melted and they were trying to drown each other in it. I don't remember my mom babysitting those two boys ever again after this particular day. Hmm, I wonder why?!?

(This picture of my boys was taken yesterday 3-25-15 on the same beach I grew up on. We just happened to visit my home town. There used to be a big dock and a nice sandy beach but no one lives here now and it's all overgrown.)

Clearly, that moment has stuck with me throughout the years. Not only because it was scary but also because I had never experienced anything like it. You might be saying to yourself, "What's the big deal? It's just boys being boys." You might be right. Wherever those two brothers are today, if they haven't gone all Cane and Abel, they might be best friends. They might not even remember the incident. Maybe I sensationalized it in my innocent little boy brain. Regardless, I pray to God that I never see my older son treat his little brother in that manner. It's just not acceptable.

You might be thinking, "Oh, just you wait until your boys get older. You've got another thing coming," and maybe I do. Maybe I'll need to get a Mixed Martial Arts refereeing license and an octagon in the backyard in order to best parent my boys. I've heard some crazy brother war stories.

I've had conversations with friends and colleagues who despise their brothers. Some of them haven't spoken to their brothers in years and have no plans to put any effort whatsoever into that relationship because their brother, "is just a jerk!"

What a sad reality. How can a relationship between brothers make the slow transition over time from the picture above to a complete disdain for one another? How do we, as humans, so often let time harden our hearts and turn the precious gift of brotherhood into something we so easily take for granted and even consider a burden?

This should never happen. A brother should be a friend for life; A best friend given to you by God for no charge. A brother should be someone you can celebrate with, mourn with and confide in no matter the circumstance. A brother should be someone you know how to communicate with. A brother should be someone you love unconditionally. You don't have to put up with all his crap and like it, but you need to love him through it and get back on the same page down the road, after the dust has settled.

A brother needs to be like my big brother.

This is my favorite picture of the two of us as boys. You can tell we love each other here. Nothing has changed throughout the years. Sure, we could be closer. We have different interests. We both get caught up in our own life at times and forget that we live 2 minutes down the road from each other but that doesn't change the fact that this dude is a major blessing; A blessing that I took for granted for a large part of my life.

 My big brother never tried to drown me, although he probably had reason to. One interesting fact about my brother is that he is 38 years old and he's never had a sip of alcohol. Well... he may have had one "sip" depending on your interpretation of what I'm about to tell you. One summer when we were in our twenties and we went on vacation together he fell asleep on a picnic table by the pool. His mouth was partially open and I decided it would be a good idea to drop a "sip" of my frozen Pina Colada from my straw into his mouth. As you might have guessed, this didn't sit very well with him. He ran me down and threw me in the pool and finished me off with an elbow drop but he didn't try to drown me. If he ever wanted to this would have been the perfect opportunity.

 He never beat me up. When we were teenagers my friend Jeff would come stay at our house often.  The three of us always watched movies in my parents room on their bed. Jeff and I would wait for the clock to hit a certain time,  a time that we coordinated moments earlier, and we would "jump" him to try to see if the two of us could take him down. He was much bigger and stronger than us and I think he enjoyed the challenge. He had a go to move that was undefeated. He would just squeeze our feet until we said "uncle" and gave up.  It worked every time.

There is one particular night that we laugh about from time to time. I must have done something to make him mad because I took off running from our room towards the living room and I just knew he was going to catch me so I threw myself into the bookshelf in the hallway and told mom and dad that he pushed me into it. I think he ended up taking one for the team on that night.

He was never too cool for me. My brother and I shared a room growing up. That's probably one reason why we were so close. When we were still in school we used to stay up late looking through our yearbooks picking the "hottest" girl on each page. I bet all you girls from Keystone Heights wish you knew  the answers to that classic game. HA!

 He never made fun of me unless I deserved it. Honestly, I don't have one memory of my brother being mean to me in any way that I didn't deserve. Now that I think about it, maybe he brainwashed me?!? 

 He just loved me and put up with me and my annoying friends. He supported all my sporting and music endeavors. He picked me up from practice. He drove me and my friends around. He may not have always enjoyed doing all of this, but he did it. He was the perfect example.

When I was young I never would have said that my big brother was my best friend but when I look back on life he certainly was. That's why he was the best man in my wedding. Maybe I should mention the fact that he introduced me to my beautiful wife. Where would I be without him? (Don't let this go to your head Stace.) Sounds like I hit the brother jackpot.

I hope and pray that my wife and I are able to foster the kind of life long relationship between our two boys that my parents did between my brother and me. My parents deserve so much credit for our friendship.  I don't think they really gave us a choice. We had to learn to love each other and we did. I believe the first step is teaching the big brother to learn patience towards his younger brother. Let's be honest, younger brothers require extra patience. Don't drown him, just throw him in the pool. Don't beat him up, just squeeze his foot and show him he's still little brother. If you are blessed enough to have a brother in your life don't take him for granted.

Appreciate him.

Brothers gotta love each other!

Brothers gotta hug!

Or, if you're comfortable with it...

Brothers gotta throw on some super cool tie dyed shirts they found in Mom's old closet and crotch handshake!

 I'm fairly certain nothing signifies the bond of brotherhood quite like The Crotch Handshake.

Mom and Dad, I guess that's what you get for making us share a room.

Brothers.

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My Dirty Little Secret: Coming Clean

So, if you follow the Dashboard Dad blog regularly, you've probably caught yourself thinking, "Wow, this guy really has life figured out. He's a guys guy who is exceptionally manly and he sets a good example of how a strong minded confident man should lead his family while still being in touch with his feelings enough to spit 'em out and express them through the majesty of blog. His wife must be the luckiest gal on earth, but I wonder how she was able to tame such a manly beast!?"

No? You've never thought that?

Am I that guy whose self perception is so far off from how others actually perceive him that people shake their heads in agreement during conversation, when in reality they are wondering how on earth he could possibly view himself in that manner? You know that guy right? I think we've all had at least one or two in our lives at some point. So disillusioned, but you're not gonna be the one to break it to him. The way he (or she for that matter) views himself couldn't be further from reality.

Well, speaking of reality, I have a dirty little secret and I think it's finally time for me to come clean. Sometimes things are just not what they appear, especially when you take the time to look in the deepest crevases of someone's life.

A few years back I let a certain something creep into my life and hide in my closet. I'm well past the denial stage. Now I'm just blaming it on everyone I possibly can, other than myself. It's probably best for me just to put it out there so all of you can hold me accountable from here on out. I'm desperate. I feel like this might be my only hope.

Have you ever experimented with drugs?

I'm not talking about your run of the mill gateway drug like marijuana. I'm talking about hard drugs. The kind that really sink their teeth into you and refuse to let you go. The kind that turn the entire remainder of your life into a constant one day at a time battle of abstaining from using.

Have you ever experimented with that type of drug?

Don't answer that question. I don't really want to know. I hope the answer is a resounding NO from all of you. Me? The answer is NO. I've never experimented with any type of drug in my life. However, there IS a reason why I bring it up. Thanks to my wife, I do believe I've experimented with something just as bad. She's the one who introduced me. She stuck that first figurative needle in my arm and she continues to enable me year after year. I feel like a slave to these chains she's shackled me with.

I really shouldn't blame her but the sad reality is that I do most times, even though I know that I have free will and that I am the one who ultimately made such a poor decision. I am the one who decided to follow her down this deep dark path. No one else. I honestly thought I could just dip my toes into "the devil's water" and not get hooked. I was wrong. I believe the key is avoiding that first figurative injection of the season. I've failed to do that multiple times. Now I spend my days and nights asking myself questions that I'm not sure I'll ever have the answers to:

• Are Des and Chris truly happy? They sure seemed to have something special between the two of them, but does she ever let thoughts of Brooks creep back into her head? Oh, what could have been!?! Has her stupid brother screwed it up yet like he did with Sean or has he managed to keep his stupid mouth shut this time around, now that the cameras are gone? Punk! Poor Des. Good luck sweet girl. You are my favorite.

• What was Jake thinking? Vienna? Really, Jake? A blind and deaf person could have told you she was a vindictive hussy. I guess you found out in the end didn't you? You two deserved each other. Creep. Good Riddance.

• Brad??? Emily??? Never would have worked. Emily, you are a beautiful woman but you just exude high maintenance. Brad, come on man. Temper tantrums? Really? At your age? That guy just seemed fifty shades of f...nevermind.

•  Did Sean really pick what's her face? I can't even remember her name but she would have been like my 8th choice. She must have shown you something that she never showed the camera because I just didn't see it, brother... and please explain to me how on earth you were fooled by Tierra's "sparkle" for so long. Come on man!!!

• Josh and Andi, you guys live in the same town and you got to date on a Bachelor budget. How could you not make that work? I guess it just wasn't meant to be. Kids these days! 

• Oh Ali, sweet Ali... and Roberto. Out of every couple in Bachelor history to break up, yours hurts  me the worst. You two crazy kids really seemed like you had what it takes. I just need to know why? WHY? That chemistry you two possessed together on the baseball field that time!?! What happened to it? Where did it go? Could I have done something to help? If I had started a fundraiser to put you guys up for just one more night in the fantasy suite could you recapture the magic and live happily ever after?????

Ah, The Bachelor!

 Will you accept this rose?

Will you accept my man card?

I think I'm too far gone. Tell me there is a light at the end of the tunnel. At this point I'm not sure if I'm salvageable. I've been chasing the dragon for far too long. I think rock bottom for me was the time I was on my way to my flag football game one Monday night and I caught myself thinking about how grateful I was for our DVR. What is wrong with me? I'm supposed to be a man. How did I let things spiral this out of control?

 I've put the blame on my wife. I've even put the blame on Chris Harrison. I think I've finally found the person who deserves to have this blame resting squarely on his shoulders though. From here on out I'm starting with the man in the mirror. I'm asking him to change his ways. No message could have been any clearer. If I wanna get my man card back I need to take a look at myself and then make that change.  Na Na Na, Na Na Na, Na Na, Na Nah!

My name is Casey Grice and I'm a bachelorholic.

I admit that I am powerless over it.

One day at a time.

From here on out I will NEVER even think about The Bachelor again!!!!!

I'm a Man!!! I WILL overcome!!! I've got this!!! No doubt!!!






P.S. Did Chris really just pick Whitney over that pretty virgin girl Becca?!?

NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!

WARNING: Dear Dad and Mom

What if I told you that I could time travel?

 What if I told you that I found something of yours from the future and brought it back with me? 

What if I told you that what I found was something carefully crafted by one of your children?

Would you want to see it?

I don't know about you, but if YOU told ME that you could time travel and that you found something that belonged to me I would tell you that you are certifiably CRAZY! However, I would want to see what you had just to satisfy my curiosity.

What could it hurt?

What could it possibly be?

I bet it's something amazing!

If I had to guess, I'd say that one of my little geniuses probably grew up to be the guy who finally invented the hover board from the movie Back to the Future, and you brought one back for me.

Am I right?

I'm right aren't I?

Weren't we supposed to have those by now?

No? That's not it?

Unfortunately, it's not something that cool. It's actually just a letter. A letter written by someone's child once he/she had grown up and done some real thinking as an adult, but I'm not sure who it belongs to. Check it out if you'd like, but don't say I didn't warn you. The future can be a dark and scary place depending on the decisions you make and the habits you develop along the way:

Dear Dad and Mom,

                     Hey guys it's me. I am writing to let you know that married life and parenthood are fantastic. By fantastic I mean, a real challenge, but you already knew that.  For some reason I've had a lot on my mind lately and I just wanted to get it all out there and off of my chest. I'd like to start by saying that I appreciate everything you've done for me throughout the years. Now that I've been on my own for a while I'm really starting to realize all the sacrifices you two made for me. As a child I never really understood how much time and effort you put into my life. It seems like something happens pretty much every day now that helps me put it all into perspective. You invested in me.  You provided for me. You taught me how to take care of myself. You taught me how to treat others. You told me all about love and the values to look for in a spouse. Thank you for that.

I do have a few confessions and questions though. There were a lot of things that I saw or heard while growing up that you never knew about. Maybe you guys didn't think I was paying attention? Maybe you guys didn't think I was old enough to understand? Maybe you guys got too caught up to realize exactly what was going on? Whatever the reason may be, I just need a few answers. I made many observations throughout the years but I just never knew how to properly address them.

• Dad, I noticed that you would drop what you were doing to help a friend in need no matter what they needed, yet it always seemed like when Mom needed a favor you treated her like she was asking for the world. You just never had the time.
• Mom, you were always so patient with me when I made mistakes. You were patient and forgiving of everyone's mistakes, besides Dad's. Sometimes it seemed like you enjoyed pointing them out, actually. It never made sense to me. It seemed like he was the one person you had unrealistic expectations for.
• Dad, you always told me how much you loved me. You always showed me how much you loved me. Is there a reason why you didn't do the same for Mom? You taught me that we are a family and we're supposed to love each other. Is there some kind of exception to that rule between you and Mom?
• Mom, you always taught me to speak to others with respect and I was held accountable when I did not. I never understood why you spoke to Dad the way you did  when you thought no one else was listening.
• Dad, you always expected me to be forthright and honest with my feelings. You stressed to me how important it was to communicate with others but you always seemed to shut down and hold your feelings inside when it was time to communicate with Mom. Why?
• Mom, you didn't fight fair. You fought to win the fight, not to resolve the problem. 

Alright, it's all off my chest. I think I feel better and I hope you guys understand. I'm sorry I never said anything sooner but I just didn't know how to articulate it properly. I'm old enough now that I do. Sometimes I catch myself  falling into some of these behaviors in my marriage and I don't like the way it makes me feel. You guys taught me to marry my best friend and I did, but it just made me realize that you guys did not. Or did you? Were you ever best friends? Do you love each other? I  know it's too late to change any of this for my sake but you can do it for yours. I love you.

                                                                                                                      Sincerely,

                                                  

                                                                                                                      ____________

Was this your letter?

I hope not.

Could you imagine receiving this letter from one of your children one day?

...Or even just knowing that your child had to struggle with these unanswered questions throughout life and there was no way you could go back and change things?

Wouldn't it break your heart?

Wouldn't it make you wish you could just go back and somehow find a way to do better? To be more kind and more loving towards your spouse; to be more like we teach our children to be?

I'm so glad I've never personally had to think about these things regarding my parents. My parents are both 71 years old and just as in love as ever. I could NOT have had a better example. I know that is not the case for everyone. I consider myself blessed to have never witnessed any of the examples in the letter above. I hope that my boys are able to say the same when they are my age.

I've never understood why we choose one person to commit to for THE REST OF OUR LIVES  and then we proceed to show love, kindness and patience to everyone else in our lives more than we do to the person we chose to do life with. It just doesnt make sense. I understand that we spend a lot of time with our spouse and conflict is sure to arise but we need to rise above it. We need to be more like teammates and less like adversaries.

We all need reminders from time to time. My wife and I are no different than anyone else. What's important is that we are able to step back and re focus. My wife does a great job of that. She's not perfect, but she always steps back and tries to see things from my perspective and I appreciate that.

Okay, she's perfect. Who am I kidding?
;)

Remember what is at stake here. Find your proper motivation. Remember why you chose your spouse. You picked each other for a reason (last time I checked we dont really do prearranged marriages). Regardless of what that reason was, we all deserve to be treated like a best friend. Our children deserve to be able to do as we do, not only as we say, and still be on the right path.

I will leave you with a quote from the wise philosopher Jackie Moon:

"Everybody love everybody!"

Let's all do better.
We can do it!
Don't just be.
Be Happy.



P.S. Unfortanetly, I cannot time travel. Just in case I had you convinced.


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FLETCH: So this is why people shake babies.

Meet Fletcher.

 Our 2nd born.

Fletcher has taught me so much about life in his 22 months on this earth. He has taught me how to truly love someone unconditionally. He has taught me a level of patience that I never knew existed.  Fletcher has brought me closer to God than I've ever been before... I hate to say it but Fletcher also taught me why people shake babies. Trust me, that last one was harder for me to type than it was for you to read...

A few weeks ago my good friend Mike Smith (Sunshine Dad) wrote a blog post about how crazy and difficult his second child can be. Why is the 2nd child crazy?  While reading Mike's post my wheels just started turning and I was reminded that I really have a  great story to tell. A story that can help expectant parents who may one day find themselves where we were in the months following the birth of our second child. A story that can also help parents who have been where we were but may still be facing challenges as a result of their own personal Fletcher.

Ahhh, the first cries of a new born baby. Such a welcome sound to the ears of a parent in the delivery room. You cannot wait to hear that cry. For the most part, it means that everything is okay. You can relax. Your new baby is breathing and really taking those lungs on their very first test drive. Give it all you've got, son. Let her rip! In a few moments we'll begin learning how to soothe you. We'll get you fed and swaddled... but for now, just stretch those lungs. 

Then we never want to hear you cry again... Ever! Ha! That first cry is the only one we'll ever look forward to. We'd rather just sit back and reap the rewards of being "amazing" parents, just like we did with our first born. I remember being convinced that our second son would be just like our first. Why wouldn't he be? We're not going to do anything different. We've got this. We've been here before. We know how this is done.

Wait! What?

You have other plans?

Unfortunately, Fletcher spent most of his first 5 months doing just what he's doing in the picture above. 

Crying.

Screaming!

Look at me. I had no idea that the wrath of Fletcher was on it's way.  

Poor guy... (that goes for both of us)

Now, before you read any further please keep in mind that Fletcher is perfectly healthy. So many parents are unexpectedly hit with a diagnosis that has life changing implications just after the birth of a child. I'm grateful that was not the case with us. I want to be sensitive to that. The last thing I want to do is come off as a parent who is complaining about simply being a parent when there are so many others out there wishing all they had to do was deal with a whiny baby. Babies cry. I get that. Sometimes they are really hard to soothe. However, It can wear you out, frustrate you and beat you down mentally.  

According to our pediatrician, he may have been born with a somewhat premature digestive system. According to a million other genius armchair doctors he had Colic.

Colic? What is that?

 I mean, I know the definition of the word but

am I the only parent who thinks it's kind of strange?

 When I first heard someone say he had Colic my initial thoughts were:

How do we get rid of it? What's the cure? What type of medicine do we need? Let's get him all better.

"Oh, no no no. Colic is not a sickness or a disease. There is no medicine. There is no cure. Your baby is gassy and discontent which causes him to scream in pain at the top of his lungs for hours. We're going to call that Colic so we can technically have a diagnosis and hopefully that will make you feel better even though there is nothing you can do about it but try a few home remedies and give him gas drops."

Maybe it's just me but I would prefer you just tell me I have a gassy discontent baby and to buckle up for a wild ride because only God knows how long it is going to last... Yeah, that's probably just me.

 There were many times that I thought he had cried so hard for so long that he might literally explode before my eyes. This was the most heart breaking thing I have ever experienced, while simultaneously being the most frustrating thing I have ever experienced. How is it possible for a baby to cry this much? He's clearly not satisfied with the parents the doctor sent him home with. Why was this so easy the first time around and so difficult this time? Did we forget what to do? Why is burping this baby like solving a rubix cube?

 Daphne and I used to joke that in his first five months he cried more than our 2 and 1/2 year old had in his entire life. It was true. We would get him to sleep at night and 30 minutes later he would wake up screaming. He would continue to scream for anywhere between 30 minutes to an hour until we finally found the secret position that got him back to sleep. He kept us guessing. There was never any rhyme or reason to this:

Who could forget the old upside down crotch grab? One of our most successful positions.

When that didn't work I would resort to the two armed baby holster. I would hold him like this, bend over at the waste and swing him back and forth. Yes, we had a swing but he didn't care for it most of the time. He would prefer his Daddy get a little work out.

One night I played him to sleep with the Bubble Guppies guitar. My real guitar came in handy on multiple occasions as well.

Here we are under a dock on a beach on the North Carolina shore after a good 2 a.m. screaming sesh. 

Thank God for the ocean waves.

Ah yes, the night he wanted to prop his face in my hand and sleep sitting up.

Seriously Fletch!?!

Give us a break. Please, just one break? Fletcher could turn a 30 minute drive into a 2 hour adventure in which the only time he wasn't crying was when I stood in the Burger King parking lot in the glow of the drive thru menu imagining myself trying to disguise him as the kids meal toy and handing him over to the cute little girl in the backseat of the approaching Chrysler Town & Country and running for the hills. Oh, Fletcher!

What made trips like this even more enjoyable was the fact that his older brother was a "Team Crier." Oh boy, if Fletcher was upset Cooper was not about to let his poor little "bruhder" cry this out alone. Thanks Coop. We appreciate your concern. Really, we do.

My poor wife. When I was at work she was at home with the two boys all day. I don't know how she made it through this five month stretch. She deserves some kind of medal. No, she deserves more than that. She deserves a lifetime supply of Ice cream. Daphne, if you're reading this, I appreciate you and I will make you Ice cream 'til death do us part. I promise.

I remember taking a few days off of work just so she could have a "mental health day." I knew how helpful that extra set of hands was. There were nights when she needed to go out with the girls. Make no mistake, it was a NEED, not a WANT. I acted like it was no big deal but as soon as that door shut behind her I just prayed. There was also a two week stretch when I basically locked myself in the guest bedroom with Fletcher so Daphne could get some good rest at night. This involved a lot more prayer.

 Let me be clear that Fletcher's discomfort was more heart breaking than anything else but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't the most frustrating thing I've ever experienced. Some nights nothing worked. NOTHING! I'll never forget in my most desperate moments thinking, "So, this is why people shake babies." I'm sure that multiple times in your life you've seen the mug shot of some loser on the news who just went to jail for shaking a baby. Well, I've always been the type of person who immediately passed judgement on that guy and said a few choice words about him. I also made my thoughts clear on what they ought to do to him in jail, but I didn't know it could get this bad. I didn't know babies were capable of this kind of misery. 

Don't get me wrong. I've never had sympathy for someone who has made such a detestable decision. It's completely unacceptable. Empathy, however? Yes. Now that I understand how it happens, I completely understand how someone who is sleep deprived, frustrated and perhaps lacking the proper mental tools to have a child to begin with, can make such a horrible decision. After all, we literally tried everything besides shaking him and most times, none of it worked. The thought of it makes me sick. What if my mother hadn't put in overtime to teach me how to control my temper? What if God had decided to give my sweet little Fletcher to someone incapable of learning this unconditional love and special level of patience? I cringe at the thought as the tears well up in my eyes. Sometimes you just have to love someone through a situation and rely on faith that the reward is there even though you may not be able to see it. Thankfully, God gave Fletcher to Daphne and Me and we made it through that chapter of our lives together.

I'll never forget a conversation we had with an older woman when Daphne was pregnant with Fletcher. She had two children. Two sons who were in their late teens/early twenties at the time of the conversation. They were close in age like Cooper and Fletcher would be. She told me that from the day her second son was born she could tell he was just difficult. She said he was just different and he's been that way his entire life. Then she kind of rolled her eyes.

Today her oldest son is very successful. He's confident and thriving at life. He's a contributing member to society and in good standing with mom and dad. Her youngest son continues to make poor decisions and seems to be the black sheep of the family. I've often found myself thinking back to this conversation, especially during Fletcher's "dark days." I bet she would tell you that she was given a "bad egg." She would say that she did the best she could with him but he just always made things hard on himself. I just can't help but think that she may have expected her second son to be just like her first son and because of this expectation she never let him just be himself. Maybe she always held him to a standard set by the temperament of her first son and because he came nowhere near fitting into that mold she just wrote him off as a bad egg and therefore parented him in a completely different manner than she parented her oldest son. 

I remember those thoughts creeping into my head: 

"He's just so difficult." 

"Typical Fletcher."

"We're fighting a losing battle. Things will never change"

"What's wrong with this child?"

When they did I would think back to that conversation and how I felt like her second son just got the raw end of the deal. It just wasn't fair for him. He didn't get the same encouragement and praise because he was difficult from day one. When you really think about it, he probably deserved more encouragement. He definitely deserved more patience. He needed more patience and I couldn't help but feel like she gave him less. I made a deal with myself that I would NOT under any circumstance short change my Fletcher. I promised myself to always let my sympathy for his discomfort win the battle with my frustration for my own discomfort. His first few months were hard enough. The last thing he needs is a hardened and impatient heart from someone who should be opening his heart even wider for him. I was not going to let that happen.

They say that parenting is a "labor of love" and they are right. I can honestly say, now that we have passed this phase, that I wouldn't change a thing. I've grown so much through these trials and I feel like Daphne and I have won a battle. We used to ask ourselves questions like, "How is it possible for a baby to cry this much?" Today we ask ourselves  questions like, "How is it possible for a toddler to find so much joy in so many things?" He gets so excited about so many small things in life and brings so much joy to us on an every day basis. He's definitely still a handful. He's just a much more manageable handful.

 Today, Fletcher is almost two years old. He's the kind of kid who will walk into the kitchen, see his high chair and think, "Man, I'm hungry. I've got to find a way to get up there." Sure enough, if I turn my back on him for one minute he'll find a way into that high chair. Its incredible. I need to hide a camera in the kitchen to figure out how he does it.

 What makes it exceptionally mind blowing is the fact that once he gets up there and tells me how hungry he is, he simply refuses to eat anything...besides maybe the marshmallows out of Lucky Charms cereal.

We find Fletcher shut in a dark closet, shut in the pantry or stuck somewhere in the house once or twice a week minimum.

Oh, Fletcher! You've really made your mark on us. You've redefined the way we approach parenting and life in general. You've taught us so many lessons. I'm still trying to grasp the one where you potty while standing on your head.