What Are You Thankful For?

 There are so many things in my life that I am thankful for. It seems like once I became a parent I truly realized the abundance of blessings that I already had in my life. I guess a new perspective and a significant multiplication of blessings will do that to you. Right now what I am thankful for is very simple and it's something we've developed as a family over the past four years. I am extremely thankful for the bedtime routine, or lack thereof, that we have established in our family of four.

Many families have a rigid bedtime routine that they adhere to practically every single night. They have a set dinner time and bath time followed by teeth brushing (hopefully), some version of story/prayer time and lights out at a specific time. This routine is rarely altered.

WE ARE NOT ONE OF THOSE FAMILIES.

I'm not saying there is anything wrong with this type of approach but it's just not the way we choose to do things. Perhaps this will change once our kids get into school, but as for now our bedtime routine basically consists of dinner and bath in no particular order, followed by teeth brushing and...

A.) snuggling on the couch with one or both parents watching football, basketball, hockey or baseball depending on the season. Right now we are in the midst of the Stanley Cup playoffs so we're watching a lot of hockey at "bedtime." We are a big sports family and its the perfect opportunity to show them that watching sports as a family is important to us. Plus, they usually lose interest and fall asleep rather quickly.

B.) story time on our older son's bed. (we currently have a 4 year old and a 2 year old: both boys). We snuggle them up on the bed and read a few books. When we're all done we usually just turn out the lights, say goodnight and walk out. Our two year old who is still in a crib usually whines for about 30 seconds and then they either fall asleep or start talking to each other (which is always great entertainment listening over the monitor). We leave him in the bed with his big brother to fall asleep and we move him over to the crib later when we come in the room to check on them. This works out well. He never gets out of the bed as long as his big brother is there with him. The transition from crib to big boy bed with our first son was kind of a nightmare. He was always getting out of bed. So far it looks like we won't have to worry about that the second time around. This also provides a good opportunity for some classic pictures.

C.) On Friday nights or special occasions we'll all just pile into our bed for a movie or a few episodes of Fixer Upper or a good family talk. The boys love this and  they usually get a little rowdy but we only do it on nights when we don't have to wake up for anything in the morning. The quality time is definitely worth it although I end up having to lug them to bed at some point in the middle of the night.

Regardless of how we decide to do bed time on a particular night there is always one constant and that is prayer time. Now, I'm not going to sit here and tell you to do prayer time with your children if you don't believe in God (although it couldn't hurt) but I am going to advise you to do what precedes prayer time in our house because you don't need to believe that your blessings come from God to be grateful for them. Every night after story time or after we pause the television, we ask the boys what they are thankful for. They answer with an array of "blessings" ranging from favorite television shows to family members to friends names to favorite toys to animals to chocolate fishing rods. 

When we first started doing this they didn't have much to say. That's when my wife Daphne and I decided to ask each other what we are thankful for so we could set an example for them as to how the question should/could be answered. 

"I'm thankful for the roof over our heads" 

"I'm thankful for 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep."

"I'm thankful for two healthy and happy boys."

"I'm thankful for the opportunity to make good choices tomorrow."

This is also a good time to show your kids that you love, respect and appreciate your spouse with answers such as "I'm thankful for the job Mommy does at home with you boys" or "I'm thankful for Daddy's hard work every day." After seeing this a few times their answers went from a blank stare, gibberish or "I don't know" to something meaningful. Sure, sometimes their answers are pure silliness but I can really see them developing an appreciation for the things in this life that they have. 

Now that we've been doing this for a while we get them to tell us at least three things that they are thankful for each night. My 4 year olds current go-to is, "I'm thankful for you, Daddy" which melts my heart every single night, of course. He usually follows that up with a shout out to his Mom and his little brother. 

Although my two year old typically likes to just give us a run down of his favorite TV shows, he's developing a reputation of thinking of people in his life who he is thankful for other than his Mom and Dad. When he randomly mentions our friends Adam and Amy or my buddy Leroy or Mrs. Janet from church, I know his wheels are turning and we're doing a good thing. They are understanding what gratitude is more and more each day. They are learning an appreciation for blessings. Even if most of the blessings they are grateful for are toys today, one day those blessings will be something more and they will be sure not to take them for granted. I can only dream of where they will go from here.

What about you? Do you have any routines or traditions that the rest of the world just has to know about? Feel free to share. In the mean time I will leave you with this video from a few days ago of my boys telling me a few things they are thankful for. Enjoy!

They Call it LABOR for a Reason (guest post by Daphne Grice)

This week I am sharing a guest post by my wife Daphne. In this post she compares the labor experience of our second born child with that of our first and the differences of labor with and without an epidural. I'm just as proud of her today as I was on each of the two days our boys were born. She was a trooper. I was a cryer. Happy tears of course. Without further ado...

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They call it LABOR for a reason!

It is hard to believe that I am now the Mom of two very handsome little fellas... I am not sure if that is because it feels so wonderful or if I am so sleep deprived that the lines of reality are blurred. I wouldn't trade the bags under my eyes for anything in the world. So maybe I would have traded it for an epidural, but who's to say really?

Fletcher Lee Grice was born on April 27, 2013 at a very dark 4:25 am. We arrived at the hospital around 7:00 on Friday night- concerned that my labor was going to come quickly and we wouldn't make it in time, I would have to deliver the baby in the car, etc... Needless to say that wasn't Mr. Fletcher's plan. He took his time, let us savor a few more sweet moments as a family of 3, squeeze Cooper's neck and start the caravan to deliver. 

This time I decided I was going to go at this like a hero Mom... One who watched The Business of Being Born twice and felt like I knew nothing the first time around. I was determined that I was going to have the ultimate experience, feel like more of a Mother than I ever had, and take this like a champion. I came, I saw, I conquered... and I did a little bit of yelling, crying, and a lot of doubting myself. But we went to the hospital with the intentions of having a baby. And by George, we did.

I was SO worried I would not make it in time I had myself convinced that we should have been at the hospital hours before we arrived. "The second one comes so much faster"... "If you don't have an epidural your labor will go so quickly"... At 10:00 pm they broke my water, and each CM of labor seemed to come and go with little troubles- contractions, yes they were there though. I worked up to 8 CM and felt like a champion. I was breathing it out, walking around, laboring if you will :D In true Lee-Grice fashion we had a huge party there awaiting the arrival of our sweet baby who, at this point, we still didn't know if it was a fella or a gal. My parents, my sister, my in-laws- which included my BIL and SIL, were all there laughing, talking, falling asleep, and supporting me through this process.

Then it started to become more labor less laboring. Wow, it sure did hurt. It didn't help that my cervix was not sitting properly and the nurse had to "help it" along during my contractions. I know at one point I said very loudly "You are HURTING me!"- and she was... From 8 to 10 CM to pushing felt like the shortest-longest time in my life. I was in pain, it was a blur, then I was pushing, trying to catch a breath, pushing again, then there was a baby! My baby was here! I had done it... and I was EXHAUSTED!!! They let me hold him right away and I felt that huge rush that can't be compared to anything in life. WE DID IT! 

I am so thankful my hubby was able to be there with me (not that there was ever a reason he wouldn't, unless we go back to my fear of hardly making it to the hospital- in which he would be at work/the store/playing basketball and would not make it before the baby did :D), crying more than I did, holding my hand, and thank goodness keeping pretty quiet but super supportive. He cut the cord, cried a little more, then went to check on our new little guy. And I was left to finish the job, the labor. I just wanted to take a second and compose myself- I wasn't crying- I was sweating, and I was so out of breath! There were a few loose ends to tie up, a few things to get us to the actual finish line- and those were not pleasant either... and I felt every bit of them.

Finally I was clean, he was clean, and he was alllll mine to kiss, snuggle and fall in love with. But it was still a little hazy. I was there, but it felt like I was watching the whole thing. I could feel my heart overflowing but I could also feel my eyes getting heavy. It was a rush like no other. The pain is something you can't even remember that same day though. I know it was the worst pain ever, but the negative feelings pass so quickly. 

Comparing it to Cooper's delivery- I arrived at the hospital at 6 CM, received my epidural, pushed for a little while, had the baby, loved the baby right away, and felt nothing. I felt no different after having my epi-baby than I did with my natural birthed baby as far as love for him or that overwhelming Mommy urge. I did in fact feel like I could enjoy the moments after birth more with the epidural- you don't notice so much the follow-up tasks that are going on while you are loving on that sweet bundle. I feel like just as much of a Mom now as I did then, and it makes me feel wonderful that I didn't short change myself on the experience the first go round. I love them both with an overflowing heart and drugs or not they were my whole world from the first moment we met.

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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How I bottled up that Christmas morning feeling in the month of April.

Christmas as a child was the most magical thing in the world. The most magical thing I can remember, anyway. I grew up in a middle class family but my parents always found a way to make sure we had more than what we wanted and way more than what we needed for Christmas. They had a close personal friendship with Santa Claus. I'm sure that probably had something to do with it.

I always loved the lights and the tree and all the Christmas traditions we had but let's face it, I was a kid and kids love presents. PRESENTS!!!! I'll never forget the feeling of waking up on Christmas morning; the excitement and anticipation of what was waiting for me under that tree. If you celebrate Christmas I'm sure you remember what it was like.

"What could it possibly be?"

 "Did Santa bring me what I asked for?"

"Come on Mom and Dad! Wake up! Let's do this!"

...and then I opened the presents. I don't ever remember being disappointed. There may have been slight disappointment here or there when I opened new socks but I was pretty easy to please and I don't THINK I EVER asked for too much. (I probably asked for too much every year.)

The most memorable gift my brother and I ever got was probably this giant G.I. JOE aircraft carrier that seemed to take up half of the living room. We played with that thing non stop and let our imaginations run wild. Oh man! It was great! Always great!

However, every Christmas toy I ever received inevitably got old and I got tired of playing with them. 

Every single one. 

Even the G.I. JOE aircraft carrier.

 I know. Sounds crazy; hard to believe. I bet you're telling yourself now as an adult that if you had a giant toy aircraft carrier that took up half your living room you would play with it every day and you would never get sick of it but I'm here to tell you that's simply not true. I understand. To be honest, as I'm sitting here typing this I've halfway convinced myself that if I had another G.I. JOE aircraft carrier that things would be different this time but experience tells me otherwise. I'd end up selling it again to make space. Hopefully for a lot more money this time.

Even the new bike gets old. The new football gets old. The My Buddy doll (please tell me you remember this). The new Nintendo, Sega Genesis or Play Station... 

you guessed it: 

GETS OLD. They ALL do.

There's always next year right?

If only there was a way to bottle that magical feeling of Christmas morning. 

What if I could dip my toys in the fountain of youth? What if a toy manufacturer finally came along and discovered a way to make a toy that never lost its luster? Is it possible? Could I wake up one morning and experience that magical Christmas morning feeling every day for the rest of my life?

Unfortunately, I never found a way to bottle up and experience that feeling every day as a child. Nope. Once a year and that was it. I had to wait 364 days for that feeling again. 

That's the bad news.

The good news is, now that I am an adult, I finally figured it out. Yep. After years and years of ideas, research, failed inventions and disappointment, I figured it out. Like a mad scientist I finally found the proper combination of ingredients to yield that good old fashioned Christmas morning feeling year round. My very own Frankenstein. Scratch that. That is a horrible comparison and it's not really true.

 I gave up on figuring it out long ago and then I finally stumbled upon it on April 3rd, 2011 with the help of my wife. We were able to repeat it on April 27, 2013. What can I say? April is a good month for us. We thought about moving our Christmas celebration to April but decided against it. That would just be unorthodox overkill.

By now you've probably figured out what this perfect gift that captures that Christmas morning feeling is

or

If you have children, you figured it out a long time ago.

MY BOYS.

How come on one ever told me?

People always told me I could never understand what a parents love for a child was like until I experienced it for myself but no one ever told me that it made every single day feel like Christmas morning and that I was going to wake up excited and full of anticipation for what each and every day with them held (and it would never wear off). It's a good thing no one ever put it to me like that or I probably would have gone out and knocked up the first broad I saw so I could get my hands on one of these real life "My Buddy" dolls...and that surely would have ended badly. ;)

 I just want to wake up and play with these perfect evergreen Christmas toys all day. Okay, truth be told, I wake up and tip toe around the house trying with all my might NOT to wake them up. That part is much different than Christmas morning. However, the second they do wake up or the second I walk in the door from work, we get down like it's Christmas morning, minus the turkey and stockings. I don't know what else to compare it to. It's the best feeling in the world.

Sure, they get older by the day but not in the way a toy does or any other feeling I've experienced in life. Their luster shines brighter by the day as you mold their malleable brain into the beginning of what you hope turns out to be a masterpiece. Four years into parenthood and I'd say they age more like a fine wine getting better by the year. Plus, I get a better buzz off of spending time with these little trouble makers than I could get from any wine.

I understand that not all parents feel this way about their children and that breaks my heart. I truly hope that as you read this you nod your head in agreement if you are a parent. If you didn't, I hope you can figure out why not and make a change to help get you there because they deserve to be loved like a child loves his favorite new toy on Christmas morning and you deserve to be able to share that love with them for as long as you both live. I have not experienced anything in this world that compares to pouring your whole self into a child. That quality time is irreplaceable.

If you do not have a child and you are reading this please do not go out and make one with the first person you meet because of what you read here. Trust me. It's worth the wait and you will be more equipped to handle these amazing gifts with a little age on you. I'll warn you, they are not exactly "better" than Christmas gifts in every way. I'd guess that it's safe to assume you never had a Christmas gift that:

• actually cost YOU thousands of dollars just to bring home
•  woke you up 5 times in the night by screaming (night after night.)
• spit up a terribly stinky substance on you 37 times in the first 6 months you had it
• pooped or peed on you
• demanded your attention at all times that it wasn't sleeping 

...and that's just to name a few and you still got tired of these toys. Yet somehow these babies that become a full time job just make every day better and better.

Just a few hours ago at bedtime I told my 4 year old that I loved him and he replied:

"I love you too Daddy and don't forget, your ideas change the world."

I'm sure he got it from some movie or TV show and he probably doesn't even know what it means but it melted my heart and inspired me to write this blog post. I had him repeat it so I could have it on video to watch if I was ever having a bad day.

Truth is, in the grand scheme of things, I haven't had a "bad day" since he was born. Every day has been like Christmas. At one point before he was born he was nothing more than a possibility... an IDEA in my head. I guess my ideas do change the world... and for the better. They've changed my world anyway.

"Daddy, can you turn around?" (The most interesting selfie I have ever taken)

Traveling with children can present many different kinds of challenges. While I'm not prepared to jump into all of those challenges just yet, I'd like to share one that snuck up behind me on a layover at the Los Angeles airport last week as my family and I headed to Hawaii for vacation.

This little incident led to the most interesting selfie I have ever taken.

We were in a bit of a hurry to reach our connecting flight, but not too rushed. We grabbed a quick bite to eat and headed on the way to our gate. Cooper, my 4 year old, had to go potty so we scampered to the closest men's room as he informed me that we were talking about the #2 variety.

We were in a cramped stall together. I got him all set up with toilet paper on the seat and everything. That's when he asked me to turn around. This is normal procedure when he's sitting on a public potty.

The boy needs his privacy. He always has.

He always asks us to leave the bathroom when we are at home because he likes to do his business alone but he knows that's not going to happen in a public restroom. So, I turned around and faced the door, still in the stall. I took out my phone to look at some pictures I had taken on our previous flight.

That's when the potty flushed all by itself. The automatic flusher must not have registered that Cooper was still on the potty because he's so small. At this point in his life, I'm not sure there's much of anything thats scarier to Cooper than a loud, unexpected, flushing potty. Coop was so concerned that the flush would be loud that he put both hands over his ears.

Right then I felt something hit me in the back of the left leg. It took me a couple seconds to realize exactly what it was. It was warm and it was running down my leg into my sock...

"Point it down Coop! Point it down..."

I exclaimed as I turned around to see Cooper covering his ears for dear life...and peeing on his dad's leg, of course.

We looked at each other & I couldn't help but start laughing. Cooper started cracking up. I tried to explain to him that it's not really funny and we should never ever pee on people.

I just couldn't keep a straight face. Eventhough it was a major inconvenience the giggles just got a hold of me. The look on the poor boy's face definitely had something to do with it.

So, I told him that it was only funny because it was an accident, which probably wasn't the best parenting in the world but hey, I never claimed to be a perfect parent.

I let him finish up and I took him to his 

mom before I went back in the bathroom to throw away my socks and scrub my 

left leg (from the back of the knee down) in the sink with soap and hot water. 

That's when I noticed myself in the mirror and thought, "When will I ever have a better reason to take a selfie?!"

8 or 10 people walked in and looked at me like I was crazy. One pair of socks and a few odd looks later I realized the lesson at hand.... never turn your  back on a loaded weapon.

Four days later and I've heard this question at least five times:

"Hey Dad, is this potty a flusher?!?!"

At least he's thinking ahead.

Aloha.

The Ultimate Sacrifice

If you do a quick Google image search with the words, "The Ultimate Sacrifice" you will be met by a barrage of pictures depicting Jesus dying on the cross and soldiers giving their lives for our freedom. It's actually quite humbling and something we should remind ourselves of and be grateful for on a daily basis. This is not something I expected to encounter while preparing for this blog post, but I'm glad I did.

 That being said, I'd like to share with you a completely different type of "Ultimate Sacrifice" that was made for my big brother and me when we were approximately 4 and 8 years old respectively. This was a sacrifice that I will never forget. A sacrifice that I am eternally grateful for and a sacrifice that taught me a life lesson that stuck with me some 30 years later.

I hope that one day when the time comes (and I know it will) I am able to quickly access this memory from the recesses of my brain so I can successfully grab this specific situation by the handle bars of life and make the right decision.

Come, will you?

Step inside my DeLorean.

Allow my flux capacitor to whisk us away in the carpool lane back to sometime around the year 1984. ( I know. I know, I've got to stop with these Back to the Future references. A bad habit I'm trying to break.)

The following is based on a true story:

Meet my parents.

Stacy & Susie

They are both 71 years of age now but I wanted to introduce you to to them back in 1984. As you can tell, my mom was (still is) a beauty and my dad was basically the Harry Styles of his day. Total Dreamboat. A true power couple...like a white Kim and Kanye...

Okay, that derailed quickly.  Let's re-focus.

My parents are amazing. I am so grateful for them. Throughout my childhood and adolescence they bent over backward (and sometimes forward) to teach me valuable life lessons. I feel so fortunate that they cared so much about the kind of adult I turned out to be. They invested so much time and effort into me, put my well being ahead of their own and sacrificed so much to ensure that I became an honorable man.

I'd like to share with you this one particular instance that, in my opinion, is the closest thing to an "ultimate sacrifice" that anyone has ever made for me.

One might assume that an "ultimate sacrifice" made by a parent for a child would be giving birth; A mother giving up the body of her youth for the well-being of her child. Perhaps the unconditional love of a mother who moved from the big city to a one red light town and gave up a career as the next Prudential Woman of the Year to stay at home with her four cubs to love, nurture and nourish them daily.

While these are all honorable undertakings. They fall just shy of the sacrifice that was made on a fateful summer day in 1984...

 My Dad was at work. My dear mother was watching over my brother, myself and a few other young children she cared for regularly. My oldest sister and her boyfriend stopped by the house in his 1970 Chevelle hot rod. It was your typical muggy Florida summer afternoon. The kind of day that you could just sense the afternoon thunderstorms approaching. Before you could ever see the clouds billowing in through the giant trees, you could smell the rain as it descended upon the damp leaves, dirt and sweet gum balls in the front yard of our Lake Geneva home.

What none of us knew is the fact that we were about to be hit with the storm of the decade in our quaint little town. The storm  was on top of us in a flash. There was no warning; no time to prepare. My mother's sixth mommy sense alerted her to the fact that this storm was not like our typical afternoon thunderstorm. The wind packed an extra punch. The lightning flashed with a fierce fury and the thunder shook the earth to it's very core.

As the bottom fell out of the sky, she ran outside to the front yard and herded us like cattle into the bathtub, which she designated as the safest place in our home. Soon after, branches snapped atop power lines. Power lines lost their battle with gravity and fell to the ground like angry electric snakes striking wildly in all directions. An entire sweet gum ball tree (so big you couldn't wrap your arms around it) a mere 5 feet from our home, was uprooted. It came crashing down like the foot of a giant Tyrannosaurus...right on top of my sister's boyfriend's car.

Ouch.

He was devastated!

We were frightened!

The storm eventually passed and everyone was okay. The only casualty was the car.

My mother was a local folk hero!!!

Well, that last sentence might be a slight exaggeration...

While my mom will always be a hero to me, she admitted that she really just did what any adult would or should do in a situation like this. She also admitted that the bathtub she put us in was in the corner of the house closest to the tree that came crashing down and if it had fallen in a different direction, we all could have been smashed. Thank God that didn't happen.

If my mom's "heroics" were really just a parent taking the proper precautions for children during a storm with above average intensity, then what is this "ultimate sacrifice" I keep talking about?

Well, that, you see, came a few days later by my father after the crushed car was removed from our driveway and the long neck of this dinosaur like tree remained in our front yard.

What were we going to do with this thing?!?

...I know Mom. Dad always gets to be the hero and it's just not fair. I'm sorry. I even led everyone to believe that you were the hero and yet again, here comes Dad flying in like E.T. on Elliot's bike to  save the day and take all the credit. I understand and maybe there is something I can do to make it up to you in the future. For now let's get back to the story at hand...

Keep in mind that I was approximately four years old at the time and this is by no means a direct quote from my father, but I like to imagine that this is what he said next...Wait! Before I tell you... Did I mention that my dad is brilliant? Well, he is...here goes:

"I'll tell you what were gonna do with that old dead tree sitting in the yard. We're gonna take this here metal ramp, lean it against the tree and the boys can use it to launch themselves over the tree for hours upon hours upon days upon days of fun."

OH!!! We were so excited! It doesn't even matter what happens next. Dad was already our hero just for suggesting it.

There we were standing in the yard. The four of us: Dad, Mom, my brother Stacy and myself.

This was about to be the greatest day of our lives; The pinnacle of fun in my short life to this point here on earth. This storm was the best thing that ever happened to us. This tree was about to become like a family pet; A part of the family. I could envision years of ramping into the sunset before Mom called us in for dinner.

I could hear myself now,

"Just one more jump Mom and I'll be in for dinner. Just one more jump."

I could even hear her reply,

"Honey, you've been ramping that old tree for hours. This is the LAST time. That old tree will be there tomorrow. It's not going anywhere."

Then, just before I was about to hit that ramp for the first time and fly like Evil Knievel over the Grand Canyon, I heard Dad speak the words that changed everything:

"Hold on Son, let your old Dad show you how it's done."

Brilliant Idea. I told you he was brilliant.

There's no better person to learn from; No better person to take the inaugural flight.

You have to understand that my dad was perfect. My dad could fix anything. My dad caught the biggest fish. My dad threw the best spiral. He had the best jump shot.  He could bare foot ski. My dad could beat up your dad but he probably wouldn't fight your dad because my dad was smarter than your dad and he knew that fighting doesn't resolve anything. I'm telling you... he was perfect.

We stood back to let the man do his thing. He circled around to gain enough speed to launch into orbit. He hit the ramp with such precision. He launched into the air like a dolphin breaching beautifully for all to see. He stuck the landing like Kerri Strug on a bum ankle in the 1996 Olympics...

...Only he was on a bike. When I say he stuck the landing I really mean he STUCK the landing. He slid off the bike seat and completely and utterly...

racked his nuts...

 like I've never seen before or since.

I was 4 years old. I didn't know exactly what was going on. All I knew is that my dad was DOWN FOR THE COUNT! Moaning, groaning and "OH NO-ing."

As my mom ran to check on her wounded dare devil in distress she paused only for a moment and said six words in a tone of voice we knew not to question.

"Boys, go inside the house NOW!''

I don't remember much else after that. The tree was removed before we knew it or it may as well have been. We were forbidden to touch, look at, or think about that tree that almost stole my father's manhood. Now that I think about it, I am the baby of the family. I wonder if that was by choice or if the tree made that decision for them. Either way, I'm glad I'm the baby. Maybe I owe that tree a thank you.

Oh what could have been?!?

The friendship with the tree was over before it began.

Although I've always been seriously disappointed that I never got to ramp the giant tree, I like to think that my Dad saved me and my brother from a few major injuries. It makes me feel  better about the whole thing anyway. He sacrificed his "boys" for his boys, if you know what I mean. That takes an unconditional love that I'm not sure I fully grasp.

Although I know my dad never got flowers, never became America's sweetheart and certainly never got put on the cover of a Wheaties box for this ultimate sacrifice, I like to think that my mom did her best Bela Karolyi impression and carried him into the house to a nice warm bath and some painkillers.

Dad ended up being just fine. No real injuries to speak of.  Maybe just his pride. We realized our dad was not invincible, but he was still our hero. To this day when this story comes up my brother and I just laugh like little kids.

Thanks Dad. (for multiple reasons)

You will forever be to me what Kerri Strug was to our Nation back in 1996...

A Champion who's not afraid to make the ultimate sacrifice.

I wish we were all reading this together. We'd be laughing our balls off... or at least the rest of us would be.

I guess sometimes the most effective parenting tool is the ability to teach a child what not to do, like the dad of the Berenstain Bears. That guy was always teaching those kids what not to do. Let's just hope the sacrifice you make while teaching this lesson is minimal. As a father of two young boys myself, I hope that I am able to resist those, "Let your old dad show you how it's done" moments, no matter how tempting they may be.

Have any of you parents out there had any similar situations?