Blizzard Survival Tips for Dads At Home

We are now in "Day Two" of "Snowbound: Crisis in Parker". The scene outside my office window looks like mid-February, only with more snow. We have about 2 feet of the fluffy white stuff on the ground. I can personally vouch for the fact that it's fluffy until you start shoveling, then it becomes downright heavy.

Mike's Blizzard Survival Tips: When the Kids Stay Home from School and Sanity Slips Out for the Day

1. TV time is limited to 7 hours during daylight.
2. Food is defined as whatever the kids can reach. "Marshmallows for lunch? Sure, have at it boys!"
3. Get the kids (and yourself) outside. Anyhow, anyway, anytime. We're paying a plowing service to clear the driveway, but we spent an hour shoveling just to get the juices flowing.
4. Hot cocoa is one of the five food groups.
5. Don't sweat the small stuff. If everyone is rosy-cheeked and exhausted at the end of the day, you've done your Daddy job just right!

Winter reminds me of my own childhood and growing up in Western NY state. The joy of those days of snow up to my hips and above always brings a smile to my face. What a blessing to pass down those experiences to my two sons!

How One Dad Fights Frustration

Part of the joy, and frustration, of living in Colorado is that you never know what type of weather to expect when. On the last day of summer this year, we had snow squalls. Two days later, it was in the 70's. My wife Terry tells me she loved living in New Jersey because winter started "on time" in November and ended "on time" at the end of March. So today, three days before Halloween, the kids were home all day due to a snowstorm.

The kids were planted squarely in front of the television much of the morning, while I worked in my home office. Sure, I wish I could have kept them entertained with crazy projects designed to educate and inspire. Instead, they dined on Phineas and Ferb, and SpongeBob.

Sometimes we fathers have to bend to reality and make the best of a situation that doesn't "fit" our pre-conceptions of how things should work. A snow day home from school definitely didn't fit today's schedule. The kids aren't old enough to stay home by themselves so Mother Nature forced me to upend my day. I don't know about you, but my frustration level increases when I try to make circumstances out of my control fit into those pre-conceptions of how things should work.

When your frustration level rises, it's easy to take it out on others. Our pre-conceptions often stay in our heads and don't get shared. That leaves the people we care about most guessing as to our intentions and plans.

Like the early snowstorm that disrupts travel, work and personal time, you can decide to wallow in the snowdrifts and keep your thoughts to yourself. A better choice is to share your thoughts and head frustration off before it gets the best of you.

Passing Passion Along to Your Kids

Terry and I made this deal when we were married, long before we had kids. We would raise the boys as Catholics (I'm Jewish and grew up in a family where the identity of religion had far more clout than the practice of religion) if I could raise them in my personal faith. The religion of the Fenway Faithful; raising them as Red Sox fans. The boys were both born here in Denver and in their early years were willing adherents to my allegiances. Now that they're in school and routintely exposed to influences outside the house, they're picking up some bad habits.

When I root for my teams (The Red Sox and the Buffalo Bills) the boys are quick to remind me that as Colorado natives, they could care less about my roots. Both Nick and Chris are dyed-in-the-wool Broncos (football) and Rockies (baseball) fans. In fact, not only do they cheer for those teams, they actively cheer against my teams. It's as if they are conspiring to derail my sports addicted dreams. In spite of this rebellion, I secretly love the fact that they care. To have a rooting interest in sport, and thus a community, is a wonderful passion that my Dad passed along to me.

I've learned that being a fan of your kids and their interests is far more important than if they are a fan of your interests. If my sons' passion were directed toward skateboarding (it is) or ballet (it isn't) then as long as they pursued that interest with the willingness to experiment, fail and succeed, I would support their passion as I would support my own.

Hmmm. My Dad is a Yankee fan. I'm sure he'd say that the chickens are coming home to roost. Good luck in the World Series, Dad. And I mean that sincerely.

Is Your Child a Terrorist?

Okay, maybe it's just me, but I've noticed a disturbing trend. While listening to NPR (yes, I do watch Fox from time to time for a "fair and balanced" look at how President Obama is messing everything up) I heard about the latest terrorist arrest. "The suspect was arrested in his basement bedroom, at his parent's home" intoned the announcer. Didn't Zazi, the fellow arrested here in Denver, also live with his parents? Seems like the last three major terrorist arrests have all been of single men in their 20's and 30's, living at home with their parents.

What conclusions can we draw from this incredibly small sample?

1. All terrorists live at home with their parents.
2. All terrorists have been unusually unsuccessful at any other line of work besides terrorism.
3. Since we're catching them before they blow things (and themselves) up, terrorists may not be successful even in their chosen line of work.
4. To minimize the chances of "Junior" becoming a terrorist, it's important to instill a sense of independence and self-confidence in your kids at an early age.
5. All single men in their 20's and 30's who live at home with their parents should be arrested.

Next week in this space, I will be solving world hunger, reining in rogue nuclear states and revealing the cure for the common cold. The common ingredient in all three crises is basil. Or maybe oregano. I always get those two confused. Stay tuned.

Four Cornerstones of Great Parenting

I spent a recent morning interviewing seniors about their fathers; what an amazing experience. As men in their 80's and 90's talked about the sacrifices their fathers made for them, I couldn't help but think about the sacrifices these men made for me. Otis casually mentions that he was a tail-gunner in a B-24 over Europe. Gene was in the Army Air Corps in Italy and North Africa. Dick flew "The Hump" between China and Burma. Their eyes lit up as they talked about working the fields with their fathers, or fishing trips on late summer nights. When I asked about "The War", they looked at their feet and mumbled about how "it was a lot tougher" for others who never came back.

What I've learned about fathering so far from the interviews I'm conducting for an up-coming book is this:

• Love, given unconditionally, comes in many forms. Maybe Dads didn't hug their kids much 60 or 70 years ago, but they sure as heck loved their kids.
• Dads weren't perfect then, and they're not perfect now. Lessons of fatherhood tend to be rose-tinted by years gone by, and as adults we recognize what our fathers did well and what they did poorly.
• Great parents perform self-less acts every day.
• Parents leave an indelible impression for generations. Our "legacy" as parents extends far beyond our mortal lifetime.

Thanks to the staff and members of the Barnum Senior Center in Denver, and the Colorado Springs Senior Center. Your memories and lessons learned will help shape a new generation of parents.

I heard a great quote on the radio the other day from a farmer in Kansas. He said "If you're working on a problem that can be solved in your lifetime, you're not thinking big enough." My guess is that the work of becoming better parents and teaching those skills to future generations, is work that will continue long after we're gone.

Balloon Boy: What's This Mean for Fathers?

It's been several days since the nation (at least the people who watch cable news channels with nothing better to televise) were transfixed by the Henne family's weather balloon hoax. Hearing and watching the coverage in Denver that day and since has been a non-stop roller coaster of emotion. My first thoughts, probably like yours, were fear for the family, a pit in my stomach for their loss, and anger at parents putting a child in harm's way. No, inviting their child into harm's way.

What drives a parent to convince their children to lie to authorities, just to stage an elaborate fake emergency? How starved for attention (and desperate) must the father, Richard Henne, be? What's really important to take away from this?

My sons reminded me of the "boy who cried wolf" fable as we talked about the balloon ruse. Henne has now completely compromised his believability for any future endeavor. His kids will bear the scars of a public undressing for years to come. Their mother (Richard Henne's wife) may have been a willing accomplice, unwitting dupe or simply scared and intimidated. Chances are, a bit of all three.

Children learn the limits of legality and morality from their parents. My sons don't see the difference between a "white lie" and a lie. Reflecting back on the sad saga of the balloon boy, I'm not sure I can make that distinction anymore. Regardless of the reasons, self-serving or sanctimonius, it's never right to pressure your kids to enable your bad behavior.

Cashing In Your Culinary Dad Card

I'm not sure when exactly my fatherhood "finest hour" has been, but it sure as heck wasn't last night. Faced with the end of a hectic day and a freezer full of food, somehow nothing sounded right for dinner. Our boys will eat pizza morning, noon and night, so at least a frozen pie was in the fridge. When I proposed either pizza or corn-dogs (ask a stupid question...) the response from both kids was "Why not both?"

Indeed, why not both? With that, my instincts toward nutrition and the food pyramid went out the window. I've tried to disguise vegetables in dishes, but the boys are like bloodhounds. They can sniff a naturally delivered vitamin a mile away. After a brief internal debate about food, nutrition and the possible impact on college scholarships of eating a life's worth of nitrates in one sitting, I caved. The guys dined on corn dogs and pizza, along with an oreo and half a banana for dessert. At least they didn't eat in front of the televison.

My take on nutrition has been informed by a line from our pediatrician. Years ago, we were concerned about Nick's growth rate and the food he was eating. The Doctor said "As long as he's getting complete nutrition within any two-week cycle, and as long as he's growing, don't worry about whether he'll overdose on Cheerios." I tried to remember that last night after the kids went to bed well-fed and happy.

After all, they had ketchup with the corn dogs. Don't psuedo-veggies count?

Dad Temper Tantrums

I lost it with the boys on Saturday evening. Ever been there? I can't even recall what set me off, perhaps Chris whining about what was prepared for dinner, or Nick needling Chris about a shared baseball cap. Either way, I lost my cool and shouted at them. I know that what sets me off most times is that the plan in my head (which I neglect to share with anyone else) is not what unfolds in real life.

My boys act up and "push my buttons" when they're (a) tired, (b) frustrated or (c) hungry. Most of the time it's a combination of things. What I fail to remember in those moments of anger on my part is that the same things drive me past the point of self-control. I recover pretty well, and hurt feelings seem to be mended in minutes. What I can't gauge right now is the impact of my actions on how they'll function in similar situations as adults.

As fathers we pass along many memories and legacies. It's not just how to throw a curve ball or how to shave. We also pass down the lessons of our most human moments. What I've tried to teach from the times when I'm not at my best, is that it's okay not to be perfect. I can see my sons' frustration when the Lego pieces don't fit perfectly, or when they forget a multiplication answer. I hope that my legacy includes an ability to be gentle with themselves when they fail, humble when they succeed, and the good sense to go with the flow when their plans don't work out exactly as they'd wished.

Boys Need New Toys

Invasion of the mind-snatchers continues! After a Sunday without television or Nintendo (see the Blog post from Sept. 28th, 2009) and actual human interaction, Terry came home today with the Beatles Rock Band Wii game. For the uninitiated, this "toy" lets you play a fake guitar and fake drums while singing along with John, Paul, George and Ringo. "Twist and Shout" is reverberating in the background while I post this.

Maybe it's not so terrible to furnish our kids, and ourselves, with new toys now and then. Sure, the pricetag was obscene; $150+ at your favorite superstore. Music is one way that generations come together. My parents listen to Bach, Mozart and a bit of Brahms. The music I scoffed at 30 years ago now takes up a significant portion of my Ipod's memory. My sons laugh at their Dad's obsession with all things Springsteen. I'm hoping that when Bruce and I are both gone, perhaps my offspring will embrace my classics.

The new toy now dominating our television is a way for my kids to connect to the 60's and early 70's, a time that formed many of my political, social and cultural affinities. I guess the beauty of something new is truly apparent in its ability to connect us with something in our past.

Three Dad Challenges

I turn 49 this week. It doesn't seem like a monumental birthday as I move closer to the big 5-0. Recalling when I turned 21, I always thought that once you left the schooling portion of your life that you were pretty much a fully formed being. I also thought that everyone over the age of 21 was mature! How many of our peers disprove that theory every day? Thank goodness our personal growth doesn't stop when they hand you a diploma and you walk off stage right.

Being a Dad means constantly learning what you know, and what you don't know. My kids remind me daily that technology, music, social mores and television shows have zipped by me in the blink of an eye. While my "fuddy duddy" identity is more clear than ever, I do feel as though I can keep up mentally as long as my personal and professional life remains challenging.

Speaking of challenges, what's challenging you these days in your relationships with your kids, your partner, and yourself? Here are some of the things that are cropping up at my house.

1. Kids wanting new and more technology. At the ripe old age of 9, Nick's decided he needs an I-phone. Whatever happened to your best friend, two orange juice cans and a really long piece of string?

2. Terry's on the road for work, which means the household duties that I used to take for granted now rest squarely on my shoulders. Is it okay to leave the dishes in the sink overnight? Two nights? How high must the Oreo crumbs rise below the kitchen counter before you haul out the brush and dustpan?

3. It feels wierd sometimes to reach out to fellow Dads to ask questions or confirm common experiences. Guys don't talk like women do. Ladies break down intimacy barriers far more easily than men do. Is that hard-wired in us?

That last concern vexs me and I'm committed to do something about it. Let's us guys commit to make this Blog and other resources you'll be seeing from DadSpeaker in the coming months, pathways to communication. I'm not saying we'll be sitting around this time next year comparing varicose veins, but we should be able to lean on each other when fatherhood throws us curveballs. Fair enough?

Dads Missing Their Kids

Okay, I'll admit it. When the kids go out the door to school, I miss them. It's hard when they're away, and you're missing all those infintesimal and yet infinite moments when they learn something new. Maybe a lesson about themselves, or the way to treat others, or how mean (or nice) their colleagues in the business of being kids can be. A child's first step or first word can be recorded or photographed for posterity, and yet the journey they start with their first foray into mobility or communication never truly ends.

Dan Johnson is a buddy of mine and he posted a song on YouTube that got me thinking about the ties that bind a father to a child. Check it out at www.youtube.com/danjohnson411/

I didn't tear up when I watched the video and heard the song. At least, that's what my Dad might tell me. Frankly, sometimes I think as fathers we're too worried about projecting a movie-screen image to our kids of what a father should be. Shouldn't we be more concerned about showing our kids how human a father can be? Everytime I lose my temper with my sons, or say something to them that I instantly regret, I feel like the world's worst Dad. Then I model contrition, my kids model forgiveness, and we all get a bit better at this thing called love.

I'm eyeballs-deep in writing about the father experience and it'd be great to hear your hopes, challenges, successes and "learning moments" as a Dad. Please share them via the comments section on this Blog, and perhaps we can all learn from each other.

Traveling with kids

My two sons (hey, one more son and we'll have a TV show title!) run the show when we're on vacation. Sugar cereals, late nights, running amok with cousins and grandparents, it's all part of the bargain. They become the center of attention, and that's a position they clearly enjoy. Terry and I wait patiently to the side, enjoying family and unusual sights, biding our time until it's time to make the trek back home.

When every trip to exotic locales (this time it was Albuquerque) comes to an end, we ask each other what we learned from the sojourn. For me this time around, it was a greater appreciation for my wife's family. I have four cousins; Terry has cousins numbering into the hundreds. Keeping names and faces straight, even after a decade and a half, is still a challenge for me. The generation who threaded their way through my legs at the first gatherings are now grown and shepherding children of their own.

Cousins Tony and Lisa have grandkids, and a son who is bound for Afghanistan. Aunt Louie still makes tamales, teetering on a footstool to reach a pot on the stove. A stove in the kitchen of the house her father built more than 80 years ago. Albert kids me about going camping; he's the outdoor Dad I dream of being. My father-in-law takes it all in from a corner chair, the eldest of a dozen children, with his 80th year right around the corner. Big Paul speaks a mix of clipped Spanish, and English for me. Little Paul will be retiring in a few months and owns 8 (9?) cars.

We are all richer for the culture and experience of the ones we love. In a small family, perhaps one man is a Dad. In a vast family, all the men are fathers to all the children. Uncles intertwine with Dads, grandfathers with cousins and nephews. The tie that binds one generation to the next is love, and the desire to pass down lessons and values learned.