Dad - The New "Satan"?

Eight-year old Chris called me "Satan" the other day. It's hard to interpret that for any audience, but my sense is that he believed at the moment that the Devil and me were pretty much interchangable. My "sin" as far as I can ascertain, is that I wouldn't let him (Chris, not the Devil) wwatch YouTube on the computer past 9pm.

Being a parent is like riding a rollercoaster. One minute you're the shining star of your child's life, the next minute you're Mussolini, only without the captive audience. My wife Terry has a good approach to the changing fortunes of parenting, never getting too high or too low. I wish I could adopt that stance for myself, but when Chris lashed out I took his words to bed with me and felt like a real failure as a father.

What saved me was remembering some of the hateful things that I said, or imagined I said, to my own father. The world of a child is centered on self, and that world revolves around their wants and needs. Not having computer time in 2010 is a lot like being called in off the playground while the sun is still out in 1971. The level of technology changes, but not the perspective of the child.

As I approach fifty, it's striking how much I value contact with my folks. Perhaps as we learn to cope with their imperfections, they teach us how to cope with our own. As parents, we're no angels, but we're certainly not satan either.

Are Your Training Wheels Still On?

With a wrench and a bit of elbow grease, our two boys have expanded their world exponentially. The training wheels came off a few weeks ago, and now they're barreling down our steep driveway at breakneck (not literally we hope) speed. I can recall that very same moment of freedom in my own life. Perhaps you can too.

Taking risk is a big part of life, whether you're careening down a slope on two wheels or breaking away from a comfortable job. A quote that inspires me when I'm considering adding more risk to my daily grind comes from the late Arthur Miller.

"One can't forever stand on the shore. At some point, filled with indecision, skepticism, reservation and doubt, you either jump in or concede that life is forever elsewhere."

Watching the smiles of new-found confidence on the faces of Nick and Chris reminds me that reward rarely comes without risk. We can wear helmets and kneepads, but the scrapes and bloody elbows are a part of the bargain. I know what I'll remember of this passage into mobility for my children, are their smiles of joy with the wind in their face. Their confidence inspires me to pursue reward in the face of risk in my own life.

Read This Before Your Next Car Trip With Kids!

I just spent (or survived) 10 hours in the car with my two sons. A greater test of parental love and tolerance, there may not be. Traveling from Jackson Hole, Wyoming to our home in Parker, Colorado brought us 537.8 miles closer. Three lessons I learned for long car rides in the future.

1. If you rely on your spouse to charge the portable DVD player and you know beforehand that he/she won't be joining you in the car, make sure you learn how to accomplish this task yourself.

2. Pack enough snacks so that you can cut down on your drive time. Let your kids choose the snacks, since they'll be the ones eating.

3. Stock the car with music that everyone can sing along to. Like it or not, my kids are into the Beatles (hooray!), Bon Jovi (eh) and AC/DC (sorry, I never "got" them)

My guys are 8 and 10 years old, and we played "Mad Libs" most of the way. It was a great way for them to expand their vocabulary and learn creative ways to insert gross bodily function sounds into conversations. And I finally learned the difference between an adverb and an adjective.

Mom's Day

I'll admit it, sometimes I take for granted all that my wife puts up with from three boys. The uneven hairlines, the temper tantrums and the dirty clothes left to molder on the bedroom floor. And then she has to put with our two sons as well. Mothers deserve more than a "day" in my opinion, and I'm not sure a month or season or entire year is enough to salute all they do for us.

Here are a few of the roles I salute mothers (including my own) for fulfilling, above and beyond the call of duty.

Traffic Cop: Policing disputes about baseball cap ownership and whose turn it is to go first.

Cabbie: Ferrying kids to and from baseball, swim lessons, soccer games, guitar/cello/drum/bass/recorder/digeridoo lessons and more.

Doctor: Patching wounded knees and feelings, always knowing when a neck rub and a kiss is needed most.

Mom: The most underappreciated and underpaid job in the world. Although those with experience in this area tell me that the fringe benefits beat any paycheck, any day.

Happy Mother's Day to all, including my favorite Mom, Joan. Remember, only 42 shopping days left until Father's Day!

Aloha Spirit Means Heart-ful Fathering

Our planned 6-day family vacation in paradise turned into a week and a half of emergency room visits and hospital stays. Hawaii never looked so lovely I'm sure, I just wish we'd seen more of it through a windshield and less of it from room 410 of the North Hawaii Community Hospital http://www.northhawaiicommunityhospital.org/

As I watched the nurses and doctors, the paramedics and even the staff of our hotel react to our health issues, I was struck by how much sincere caring everyone displayed. Both of our sons were sick with salmonella, and two stressed-out parents are not the easiest people in the world to deal with. The health professionals always had a smile, timely information and words of assurance when we needed them. Our hotel staff (the Hilton at Waikoloa) extended our room indefintly and slashed the room rate to one-third of what we'd booked at. Friends from United Airlines were proactive in re-booking our flights several times, and made sure we were seated right next to the lavatories (critical!) on the seven-hour trip home.

All this has me thinking about what I would refer to as "Aloha Fatherhood". As parents, we can choose to lead with our brain or our heart. If I had to choose between the two, I'd hope that my heart would provide the guidance and wisdom necessary to bring up children with good brains.

Leprechauns

Whoops. My wife is out of town and she usually facilitates the arrival of leprechauns at our house for St. Patty's Day. This time, the imps were not only late, but failed to measure up to our sons' expectations. They left green sparkly liquid in both the bathroom sink and toilet. No Lucky Charms cereal, no green milk, cupcakes or cookies.

When 8 year-old Christopher came down the stairs this morning, he plaintively wailed that this was absolutely "The Worst Saint Patricks Day Ever!" I came "this close" to revealing the leprechaun's true identity, but I held my tongue. In that split second, I realized that his ability to still believe in Santa, Leprechauns and the Easter Bunny is a character strength I truly admire.

What do you believe in that you can't prove?

Dads, Humanity and OJ

Watching the Olympics brings back memories of my own athletic dreams. In my early teens, like most boys I guess, being a "jock" was the height of cool. I didn't know then that football players wore shoulder pads. I spent one autumn walking around with my shoulders hunched up, trying to imitate my heros on the field. In my Buffalo Bills' #32 jersey, I tried to emulate my then-hero OJ Simpson.

Wow, how a few decades and an internationally televised ride in a Ford Bronco can change your perspective. My parents have an artful collage of family pictures in their hallway. Right there in the middle is yours truly, hair down to my shoulders in that jersey celebrating OJ. That may be the only photo celebrating his deeds (on the field) in the world.

I tend to agree with the retired basketball player Charles Barkley. He riled many parents a few years ago by declaring he wasn't out to be any child's hero. Worshipping anyone beyond your circle of family and friends can be fraught with danger. The idols on a poster are far too fallible and their transgressions get played out in the national media. Babe Ruth had his faults and demons, but his fans didn't have ESPN to update them on the hour.

As Dads, we showcase our humanity on a daily basis. Falling from grace in our children's eyes can happen quickly, but we also don't have to wait for the next news cycle to explain our faults to teach (and learn) from them.

Handling Fatherhood Stress!

I'd last about three days as a single parent. Okay, make that seven days. That's how long my wife was gone on her most recent trip, leaving me to fend for (and off) the boys on my own. For those of you who shoulder solo parenting full-time, I could not have more respect.

Parenting is about rising to the occasion. Resiliency as a parent means being prepared for as much as you can, and being flexible when the un-expected occurs. Here are the things I try to remember when fatherhood takes on added stress.

1. Re-think priorities. If the kids are clean, fed and happy, that's enough until you reach a place of relative calm.
2. Be kind to yourself. Whether your guilty pleasure is soaking in a warm bath or having a sitter take over for an afternoon, be selfish in the short term to be your best in the long term.
3. Give the kids more autonomy, not less. This sounds like the exact opposite of what you should do, but hear me out. My sons rise to the occasion, much like I hope I do. They're eight and nine years old. What a joy it is to hear their laughter and witness the creativity when I say "Guys, dinner is on your own this evening!" Yes, we eat a lot of peanut butter and jelly, and the kitchen counter is sticky for days. It's well worth the price for one evening where I'm not cogitating on how to prepare pasta in new and exciting ways.

A mentor told me once that parenting "isn't rocket science". That's true. It took the USA a dedicated decade to put men on the moon. We're still working on the art and science of parenting, and we will be far into the future. What you're doing as a Dad is far more difficult than any far-flung other-worldy endeavor.

Way to go Pop!

Saluting the Single Parent

My wife's been out of town for three days. The kids and I miss her very much for a wide variety of reasons. Her smile, her hugs, her warm words, her errands, her cleaning, her schedule-keeping. Get the picture? Without Terry here, the kids and I slip into "bare necessities" mode. As long as there is un-expired milk in the fridge and pizza at the door, I'm happy and so are the boys.

The good news is, I know my wife will return. At 6:19pm Friday evening to be exact, not that anyone is counting.

For the single parent, help often doesn't arrive at a scheduled time. Nor is the help "guaranteed" like when there are two parents in the picture. I've had friends throughout the years that raised kids on their own, and I can't imagine greater heros in our daily midst. Some people parent alone, meaning their spouse doesn't provide a whole lot of help. Others parent individually due to tragedy, love lost or because they choose to.

You probably know a single parent. The holidays are a great time to offer a helping hand to these heros. Even if it's just a few hours of childcare so they can have some time to themselves, the brief respite is a marvelous present. And you don't even have to wrap it!

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.

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.