Great is Good

My daughters have been very lucky to attend a wonderful elementary school that places a high value on family engagement. This last week, the school scheduled a grandparents and special friends day.

Upon the school of 350 students, descended a very special group of people to engage.

Several studies indicate that a child needs between 4 to 6 adult role models to learn from as they grow into adulthood. And while I've met some amazing people in my life who had far more or less than that in their immediate circle during childhood, I tend to believe that their development has more to do with the strength and example of whatever number of good role models they have. A friend gave me a wonderful book titled "strong fathers strong daughters" by Dr. Meg Meeker when my girls were first born. It's a short read and I recommend it to anyone interested in learning more about the impact a strong role model has in the development of a young child. It opened my eyes, and helped me understand how large a responsibility I have as a father of daughters.

So my 88 year old grandfather, one of two great grandfathers my daughters are blessed with, accepted his invitation to attend grandparents day. Happily. With Enthusiasm. With an open mind and a big heart.

The school has several floors to tour, and stairs, enough stairs that I'm sure I don't want to navigate them when I'm 88. Parking was crowded, leaving us a long walk to and from the front door, far longer than my rear end will want to trek if I'm blessed to get close to 100 and have my health. There was a church service before the tour, of a faith my grandfather was not. It was very crowded, we grabbed the last three seats, and were separated by a pew. My grandfather sang, kneeled, and "peace be with you'd" everyone within his reach. My daughter watched a wonderful role model, and the children in the school were surrounded by several hundred influential people. Her great grandfather gently and confidently spoke with my daughter's teachers, gracefully discussing the impact of smart boards in classrooms which is an item very near to his heart. He touched on the importance of education, reading, and learned about a Guinea Pig named Twix, superstar of the first grade classroom he visited. He faithfully listened to my daughter read in the library, sat in on a well done 4K play, and traipsed around 4 floors up and down several stair wells. He woo'd the ladies in the front office with his silver hair and warm smile, got to discuss Allis Chalmers with another gentleman with a great history, and chatted Chicago where he once lived.

Grandchildren smiled through the day, proudly displaying their artwork, classrooms, and accomplishments. Grandparents, Special friends, and Great Grandparents smiled, nodded, and asked lots of questions.

Photos snapped, hands were held, and the day came to an end with many hugs.

Reflecting on what had occurred, I realized how fortunate my daughter is to get to experience a great grandfather, and for the two of us to share a great example of how to live one's life. As a father watching his daughter interact with the world around her, it is wonderful to see how satisfied she becomes when she feels supported and loved by a family member. It is even more wonderful to know that your daughter has many strong examples of good male figures in her life, in her family. And while it doesn't take the pressure off her father to live up to her expectations, it sure is good to have some experienced help.

Great is Good

Girls Should Be Raised Like Boys, Boys Should Be Raised Like Wolves

“Girls should be raised like boys, and boys should be raised like wolves”

A great friend of mine once made this statement while we were in Canada hunting and fishing about 10 years ago. He was raising two pre teen girls then, and had not yet had his son he is currently preparing for the world. I had no children, and because the statement was clear and concise, it stuck in my craw. At the time, I had very little frame of reference, other than recalling the 10 years I lived with my older step brother and step father growing up, where I learned many lessons on the laws of a pack, including a game called “hard in the arm” that I’m sure is on a list of banned activities in every child services inspection manual throughout the country. For those that never played, it involved winning a hand of poker, and then getting to choose which losing player you felt it wise to strike, hard in the arm, with one punch, knowing they may win the next hand of poker and get to strike you, hard in the arm. It was legal to run across the room and WWF a flying punch (Hulk and MachoMan were popular then), although un-advisable if you were the youngest player in the group and could not hit the hardest, knowing that the elder wolves may choose to do the same flying punch on their turn. The game was played until you could no longer lift your arm or mom got home, whichever occurred first. I doubt Hasbro will choose to market this idea, but if I’m ever stuck in a Turkish prison, I have a certain set of skills that may be useful.

So as I listened to my girls argue over balloons I brought home the other day, I wondered, were my girls actually boys, would I handle the mediation I was preparing to engage in differently? And should I? And what does “Raising them like boys” really mean. The exchange between daughter 1 and 2:

“Harper, please give me the balloon” slight plead from Deuce                    
“No, it’s mine” firm from Uno
“I neeeed to play with it” corners of mouth begin to curl, fan belt on Deuce's whine engine engages
“No” Uno, loud, stern, with the confidence of an extra foot of height, 3 bonus years, and 20 extra lbs
“But I want the balloonnnnnnn” Deuce with eyes teary, corners of mouth below chin now, whine at level 7
“Play with one of the other balloons” Uno recalling that Dad brought home 5 balloons, and the other 4 were 3’ away
“But I want THAT balloon” Deuce in triple octave, words barely discernible, ugly cry engaged

Wolves would have played "hard in the arm" and winner got the balloon if one of them didn’t get mad and pop it first. Were I raising wolves, I could have thrown a deck of cards between them, gave a quick demo, and grabbed a beer.

Their mom was home, altering my course of action, likely wondering why I hadn’t yet stopped the banshee wail.

If I was raising boys….

I channeled a little King Solomon and declared loudly for all in my domain to hear.

“If thou cannot share, the balloon shall be popped”

The war cry of she who wails subsided. My statement seemed appropriate, manly, and I certainly was  establishing clearly my expectation of sharing.

The room quieted for a brief second, allowing me to think I had won, and then my youngest, who moments ago had declared the only acceptable outcome was sole possession in something between William Wallace's inspirational speech in Braveheart and what One Direction sounds like in my head, spoke clearly, firmly in a calm collected voice, and without hesitation or fear:

“That’s silly dad, there are still 4 other balloons we can play with”

Royal flush by the 4 year old, I lose hard in the arm again.

Girls are smarter than wolves, enjoy having them in your pack.

Re-learn to Skip

One of the definitions I found in an online dictionary for "SKIPPING" is:

"to pass from one point, thing, subject, etc., to another, disregarding or omitting what intervenes"

I had to re-learn what skipping was, and needed my daughter to teach me. Similar to trigonometry, if you don't use it you lose it. By the definition above, I realized it had become far more difficult for me to disregard or omit what intervened between two points.

4 year old daughters can be exceptional at omitting what intervenes, and they sure can skip like a pro.

My wife and oldest daughter came down ill, and my youngest had an appointment to remove her stitches. I was tasked with handling the rescheduled appointment, and taking number 2 to this impending terror. Peppering began with numerous questions about the experience before we went, including, "will she be using a knife?" , "if no knife will she be using scissors?", "Will she poke me with the scissors she will be using?" , "Will I cry?" I calmly answered, and offered up my opinion that I knew the doctor would be very careful. There was uneasiness in her eyes. After some additional inquisition, we pulled in to the clinic, and I removed her from the car seat. Her hand clamped tighter than usual onto my hand, as a little bit of snow flurried down creating a damp parking lot as it melted into small puddles. Before beginning to walk, I heard a large sigh from deuce, and she looked up and smiled, and asked me to skip with her.

Brain went potato

"Honey there are lots of puddles and I don't think we should...."

A gigantic smile with teeth peered out from above the bandage over her chin. It was then I took a long look at the outfit she had chosen herself to wear for this event. Today's ensemble included multi-plasma colored tennis shoes and leggings that were very logical because it was cold. She wore a gymnastics leotard, fully bearing her guns. She was tugging on a light jacket to cover herself before we walked, and as the jacket swung around, I noticed the piece de resistance, a pink tutu that struck me as the duct tape of any 4 year old girl's attire. We were moving past items that intervened.

"Let's do this"

Our hands grasped tightly and the puddles didn't stand a chance. In the 150' from camry to revolving door of joyful happiness, we skipped hand in hand, floating up and down like a carousel horse. Cars paused for us, either hoping I would stop bouncing or out of sheer entertainment, I remain unsure nor did I care. The smile and enjoyment I watched as my daughter flew through the air, was refreshing.

Fear gone, the stitches flew out easily and were retained for show and tell in a plastic tinkle cup with a lid. This elicited a chuckle from Dr. Jill, who had made the judgement call and asked the pro skipper if we wanted to save the "bows" she was taking out for any reason. I pictured a K3 teacher's eyebrow elevating in a day or two, or perhaps a call from the principal about proper show and tell items.

All smiles, we exited the rotating egress with a few extra laps in the glass, and I don't have to tell you how we migrated back to the car. Hot chocolate was in order, as a reward for facing a new challenge, and for reminding me to move past obstacles

Re-learn to Skip, or teach your daughter if they have never learned or have forgotten it.

Platinum Medallion

Last year, I went from Silver to Platinum Medallion on a certain airline from the frequency of my work travel. The perks were nice, first class upgrades on many flights, early boarding, lounge in all the major hubs, friendly attendants in every city who always made sure to thank their frequent fliers. I got a platinum luggage tag for each of my bags, and 2 new plastic loyalty club cards that don't fit in my wallet filled with plastic loyalty cards. Bonus miles for every added mile I travel, getting me closer to the pinnacle of "Diamond" status. As I write this, I'm in the air over New Mexico, and snapped a photo of a mountain range I probably have passed a few times in the last 4 years.

The plane wifi isn't yet strong enough on most flights I have been on to face time, but I gave it a whirl to see if the airline had some super platinum wifi for me. The screen connected, and a small image of a smiling 4 year old appeared. She had a bandage on her chin covering the 5 stitches put in yesterday evening in the children's ER at 11pm. The screen immediately froze with her little tired smiling eyes and puckered lips ready to kiss the screen of her mothers phone.

I texted explaining the wifi was not sufficient, added a few of the wonderful new smiley face emoji's  with hearts and a face with a surgical mask to acknowledge the puking that my 7 year old daughter had been doing all morning according to my wife. I was told she was no longer genuflecting in the john, and then a pile of garbled words rattled from a stream of 7 year old consciousness. It reminded me of a Dave Barry short story, if Dave Barry was inebriated and utilizing an Iphone to communicate with me for some reason.

It read exactly:
"OK, I love you you are my kids and you seem like the best daddy ever and you are special and great all do the things I tell you you you do this choice the best you can at Christmas time it's good to see you every day I love you have a special night at there and I hope you do good on your sings I hope you"
"Hola"
"El Dolphine en agua"

Spanish class is working I see, kinda like the wifi on this plane...

Written iPhone English was definitely operating at Platinum status this evening, and wasn't quite Diamond yet.

As the next ping dinged, and a photo plopped into the message portal, I remembered why I travel for work, that I am lucky to have ended up with two lovely daughters, and why they have El Dolphine's corazon pretty well locked up.

Being a Daddy with Daughters is a really special thing to be.

Welcome to my blog, once a week I promise I'll share a story that I hope inspires at least 52 dad's a year to look at your daughter's bright eyes and enjoy the glow a little more.

bvd