Happy Orthodox Mother's Day

I wonder if someone will will
play peek-a-boo with me?

The inability of Christians to decide between the Julian and Gregorian calendars means many Orthodox children are unwrapping their Christmas presents in January. While the week late observation of holidays is just one of the many discrepancies in Orthodox practices, it provides a perfect rationalization in our family to celebrate important events on a later date. For example, when I happened to be traveling for work on my birthday last year, we just celebrated my Orthodox birthday a week later.

Last Sunday, I had to invoke our Orthodox observation policy since we were returning home from an out-of-town wedding on Mother's Day. Since spending all day in airports and on airplanes seemed like more of a punishment than celebration, we officially postponed it until today.

Real Mother's Day

God knows how a popsicle sculpture (my 5 year-old's present), a complete line of macaroni jewelry (my 3 year-old's present) and a life-size tracing of my 2-year old (his present) would have held up in a suitcase, but that morning I regretted not bringing the presents. We exchanged cards, but it all felt a little unofficial without homemade presents (also because it was happening in a hotel room). Thankfully, the rush to pack the suitcases and wrangle all the kids to the airport overshadowed everything else.

In addition to early boarding with children, another compelling
reason to fly Southwest Airlines...free drinks on Mother's Day.

Once we boarded the plane, the kids all agreed that mommy should get the window seat as a "Mother's Day" present. This was actually quite a selfless gesture, as positioning next to the window seat ignited a 2-hour battle on the flight down. Not that we were keeping score, but the 3-year old won...she just wanted it more.

Finally, once the novelty of climbing over the top of seat wore off (about an hour), everyone gave mommy the greatest gift of all...they fell asleep...giving Mommy something she hadn't had in a very long time...4 hours to herself. To top it off, Southwest Airlines gave her the second greatest gift of all...a complimentary Bloody Mary to enjoy in solace.

Orthodox Mother's Day

With 3 kids, getting an hour to yourself (even
if it is to cut the lawn) is the greatest gift of all.

Our family officially celebrated Mother's Day this morning and all the homemade gifts from the children were cherished dearly. We made our traditional trip to the nursery and bought flowers for the yard. Despite it being 50 degrees in May, we planted them all.

I surprised Margret with something that she has been asking for for years...a new lawnmower. While that may seem a little unsentimental, it's what she really wanted. Then, as a family, we gave her one last present...an hour to cut the lawn...or an hour to herself...depending how you look at it.

Happy Orthodox Mother's Day!

Catholics Come Home: A Cautionary Tale

Forgive me for I know not what I do.
And can I have a pony?

The Catholic Church has spent considerable marketing effort to lure lapsed Catholics back to church with its "Catholics Come Home" campaign. In it, they make an appeal to those who have been away to come back and rediscover how the Church can enrich their lives. Our family goes to church enough not to feel that this is message is directed at us per se, but we do have the occasional "attendance dry spells" that seem to happen when life gets in the way of securing our position in the after-life.

Giving Up Not Going To Church

In additional to the traditional "giving up soda" offering during the Lenten season, we decided to give up not going to mass. It started out good and we made it to Ash Wednesday. Ash Wednesday is a great way to break back into the Church going mode because its not a full mass. Plus the "dirt" on everyone's heads is enough to distract the kids enough to keep them in the pews for 45 minutes.

Depending on how Catholic you are, sometimes you can convince yourself that going to Ash Wednesday mass counts as Church for the week (since technically it is not a holy day of obligation). We are just unholy enough to subscribe to this justification so we missed the next Sunday. The following Sunday we had an out of town birthday party, which according to my Catholic school graduate wife, somehow trumps Church. I think it has something to do with serving your fellow man, but either way, no one complained.

If You're Coming Home, Check the Liturgical Calendar

The combined guilt of years of Catholic school had finally burdened us enough that we resolved to go to mass this past Sunday. Per usual, we arrived about 5 minutes late to mass. Normally, this is actually a good thing, as we can sneak in the back and then are properly positioned to leave right after communion. This is an expert Catholic move that can only be perfected by years of practice. The trick is to wear your coat to communion. You can't go back in the pew to get it...you'll get trapped. That's a classic mistake.

As we walked into Church the unusually large crowd gave me pause. When I looked down, I realized that we were in big trouble. It was Palm Sunday!

Growing up, Palm Sunday was the one chance a year to practice your basket weaving skills without ridicule. Since the mass usually runs twice as long due to the reading of the Passion, you have more than enough time to convert a handful of palms into all kinds of handy things. I usually make bracelets. My kids lack the dexterity (and patience) for the fine are of weaving, so when they see the palms they see one thing....church swords.

At Least We Got Great Seats

It was a packed house, which usually means standing in the back, however, my 5-year old was eager to point out the empty front row seats. Before I could say a word, she took off down the aisle, interrupting the homily, as we apologized and crept behind her.

Her enthusiasm in the front row was not based on religious fervor, it was driven by her disturbing new interest in pantomime. She likes to mirror all the movements the priest makes during mass. At certain times it can be highly inappropriate, but most of the time it's very cute.

The Danger of Being Reverent

Trying to atone for our tardiness, the disruption, and my daughter's pantomime of the Passion of the Christ, I bowed my head to offer up heartfelt prayers. After completing a few Hail Mary's and several pleas for more patience as a father, I had a good feeling that someone was watching over me.

While bowing your head is a universal sign of reverence, it leaves your parenting quite compromised. When I looked up, I realized that the feeling that someone was watching over me was not as spiritual as I has hoped. Before me stook the priest pointing his finger at floor. Slightly confused I looked at my daughter, who, not breaking character, was also pointing in the same direction. Following their fingers, I finally saw what he was getting at. My 2-year-old son drawing on the floor. He had spent the length of my prayer channeling an inverse Michelangelo.

I would later learn my wife had put the Sharpie in her purse to keep it away from him, but she had take our middle-child to the bathroom, leaving the Sharpie unguarded. So I spent the next 30 minutes trying to nonchalantly remove permanent maker from a marble floor using nothing but baby wipes and my foot.

Forgive Thy Neighbor

Thankfully, part of being Catholic is that strong sense of forgiveness that you are compelled to show your neighbors. The priest was very gracious about the incident and assured me that both he and God would forgive me. Although, he said he could not speak for our church's historical curator.

So, as many lapsed Catholics are sneaking into Church for their bi-annual (Christmas and Easter) obligations, I offer a few warnings on the dangers of being too late, sitting too close, and being too reverent. And for God's sake, never leave the house with a Sharpie!

Happy Easter.

A Cold Place in Hell

For all you lapsed Catholics, fear not, for I have discovered that there is, indeed, a cold place in Hell. While you may spend your days slaving away amidst a pool of fire and brimstone, if you go all the way to the back of Hell (near the bathrooms), you'll find salvation. For it here that you will find rows and rows of refrigerators.

Saturday Mornings

There are many ways to be awaken on a Saturday morning. My least favorite is a swift kick in the balls. My favorites are my son babbling to his stuffed bear or the soft clanging of dishes, as my daughters try quietly to fix themselves cereal.

Last Saturday, I heard the girls get out of bed and sneak down stairs. I heard the chair dragging across the kitchen floor towards the cabinet with the cereal. I smiled as the door to the refridgerator open...then I heard "DAD! The frige is all wet!".
Purchasing a refridgerator is one of those things you just can't plan for in life. It ranks right up there with a water heater. When it breaks, you stop everything and go shopping. Unlike other major purchases, you don't have time to research and make lists. You have hundreds of dollars of food spoiling, you have a pool of water on your floor and you have 3 kids whose hearts were set on Lucky Charms and ended up with toast. This is why I am convinced that there is special place in hell, reserved for the most wicked of us, where you are forced to refrigerator shop with children under 5.

Refrigerator Shopping for Dummies

If you've never had to go refridgerator shopping (and I never had), you'll be surprised to find that you can spend anywhere in between a couple hundred dollars and a Toyota. At the cheaper end, they are white and black and barely hold enough food for a bachelor. At the expensive end, they are sleek stainless steel and could double as a bomb shelter.

We tried to convince ourselves that we needed a behemoth Sub-Zero fridge. After all it won't stain, we would only have to grocery shop once a month and we could rent it out as a small apartment to our kids after they graduate from high school (because there won't be any money left for college).

Beside the dizzying array of options (including the optional rust proofing), the large appliance sections is designed like a gigantic maze. Rows and rows of appliances with small passages connecting them. It is as it was built for nothing more than playing hide-and-go-seek. For lack of a better word, it is a playground.

Shopping With an iPhone

The good thing about shopping with an iPhone is that you can do quick product comparisons, maybe read a quick review and make yourself more comfortable with your purchase. The bad thing is that you have to look at the screen, meaning you take your eyes off your kids for just a second...

There's a lot of things that go through your mind while you're running up and down the ailses at an applicance store frantically opening fridge doors and front-loading washers looking for one of your kids. Of course, I should have realized that a 18-month old can't open a fridge door, but I was focused on imagining the worse. I also should have noticed the Electronics section immediately adjacent to the appliances. This is where I found Oscar, entranced in front of a wall of flat-screen televisions watching a DirectTV demo.

All of My Fears, Realized

The trauma of Oscar running off...the awful morning...the Lucky Charms...the colors...the depth...the width...the height...the energy profile...all but me in a very weak frame of mind.

I have spend the last 5 years developing a compelling "Dad" persona for my kids. I'm a fun loving dad who isn't afraid to play in the mud, but still is tough and makes your finish all your milk at every meal. My dad persona strikes a good balance between today's 2010 modern dad and 1950's dad. Thankfully, I leave out the dead-beat dad of the 1980-90's.

Well, it doesn't matter anymore, for I have been exposed. It didn't take long for me to loose all my dad credibility as all of my insecurities and uncertainness manifested in under 3 hours. And then, in a moment of utter weakness, for the children to see their dad succumb to pressure of buying an extended warranty. Well, I can barely look myself in the mirror.

The Best thing

Despite everything, we bought a new refrigerator that day. I say that like we really had a choice. Now as I enjoy ice cold beverages, crisp lettuce, and an overall good feeling that the meat I'm serving my children isn't ridden with E. coli and salmonella, I focus on the best thing about our new refrigerator.

It came packed in a spaceship.

Unrealistic Expectations in Young Women (or The Threat of 'Ace of Cakes')

There seems to be no end to the unrealistic expectation that the modern media creates for young women. While I initially thought it only applied to popularity, fashion, and dating and would manifest itself harmlessly in eating disorders, premarital sex, and low self-esteem, its reach is much broader and deleterious.

This weekend we celebrated Ava's fifth birthday and I, as I have done for each of her birthday's before, vowed to make her cake...from scratch...with love...and frosting. I have taken a considerable amount of pride in my cakes, from her first birthday duck cake to last year's (poorly received) princess cake. I felt that each cake, despite the questionable taste, was a reflection of my love for my daughter.

Of course, those were simpler times. When an inverted mixing bowl, layered in frosting, was believable as a formal ball gown. Those were times before....the Ace of Cakes.

As a family, we all enjoy the Ace of Cakes, however I did not realize the damage they were doing to my children's perception of what a cake was.  They have completely distorted their expectations on what daddy should be setting in front of them on their birthday.  And that leads to...crying (for me and them).

When Ava's finally announced (in early May) that she wanted a Scooby-Doo party, I have to admit that I immediately thought about the cake. Scooby-Doo provides a lot of options for a cake: the gang, the mystery machine, ghosts, old abandoned amusement parks.  Actually, I would be interested in seeing how the Ace of Cakes would recreate an abandoned amusement park complete with a disgruntled employee.

In the four months I had to plan, I finally decided that an extra large Scooby Snack would be the best.  "The best" of course being the hardest to screw up. It would be impossible to compete with the cakes Ava fawned over on TV, so I decided to keep it simple.

I am happy to report that, despite all of my worries, the Scooby Snack was a hit.  Of course, before I had a chance to enjoy the moment and bask in Ava's excited smile, my dad chimed in "Why did you make a giant dog turd cake?".

"Because last year's princess cake made her cry.", I replied.

Happy 5th birthday Ava!

Tantrums, Sneezies and Sharing

When I dropped off my 2-year old daughter today at daycare she was really sad. This is pretty common after a long weekend with Mommy and Daddy (and several birthday parties with endless cupcakes). I had to run to a meeting, but I told her teacher to call me and let me know how she was doing later that morning.

When I got back to my desk, I had a voicemail message from her teacher. The message relayed the following,

"Mae was really sad when you left, but I let her play Sneezies on my iPhone and she perked right up."

Two hours later, I received a follow up call:

"Can you stop by at lunch? Mae hid my iPhone and won't tell me where it is."

I was able to find the iPhone in her cubby tucked in away with her blanket and doll. I told her that it wasn't nice to take thing and not give them back. Her response, "I was just sharing...like you always say to do." Apparently, her doll wanted to play too.

Touché Mae Mae. Touché.

On Kindergarten and Uncommissioned Frescos

Today was the first day of Kindergarten in our school district.  Despite every effort, we were not able to send Ava to school this morning.  Ava's birthday falls 3 weeks past the cutoff date and our school district is unsympathetic to any variance.

We tried everything, short of Photoshopping her birth certificate, to get her into school.  We tried private, Catholic, new-age, any accredited school program in our area, but they all subscribe to the state recommended cutoff.  One of the school hinted that this was a condition of accepting state funds, so its easy to see why no one was willing to budge.

For awhile, we were devastated that she would have to go back to daycare for another year, when she was clearly ready for school.  She was the youngest in her class, but she was on par with everyone in her class.  Tonight, she read Margret "Green Eggs and Ham" cover-to-cover for her bedtime story.  I would say that should have qualified her for Kindergarten.

But, thats not all she did tonight.  While we were putting Mae and Oscar to bed, Ava showed off her artistic ability by creating a fresco on the den wall.  It was actually quite complex, three hearts representing the children, clouds, a rainbow and even the requisite angel.  These are, in fact, many of the elements of early Renaissance frescos.  The difference, those grace the ceilings of church cathedrals, this is on our den wall.

I was surprised that Margret and I both had the same reaction to it.  We both loved it and could have cared less that someday, we will have to repaint it.  Only time will tell if we are in the midst of an inspired artist, or just a rambunctious, defiant little girl who wanted to draw on the wall.

Maybe she is ready for Kindergaten or maybe she isn't, but either way, we are both glad to have our little girl for one more year.

Scream, Kick, Fall, Smack, Bleed...Good Morning

This morning, I was awoken by a swift kick to the balls. Oscar was lying perpendicular to Margret and I, with his head gently resting on her stomach and his feet dangerously resting on mine. His sweet, innocent 1-year old dreams must have taken a turn for worse because he screamed and then dropped his chunky little size 5s like a hammer.

As I was curled up on the floor (I fell out of bed after the kick), I wondered if the split second I awoke from the scream actually made the kick better or worse. Just one of those thoughts you have while spitting up blood on your beige carpet. Did I mention that my face landed on metal toy truck lying on the floor?

Throughout my life, I have taken a few shots to the groin during various sporting related activities. I've even walked into a table here and there. However, in all of those cases, I always saw it coming, and at least made a feeble attempt to slightly block a direct blow. Nothing, not even a hard ground ball, even begins to compare to a direct, on-target blow from a toddlers heel.

So to recap: sleep, scream, kick, fall, smash, bleed, "Good Morning Daddy". Another fond memory of fatherhood that I will never forget.

Take Me Out To The Ballgame...And Now I Want To Go Home

We have developed a new family tradition of the "turn the wrong way day". Everyday I take the kids to daycare at my work, while Margret heads off in the opposite direction to her job. Occasionally, through a myriad of "accidental" circumstances, Margret ends up in the car with us (e.g. Mommy's car doesn't work, let's get donuts before Mommy leaves for work, etc.). Then we go somewhere fun like the beach or the zoo. It's a fun way to break up the monotony of our daily routine and has proved to be an exciting surprise for the kids.

This Friday, we planned the ultimate Chicago "turn the wrong way day": Wrigley Field, Cubs vs. Cardinals. As life long Cubs fans, Margret and I were excited to baptise the girls into the self-loathing world of Cubs-fandom.

Everyone was really excited, but it only took about 3 pitches (2 of which went for Cardinal hits) for it to wear off. After we counted flags, watched the sea gulls dive for food, we had almost run out of things to do until Ava noticed a girl walking up and down another aisle selling cotton candy. Now there was something to do.

Seeing she was distracted, I asked her if she was going to watch the game. Her response:
"If I'm going to watch anything, I'm going to watch for the Cotton Candy girl."

As expected, the Cubs lost, thereby completing the Wrigley Field experience.

An Everything Day

Today our family managed to do just about every activity, both good and bad, that you experience as a parent.  We had a crack of dawn wake-up from Oscar, cooked 2 breakfasts, set up a tent in the family room, went to church, planted our garden, painted the clubhouse, did a family polar bear club, bbq at the neighbors, drank a bottle of wine, told 2 stories (with shadow puppets), cleaned the house and even had a middle of the night accident (the brown kind).  Technically, the accident happened early Monday morning, but we'll just round it down to Sunday for fun's sake.

Even for our ever increasingly unmanageable schedule, that was a busy day.  Wait...polar bear club?  Yes, polar bear club.

In an effort to offer everything our city had its 1st annual Pre-season Plunge at the Beach.  The Beach is an old quarry that was converted to a beach (sand and all).  It's deep and cold.  As parents, we've been looking to start some new family traditions and this seemed to be a good (and weird) place to start.  So, we packed everyone into the car and headed to beach.

Not surprisingly, the cold water didn't phase the kids...any kids really.  Once they initial shock wore off, people were splashing in the water and playing in the sand just like any normal summer day.  The only give away was the blue lips.

I've Never at The Jersey Shore

I "accidentally" watched the Jersey Shore marathon while cleaning for a SuperBowl party.  I've never:

• Been happier to not be single and dating
• Been more scared for when my daughters are teenagers
• Felt the need to do some sit-ups

I guess that's why the show is so popular, it evokes such a wide range of emotions.

The iPhone That Saved Christmas

Like many dads on Christmas Eve, I found myself out on an important, last minute, errand with the kids to give mommy time to wrap presents.  All was fine until we needed an emergency potty break on the ride home.  I pulled off and ran into the first restaurant we saw.  We made it to the potty just-in-time to avoid any accidents.

After we washed hands and put jackets, hats, gloves and boots back on (yes, my daughter can't go potty with her shoes on), I grabbed the door handle and SNAP.  The handle snapped off in my hand, locking us in.  I banged on the door for several minutes, but no one heard us.  Christmas was coming fast and the girls were not happy.

Finally, I reached for the "does everything, there's an App for that" technological wonder in my coat pocket: the iPhone.  Since I was in such a hurry, I didn't remember the name of the restaurant we in...not a problem.  I used Maps to get my location, then a local Google search to find the name and phone number of the restaurant.  I called the restaurant and told them I was trapped in the bathroom.  Within seconds someone can to rescue us.  Apparently, the restaurant was closing when we snuck in to use the bathroom, so there were only 2 people left doing the closing in the back room and hadn't heard us knocking.

Once again, the iPhone has proven itself as more than a great way to waste time, play a game or pick a baby name.  I'm just glad that I don't live in New York City, or I might have spent Christmas locked in bathroom.  At least, I would have been with family.

"'Love you' doesn’t mean munchkins; 'love you' means big donuts."

-Ava, disappointed after my morning surprise didn’t quite meet her expectations

Throwing Out the First Toy

With three kids, its inevitable that toys will be damaged or outgrown. However, a strict catholic upbringing has precluded me from being able to throw anything away. Just ask my parents, whose basement is packed with boxes and boxes of my stuff that I just couldn't bring myself to toss. After all, some of those notebooks from 3rd grade are only half-used. I might be able to use them again later.

Fearing a cluttered basement of my own someday, I took a positive step forward and threw out a drawing table that was on its last leg. Sure, it still kind-of worked, and yes, I could have just tucked it in the back of the closet and probably forgot about it, but I fought my conscious and tossed it away.

Now I have to go to confession.

Other People's Children

The holiday season wouldn't be complete without all the accompanying parties.  Right now, I can count 7 parties that we will (or should) be attending over the next 3 weeks: Mom work, Dad work, kids daycare, neighborhood gift exchange, and 3 ill-timed birthday's.  When you have so many events stacked back to back, you start to recognize some reoccurring phenomenon that can't be explained simply by holiday cheer.

The series of events that led to this epiphany started at our daycare center holiday party.  We arrived late (as usual) and were seated near the back, but within plain sight of the desert table.  I guess I have to be thankful that my daughter's shoe, which had miraculously gone missing, ended up being found in the pots and pans drawer or I might have never witnessed what transpired.

The desert table was adorned with a delicious mix of cookies, cakes, pies and a modest collection of fruit.  As the night progressed and the children began to run around, I noticed one mother, who was notorious for not allowing her children to eat sugar, freely handing out cookies to any kid who happened to be within am arms reach.  At first, it didn't seem that out of place, that was until her child approached and asked for  a cookie; she handed him a plate of fruit.

The Next Best Thing

I know that you're not supposed to give into all of your kids requests, but when they're sick its hard to say no.  Mae Mae has a fever and stayed home from school for the past couple of days.  Today she really wanted to go to school, but I was a little hesitant to send her.  Once she calmed down from her mini-tantrum, I was able to figure out that she missed "riding in the car with daddy".  So, we did the next best thing.

Oh, how I love the colors of Fall. The reds, pinks, purples, yellow and oranges...the leaves are beautiful too.

Proof: They Are Listening

(Dad hits knee on table)
Dad: Shit!
Mom: Don't say that. The girls are listening.
Dad: They don't listen to me anyway...girls, go potty.
(Ava and Mae immediately stop coloring and go the bathroom)
Mom: I told you so.
(dumbfounded)
Dad: That never happens.
(later, from the bathroom)
Ava: I'm done taking a shit!

How To: Make a Princess Cake (and Your Daughter Cry)

Inspired by reality televisions new offerings of Cake Boss and Ace of Cakes, I decided to undertake this years cake duties for Ava's birthday. Since we are still enamored with the Disney Princess', I decided a Belle cake would be perfect. A little internet surfing revealed a simple trick: make the cake in a Pampered Chef mixing bowl, flip it over and stick in a doll. This seemed way easier than the duck cake I made for a previous birthday. This also helped justify the ridiculously priced mixing bowl that my wife got guilted in to buying at a Pampered Chef party.

I used 2 boxed cake mixes to fill the bowl and had a little left over for a pedestal. A little mixing, a little Big Ten football and into the oven. While the Internet provided an abundance of decorating tips, it was rather light on cooking times. I was afraid that the center wouldn't cook, so I set the oven at 225 degrees (F) and set the timer for 75 minutes. I sat down on the couch to watch the rest of the game and after waking from a nap (whoops), I realized that 2 hours had passed. I ran to the kitchen and was surprised to find a perfect golden brown cake with center fully cooked.

Our particular Belle doll stood a few inches too tall to make the dress look proportional. Opting for a little structural frosting work as opposed to a amputation, I filled in height with some corner pieces sliced from the base. I ended up cutting around the entire base to match the dress to gaining a little height. Belle got a new Saran wrap dress before the plunge.

To finish it off, I went to town with some ready-mix frosting. I ended up using almost two full containers and applied it with a butter knife. The unsteadiness of my hand actually added some interesting details as I frosted the dress. Just pretend like you meant to do it.

Once I was done with cake (i.e. ran out of frosting), I was pretty please with how it turned out. Margret agreed and I was excited to finally show Ava. I can only describe the look on Ava's face as complete and total horror when she saw the cake. She looked me dead in the eye and said, "You did a very bad thing." She ran crying in her bedroom and slammed the door.

After Ava calmed down and would finally talk to me, she said told me that "you don't cook your friends in the oven". I have to admit, I didn't see that one coming, but it was true. I tried to explain it many different ways, but all I could was to apologize and give her a hug.

We didn't cut the Belle cake that day...in fact she never made it to the party. Together, Ava and I removed her, gave her a bath and put her dress back on. As a family, we all agreed to never discuss it again.

How To: Get Your 2 Year-Old to Try Chili

I am aware that this breaks a multitude of parenting "do's and dont's" but you can not argue with results. After the first enticing M&M bite, she ate the entire bowl of chili.

Proof: My Dad is Cooler Than Your Dad

Well, I guess this proves that you do not have to sell your Shelby Cobra once you have kids.  Really the only difficult thing is to find a car seat that matches.

Not pictured is my mini-van immediately to the left.