Friday, June 6th, 2014
3 years, 6 months.
Back around six years ago when Mommy and I got married, I read a book by John Eldredge called Wild At Heart.
It presents the concept that everyone, at some point in the their life, endures a psychological wound.
That “wound” ultimately ends up defining some people; though for others, it makes them stronger.
I experienced mine a while back. It’s that moment in life where you realize life isn’t actually as innoncent or simple as you thought it was.
The older I get, the more I feel like Hans Solo and less like Luke Skywalker.
Or maybe it’s that I feel more like Darth Vader and less like Hans Solo.
As your dad, there’s a part of me that hopes you never have to experience your wound.
But if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be able to reach that level of understanding and maturity that is so crucial as you will eventually grow into true adulthood.
For now, though, I hope it’s something that’s far away. These are the years you get to be a kid.
You get to live in an innocent world where part of you still believes dinosaurs still exist and that Grover from Sesame Street might actually be your teacher next week at school, as I keep teasing you about.
As for me, I’ve lived long enough to have to fight off cynicism. I have to fight off being jaded, at times. I have to remind myself to be positive, despite how blessed our lives are.
The concept of working hard to earn a good living is not something you have to think about right now. You get to sleep all night and play all day.
Seriously, how awesome is your life right now?
Let’s keep it that way. But let’s face life together- with all its blessings, its curses, and everything somewhere in between.
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Tuesday, February 14th, 2012
For Valentine’s Day 1986, I received a card from my fellow preschooler friend, Alex Igou. It featured Darth Vader on the front, and on the back it said, “Be Mine… Or Else!”
It can be truly hilarious to read what kids’ store-bought Valentine’s cards actually say, even 26 years later; especially to members of the same gender.
Last week my son’s daycare center, KinderCare, gave me a list of the other 6 classmates in his toddler group. Turns out, they are all boys. No girls.
But being the crafty girl that she is, my wife made some Valentines out of some leftover felt and paired them with some animal crackers from Whole Foods.
So yeah, I couldn’t help but think, “My son is giving out bromantic Valentine’s Day cards.”
It’s funny to me, yet deep at the same time:
Since the 15th Century, Valentine’s Day has been associated with romantic love. Interestingly though, the holiday originally began as way to honor Christian martyrs named Saint Valentine and was established in 496 AD by Pope Gelasius I.
Today, it’s basically ironic to think of Valentine’s Day as anything other than a romantic celebration. But for the majority of its existence, the holiday was intended to honor men who died for the sake of their faith in Christ.
So now I wonder: Can Valentine’s Day be used to celebrate love for all people, in brotherly and sisterly ways? I say it should. Because simply, loving God means loving others.
As a follower of Christ, I am fascinated with the way Jesus answered this question:
36 “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?” 37 Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’[a] 38 This is the first and greatest commandment. 39 And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’[b] 40 All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” -Matthew 22:36-40
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I acknowledge the Bible is full of things I have a hard time understanding or accepting, yet I continue to believe despite my lack of competence. But seriously, the thought of truly loving my neighbors (everyone else beside me) as much as myself may be the most difficult part to grasp.
Is it even possible? And yet, Christ said that is the 2nd greatest commandment.
Man, that’s tough. It’s definitely easier said than done for a guy like me who has enough issues battling selfishness when it comes to my own flesh and blood: my beautiful son.
If I can’t get over myself enough to love my son like I should, how am I ever going to love those who annoy me as much as I love myself?
Being romantic for Valentine’s Day is the easy part. If only that’s all there was to it.
Tuesday, August 16th, 2011
Now that I’ve been a parent for nine months (as long as my wife was pregnant with our son), I have gained some confidence in finding some consistency with this whole thing. Through some quick Internet research, I taught myself how to get Jack to sleep through the night. Granted, he almost always puts up a fight when it’s bedtime, but even he recognizes the comfort of routine.
The last bit of fun that happens for him before his bedtime routine is that he gets a bath, along with plenty of attention from my wife and I. But once I walk into the bedroom with him for bedtime, it’s all business: I don’t look at him, smile at him, touch his skin, talk to him, or feed him. This may seem a bit harsh, but the key is to not engage him or emotionally comfort him in any way.
Comfort is only obtained by him falling asleep. Granted, I make sure he’s physically comfortable as I’m holding him and rocking him. The room, the blanket, the tone I set; it’s all exclusive to his daily bedtime routine and naps. It’s the only time he experiences that version of me.
Note: In the following pictures you will see me demonstrating with a Sleep Sheep, not my actual son. The flash on the camera while he’s trying to fall asleep would have been pretty counterproductive!
My son knows that when I sit him down on his bedroom floor and he watches me unfold his blanket on the extra twin bed, I am about to pick him up to wrap him in a “baby burrito.” Or maybe it’s more like a “baby corn husk” because he likes to have his arms hanging out.
The moment I put my hands under his arms to lift him, he stands up, then leans back Matrix style facing the blanket, hysterically crying as he turns towards the bed. I call it his “wailing wall” routine.
But sure enough, the moment I lay him down on that blanket and begin to wrap him up, he gets quiet and calms down. He lets me rock him for a minute with his head resting on my bicep (my left arm) and my right hand supporting his lower back; then he starts trying to sit up as to escape my embrace.
So I challenge him: I slightly tilt him backwards to make it harder to sit up. After he has completed three or four of what I call his “impossible sit-ups,” he’s ready to give in to my comforting strength. Usually by that point he is officially ready to fall asleep.
To hypnotize him into a “sleep trance,” I “shoosh” him to the rhythm of the first line of “This Old Man.” Then when his eyes close and he starts a slower breathing pattern, I switch to a “Darth Vader snoring” noise to match him. He is asleep at this point.
After a minute or so, when I can see he is in a decently deep sleep, I quickly set him down in his Graco Travel Lite crib and start rocking it back and forth like he’s in a boat at sea. A minute later, I sneak out of the room, still making my “Darth Vader snoring” white noise until I shut the door.
If he wakes up later during the night, I wait ten minutes before going in to help him back to sleep. The reason is that almost every time, he falls back asleep on his own. Usually he’s just transitioning into different sleep cycles when I hear him cry for a minute or so.
It’s weird, but it’s the routine that he and I share every evening at 7 o’clock. It used to take 90 minutes to get him to sleep and he would continue waking up every few hours to be fed again. Now, it only takes around 10 minutes or less and he usually sleeps through the night undisturbed until 6:20 AM the next morning. That’s the power and comfort of routine.
I have to put some perimeters on the sometimes overwhelming open-endedness of life. I can’t imagine things any other way.
This has been a sequel to “Getting My Infant to Sleep through the Night,” which itself was a sequel to “Is It Wrong to Let Your Baby Cry It Out?“.
Additionally, it is also a spin-off of “There’s a Certain Comfort in Routine.”
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