quick clicks

dads today articles

dads today q&a

message boards

research baby names

prepare a birth plan

content channels

ip channel rss feeds

read birth stories

read parenting stories

recommended books

e-newsletters

safety recalls

ip diaries

ip store

mom of the month

dad of the month

editor's letter

letters to the editor

Michael's Diary Entries Diary Navigation: Choose A Diary Entry -------------------- Latest Entry: 8/28/00 -------------------- 8/21/00 8/14/00 8/7/00 8/1/00 7/24/00 7/17/00 7/10/00 7/3/00 6/26/00 6/19/00 6/12/00 6/5/00 5/29/00 5/22/00 5/14/00 -------------------- Michael's Introduction

May 29, 2000

Dear Readers,

Passing (And Wrestling With) Time:
Last week my son, Brandon, turned three. My God! Where did our little baby go? He’s a little boy now! Each birthday causes Lisa and me to reflect on our time together and life with our kids, with both of us usually catching a major case of sentimentalism, smiling and laughing and blubbering and getting all misty-eyed as we recall their milestones and our mishaps. These reminisces are quite enjoyable until we realize how much we don’t remember, and then we worry, for a moment or two, about how little we’ll remember when we’re (and they’re) even older.

This makes Lisa more committed to capturing all the important, and quite a few not so important, moments on video or in picture. I like the pictures, but prefer to enjoy the moment without interruption and without manipulation, and embrace the memory as best I can recall it, cherishing it nonetheless despite my faulty and limited storage facility.

Birthdays and other developmental milestones also engender various contradictory feelings about time and its passage: On one hand, I, like all parents, am pleased about the growth and progress my children are making on their inexorable path toward maturity, thrilled with each new word and thought, perception and skill, interest and ability. But, on the other hand, I feel a sense of loss, even sadness, that these stages are gone, that the relentless hand of time has pushed them forever out of my grasp, often sooner upon reflection than I was ready to let them, leaving me wanting more time with them as they are now, vowing to do more with the fleeting time we have now, and feeling the effects of time's passing slowly working on me.

The Long Whine and Forces of Nature:
Oh, terrible twos, why thou art come now? Don’t you know that thy time has passed and my son has turned three and my daughter isn’t yet of age for your terrible curse? Yes, friends, last week it appeared that I was getting a double whammy of the terrible twos: my son, the angel, finally became a whiny, pouty, tantrum-throwing demon. Actually, his case isn’t very bad -- it’s quite mild. But I thought I had pulled one over on Laws of Nature and nature’s Tales of Tradition: I was wrong. And to top it off, Allison appears to be starting hers early. NO!

Last Tuesday, one of our most reliably enjoyable outings turned into one hour of almost non-stop misery for my poor, defenseless eardrums. We went to the park by our house. It’s about a mile away, which makes for a good walk. About halfway there, Brandon started whining about nothing in particular and everything in general. He stopped when we got to the park but started again shortly after our arrival. He stopped when he went in the swing but started again when taken out.

Allison had already whined to come out of her swing, so he had to come out too, causing him to contribute again to growing problem of noise pollution. So, after all this whining, after all this lack of enjoyment, I decided it was time to go home. Guess what? They both whined about how they didn’t want to leave, of course, and they continued their complaint for almost a quarter of the way home. All of this occurred before 10:00 a.m. — Good Morning! I thought I was going to lose a lot of hair; but fortunately for my scalp, I did not pull too hard.

My Clever Wife:
Yes, I got my comeuppance from Lisa for vowing to take away her full-room walk-in closet. While Lisa agreed with me (finally) that giving the kids their own rooms was a good idea, she found a way to make it work to her advantage. About two days after I announced my decision, she told me that she had just learned that a round trip airline ticket to Minnesota (where her best friend lives) was only $49.00 and that this might be a good, inexpensive trip to take this summer while she’s off from teaching.

Before I could respond, she told me that her friend’s husband wouldn’t be able to take any time off and that since I probably wouldn’t want to tag along with her, her friend and the kids all day, I could stay home and make the former walk-in closet into an acceptable bedroom for one of the kids, spending my days painting and decorating while she and the kids are shopping and playing. "After all," she said, "We wouldn’t want the kids sleeping in the house with all the paint fumes and everything." Oh playing on our concern for safety, how underhanded, how devious!

Just to make sure I knew she was serious, she added, "And if you finish with the bedroom, you can start painting the living room, as you have been talking about doing for the past six months." Caught in my own words, again. How could I argue? I could only meekly protest the unfairness of it all.

But then I thought to myself: me, my house, and I, for three or four days, alone. I quickly ended my protest and said, "Honey, hurry up and make your reservations before the deal ends or they sell out." Now, I just have to make sure she doesn’t change her mind. More than being clever, she’s cost-conscious and pragmatic. Wish me luck. Wish me three-four days of life with a paintbrush and bucket and peace and quiet.

With misty eyes, two fistfuls of hair, and quiet on my mind,
Michael