A Defining Moment

I don't even think I could believe my eyes as it was happening . . Avery scored her team's first goal in their game this afternoon, the first of what will surely be a long and illustrious career! I was so proud of her I thought my heart was going to explode out of my chest, so it was everything I could do to refrain from running out on the field and giving her a huge hug. As a Dad I can't remember many times when I've been more proud of one of my kids, but I knew that it was an even bigger moment for her and that she deserved to celebrate with her team.

Soccer's been the only team sport Ave's ever shown any interest in, so it's really meant a lot to me to be involved in coaching this season. Somehow I never stumbled upon any defining moments while taxiing her back and forth to dance lessons. I remember having some really conflicting feelings about Josh, her biological dad, having the opportunity to coach her team when she was 5. I've always been happy that she has a good relationship with him, but as the provider and the potty trainer it was hard to watch from the sidelines as he spent "play time" with her. That's not to say that I wanted to coach this year to quell any old feelings of jealousy . . I am way beyond that now. But now I have the best of both worlds, and it's really fulfilling. That goal this afternoon was really a defining moment for both of us, I think.

Some New Elements

Good Lord, 2 posts in the same day . . what's gotten into me? It's just too hot to do yardwork today, honestly. Anyway, I just wanted to 'splain a few new items for my dedicated readers (I think there's more than one now).

First, I've fixed the mistake on the recipe list, the Penne with Sausage, Artichokes, and Sundried Tomatoes recipe should download correctly now. I will try to add some new recipes this weekend, we've had a couple of good new dishes lately and there's one more on tap for tonight.

Second, you'll notice a new link for the "Moss Creek Bluebird Trail". While the link currently leads nowhere, I plan to put together resources for the residents of our neighborhood to use as a guide for helping a large community of Eastern Bluebirds establish a strong presence in our backyards. So keep checking on it periodically, if you're interested. Eastern Bluebirds rely almost exclusively on man-made nestboxes, and they pay their human landlords back with their beautiful colors and sweet songs.

Finally, I've added a link to Daveramsey.com. Dave Ramsey is a radio talk-show host and author who Mandi and I have turned to for guidance in our financial struggles. We have dug ourselves out of a pretty big hole with a not-so-big shovel, as Dave would say, and in the future I plan to add helpful "Personal Finance Primer" page to the website as an additional resource. Dads, if you're going to be the Chief Family Officer, being smart with money is essential! I'm not Dave Ramsey, but I can summarize, offer personal stories and advice, and help Dad's win with money. Ironically, Dave's show is not on the air in Charlotte, a fact due in large part (I'm sure) to the fact that the big banks run the city and they don't want anybody bad-mouthing their credit cards. I listen on XM Radio, and I get a podcast every day on iTunes which I usually listen to at the gym or while I'm mowing the lawn/weeds. I recommend Dave highly, not that he needs it.

So keep reading, I'll be adding more items all the time.

Colin Puts His Thumb On It . .

I heard a piece on ESPN Radio today that Stay-at-Home Dads everywhere would definitely appreciate. The host, a recently divorced guy who's still good friends with his ex-wife and an involved dad, was defending Reggie Bush. Bush, if you aren't plugged in to the NFL, is the Heisman Trophy winning utility back for the New Orleans Saints who was expected to be an all-time great. He had a good rookie year last season, the Saints made it deep into the playoffs, and Reggie Bush was a factor in much of their success. So what's to defend, you ask? Well, the Saints are terrible this season (at least so far), and the critics are knocking Reggie for not being able to do certain things they feel the team needs to succeed. Without going all John Clayton on you, he's not a pure Running Back.

Colin Cowherd, the host of the show, offered a perspective that relates very directly to Stay-at-Home Dads who struggle with the perception of their role in society. Statistically, Reggie Bush contributed over 25% of The Saints' total offensive production last season, which should be more than enough to keep the pundits at bay. But because Americans are uncomfortable with people and things that don't fit a specific mold, the knee-jerk reaction is to criticize. Reggie is versatile, more so than most NFL players, but he draws criticism the same way a Stay-at-Home Dad who cooks most of the family's meals and does all the laundry does. "You mean to tell me you don't work? At all?"

Sooner or later, the perception will have to catch up with the reality. The reality is, if you're a one-dimensional Dad today you're probably way behind. Life is becoming so much more about balance and teamwork than it is about bringing home the bacon. If you want a happy marriage with well adjusted kids in today's world, everybody has to contribute to all the different facets of the daily. Colin's perspective on this one was really spot-on, even though he never mentioned the Stay-at-Home Dad.

"Daddy, You Have Feathers?"

At lunch yesterday, Lily discovered my arm hair. "Ummm, no, not feathers Beanie" . . . that does make me wonder, however, if she really thinks that people are just a different kind of bird. For those of you who've never seen her do her "Eagle" walk, I'm sure this will seem straight out of left field, but it's obvious she sees it that way. About a month ago, she asked me "Daddy, you have a tail?" I won't elaborate on the details of that encounter (a scene from Shallow Hal comes to mind), but I can't wait to hear what comes next.

"I'm going to move into the basement . ."

That's what Avery just informed me were her plans should we keep our word to move Lily into her bedroom to make room for another child. "Let me know how that works out for you, considering we don't have a basement."

The conversation started as a yelling match, Avery attempting to keep her newest toy away from Lily . . one made of indestructible plastic and given to her by my mom, who's visiting for the weekend. Of course I allowed the argument to escalate to fits and tears, then promptly kicked the Lincoln Logs house I'd built against the wall (it had it coming). So with both of them wailing, I sent Avery to her room (she of course went upstairs to rat me out to my mom). Lily then says to me "I want to go to my room." "Fine, go, stay in there" I told her, as if it was my idea. Of course Mandi called me in the middle of the whole episode . . I didn't really hear anything she said, except of course that her breakfast had cost her $21. I had a Poptart for breakfast today.

So it looks like we have some work to do convincing Avery that we really did buy her bunk beds because we planned all along to move Lily in to her room when the nursery was ready for a new baby, not just so her stuffed animals would have a place to chill. What a harsh reality that must be for a 7 year old to deal with. Maybe I could just remodel the garage for her in lieu of a basement.

History Must Be Destined . . .

. . to repeat itself. One of the most vivid memories I have of my Dad is of our nightly bathtime, when my sisters and I would pile in the tub together and Dad would wash the hair and break up the fights. Occasionally, things would get cut short by another slip-and-fall and a busted up chin. Looking back, I sometimes wonder if Jaime fell on purpose to avoid the inevitable shampoo induced cry-fest that was otherwise the zenith of the night's excitement. The hubbub was so predictable you could set your Swatch watch by it. I think the girls would actually start crying when Dad's hand first made contact with the shampoo bottle, and it would continue long after he finished drying their hair with the towel. I wonder if they remember those bathtimes the same way?

Anyway, since the decision to stay home I give Lily most of her baths, except on the rare occasion that she asks for her Mommy to do it. Avery is self-sufficient when it comes to bathing now, so whatever antics Lily's engaging in now are not to show out, as I originally suspected. No, instead I'm convinced that it's a genetic code, buried deep in the Slovick family's "Y" chromosome, which more than likely dates back many generations. As Lily aged, it began to surface in towel-drying her hair, which is only objectionable to her if I'm the one assaulting her scalp with the terrycloth. Mommy gets absolutely no lip during or after a bath, just me. Not long after my best trick to turn the towel-time tears into laughter had lost its magic, she started crying when I would shampoo her hair. No change in technique, product, or the length of my fingernails . . just turned into a good time to be fussy. Whatever, keep it brief I told myself, this too shall pass. Ha! Let's see if I can get my head any deeper into the sand. Now she cries at the sight of the towel! But only if I'm the one wielding the towel. Mommy gets none of it. It is strictly Daughter vs. Daddy.

So that's how I came to the genetics explanation . . by way of rationalization. To the remaining Slovick males who have not yet been blessed with baby girls, I offer this as my suggestion to you. Put yourselves in position to avoid bathtime for this particular period of your daughter's life . . you won't change the genetic code, but you can spare yourself the misery.

Dealing with rejection . .

Back before I resigned from my job, our local newspaper did an open call for freelance columnists that would write about news and events in their neighborhoods. Entrants were to submit three sample columns, and they would make their selection based on the originality and content of the pieces. I had always felt like my voice was one that people would enjoy hearing, so I sent in my thoughts and awaited their response. A few weeks later it came, a refreshingly professional rejection. They were looking, essentially, for a neighborhood gossip, and that just wasn't my state of mind at the time. I wanted to be a voice for my restaurant, as well as for parents and kids in a community that's growing like my neighbor's weeds.

Well, last Sunday they ran the intro piece for the woman who they chose to write the column, and I was overcome with a bevy of emotions, not the least of which was rejection. Not only does she live in my neighborhood, but her "life's story" about how she begrudgingly left Long Island after all those years and followed the flock of transplants to the Carolinas made me want to just dig a hole and crawl in. I mean really . . I know I'm originally from the Coal Belt, but the path that led me to Charlotte is far more interesting than her "I just got sick of the traffic" yawner.

Anyway, since the decision to stay at home I've started to take a bit more interest in the neighborhood gossip, some of which is actually a lot juicier than I ever imagined it could be. I just heard, from a very reliable source I might add, that a resident-run internet forum had spawned some very feisty exchanges between the teachers at the new elementary school and some parents. How very interesting . . that would make a great blog entry, I thought to myself, but an even better newspaper column. What better way to discourage adults from acting like selfish brats than to call them out in the Sunday paper, right?

Apparently somebody doesn't think so, because in this morning's column, the controversy was nowhere to be found. If it were my column, I'd want the first one to get the whole development talking. After all, isn't that what sells papers? Instead, we got the sunshine-up-the-dress treatment. It's all going swimmingly, all the parents love the principal, my kid thinks the school is pretty, yada yada yada. I almost fell asleep in my shredded wheat. So I suppose I'll keep scanning the Sunday paper for her column, hoping on some level that eventually she'll dig a little deeper and expose some of the bugs in the bed. On another level though, you can bet I'll be hoping that her writing stays boring and they do another open call.