Ketchup Hair

I'm not sure about my daughter's eating habits. Is it because she seriously doesn't know how to keep her hair out of her food, or because she struggles to keep her food out of her hair?

Here's what I'm talking about: I give her something that has ketchup and ketchup will inevitably end up in her hair. If I give her a peanut butter sandwich - with very light peanut butter, mind you - that peanut butter will coat pigtails by the time she's done eating.

I would understand if she had a mustache. Who has a mustache and doesn't get food in their facial hair? Or a bear? I mean, I get that. I can relate to that.

But no. No facial hair. No mustache, no beard, no goatee, not even sideburns. Which, I guess is a good thing considering she's almost two years old and a girl. I mean, I know girls who have facial hair and life is cruel to them - as are fellow students in their school (guilty of being mean to those girls myself in my younger years... or last week).

I digress.

We've tried everything from putting her hair into a pony-tail, pig tails, pulling back her bangs, and everything else except shaving her head.

So the solution, at least for today, is to just not use ketchup.

Except, I gave her bananas and now they're in her bangs.

Sing-a-long With Evie

One of the interesting things I've noticed about my daughter is her love of television. Its not completely unhealthy or anything, its not like every time the t.v. is on she becomes a complete zombie. She simply becomes a husk of a person when the show is something of interest to her.

Case in point: Spongebob Squarepants.

Personally, I would rather she never watched this show. I recently read an article that said that it can actually cause kids to have attention deficit disorder (or A.D.D.), and as I have an incredibly short attention span myself, I don't wish that upon my kid, either.

But, as it happens, she's watched it. We let her watch it before I read the article. One day, after this creeping fear set in, we were letting her watch Nickelodeon and Spongebob came on before I had a chance to change the channel. The theme song was playing and I noticed Evelyn was singing along with the theme song.

Singing. With. The Song.

Except the lyrics go something like, "Who lives in a pineapple under the sea? SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS!!!"

Evie, on the other hand, singings, "Bob bob bob BOB BOB BOB bob!"

I don't know, I just thought it was a cute story to pass along to anyone who reads this.

Limitations

Sometimes, as a parent, you have to realize that there are just some things you can't do. My dad used to say, "I can fix anything but a broken heart." That was a very poetic lie. While a very gifted electrician, my dad couldn't even oil my baseball glove properly. He'd always take it to my grandpa - his dad - to get the job done right. I have to hand it to the old man, even if he won't admit it openly himself, he knew when something was beyond him.

Lately, I find myself wondering what the future holds for me. Not "me" as in "me and my family," but myself. The solo act, not the group. Plenty of opportunities are now spread out before me. I could drop probation and go back into the ministry, which is something I want to do very badly. I could stay in probation and stay at the same position I'm in, which would lead to insanity on my part because its such an undervalued job - even by my colleagues - that it often leads to my just wanting to stay home and hide under my covers in depression. If I switched to casework, sure I could have a normal nine to five and Monday through Friday schedule, but then our daycare bill skyrockets and I'd basically be giving up on my own personal dreams.

I'd be throwing in the towel on something I worked hard for. My credentials, my skills as a pastor and preacher, which I don't think are all that shabby - though one year in youth ministry has left me with enough doubts to fill a swimming pool.

Not the plastic kiddie pool you buy every summer at Wal-Mart, either. I'm talking Michael-Phelps-practices-here-pool.

But I want to go back.

I know that may be selfish. I'm certainly not going to make the same amount of money I make here in Indianapolis, we'd probably have to move pretty far, and there's a slight chance that things could turn out to be pretty rough for a while when my wife has to find a new job and start all over there.

Its a pretty scary concept, starting over. We've decided we're not too thrilled on our kids growing up in this city. Not that people we know have kids who have turned out horrible, its just that when you work in a job that constantly exposes you to the grimy under-belly of a city, you tend to want to get as far away from it as possible.

The fact is, wherever we go, if it is where God wants us, I have to believe He'll take care of us. Call it faith or call it religious overzealousness if you want, either way I have to believe it.

I believe that at some point in every man's life he is forced to walk the stairs in an imaginary castle he has built for himself inside his mind. The stairs lead to a balcony from which he is able to gaze out upon the kingdom he has built for himself. Either he stairs out in wonder and awe, or hangs his head to weep.

There will be no weeping when I'm done climbing the stairs. I have my limitations but I also have my faith. I have to cling to that at times as any shipwrecked sailor may grab at driftwood. This can't be it for me.

This can't be it for my family.

Its not that we're so incredibly unhappy here. When we recently listed the pros and cons of staying and leaving, we realized we were okay staying in Indianapolis.

Just okay.

I justify my desire to leave my current job by saying to myself, and to my wife, that it would probably be better for Evie and kids to be named later, that leaving this city would be what's best for our family. We're both from small towns and living in the city isn't something we are really, completely sold on. Though the convenience of having a McDonald's nearby anytime you get a little hungry is convenient, its also led to my recently mentioned fatness. I think I'm fair in saying it would be better for our kids, to be honest, and my wife agrees.

Its just difficult giving up what is comfortable; what is safe.

Lately, the thought of me being my own worst enemy has plagued me. I've spent the last few months telling myself that nobody can stop me but me. The problem is, I'm starting to wonder if my true limitation - the one thing holding me back - is nothing less than myself. My fear of change, of being uncomfortable for a while.

The fact is, simply, nobody limits you but you, and while I am worried about what happens to me, whatever decisions I make impacts my family. The minute I told the pastor "I do" and became part of a couple, I ceased being "me" and started being "we."

If I live my life by always following the comfortable road, my daughter will grow up having a coward for a father. I can't let that happen. I have to think about what's best for all of us and not just myself.

That's what it means to be a dad. Not always focusing on what's easy, and not always focusing on what you want for yourself, but what's best for your family.

Okay, I guess the rant is over.

Favorite Foods

Evelyn loves eating. I'm sure she gets that from me. Today I made her a homemade pizza roll-up. I don't know if that's what its official term would be, and I realize I'm not Chef Ramsey whippin' up anything original.

All I did was take some shredded mozzarella cheese, a few turkey pepperoni slices, and wrapped it all up in a wheat tortilla, then stuck it in a microwave for about 25 seconds, and re-wrapped it all so that nothing could fall out.

She loved it.

It got me to thinking of some of her other favorite foods. The roll-up today was inspired by the cheese roll-ups at Taco Bell, which she loves (as established by a previous blog). Happy meals are okay, but not the chicken nuggets so much as the fries. She likes a hamburger, but not the beef part.

When we were eating Chinese every Friday, the chicken nuggets there were her favorite, until I introduced her to the sugary donuts. Then it was game over, next restaurant, because she's not eating anything until she gets her little cake.

Subway, it appears, also has a favorite dish for my daughter, but its not whatever you buy her. She wants to eat my sandwich or my wife's. The chips and the salsa at On the Border are some of her favorite things in the world. Which surprises me because that stuff is hot.

I could go on and on, because as I said, she has a lot of favorite foods.

Human Hurricane

We recently changed Evelyn's crib into a toddler-sized bed. The devastation has been apocalyptic.

Every morning she wakes up and since we have a gate on her door so she won't fall down the stairs, my daughter decides to play in her room.

By play I mean destroy, kill, destroy.

A week ago, her room looked like the neatest, cleanest place in our home. After one day of her new bed and being allowed to roam freely within it, it looked like a small pack of wolves had run through. After three days, a herd of dinosaurs. After about a week of this, it looks like the valley of Megiddo will one day.

If you don't get that reference, take a class in eschatology.

Anyway, its been pretty bad.

Today, for instance, she figured out how to climb up the side of her dresser and successfully pulled her piggy bank down on top of her, along with several pictures that were neatly framed up on the top of this chest of drawers.

Of course, I was still preparing for work, but at the sound of this sonic boom I went rushing into the child's - dare we still call it a room at this point?

There she sat upon the floor, just browsing through the fallen debris, searching for whatever treasure she may have unearthed.

Someday soon, and believe me when I say its coming, she's going to learn the meaning of "clean your room."

Language Barrier

Sometimes I hate this. I'm not going to lie. My daughter has a hard time talking and gets frustrated when I have no clue what she's saying.

I give to you exhibit A: Lunch today.

After eating about eight chicken nuggets (Wal-Mart brand, and yeah, we're not only cheap we enjoy them) she brought me her bowl and grunted out a few short commands. I took this to mean she wanted something to drink because, in my absent-mindedness I had forgotten to give her a sippy-cup of milk like I normally do. Naturally, I poured some cold 1% into one of her cups.

You'd think I'd stabbed Elmo. She began to cry and push the cup away. This was frustrating me now, as much as it was her. I offered her juice. No dice. Offered her water and got a resounding "uh uh!" and more shrieks and weeps.

Finally, I realized she was still hungry, so I fixed her some fruit and animal crackers. She's now sitting on the couch happy as can be as if nothing just happened and she didn't just subject me to the torture of self-second-guessing and wondering if I'm about to do something that causes her demise.

I'm not sure when the speech therapy starts, but I hope its soon. I don't know what I'm doing wrong, because I try to work with her on words, enunciation, and just recognizing things, but its very trying to my patience when she doesn't seem interested at all.

Its not like she's a mute or anything. When I gave her the food she said, "Thank you," very clearly. I think she just struggles to express herself with what she's thinking. Whereas, "thank you" may just be an automated response she's learned to perform when she receives something.

I don't know. It just seems like there's a language barrier between me and my daughter and its frustrating.

Is this what having a teenager is like?

Sneaky Ninja Kid

So here I was, sitting here trying to decide which topic I wanted to write about, and something grabs my leg. Not in a scary way or anything close to that. I just felt a calm little hand gently pat my knee while another arm rested on my thigh.

My first thought was, "That dog is getting on my nerves." Jack, our very affection-hungry dog has a bad habit of coming up and slobbering all over whatever part of your body he can rest his head. Not only is it disgusting, its pretty annoying. Especially when you're wearing clean pants.

But in this case, no. It was my daughter. Literally, ten seconds before this occurred I noticed she was sitting peacefully on the couch watching Word World and munching on her peanut butter sandwich I made her for lunch. I turn around, log in and start to blog, and then the knee pat.

I never heard a thing.

She could have stabbed me in the kidney and I'd never had known who got me. She could have slipped some poison into my drink and nobody would have ever thought it possible. How did she climb off the couch so quietly? No grunt, no squee, nothing. Just silent death creeping up behind me. Had she hesitated by about two minutes, I no doubt would have heard her break wind and grunt as she destroyed another diaper.

Its like she picked her timing too perfectly.

There's something very creepy about this. Very creepy. Granted, my dad loves to hunt, my grandfather loved to hunt, and of course, as a teenager I spent some time in the woods slaying just about any kind of animal the great state of Illinois' hunting license permits you to kill. Perhaps stalking her prey is in her blood.

Or she's probably a small, deadly assassin just letting me know that she can end me at any time of her choosing.

Sneaky little ninja kid...

You'll Melt Your Eyes

I did it as a kid, too, but this is ridiculous.

Evelyn will stand arms length away from the t.v. screen and sometimes even reach out to touch it. Which annoys me because its a really nice television and I don't want sticky fingers all over the display while I'm trying to enjoy a football game or some Doctor Who.

"Evie step back or you'll melt your eyes!" I caught myself saying this morning. I don't know if that's true, but give me a break. It can't be good for her eyes, can it?

My mom used to tell me it would ruin my eyes, and I do have trouble focusing them sometimes. This leads to migraines, which lead to even worse blurred vision at times. Its frustrating to think that maybe my mom is grinning every time I go to the eye doctor and thinking, "I wish I was there so I could say 'I told you so.'" Not that she would, but it irritates me sometimes that she could be so smug and not even alive.

That was meant to be a little humorous, so if you're not laughing I ask that you forgive my morbid sense of humor.

Evie has started doing what I used to do. Scoot back and the second a parent's back is turned, inch forward. Except this kid doesn't know how to inch. She rushes in like a housewife at Wal-Mart on Black Friday.

Of course, the real complaint is that she's blocking my view. No, wait. Not really. The real complaint is that in about five years I'm going to have to shell out a few hundred dollars to buy her glasses, which she won't want to wear, so I'll have to spend more money on contacts.

Its frustrating.

Here's a message for my daughter in the future: So someday, if she reads this through Coke-bottle lenses, I just want to say "I told you so" and now you can pay for your own eye-care.

How ya like them apples?

Raising Evie

I don't know if you've ever seen the show "Raising Hope," but Jennifer and I got addicted to the first season thanks to Netflix. The show follows the exploits of a young single parent who ... you know, I can't make this sound good. He got a serial killer pregnant and now he's raising their baby. Despite that, the show is pretty funny and often has a good little moral to the story. And hey, Cloris Leachman is in it with the unattractive girl from the Goonies. You can't beat that, right?

One of my favorite stories on the show is where the main character, Jimmy, finds out that his dad would wear a disguise every Halloween in an attempt to scare the boy into running home and giving him a hug. "I’m sorry but when you turned thirteen you barely hugged me anymore and then that ... high five came along. I had to do whatever I could to feel your chest against mine." Jimmy of course felt betrayed, but by the end of the episode his daughter gives him a really tight hug and he understood.

Hugs from your kid are the best.

Evie was up sick last night. She kept crying and crying. For the first time since I don't know when, she clung to me until she fell asleep. I realized how much I love hugs from my kid.

Don't get me wrong, she's a sweetheart who will just walk up and put her arms around my leg to give me a hug, or if I'm angry at a football game while sitting in the floor she comes up and wraps her arms around my neck and mutters something that sounds a little like, "It'll be okay."

As a Jets fan, I expect to get those a lot.

But the fact is, as a parent, there are few rewards in life that are as wonderful as genuine affection from your child.

Burt Chance loved scaring his kid into giving him hugs, but the hugs that were given out of love are much better.

Top Ten - After almost 2 Years

I haven't made a list of things in some time on here, so I thought today I would have some fun and type up the top ten things I never thought I would say as a parent after my first two years. That's right, its been (almost) two years since Evie popped out.

Its crazy how time flies.

It also should be noted that these are in no particular rank or order, and most were said more to myself than to my daughter, but still...

The Top Ten Things I Never Thought I'd Say (as a parent, after two years of being a dad):

10. "We don't put things in the dog."

9. "Don't stare at people... oh, he's staring at us. [Whisper:] Stare back until he cries." [at a restaurant where another toddler was watching us eat]

8. "How did you manage to... never mind. Let me get the wet wipes."

7. "Don't eat the crayons. Don't feed them to the dog, either. Crayons are not food"

6. "Hey, sit down and watch Doctor Who like a normal person."

5. "When, exactly, did you start pooping?"

4. "You can sit on my lap but if you start farting nap time is gonna come early."

3. "Give me that. How did you get that? Okay... I don't want to know. I have to wash my hands now. Your hands, too."

2. "I don't know what you're saying but if I could interpret it I'm sure it'd be something about how much you love me, or how you're plotting something."

1. "You have to wear pants. People are going to start thinking you've spent too much time around grandpa."

That's all for today, folks!