For Goodness Sake

Let peace begin with me. 

Let this be the moment now. 

With every breath I take 

Let this be my solemn vow.

I didn't give up anything for Lent this year. Growing up Catholic, I've participated in this annual rite with equal parts enthusiasm and dread since I can remember. Recently, I gave up Facebook for two straight years. (I'm on it a lot.) Two years ago I gave up chocolate. Last year it was swearing. (Success was relative.) I would approach this as an annual test of my resilience and willpower. Like most people I know, I never had a problem sharing what I was sacrificing with anyone who didn't ask. And that's why I hesitated this year.

Read more ...

An Instrument of Peace

A statue sits in one of our flower gardens in the backyard. It's a small statue. Once the garden is in full bloom, you have to look for it to see it. But it's there. I know it's always there. I can see it no matter what. It's there for a reason.

During our backyard Halloween party last fall, I thought about picking it up and putting it in a safe place. But I didn't. I figured, who runs through a garden that's in the corner of the yard, away from all of the activities? And wouldn't you know it, a boy ran where he wasn't supposed to run. He broke the statue. I then proceeded to take that boy on a guilt trip that would have made my mom proud.

Read more ...

Working on Sunday

"Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven." - from the Our Father

We decided to skip church today. Again. It's not a trend, and it's not a reflection of any crisis of faith. It's just that sometimes skipping church is a necessary evil, if you will.

I used to affectionately but a little guiltily refer to these days as "Lazy Sunday." But not anymore.

When we skipped church one rainy Sunday a few months ago, that description sparked an interesting conversation between me and another daddy blogger on Twitter (you can follow me here: @DKLblog). He was doing the same thing (from the other side of the country, mind you). And he gave me a new perspective. 

He said he doesn't consider it to be lazy... that we're doing His work by giving love and attention to the things that are most important: family, home. This blogger's name is Joe, he lives outside Seattle and calls his blog Manhood v. Dadhood.  Click and check him out. He's worth following because he's deep and one of the nicest guys I've 'met' in the daddy blogosphere.

His description has allowed me to feel less guilty on Sundays we stay home. Our decision to join an Episcopal church is also a big factor in my lack of guilt. I was raised Catholic, so I know all about the guilt. My mother still gives me a guilt trip about joining an Episcopal church.

Sure, our immediate motivation, or lack thereof, for staying home is rooted in laziness. That particular day back in May, we felt we needed a day to decompress after going non-stop for a few weeks and having several busy weekends in a row. Some long overdue projects in the house needed tending to as well. And like I mentioned, it was raining.

I do believe that sometimes we can better serve God by bettering our home and making those in it happier and more comfortable. What a great way to look at things. That Sunday, I cleaned out and reorganized our garage. We played more games and read more books with the peanut than we had the other six days of the week combined.

She liked this one because it reminded her of nighttime

On another "Skip Sunday," we took her to an art museum to see an Andy Warhol exhibit. She and I played a game. Every time we entered a new room with a new group of artwork hanging on the walls, we had to run to our favorite and then say why we liked it (sounds very Pagan, I admit). She loved it, though.

I think God understands. I think we all worship Him and love Him and follow Him in different ways.

The Monday after that museum trip, we arrived home after daycare pickup. The peanut wanted to color. I love when she chooses anything besides television to occupy her while I cook. I set her up with paper and crayons at her little craft table, and started dinner. A few minutes later, she came into the kitchen holding a picture.

She hung her picture on the fridge.

"Do you know who it is, daddy?"

"Is it me?"

"No. Look. He has a beard."

I was totally stumped. Santa? My Uncle Norb? Ulysses S. Grant?

She finally enlightened me: "It's Jesus."

Holy crap.

We hadn't been to church in two weeks. And she sat down at her table and drew a picture of Jesus, cross and all, without prompting.

If that's not God's work... I don't know what is.

This isn't the first time the peanut has reminded me of our faith. Click here to read about it

Read more ...

Amazing Grace

"As parents, we guide by our unspoken example.  It is only when we're talking to them that our kids aren't listening." ~Robert Brault

We're not overly religious. We skip church more often than I'd like to admit. But we still go more often than we don't.

We feel it's important to instill a sense of faith in our daughter. One way we do it: every night before dinner we hold hands and say grace. My family did this when I was growing up. It's a tradition I hold very dear, and one that brings back fond memories.

Many nights, my daughter will ask if she can say it herself, alone. She's proud that she knows it by heart. That's a blessing if you ask me.

On Friday night she and I ate dinner without my wife, who had a work function to attend in the city. So I allowed us to eat in the living room and watch television during dinner.

Now usually she reminds us to turn off the television before dinner, or about the "no phones or blackberries at the table" rule. 

Her TV dinner (I kinda mailed it in) on Friday

Tonight, though, she reminded me that we forgot to say grace.

I love this.

So we sat there... I on the couch, she in her little chair pulled up to the ottoman that turns into a mini-coffee table... and we held hands and said grace.

And then.. the kicker: She now also does the sign of the cross after grace. Without being told. I never even actively taught her this. She simply does it because I do it. I was raised Catholic and went to Catholic school. She was baptized in a Catholic church, but we've joined an Episcopal church in our town because we feel more comfortable there. It isn't customary for Episcopalians to make the sign of the cross. During service, it's usually just the "recovering" Catholics like myself who do it.

Now she does it too... and makes it a point to show me.

One of many reminders that she's watching, paying attention. Learning. From me.

Read more ...

Confessions of a Chocoholic

"All you need is love. But a little chocolate now and then doesn't hurt." - Charles M. Schulz

On a beautiful spring evening when the temperatures reached the low 80's, my wife and I decided to treat the Peanut and go out for ice cream after dinner. Some of the best ice cream you will ever taste is made fresh and sold about two miles down the road from our house... at a place called Applegate Farm.



Applegate's: The best I've tasted

As we stood there surveying the myriad of flavors, my wife asked me, "What in the world are going to order?" This question carried more significance than normal. I had given up chocolate for Lent.

Chocolate. My weakness. My vice. My precious.



Two great tastes that taste great together

My favorite flavor - chocolate peanut butter - was clearly off limits. As was any other flavor containing any of the following words: mocha, chip, fudge, brownie, cookie, black, forest, or crunch. I ordered vanilla peanut butter, which is fine. But vanilla by definition is boring. I realized then, just a few days into Lent, this wasn't going to be easy.

The Peanut sat there on the curb, enjoying her ice cream. She is ultimately why I do these things. To set an example. To show her what I'm capable of... what she's capable of.

Each of the past two years I gave up Facebook for Lent. That may sound trivial but if you're on it as much as I am, it is quite difficult. But I never missed Facebook. It was simply a matter of changing a habit. As my daughter gets older and more aware, I want to share these traditions with her. There is no explaining Facebook to a four year-old. Nor should there be. Thus, my decision to sacrifice chocolate.

Reduced fat, but still tempting

For the first two weeks, I was jonesing. Yearning. The Devil Dogs made me do it... almost. They were literally calling me from the pantry. I heard them. Tempted by Devil Dogs.

One night I subconsciously went to the refrigerator because I had a random hankering for chocolate milk. Never do I drink chocolate milk. Ever. I am lactose intolerant for crying out loud. When I snapped into reality I realized that my body was telling me to feed it chocolate by any means necessary. I was in detox.

No chocolate for 40 days. Actually, it's 46 because Sundays don't technically count as part of Lent. When I was younger, I would give up candy knowing that all I had to do was make it to Sunday every week. That's not a sacrifice to me. At the risk of turning this into Bible study, I'm pretty sure Jesus didn't take Sundays off during his 40-day journey in the desert. I can endure the 6 extra days. Barely.

The Bible also tells us not to announce our charity "with trumpets" (Matthew 6:2), that God will see what we've done in secret and reward us. Yet here I am... blogging about it.... and telling anyone else who will listen to me.

So I go wall to wall... Ash Wednesday to Easter Sunday. No breaks. I have slipped up twice. Once, coincidentally, with chocolate milk. I sipped one of the Peanut's chocolate milk boxes to make sure it didn't spill after I had put the straw in (parenting habit). And once I grabbed a chocolate Munchkin from a box that someone had bought for the newsroom where I work. Also pure habit. Newsrooms are notorious for free food that's bad for you, making my sacrifice even more challenging.

delicious... but not chocolate chip

It really is amazing how chocolate permeates so many facets of my life. Chocolate chip pancakes are a regular Saturday morning treat my wife will make. During Lent? Banana pancakes. Cue the Jack Johnson. One weekend we went out to breakfast and without even thinking I nearly ordered French toast stuffed with Nutella. That is until my wife - my Jiminy Cricket who herself doesn't give up anything for Lent (convenient) - subtly reminded me that Nutella is chocolate. "Oh," I said disappointed, "I guess that's why it sounded so good to me."



My conscience is my guide

Even my daughter knows. She taunts me. She'll eat a chocolate chip cookie and say, "Daddy, you can't have a bite." But that's mostly why I did it. First, to challenge myself. But most important, I want her to see that you can give up something you love and still be happy. Ok, maybe not happy but you can still function. Ok, I'm barely functioning... but I'm alive. You can survive without something you love. There's the lesson. That's something.



I'll join you in 3 days, Augustus

Who am I kidding? When I went food shopping for the week on Monday afternoon, I bought two 1/2 gallons of ice cream... both predominantly chocolate flavors. Just last night my daughter asked for some for dessert. I told her no... we're saving them for a chocolate feast that would make Augustus Gloop blush.

These three days can't go by fast enough.

Read more ...

Dude, Where's My Car?

"You ever travel by bus before? No? Your mood's probably not going to improve much." - John Candy, Planes, Trains and Automobiles

How do we do it? It's apparently been a topic of conversation in at least three newsrooms in New York recently. Must be a slow news cycle for some of my colleagues.

Always asking the hard-hitting questions, they want to know: How do my wife and I manage to function with only one car?

Let me tell you: it's a lot easier than you think.

The swagger wagon

Still, while not impossible, surviving suburbia with a child and only one vehicle involves a very delicate dance. It also requires impeccable timing and reliance on public transportation... two things you have absolutely no control over. So there are days where it gets very interesting. And there are days when things go very wrong.

It has Fahrvergnugen

Daily, we perform quite an impressive tango:

I take the first bus into the city. It picks me up right outside our front door a little before 6am. My wife wakes up Peanut, gets her ready for school, and drops her off as soon as daycare opens at 730am. She then catches the 8:01am train into the city, parking the swagger wagon at the station lot. I take the 4:52pm train home, get the car, pick up the Peanut, take her home and start dinner. My wife hops on the 5:35 (or later) bus, which drops her off, conveniently, outside of our front door no later than 6:45pm. We eat dinner at 7pm.

Then, playtime, bedtime... repeat until the weekend... which is a whole other dance. A slow one, if you will.

You get all that? It's a simple rule: whoever has Peanut has the swagger wagon.

Potential hazards along the way: traffic - that's a big one. How many text messages have I received from my wife saying she's in traffic? And, of course: weather. The snow got its own post recently. It sucks (the snow, not the post). And rain isn't much better. Buses never seem to be prepared for rain. At least you don't have to shovel it.

But the biggest potential hazard, hands down: the cranky daughter. This is a hazard that I thankfully manage to avoid since I leave the house when everyone is still asleep.

Grumpy... but strapped in

If the Peanut is not cooperating in the morning, my wife finds herself squarely in the stress zone. She has 20 - count 'em 20 -minutes to get her up and out of the house. If she is even the slightest bit unruly it throws off the timing of the entire operation. Oh, the stories I've heard. She wouldn't wake up. She wouldn't get dressed. She wouldn't listen. She cried. She fought me on everything.

Depending on the level of non-cooperation, I may have to get the car at one of two alternate train stations. Or take the bus from one of two alternate gates. We have a contingency plan for everything.

That's how powerful my daughter is. Great power... yet no responsibility.

Still, I wouldn't waste the money on a second car until I absolutely have to. We make this work with relative ease.

I must admit, there are times when it would be incredibly convenient if we had a second car. For instance, we've had to skip church the past couple of weeks because I've been driving to meet my half-marathon training group on Sunday mornings. Sundays are long run days. We're up to 11 miles now... which takes me about an hour and a half (ok... a little longer than that). That means I get home right when service starts. If we had a second car, I could meet the family at church and just miss the announcements.

Thankfully, being Episcopalian means not feeling guilty about missing church (sorry, mom). It's Catholic Light (sorry again, mom).

Also, if you had a vote, which would you have us get: a second car, or a second child? We can only afford one.

Case closed.... but neither is happening anytime soon.

Read more ...