Dads on Defense

We Made a Memory Today

2010-07-10T17:27:00.001-07:00

As a Christmas present to one another for the next 10 years (not to mention birthdays and anniversaries too), my wife and I had a new pool built this summer.

Bubba and I christened it today. It was awesome!

We spent hours splashing and jumping and laughing.

We threw a football back in forth. We blew bubbles. He jumped into my arms from the side of the pool.

...all that and Bubba can't even swim yet! Imagine the antics that are still to come!

As the sun set on our first pool day, I couldn't help but think about the memories we were creating. There's no doubt that family life will revolve around the pool. Cook-outs, birthday parties, skinny dipping...

Our investment was well worth it...even if Santa won't be visiting us for a decade!

Family Time on America's Birthday!

2010-07-04T04:19:00.000-07:00

Happy 4th of July everyone! We've already had quite a weekend.

We started yesterday with a neighborhood parade.

What a sight! Kids decorated their bicycles, scooters and strollers. The pictures above are of our four-month-old Sweet Pea and Bubba with his friend ER.

Later in the day it was pool time and, of course, a couple of hot dogs. The day ended at the park and time on the swing.

Today it's the beach, BBQ and fireworks.

As my wife and I collapsed into bed last night, she said that the 4th of July is her favorite holiday.

She said every other holiday has stress...Christmas and finding the perfect present. Halloween and the perfect costume. Thanksgiving and the perfect meal.

But the 4th is just fun. Kids laughing, parents eating and family and friends spending time together.

On this 4th of July, make it a special day for your family...but save a piece of watermelon for me!

The Gift of Time for Father's Day

2010-06-20T11:00:00.000-07:00

As families across America stop and celebrate Father's Day today, it has me thinking about what it means to be a dad. And, more importantly, how my kids will remember me years from now.

In the last month, I have attended three funerals. One for the grandmother of a colleague at work. Another for a too-young-to-pass away neighbor. And the third was for the wife of a dear friend.

While each of these were very different people, there was something amazingly consistent about each service -- the eulogies.

The memories shared and the stories told had nothing to do with how much money was made, how much stuff was acquired or how many professional accomplishments were achieved.

Nope. For those of us who spend more time at the office than at home or who consistently try to keep up with the family next door, I've got some bad news:

None of that matters when we're gone.

If the three eulogies I heard most recently are any guide, the ONLY thing that matters is time spent with our kids and living life with joy and good humor.

Here are some examples I heard.

I heard a granddaughter reflect on Christmas with her grandmother. It seems that grandma liked to shop at thrift stores for gifts. That often meant mismatched jewelry, clothes that were the wrong sizes or gadgets that had long ago seen their better days.

Now I can imagine that as a kid, such gifts were not a highlight of the holiday season. After all, what little girl wants one gold and one silver earring in the same box? Or what little boy wants a flashlight that has no bulb? But years later, those same gifts were the source of big laughs and brights smiles inside the funeral home. In fact, there was unanimous agreement among the grand kids that these bargain basement throwaways were actually treasures from grandma's heart. Each specially selected and, years later, recalled fondly. Funny that the more expensive gifts were long ago forgotten, but the blue light specials can still be recalled with vivid detail.

I then heard a long-time friend tell of traveling with his now deceased friend (my neighbor Bill) and their families to a mountain resort for a winter ski vacation. And you know what memory was being recalled? Not the majestic views of the snow-capped mountains. Not the great meals and drinks by the fire. Not the records while set skiing down the mountain.

He recalled, instead, the story of a young son making snow angels in the freshly fallen powder. It seems Bill was really taken by those angels. Apparently, throughout the trip, Bill kept saying, "My son makes the best snow angels." Imagine the pride that child felt hearing his dad complement him that way. I'll bet he still remembers it twenty years later.

Finally, I heard the eulogy of a wife, mother, grandmother and community volunteer. The biggest laugh came at a story of her spray painting her white station wagon to save money...even though the finances weren't tight in the family. The biggest smiles came recalling the literally hundreds of foreign exchange students she cooked for, housed and mentored over a lifetime. She didn't have to do it, but the world is a better place because of her service.

Each of these folks gave the gift of time. Really puts things in perspective doesn't it? There's always a new X-Box version to be acquired because "Johnny's dad just bought him one." Another dollar to be made. Another promotion to be pursued.

But there's nothing more precious than time. Our kids deserve nothing less.

Being a Dad is Not for the Faint of Heart (or Weak of Stomach)

2010-03-28T14:19:00.000-07:00

Last week was a tough one at the home of Bubba and Sweet Pea. Bubba struggled with a fever and stomach bug. Sweet Pea got a minor cold. Their maladies put the first real test on my wife's and my ability to execute full man-to-man defense. We had our hands full.

And I learned just what being a dad is all about.

Tuesday night, I was sleeping in my son's room, just to give him company as he struggled to sleep. Around 5am I heard Bubba begin to hack and cough...then came the unmistakable sound of vomit. Chunks hitting the bed and floor. Gross! The mac and cheese just didn't look as good as it did the night before.

He cried. I went into overdrive. Simultaneously stripping sheets, cleaning up Bubba and offering comfort. Poor fellow, he was shaking like a leaf. Within an hour, we were back sound asleep.

A short while later Bubba was hacking and coughing again...and this time he was walking across the room, across the area rug and headed straight for the chair I was sitting in. As he convulsed forward with the unmistakable posture of a college freshman headed for the toilet after a long night out, I cupped my hands and pressed forward.

Lucky me. I caught what remained of Bubba's mac and cheese. Never in a million years did I ever think I would be a human catch basin for vomit. But I was too stunned to be grossed out...just one more day in the life of being a dad.

And believe it or not, this biological horror was matched just three days later.

On Friday, Bubba spent the day with me in the office. Sweet Pea was still feeling badly and my wife just didn't have it in her to take care of two sick kids. So, back to man-to-man defense we went.

All was well until Bubba told me that his stomach hurt and that he had a poopie diaper. It was nearing the end of the day and I told him we would pack up and head home.

I scooped Bubba up in my arms and we headed for the exit. I walked from my office to the reception area and into the lobby. And that's when one of the folks in my office yelled..."GROSS!!!" Of course, I'm thinking, "You haven't seen gross until you've held half-digested mac and cheese in your hands."

Then I turned around. The path I had just walked was marked by a trail of very liquid poop. GROSS!!!

Back into my office we went. I laid Bubba on the floor and opened his diaper. That's when I experienced a sight and smell that still sticks with me days later.

His diaper was full of a poopie that was the color, smell and consistency of mustard-based BBQ sauce. Disgusting does not even come close to describing it. We fought our way through it, but wow!

At home that night, I reflected on the week. I've had lots of great and interesting experiences as a dad over the last two and a half years. But twice in one week I set aside dignity and any sense of self to take on some disgusting, but equally loving tasks.

And that's what being a dad is all about. Doing whatever it takes for your kids...even if that means never being able to look at mac and cheese or BBQ sauce again!

How's Big Brother?

2010-03-11T02:00:00.000-08:00

We are now four weeks into a two-child household. Two-year-old Bubba has been joined by his baby sister, Sweet Pea. As is typical, the first question we always get is: "Are you getting any sleep?"

But the second question is: "How is big brother taking the intrusion of a new baby into the house?"

It's the common concern...and one over which my wife and I have had great anxiety. The good news is, he appears to be behaving normally. That is to say, some combination of love, ignorance and resentment.

There are cute moments when Bubba hugs Sweet Pea and smiles while doing it. Other times, he walks right past her as if she does not exist. And still others...like the time he hit Sweet Pea on the head because she was doing "tummy time" in the middle of his favorite play area.

I've often wondered aloud what it must be like for the older child to watch a new baby be brought into the house...and then watch the fawning from parents, family and friends that follows.

A friend recently gave me the perfect analogy. Imagine if your wife brought home a new, very attractive man and said, "Honey, this is my second husband. He's going to live with us forever. I have given my heart to him, just as I have given it to you. And I will love the two of you equally."

My friend asked what my reaction would be. I said, naturally, "I'd be pissed. And that such an arrangement would be a non-starter."

"Well," my friend said, "that is exactly what Bubba is going through and thinking about right now."

Wow...really hits home!

Since Sweet Pea's arrival, we've attempted to balance Bubba's needs with hers. And we've reinforced the fact that he is no less important to us today than he was prior to Sweet Pea's birth.

In fact, when we brought Sweet Pea home from the hospital, I left her and my wife in the car, then went inside the house to get Bubba. I took him out to the car and introduced him to his new little sister. I must say, he was fascinated. I then told Bubba that because his sister had never seen her new house, he needed to show her around. He was only to glad to be in charge.

As I held Sweet Pea, he led us from room to room, telling her what was what and where was where. He even left her bedroom for last, saying, "This is where you sleep." It was precious. And you could tell that he was proud of his newly-anointed big brother role.

We also make sure to reinforce that Bubba's needs are as important as Sweet Pea's. When she cries, we say to Bubba, "I need to go see why Sweet Pea is crying...is there anything you need before I go." Other times I'll say, "Can you help me with Sweet Pea?"

This combination of attention and solicitation of assistance seems to be working.

But Bubba still has him moments. There was the hitting incident I described earlier. He seems to be more forceful in his demands...mainly forgetting to say "please," as he has been taught or yelling his wants at the top of his lungs. His pre-school teachers also report a slight increase in his aggression...a little more hitting and pushing than he has done in the past.

All of these are attention getting devices and we are working through it.

The scary part is not truly knowing what 's right and what's wrong when it comes to managing through Sweet Pea's arrival and Bubba's reaction. Nor am I prepared to manage through sibling rivalry as the kids grow older. I'd hate to think that stupid decisions my wife and I make now will result in Bubba becoming an ax murderer or a perennial bed-wetter into his 30s.

As I often remark , there is no instruction manual for being a parent. And it's the hardest job we'll ever have.

What are your tricks for managing a two-child household? Any lessons learned you want to share?

Tips from the Front Line

2010-03-08T02:00:00.000-08:00

Last Friday our office had a party for three staff members who are pregnant. All are first time moms and they were joined by their husbands (and soon-to-be dads).

While there were lots of guys in the room, the three prospective dads stood out like sore thumbs.

They had the look.

You know the look. They didn't blink. They forced a smile after every "congratulations" thrown their way. And their faces were an inextricable combination of fear, panic and raw anxiety.

Finally, out of mercy, I walked over to them. "Are you excited?" I asked. "Yes," said one.

"Liar," I thought.

The other two, nearly in unison, said "Terrified."

"Perfectly normal," I said. And they went right to the heart of the matter...all the questions they needed to know the answers to, but were afraid to ask.

"What's it really like in the delivery room?" "Is it gross?" "How do you change a diaper" What about the loss of sleep?"

I laughed, but thought about my own anxieties before Bubba was born. Now, after a veteran of two child births, I gave them my best tips...and here they are for you too.

First, be sure to read two of my earlier posts: Where's the Instruction Manual? (reminding all of us that being a dad is the classic on the job training) and I'm a Head a Shoulders Guy (giving precise instructions of what to do -- and where to stand-- in the delivery room).

Beyond that, here are few other things to help during that fateful 48 to 72 hours as you prepare for your world to be turned upside down forever.

Use the Golden Rule with Nurses and all Hospital Staff

When you're checking-in to the hospital, remember that you are not checking-in to a hotel and the ladies in scrubs are not maids, they're nurses. They are paid to provide for mom and baby's medical care. They are NOT paid to clean your room, fetch your crap or make dad comfy. You will find that most are incredibly nice and do have a sixth sense about how to relieve some of the anxiety you are feeling.

However, from check-in to check-out, apply the Golden Rule -- Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

Say thank you and please. Ask how their day is going. Offer to get your own linens or ice chips or water. (They'll never let you, but it's always nice to offer.)

And, this is critical, feed every shift while in the hospital. Nothing extravagant is necessary...just thoughtful...doughnuts, bagels, candy bars, snack foods. And bring enough for everybody...this is no time to be stingy.

Why is all this necessary? Simple. You want to earn favorite room and favorite family status as quickly as possible. You'll get quicker service, more loving attention, and they'll help make the transition to parenthood smoother. (NOTE to the nurses reading this post: I know you provide terrific care to all patients and families. These tips just make the experience a little warmer for us dads. And it's polite.)

Plus, it helps you get to know the nurses and staff a little better. Think about it. They will see you wife butt-naked during delivery. They'll see you at your most vulnerable. Do you want this time spent with strangers or spent with folks you've spent time building a relationship with (albeit very quickly).

Learn from the Nurses

If you're like me, you never changed a diaper prior to your baby's arrival. And swaddling is just a word you've seen in the Bible (remember baby Jesus and the swaddling clothes).

These are not intuitive acts for dads and it does not come naturally. So take time to learn from the best.

Once your baby is born, you'll be in the hospital through two to three nursing shift changes. For each nurse that is caring for you, ask for help in changing diapers and swaddling the baby. Have them do it, then you do it with them, and then do it again. (Particularly swaddling.) And try this two to three times with every nurse on every shift. By the time you go home, you'll have it down to a science...and your wife will be very impressed!

And as I've said in a previous post, change all the diapers; it gets you off the hook for lots of other stuff. As for swaddling, take charge of that too. My wife and I have a little competition to see whose swaddle the baby is less likely to break free of. Because of the instruction I received from the nurses, even on baby Houdini's best day, they cannot break free!

Memorializing the Blessed Event

I would encourage pictures...AFTER the birth! DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT take pictures during the heavy contractions or during delivery. Ladies do not like that. This also goes for texting, tweeting or facebooking. First, your wife will no want visual reminders of her most intimate moments. Second, you need to be unilaterally, unequivocally focused on your wife's comfort, pain and fear. Get her ice chips, rub her forehead, provide encourage, or shut the hell up (watch for the appropriate cues). You have one job...keeping your wife happy...do nothing else. Period!

However, once the baby is born, take a picture of the baby in the warmer as he/she is being weighed and checked. Take a picture with the Ob/GYN and delivery nurse. Get a quick family picture of mom, dad and baby. You'll treasure these.

Also, take a journal to the hospital with you. The day after your baby is born, take a few minutes to capture your thoughts as a brand new dad. Encourage mom to do the same. Years from now you'll read what you wrote, cry some tears of joy, wonder where the time has gone and relive one of the most amazing moments of your life. Encourage visiting family and friends to do the same. In fact, keep this journal nearby when you get home and ask visitors to write a short note to your new baby. We've done that for Bubba and Sweet Pea and both journals have become treasured keepsakes.

Visitors

While we are on the subject of visitors, let me give you my best advice: discourage them. I know you think you'll want to show off your new bundle of joy. And I know excited grandparents and others just can't wait to see baby. That's normal and it's part of the experience.

However, remember that after childbirth your wife is bone tired. At first, you won't know that...she's likely running on adrenaline...but trust me, at some point, she will crash. And so will you.

In addition, for the next several weeks, you will not get any rest. Take advantage of your hospital stay and the round-the-clock care. If visitors are constantly parading in and out, you'll lose the last moments of rest you're going to get for awhile. It also takes away from the time you'll want to spend getting to know your new and expanded family. This is a special time for mom, dad and baby...enjoy it together.

My recommendation is to set some guidelines...15 minutes visits, or a visiting window that lasts a couple of hours each day. Or ask the nurses for help. Tell them to stop visitors at the desk and say "Mom and baby are resting...I'll let them know you stopped by."

Then, once you're at home, control the schedule so that your living room doesn't feel like Grand Central Station. This will be hard to do, and should only be done gently and thoughtfully, but it's necessary. Trust me!

For all the planning and preparation you and your wife are likely doing now, the final moments will come when you least expect them...and in a blur. There is NOTHING more important than getting it right while in the hospital. Your wife and new baby are counting on you.

Don't screw it up!

The New Daughter Checklist

2010-02-13T19:26:00.000-08:00

We brought our daughter, Sweet Pea, home from the hospital today. That set in motion a checklist of items -- from buying tiny, tiny diapers to learning how to swaddle babies again.

Tonight, however, as I watch my wife nurse, my mind is racing with yet another check-list.

Here it is:

1. Purchase chastity belt.

2. Research all-girls schools located miles from any known civilization.

3. Ban from the house any TV shows that promote Britney Spears, Paris Hilton or girls from the Playboy Mansion.

4. Paste "I love daddy" notes on all pacifiers, diapers and sippie cups...I'll have her brainwashed by 18 months.

5. Tell the smelly little boys in our neighborhood that Sweet Pea has a horrible case of cooties, curable only by eating brussel sprouts and cauliflower.

6. Remind Sweet Pea that chasing butterflies and fireflies with dad is as fun at 15 as it is at 5!

7. Teach Bubba to be his little sister's best protector, confidant and friend.

8. Get mom to teach Sweet Pea how to cook...the family tradition must continue.

9. Buy Sweet Pea a great children's Bible and provide her with the same love of Christ her mother has.

10. Tell Sweet Pea, everyday, that I love her!

She Loves Her Daddy Already!

2010-02-12T07:56:00.000-08:00

Here's a picture of Sweet Pea a few minutes after delivery and (part of) the team that made it happen! My wife and I cannot say enough good things about the St. Vincent's/St. Luke's medical team, Dr. Slade and Nurse Jean. They kept my wife calm and comfortable and ensured a safe delivery.

Kudos also to my sister-in-law. She was in the delivery room with us too and made for a great coach and rock of encouragement for my wife.

My favorite part of this picture is Sweet Pea looking up at her daddy...a quick reminder of all the new responsibilities I now have. God has truly blessed us with a wonderful addition to our family and we are excited about the days ahead!

We're Gonna' Have a Baby Today!

2010-02-11T09:44:00.000-08:00

My wife and I are in the delivery room beginning an inducement for our Baby Girl. The due date is February 19. However, as we have learned over the last two-and-a-half years with Bubba, our schedule is never his schedule...and I guess it will be the same with Sweet Pea

I've really been anxious about having a second child. Can we afford it? How will we manage the chaos of two kids? Will my life be inconvenienced.

But the truth is, those are all "me" questions. And kids are certainly not about "me." It's about them.

Bubba has been a true blessing and I have no doubt that Sweet Pea will be a blessing too...and I can't wait to meet her. What color eyes will she have? Will she have her mom's curly hair? What will her interests be?

Thinking in those terms makes me terribly excited!

Stay tuned...

Winnie the Crying Pooh

2009-12-29T02:00:00.000-08:00

The folks over at http://www.creativecopychallenge.com/ and http://www.bloggerdad.com/ have created a fun challenge...post a short story including ten random words or phrases that they select. (I've highlighted the ten words.)

I gave it a shot...hey, it's not Shakepeare, but he had better material to work with.

Winnie the Crying Pooh

I got a call from Winnie the Pooh today. Seems he read an earlier blog post of mine promoting the hypnotic powers of Mickey Mouse and his friends at Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. Pooh wanted to know why he wasn’t part of the Disney propaganda machine. I assured him that I was no propagandist...just a daddy blogger.

Pooh threatened to call the authorities, file a lawsuit and, perhaps, even streak naked across the theme parks in hopes of ending up on TMZ…”Anything,” he said, “I’ll do anything to steal ratings from that little, stinking mouse!”

“At least a streaking incident will get my head-shot on TMZ,” Pooh said.

“That's a mug shot,” I said. “And that didn’t do much for Nick Nolte’s career,” I reminded him.

I told him not to get his panties in a twitter and that based on his prior work history and questionable relationship with Christopher Robin, he had little hope of being anything other than a second rate Disney character…particularly after he teamed up with Kenny Loggins to sing that terrible House at Pooh corner song! (You can’t make this stuff up…http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=prxkdeBYNfk)

And so off to the bathroom Pooh ran, crying into his orange juice as he went.

Yeah, I know there’s no crying in baseball…but what can you expect from a bear named Pooh?

He's Not Funny, Cute or Adorable!

2009-12-28T02:00:00.000-08:00

I spent some time over the holidays reading other mommy and daddy blogs. I was amazed at how each of us, in our own way, put our best foot forward in our posts.

We talk about the cute and funny things our kids do. We talk about all the crafts and activities we engage in with our kids. And we post adorable pictures that make readers laugh and smile.

Even the stories of frustration and anger toward our kids seem to have a happy ending.

As I know, and as YOU know, this is not reality. In fact, one mommy blogger I read offered a great disclaimer at the top of her page...something like: "This is not a reflection of our real life. We do not bake, paint and sing all day long. This is just a (pretty) snapshot of our life as a family."

Well here's my disclaimer: My two-year-old can be a real shithead!

He says "NO!" more than he says "yes."

He has awful tantrums when things don't go his way.

He throws his food onto the floor when he doesn't like what's on his plate.

He always runs in the opposite direction from where he is supposed go.

The other day he brought my wife to tears when he refused to leave the playground and head to the car.

There are days when I actually sympathize with those convicted of child abuse. (Not that I condone it, but we can dream can't we!)

I love my son all day, every day...but there are times when I don't like him very much.

And on those days, there's nothing funny, cute or adorable about him!

No Mean...Just Nice!

2009-12-26T11:22:00.000-08:00

Bubba and I were watching another episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse this morning (of course!). I saw a character named Pete...the sometimes nice, sometimes mean antagonist of the show.

I asked Bubba, "Is Pete nice or mean?"

Bubba just looked at me and stared.

I realized that Bubba doesn't know the difference between nice and mean -- nor does any other two-year-old. People are just people to him...and from his perspective there's probably some manner of goodness in all of them.

What a great way to see the world...no mean...just nice.

At the very least, he gets a smile out of most people. Some wave or wink. Still others come over and give him a soft tickle. Those closest to him make sure his every need is met...a diaper changed, a meal provided, a book read at night, a warm hug or a toy-filled bath.

Maybe we adults could learn a lesson from the expectations of a two-year-old.

What a place it would be if we didn't distinguish between nice and mean. What if we saw every person as a benevolent soul who might, at the very least, offer a wave or a smile? What if we assumed good lurked around every corner, as opposed to fearing the shadows of today's world?

What if, rather than hurrying past our fellow man, we found the time to encounter other humans as folks encounter Bubba? Offer a warm hello, a hearty laugh...or a meal or shelter to those who cannot provide for themselves.

We do very little of this because, over time, we became sceptics, jaded by realities or hurtful personal experiences. Stress and anxiety, and sometimes paranoia, have taken over.

Two-year-olds live with a sort of peace that I envy...because they take people as they come...no preconceived notions, no haughty expectations and no presumptuous thoughts.

We saw the world that way when we were young, so we have the capacity to do it again.

No mean...just nice...the way Bubba says it should be.

Merry Christmas!

2009-12-25T02:00:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas my dear readers!

As a gift to each of you, I have attached two audio files. They are recordings done by my good friend Mike Tolbert, a Jacksonville-based political and PR consultant. He's also a great writer.

Ten years ago this month, Mike recorded some of his favorite stories and shared them with friends and colleagues. I received one of those (cassette) recordings. Some of the stories are about Jacksonville people and places. Others are just about the human spirit. All of them will warm your heart and remind you of what's important at Christmas.

The stories are best enjoyed while sitting beside a warm fire with a glass of wine. And be sure to keep some tissues near by as Mike will pull at your heart strings.

My hope is that you will give this gift to others by passing along this post.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Part One

Part Two

I Hope Santa Knows the Way to ICU

2009-12-24T10:37:00.000-08:00

I spent part of my Christmas Eve morning at the pediatric intensive care unit of a local children's hospital. Bubba's best friend has been there for two weeks with a respiratory illness...and is likely to be there for another week or so.

So for our little friend and her mom and dad, that means Christmas Day in the hospital...I sure hope Santa knows the way to ICU.

Christmas is made for kids. The lights, the presents and the laughter.

And the day is supposed to be spent trying out all the new toys...not worrying about oxygen levels, medicine and doctors.

Being there is the hospital today sure put things in perspective. I asked mom and dad how they planned to spend their Christmas Day in the hospital and what we could do to make it more enjoyable.

Their answer, while not surprising, was incredibly simple.

They said, "We just want a normal day. No drama, no excitement...just normal."

So that's my hope and prayer this Christmas.

Healing and recovery for our little friend...and an incredibly normal, hopefully boring, day for her parents.

Surely Santa can fit that in their stocking!

A Helpful Hint for New Dads

2009-12-23T12:02:00.000-08:00

There must something in the drinking water at my office. Three of my coworkers are pregnant. Of course, that has started the inevitable sharing of advice by we, the veteran parents.

A couple of the dads starting talking to some of the prospective, and very nervous, fathers-to-be. The best advice I heard for dads: change every diaper you can...actually jump up and run to the changing table with your child when possible. And look serious when doing it...every once in a while let out a groan or a "This is a bad one!"

Why?

First of all, changing diapers is not all that difficult...and it's not nearly as icky as it's made out to be. I remember Michael Keaton in the movie Mr. Mom. Before changing a diaper he donned safety glasses, protective gloves and a clothes pin over his nose. He approached the job as if he were entering a nuclear waste dump.

It's just not that bad.

And there is a BIG up side to taking the lead on this most intimate responsibility.

Your wife will think you have taken fatherhood seriously, the other wives in the neighborhood will think you're the best dad on the block -- and it gets you a get out of jail free card from lots of other duties.

Your wife just won't ask you to do as much. And you'll get a little more grace when wanting to head to a ball game with the boys.

Trust me...you'll get a tremendous return on your investment.

And two other hints...tabs go in the back and use liberal amounts of Boudreaux's Butt Paste for diaper rash!

The Best Christmas Present!

2009-12-22T06:19:00.000-08:00

Christmas came early this year.

As I headed down the stairs this morning to go to work, Bubba, my two-year-old was right behind me. "Hold me daddy," he said. "Hold me."

When I got to the door, I turned around, picked Bubba up and held him close. He laid his head down on my shoulder and squeezed tightly. It seemed like he lingered there forever.

A few moments later he said, "I love you daddy."

Then I squeezed tightly.

Gone from my mind were deadlines at work, Bubba's temper-tantrums at home, or the last of the Christmas errands to be run.

My only thoughts were love for my child, his love for me and the hope that this moment would last forever.

No Christmas present will come close this year...his hug will keep a smile on my face all year long.

I love you Bubba!

Good for Another 12,000 Miles

2009-12-21T13:07:00.000-08:00

I had my annual physical today. Each year, around Christmas time, I head to the Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville, FL. I cannot say enough good things about the doctors, nurses and the care I receive there.

I have seen the same doctor for nearly 10 years -- before I was married and before kids were even a gleam in my eye.

I go each year because I face high stress in my day job. I worry that the late nights and never-ending pressure-packed projects will take a toll on my health...this is my annual gut check.

Today, my doctor said something interesting...something that really put things in perspective.

He said, "I must keep you healthy for your son and for the little one on the way." He continued by saying, "Kids are the meaning and purpose of life."

So for all this time, I've headed to Mayo for me. But I'm not living for me. I'm living for Bubba and his little sister, due to arrive in February.

Talk about stress and pressure...thanks doc!

The good news is that the doctor told me I am in good health -- the heart of a runner (although he encouraged me to do more) and and very low body fat -- and that I am good for another 12,000 miles.

But I have many, many more miles to go.

My wife and I have two kids to raise, life lessons to impart and differences to make.

Each year begins with a long list of New Year's resolutions -- manage money better, get more productive at work, spend more time on the yard, exercise.

In 2010, I'm not going to sweat the small stuff (as a book by the same title reminds us). I'm going to focus on staying healthy -- like run the River Run (a local 15k), eat better foods and cut out caffeine -- after all, it's doctor's orders!

The Biggest Little Football Fan

2009-12-20T13:12:00.000-08:00

There are two unwavering truths in the South.

On Saturday, you are a fan of somebody's football team. Pick a team, any team...and root them on loudly -- "Roll Tide Roll," "Gator Bait," "Geaux Tigers," even "War Eagle."

And on Sunday, you had better be in church...or proceed straight to the gates of Hell, as my grandmother used to say.

The NFL has confused things and today, a Sunday, my two-year-old saw his world's collide and he did not like the result.

My wife asked me to get Bubba dressed. I found a nice pair of navy blue dress pants in the closet. He was fine with that. I then put on his white undershirt; and because he was cold he was fine with that too. Then I began to put on a nice red Christmas sweater that his grandma bought him.

That's where Bubba's cooperation ended. "No!" he shouted. "NOOOOOOO sweater!"

"Jaguars shirt," is all he would say. I tried to explain to Bubba that we were headed to church and a sweater was far more appropriate than game day attire.

That logic wasn't cutting it, and he shouted again..."Go to football game!"

And then it hit me...the last two Sunday's, after church (of course), I took Bubba to see the Jacksonville Jaguars play football. He loved it. He sat through the entire game...cheered when the crowd cheered, got excited when the quarterback made a great throw and he laughed at the team's crazy mascot Jackson de Ville.

But this morning, there was no talk of football games or quarterbacks or mascots. Just church.

And the screaming continued. So I did what any self-respecting father of a two-year-old is compelled to do in the face of hysteria.

I lied.

I told Bubba we would put on his Jaguars shirt and we were headed to a football game.

When my wife came into his room she looked at me as if I had two heads. She turned up her nose and said, "What is he wearing?"

I then suggested that she if she would like to hear an ear-piercing, blood curdling scream, she could try putting on the Christmas sweater, but that I advised against it.

All was calm until we turned into the parking lot at church. Bubba knows what the stadium looks like and he knows a tailgate party when he sees one. This was definitely not that.

"NOOOOOOOO," he yelled. "Football game," "Jaguars," "Jackson de Ville."

And I carried the screaming, crying, leg kicking two-year-old into our peaceful house of worship.

The angels in the church nursery did wonders with the kid. By the time we went back to pick Bubba up, he was happy and calm...and his face was covered with icing and sprinkles...those church ladies sure know how to bribe a child with cookies!

On the trip home, Bubba looked again at his Jaguars shirt and, again, remembered where he wanted to be. "Football," he yelled. I just told him to wait.

I walked into the den, turned on the TV and before his very eyes football appeared. Transfixed, he watched the Dolphins and the Titans...cheering every play, laughing and clapping just as he'd done in the stands weeks before.

I love my little football fan...now if only our pastor would show a little ESPN on the big screen behind the pulpit, we'd have the best of both worlds!

Who Needs Christmas Decorations?

2009-12-08T19:39:00.000-08:00

Not long after the Thanksgiving turkey is consumed and I hear the first strains of Jingle Bells, I wait with dread to hear my wife say, "Let's put up the Christmas tree today."

For her, she has visions of what the end result will look like -- a sparkling tree, adorned with ornaments and garland, candles in the windows, a wreath on the door and twinkling lights across the house.

Me, well my thoughts go immediately to the attic. Why are the Christmas decoration boxes buried in the far, back corner? Where are those extra extension cords? Will the ladder make it to the top of the roof, or am I going to risk life and limb again this year? Do we really need to do decorations?

I'm no ba-humbug. I love Christmas, the message and the pageantry. I just hate the prep work and the chaos.

...until this year...

This year, my wife was smart. I arrived home from work tonight and my wife announced that she, Bubba and I were going to drive around the neighborhood and look at Christmas lights.

And what a drive it was!

No sooner had we pulled out of the driveway when I heard Bubba say..."Look daddy, look," as he pointed out the lights across the street. All the way down the first block I could hear him exclaiming, "cool," "oh wow," "Santa Claus!"

To hear the pure joy of a two-year-old's first Christmas light adventure was overwhelming. The lights I often take for granted, and dread putting up every year, were a new found sense of excitement for my son. It was like I was seeing the lights for the very first time too...through a child's eyes.

Candidly, I was a little ashamed of myself for my attitude about putting up decorations. These lights aren't for me...they're for Bubba, and the dozens of other kids that will exclaim with delight when they see them. The lights bring smiles to children's faces and laughter to their hearts.

Who am I not to participate?

As we pulled back into our driveway, the darkness of our house was a little stark. Bubba must have been reading my mind, as he said "More lights daddy, more lights."

"Yes son," I said, "Tomorrow we'll put up our lights."

I'm not going to let Bubba down.

Delightfully Different...What's That Mean?

2009-10-21T16:48:00.000-07:00

One of my buddies just posted the following on his Facebook page and thought it was worth sharing here...

Per my wife, there are four reasons your baby is delightfully different from your husband:

#4 -- You can change a baby.

#3 -- You don't mind when your three-month-old hits the bottle eights times per day.

#2 -- The baldness is merely temporary.

#1 -- The only mobile device a baby is addicted to has tiny stuffed animals hanging from it.

OK guys, any thoughts on how your baby is "delightfully different" from your wife? It seems to me that turnabout is fair play!

The Three Phases of Pregnancy (Part III)

2009-10-20T02:00:00.000-07:00

Phase III – Oh my God, we’re having a baby.

You know when you’re on a roller coaster and you hit the first really tall slope. The roller coaster slows a little, building up momentum to go over the top. You have a false sense of security right at the peak of the slope (that’s phase II). Phase III is the moment you go over the top. Your stomach is in your throat. You’re being jerked around by forces of nature beyond your control. You and everyone around you are screaming like banshees.

Yep. We’re going to have a baby.

For your wife, the nesting instinct hits hard. Suddenly, the concept of having a nursery moves to actually painting the room, installing the carpet, and putting the crib together. (I tried to tell my wife that if Baby Jesus could be born in a manger without the benefit of Pottery Barn bedding, did our child really need something more complicated. I mean, it was Baby Jesus for goodness sakes.) As you might imagine, such logic fell on deaf ears.

Then it’s the child birth classes. Let me make sure I get this straight. We have good health care insurance. There will be a doctor and a nurse in the delivery room (and more on call if we need them). Modern medical technology will be attached to mom and baby. What are we going to learn in a childbirth class that the pros won’t already know? Never mind making the argument…you’re taking a child birth class.

And try to look interested.

You’ll also take the obligatory hospital tour and plan your route to the hospital. (Word to the wise…yes, I know the route to the hospital when you wife goes into labor is EXACTLY the same route you would take on any other occasion. But for some reason, you will make several practice runs just to get the timing down right. No need to argue. Just do it.)

By the end of phase III bad things start to happen. First of all, your wife is very pregnant.

Which makes it hard for her to breath, eat, walk or sleep. Everything makes her miserable. And I mean everything. She’ll hate the sound of Katie Couric’s voice on the evening news. She’ll hate the bed she (note, I said she) is sleeping in. She’ll hate the fact that she still hasn’t found the right nursing bra. And most of all, she’ll hate the sight of you. Somehow, during these waning weeks, dads are the only ones responsible for the pending birth. (Funny, that’s not how I remember it.)

And you will be in a state of panic. You’ve never changed a diaper. You have no idea how you will live without sleep. You wonder how you will pay for college. And the thought of using a rectal thermometer…no thanks!

It will be a regular Molotov cocktail in your house. A very pregnant wife who can’t sleep, breath, eat or sleep. And a panic stricken dad that has no idea what he’s in for.

But then the roller coaster stops. The baby is born. You laugh about the fun parts of the ride and try to forget the scary parts.

You’ve actually got a little bit of energy -- the kind of energy that comes from conquering a fear or accomplishing something great.

Hold on to that energy my friend…you’re going to need it. Because the next 12 months make the last nine look like child’s play.

The Three Phases of Pregnancy (Part II)

2009-10-19T02:00:00.000-07:00

Phase II – Life is back to normal (or Baby, what baby?)

After what seems like 90 years, the nausea subsides and your wife begins to take on the modest glow of pregnancy. She really will. In this phase, you’re eating again. The due date still seems far away and you can talk about the baby’s arrival more as a concept than a reality.

You start thinking about baby names and colors for the nursery. You’re able to find out the sex of the baby and your imagination will run wild about raising a son (I’ll coach his little league team) or a daughter (she won’t date until she’s 30). Baby gifts will begin to arrive and you’ll see implements that you don’t know how to use now and will never know how to use.

Your wife begins to show a little and breaks out the first of her maternity clothes. But she’s not miserable and you can still share a bed. (Enjoy this while it lasts.)

If you didn’t know any better, you would think this baby thing is pretty easy.

Just wait.

...stay tuned for Part III on Tuesday...

The Three Phases of Pregnancy (Part I)

2009-10-16T02:00:00.000-07:00

As I first reported in July, my wife and I are expecting our second child in February. Bubba will soon have a sister. We are a little over four months into this adventure and I hope to offer more than a few posts that will help expectant dads get through this wonder of life. Put simply, if your marriage can survive the gestation period of your child, you can survive anything.

If your wife is like mine, she has purchased every book imaginable about pregnancy, prenatal development, healthy eating habits, etc. But has she bought you a survival guide for the pregnancy?

I didn’t think so.

Consider this the crash course…

Pregnancy has three phases:

1. you begin with the “I’ll never eat again” phase;

2. then you move to the rather blissful “life is back to normal” phase (also known as the “baby, what baby?” phase);

3. and then you end with the “oh my God, we’re having a baby!” phase (NOTE: the exclamation point denotes fear, trepidation, chaos, panic, and a frantic pace…it does not denote excitement…particularly for dads)

Phase I – I’ll never eat again

In the modern household, the news of a pregnancy arrives after your wife pees on a stick and the color changes. After the obligatory hugs, kisses, expressions of great joy and calls to the family, your wife will likely puke in the toilet.

Get used to it pal…because this is your life for about 90 days. Your wife will be continually nauseous. She will eat little else besides saltine crackers and peppermints. Food smells make her sick, which means no dinner for her…or you. You are on your own. (In retrospect, this is actually great practice for the baby’s arrival – your wife’s full-time focus becomes feeding, burping, changing and rocking the baby. We dads may have been important at inception, but post-partum, we become part of the furniture.)

It is during this phase that you wonder when or if life will ever return to normal. You will try to be sympathetic, try to express genuine concern. However, such emotion will be difficult when you are starving to death.

One night, driving home from work, you will think to yourself…”I know what I’ll do. I’ll be a caring husband and pick up dinner for me and my wife.” What a sweet thought. A really nice gesture. That’s when you walk in with a nice chicken parmigiano from the Italian place down the street. You walk in, she gets a whiff and boom…back to the toilet.

Now here’s a question for Miss Manners…is it polite to eat your wife’s dinner while she’s puking her guts out? My heart says no, but my stomach says yes.

Come on Miss Manners, I’m hungry!

...tune in Monday for Phase II...

Beefing Up the Blog

2009-10-15T02:00:00.000-07:00

So I've been at this blog thing for about three months now. Like any new undertaking, I started strong but have lagged a little of late. But my enthusiasm is no less strong than it was when I started. In addition to the enjoyment of sharing my best dad thoughts with cyber-friends, I've spent a little time learning more about what this whole blog/social media thing is all about.

Today, however, this rookie is going to the show! The world series of blogging. I'll soon be on a flight to Las Vegas to attend Blog World 2009 (www.blogworldexpo.com).

It's the world's largest blog conference and I am psyched! I hope to learn how to improve my content, give the blog a more exciting look and drive more traffic. I hate it when I read Google Analytics and see that only one person has read my blog in the last three days (thanks mom!).

Hopefully, once I've been tutored by the pros who have been doing this for years, this little blog will be a little more entertaining. I'll let you know how it goes.

And you let me know. Is this blog interesting to you? What would you like to see more or less of? Look forward to your feedback!

Paradise in the Rear View Mirror...Memories Forever

2009-10-14T11:50:00.000-07:00

As I look in the rear view mirror of our standard issue, family-equipped SUV, I see that we are leaving paradise behind. My wife, Bubba and I just spent 10 days in the warm sunshine of the Florida Keys. It was our long-awaited summer vacation...a major work project keeping us home during the traditional travel period.

Not since the first two weeks after his birth have I spent so much time with Bubba in such a short period of time. It was AWESOME! It was also tiring, hectic and sometimes loud...but mostly it was awesome.

Time on vacation with one's son is what this fatherhood thing is all about. And seeing new things for the first time, through his eyes, was like having a whole new perspective life. That's something we really busy (and, of course, really important) dads need every once in a while.

This morning we packed our bags. Tonight when we get home we'll unpack and life will go back to normal. But the memories we made will not get unpacked and stored away. They, my friend, will stay with me forever.

Here's a look back at the top 5 vacation memories of 2009:

1. Bubba and I were taking the boat for a spin as the sun was setting. We were going fast as he likes to do. As we headed into the sun, he got up in my lap, put his head on my shoulder and said rather simply and softly...daddy. Wow!

2. Near the house where we stayed is a place called Robbie's (www.robbies.com). Tarpon swarm the dock and wait for suckers like me to pay $3 for a bucket of dead fish and feed them. Bubba loved it. It's how we ended almost every day.

3. Our house had a small dock that led out to about five feet of water. I dutifully rigged a couple of fishing poles and bought some bait. When we caught the first fish, Bubba was very excited...and I thought we'd be there for hours. Silly me. I should have realized that a two-year-old has the attention span of a gnat...and that he was just as entertained by dropping the bait in the water and watching the fish swarm around it. Who cares. We had a great time.

4. Just down from the house was a fairly large sandbar. My wife was on a big raft and Bubba was in a floating crab. I pulled and pushed them all over the sandbar. I "disappeared" under water to Bubba's amazement. We laughed as one happy family and just enjoyed some QFT (quality family time).

5. Last night we went to an outdoor restaurant that wreaked of the Keys and it had all the characters one could imagine. There was a washed up singer playing cover songs. There was a tattooed magician performing. And to top it all off, two drunk Keys ladies (and I'm using the term loosely if you know what I mean) hit on my son. It was a like a tropical circus, and Bubba laughed and clapped all night long...and was talking about it again this morning.

What a vacation and what a son.

It's back to reality on Monday...

Someone's Watching...

2009-10-07T13:59:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, I was sitting on the floor in our TV room watching college football. Bubba was playing and both of us were fairly preoccupied with our activities. At some point, I looked over at Bubba and was surprised at what I saw.

He too was watching football. He too was leaning up on his elbows and he too had his feet crossed...right foot over left foot. That's right, he was sitting just like me. And he continued to watch me...mimicking my every move.

Wow, I thought, how long has Bubba been watching? Was he watching when I cussed out the referee? Was he watching when I threw the remote in anger. And was he watching when my wife brought me a drink and, but I failed to say thank you because I was so into the game?

It's right then that I realized that we have an impressionable young child on our hands. A veritable lump of clay who will turn out in the ways that we mold him. Great. Just great. Now I really do have to mind my Ps and Qs (as my grandmother used to say).

As I pondered my fate, I thought about what he needs to learn...and a few of the things I hope he picks up along the way.

First, the obvious...

Good manners -- Yes sir, no sir, yes m'aam, no m'aam, thank you and please. Folks say we southerners are sticklers for such idioms and I agree. It just sounds good...particularly when addressing one's elders.

Good eatin' -- Eat lots of fruit, vegetables and anything that comes out of grandma's kitchen. If you restrict yourself to McDonald's Happy Meals and doughnuts from Krispy Kreme, not only will you hit 400 pounds and only live to be 35, but you'll miss out on fresh turnip greens, twice-baked potatoes, asparagus with a liberal spread of hollandaise sauce and every kind of seafood imaginable.

Get outside and stay there -- Today's video game, television on-demand world is for the birds. Outside is where the action is (and the birds are). Grab your buddies and build a fort...play army man, cops and robbers, anything to get the blood flowing. Challenge your next door neighbor to a foot race. Get good and sweaty...you'll feel better and you'll sleep well at night. And when you are older, keep up the physical activity; it will keep you young.

Keep the faith -- I don't talk much about religion on this blog, but I value my Christian faith. Bubba has been in church since the day he was born...and I hope he keeps it that way. More than a habit, it's a way of life -- while recognizing that none of us are perfect.

And a few more...

Read, read, read -- Bubba loves books. We read three or four before bedtime each night. I hope he keeps it up. Reading opens the door to new worlds. It expands one's vocabulary. And it gives you interesting tidbits to share at cocktail parties. And don't just read the easy stuff, like the latest John Grisham novel (although I do LOVE Grisham). Read history, a little science and the literary classics. And a subscription to the Sunday New York Times is a must!

Travel -- I've had the good fortune to travel to lots of cool places in our country. My favorite is California...whether it is the beaches of Malibu, the pace of LA, the laid-back atmosphere in Napa Valley or the incredible beauty of Pebble Beach, California is awesome. My one regret, though, is that I've never spent much time overseas. I missed the backpack through Europe and stay in cheap hostels deal. Get a passport my son!

Take time for yourself -- Boy we never hear that often enough! If you're like me, life moves at an incredibly hectic pace. But take time to take care of yourself -- it's the only self you've got. Set aside some quiet personal time to reflect. Get a massage. Indulge with some extra sweets sometimes BEFORE dinner. Whatever it takes to put your mind at ease and relax.

This week, we've been on vacation and I've gotten to spend lots of time with Bubba. Watching him watch me really is a thrill. I know he loves me and I enjoy teaching him new things. And I'm more mindful to explain what I'm doing as I drive the boat, bait a hook or cook on the grill. He's like a little sponge taking it all in...which is why I've had to upgrade my vocabulary and switch to milk and water. It's more healthy and sets a better habit.

Wow, maybe this new stage with Bubba is teaching me a few things too!

Don't Forget the Choclate Cake!

2009-09-21T09:33:00.000-07:00

I was sitting on the front porch yesterday afternoon blowing bubbles when a neighbor walked by. She looked at me rather quizzically.

What? Haven't you ever seen a grown man blow bubbles before?

And that's when I realized one more great thing about being a dad. You can do things with your kids that are really fun, but that you can only do with your kids in tow. (Unless of course you want to be laughed at behind your back, referred to as the "goofy guy" in the neighborhood or be locked away in an insane asylum.)

Here's a great example. Last Saturday, it rained like crazy. Did Bubba and I sit inside and pine away the day? Heck no. We put on old tennis shoes and jumped from one mud puddle to the next all the way down the block. We were filthy, but we sure had fun.

On another Saturday not too long ago, my wife was off with her girlfriends for the day. Usually, we head to a diner around the corner for weekend breakfast. Not this time. With mom out of sight, we had cookies for breakfast. Cookies for breakfast? Not only are you are hero with your kids, it's nutritious too. Don't you know cookies are made with eggs and milk? For an even better take on kids and breakfast, watch this incredibly funny Bill Cosby sketch...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oqy5TMVWYn0

So the next time you get the desire to wear the lampshade as a hat, play with water guns in the front yard or eat dessert for breakfast...grab the kids and make day of it. Your kids will love you a little more and you'll have a blast stepping out of adulthood for a while.

Just don't forget the chocolate cake!

Another Year Older

2009-09-19T08:06:00.000-07:00

Today is my 41st birthday. Is that middle aged? I sure hope not, because I'm not nearly as old as my dad was at this age. I'm still a kid, right?

Right.

Where the time has gone? Can I just be a kid again? And am I really a dad?

These are the questions circling my brain today.

What a ride it has been...and what great memories, blessing and fun I have had!

Today will be spent with my wife, Bubba and family.

We'll laugh and have a great time. But along the way, I'll probably choke back a tear or two trying to recapture the lore of days gone by.

41? Good gracious! Not long ago, that was really old!

Closin' Down Summer

2009-09-07T23:50:00.000-07:00

I love summer. And I hate Labor Day...because it signals that three months of sun-drenched, water-logged fun has come to an end.

That's why tonight I am in mourning. All I can think of is the lyrics of one of my favorite Jimmy Buffet songs, The Coast is Clear. He tells the story of another summer gone by:

They're closin' down the hangout.
The air is turnin' cool.
They're shuttin' off the superslide,
The kids are back in school.

Today Bubba, my wife and I closed summer down and squeezed out every last morsel of fun. We were the last ones out of the water; and the last ones to order from the snack bar. We watched the life guards complete their last shift. We saw the umbrellas being put away for the summer. And we watched as the sun set over the pool deck.

Bubba seemed to know summer was ending too. He was eerily calm. He ate his dinner slowly, knowing school awaited him in less than 24 hours.

As I watched him, I thought of our fun together. The excitement of watching fish swim by in the warm waters of the Florida Keys. Enjoying 4th of July fireworks with friends (my wife's favorite holiday). The shouts of delight on the playground and going down the "big kids" slide. Long walks around the neighborhoods, petting every puppy and kitty in sight. Laughing when we came inside all stinky and smelly as mom told us we smelled like boys. Looks of awe when we saw Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck at Disney World. And, of course, fast rides on the boat.

Tomorrow, Bubba will trade his crocs for real shoes and his bathing suit for school clothes. And I'll be counting down the days to Memorial Day, when another summer begins!

A Great Way to Earn Brownie Points!

2009-08-20T02:00:00.000-07:00

Earlier in the week, I told you my horror story about attending a couple's baby shower. In the event you are forced to attend such an occasion, let me help you out on the gift. Go to Babies-R-Us, put together a basket of stuff your own kid used as a baby, then write a letter from your child to the new baby.

Your wife will think you are the greatest husband in the world. You'll get much needed brownie points. And all the other wives will give you the best compliment ever..."Why can't my husband be as thoughtful as you." (So your buddies will get mad that you showed them up...but hey, enjoy the moment.)

In case your creative juices aren't flowing, here's the letter I put together for my buddy's baby shower last week. Again, it's from my son Bubba to his new child.

Hope this helps! (By the way, at the end of the letter, I've posted the web links for each item included in the baby basket.)

Dear Baby,

Although I have only been in this world for 22 months, I've learned a few things that I’d like to pass along.

First, loving parents are really cool. They seem to think the world revolves around us…and, I say, let’s not tell them any different. Make a move, and they pick us up. Whimper, and they stop to see what’s wrong. There’s not a need they won’t meet…or a want they won’t try to provide. If I have one complaint, it’s that every day has structure and discipline. I eat on a schedule. I go to bed at the same time every night. We do exactly the same thing before each bed time. I think mom’s been watching too much Oprah…but dad says the structure gives him and mom more peaceful nights. Whatever!

Second, every stage of my short life has been even better than the one before. I went from an adorable newborn to a smiling infant to a crawling baby to a walking, talking toddler. The time mom and dad spend with me is just great. They’ve taught me to clap. They read to me. They take me swimming. They just spend time with me…and I like it. (And learn to say “mama” as quickly as you can…she’ll do ANYTHING to hear you say it again and again!) My mom gave your mom a cool Baby Book to follow along with your development…and track all the fun things you do!

Third, I hope you’ll enjoy the things I asked my mom and dad to buy for you. (I would have bought them myself, but my piggy bank is a little dry right now.) The crib mirror gives you a chance to style your hair for the day (like your dad does). The wrist rattle and teething ring are fun to shake and chew on…as are mom’s shoes, dad’s ties and anything else you can get your hands on. The wipes are the same ones we use at home. You can buy more expensive ones, but nothing is softer on my precious little hiney. I’ve also thrown in some mustela wipes...perfect for getting rid of that nasty “poopie” smell. The gum drop pacifiers (www.hawaiimedical.com) are my favorite. We got these in the hospital, too. I like to put my finger in the little hole and nothing else will do.

The snack traps are a nice addition in the car seat. They keep me occupied on long drives…letting mom and dad spend their time in the car talking about how cute I am. The stacking cups are cool too…you can stack cups while your dad stacks beer cans during football Saturdays! I’ve also enclosed a bib…it helps keep the BBQ sauce off your clothes on a Saturday afternoon…’cause you never know when a babe might be headed over. By Sunday, you might need the Boudreaux’s Butt Paste. That BBQ sauce sauce moves right through you…know what I’m saying?!?! Finally, I’ve enclosed some of my favorite books. Goodnight Moon is a classic and Miss Spider is one crazy lady! As for the Beginner’s Bible, it’s cool too. (Wait ‘till you read all the amazing stuff my buddy Jesus did!) And, my dad says your dad will love Home Game…he says it’s the best dad book ever written.

Good luck as you begin your new life and be nice to your parents. They’re the only ones you’ve got!

Love,

Bubba

Great Items for the Baby Basket

From Babiesrus.com

Crib Mirror

http://www.toysrus.com/product/index.jsp?productId=3371229

Wrist Rattle

http://www.toysrus.com/product/index.jsp?productId=2793329

Teething Ring

http://www.toysrus.com/product/index.jsp?productId=3505910

Mustela Wipes

http://www.toysrus.com/product/index.jsp?productId=2302987

Snack Traps

http://www.toysrus.com/product/index.jsp?productId=3502507

Stacking Cups

http://www.toysrus.com/product/index.jsp?productId=2792512

Bib

http://www.toysrus.com/product/index.jsp?productId=3504745

Boudreaux's Butt Paste

http://www.toysrus.com/product/index.jsp?productId=2735117

From Amazon.com

The Baby Book

http://www.amazon.com/Baby-Book-Everything-Revised-Updated/dp/0316778001/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1250430488&sr=8-1

Home Game

http://www.amazon.com/Home-Game-Accidental-Guide-Fatherhood/dp/039306901X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1250430538&sr=8-1

Goodnight Moon

http://www.amazon.com/Goodnight-Moon-Margaret-Wise-Brown/dp/0060775858/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1250430586&sr=8-1

Miss Spider's ABCs

http://www.amazon.com/Miss-Spiders-Book-David-Kirk/dp/0590282794/ref=sr_1_15?ie=UTF8&qid=1250430627&sr=8-15

The Beginner's Bible

http://www.amazon.com/Beginners-Bible-Timeless-Childrens-Stories/dp/0310709628/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1250430678&sr=8-1

From Costco.com

Baby Wipes

http://www.costco.com/Browse/Product.aspx?Prodid=11273813&search=baby%20wipes&Mo=2&cm_re=1_en-_-Top_Left_Nav-_-Top_search&lang=en-US&Nr=P_CatalogName:BC&Sp=S&N=5000043&whse=BC&Dx=mode+matchallpartial&Ntk=Text_Search&Dr=P_CatalogName:BC&Ne=4000000&D=baby%20wipes&Ntt=baby%20wipes&No=0&Ntx=mode+matchallpartial&Nty=1&topnav=&s=1

From Hawaiimedical.com

Pacifiers

http://store.nexternal.com/shared/StoreFront/default.asp?CS=hawaiimed&StoreType=BtoC&Count1=191982448&Count2=109122872

Guys Don't Belong at a Baby Shower

2009-08-18T02:00:00.000-07:00

I am embarrassed to admit this.

I went to a couple's baby shower on Saturday. Yeah, I know, I've turned into a geek.

Saturday's are for golf, watching sports on TV, naps on the couch, sweat-poring work in the yard or anything else that reeks of guyness.

Baby showers are definitely not that. And watching the room was a reminder of how baby showers and guys do not mix.

Remember dances in middle school? The guys stood on one side of the room and the girls stood on the other. Eighth grade dance...meet baby shower.

All the ladies had a great time. They laughed about toddler stories. They offered helpful advice to the expectant mom. They traded notes on the best baby wipes.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, by the bar (thank goodness there was a bar), the dads stood around checking their watches and wondering when the torture would end.

Salvation appeared to arrive in the form of the hostess. She walked over to the guys' side of the room, big smile on her face. I thought she was about to tell us we could go home. Nope. She was asking us join the big circle so we could participate in the opening of gifts.

Now why would we do that? It was then that we looked over and saw our buddy sitting alone with all the moms. Poor guy.

We quickly joined in...so we could get a closer look at our buddy and laugh while he ooohed and aaahed over the baby stuff that he did not understand.

Apparently at baby showers, each gift is passed around to each guest. Now that's bizarre. Do I really need to see nursing bras and breast pumps up close?

I've decided that baby showers are for women only. Please don't think you're doing us a favor by inviting us along. We've got yard work to do.

Bubba the Biter

2009-08-17T11:00:00.000-07:00

Bubba has entered a biting phase. In the beginning, he only bit his mother. But they were big, skin breaking, blood drawing bites...think Dracula on a binge!

That changed on Sunday when Bubba bit one of the volunteers in the church nursery. It was a nasty bite too...bit her on the cheek. Hard.

Great, now I'm the dad of a biter. The Hannibal Lecter of toddlers. I can just see how this is going to go as I take Bubba to the nursery next week.

"Good morning Bubba," says the nursery worker. "I'll just be wrapping this leather and steel mask around your face so you can't hurt the other little boys and girls. Now run off and have a good time."

Mortified at the thought of that, I called our pediatrician and told her of our terrible dilemma.

Her response? Laughter.

She says biting is a phase lots of two-year-olds go through. She said it's an expression of their frustration over an inability to communicate. It's also an attempt to get what they want.

I asked her about sure-fire ways to fix the problem. Should we bite Bubba back? Should we put hot sauce on his tongue. She said those were fine...but they probably wouldn't work.

"Then what will," I asked. The doctor said patience.

Patience? Are you kidding me? Six years of medical school and the best advice I can get is to wait it out?

Apparently, biting is yet another example of a toddler's lack of emotional and psychological development. They can't tell us what they want or what's making them cry...so many of them bite. They know that their mouth is the place from which communication flows...so for them, biting seems quite logical. They'll get over it as their communication skills improve.

The learned doctor did say that we should apply some rules when Bubba bites.

First, do not give in to what he wants. If he connects biting with success, he'll keep biting. Resist that temptation with everything you've got.

Second, do not give him the attention he craves. After a bite, put him on timeout. And when you do, do not talk to Bubba, don't even look him in the eye on the way to timeout. This will have the greatest impact. Only at the end of the timeout period, the doctor said, should we talk to Bubba about what he has done and the consequences of those actions.

But even with such a regimen, it will take several months for the biting phase to end.

In the meantime...I recommend you wear a flak jacket when in Bubba's presence.

I'm a Head and Shoulders Guy

2009-08-11T02:00:00.000-07:00

The inspiration for this blog is http://www.dooce.com/. It's written by Heather Armstrong, whom Forbes magazine just named one of the 30 most influential women in media.

Heather is the nation's premier "mom blogger." After reading a few of her posts, I realized the world need a premier "dad blogger," and http://www.dadsondefense.com/ was born.

I don't have 300,000 readers a day like Heather does. But, hey, at least I have you!

Heather had a new baby a couple of months ago and she's had several recent posts about childbirth. Because she writes a mom blog, I guess she thought graphic details and the use of anatomically correct terms was appropriate.

As a dad, I found the details a little too...well...too detailed. And it reminded me that because my wife is soon to have another baby, I will again be confronted with what to do and where to stand in the delivery room. This is not a guy's finest moment.

I remember back to when we were expecting Bubba. As new parents-to-be, we attended a child birth class at the local hospital. The teacher had given birth to eight kids and nothing phased her. There were 10 couples in our class and between us no one had given birth, so we were all a little freaked out.

The teacher of the class showed us a picture of a female's birthing area (I think you know what I mean) just before birth. I kept my eyes closed. The guy next to me did not. When he looked at the picture, he said, "That's gross!" Our teacher's retort may have been the best, funniest response I have ever heard. She said, "Well, you found that attractive nine months ago pal!"

And I vowed never to see what must have blinded that poor fellow for life. I vowed to become a head and shoulders kind of guy.

Right then and there my plan for the delivery room unfolded. I would be the most caring husband ever seen during childbirth. I would stroke my wife's head. I would have cold, wet wash clothes at the ready. I would offer encouragement when appropriate...and stay quiet when necessary.

When I shared my plan with most dads, they readily admitted that they had taken a similar approach in the delivery room. Dads-to-be also agreed with the head and shoulders plan. Only one moron told me that he helped deliver his third child...even bragged about reaching in, turning the infant's shoulders and pulling the baby out. Can you imagine ever having sex again after that experience? He said he cherishes the moment, but I think he is lying!

(I'm still wondering if he got a discount on the doctor's bill since the moron did all the work.)

When Bubba was born, my plan worked like a champ! I steered clear of the birth canal. I provided comfort from the north end of the theater. I did have to hold my wife's left leg during key pushes...but even that can be done with blinders on.

What I did not count on was how much pain my wife would be in. She had an epidural, but it did not completely blunt the pain. That hurt...not as much as it hurt her, but it hurt. None of us want to see our loved ones struggle. And it's a helpless feeling to watch your wife yell in pain, knowing there is nothing you can do. That was an unexpected emotion, and one I do not relish repeating.

However, for both of us, the pain was lifted, the awkwardness of the indecency was removed when when we first heard Bubba cry and he was lifted up for my wife and me to see. He was a beautiful, beautiful, sight. And it was amazing to watch the medical professionals work. Within the first three minutes of Bubba's life, he was bathed, his blood was taken, his ears and eyes were checked and they took his temperature. And then he was wrapped in a blanket and we held Bubba for the first time. There's not a better memory in my life.

For baby number two, I will again be a head and shoulders guy...and I'll leave the graphic details to the dooce!

The Tradition Lives On

2009-08-10T02:00:00.000-07:00

I had the best Saturday night imaginable. Bubba, my almost-two-year-old, and I went to a Jacksonville Jaguars scrimmage. It was a night scrimmage. The stadium lights were on. Fans were in their seats. The pigskin was flying. You could almost smell Fall in the air.

Admittedly, I'd never taken a sippie cup and change of diapers to a football game before, but hey, there's a first time for everything right?

The better first, however, was taking my son to see some football. We laughed like two old buddies. He sat in his seat, mesmerized by the lights, the colors on the jumbotron and the antics of the crazy mascot on a motorscooter. I doubt he took in much football, but he did say "uh-oh" just after a dropped pass...although he could have been referring to the mess he was making in his pants.

Throughout the evening, I could not help but think back to my own childhood and the dozens of football games I went to with my dad. I remember each game like it was yesterday. And my passion for football comes from the time he invested in me. I hope he enjoyed it as much as I did. (Thanks Dad...this year, perhaps you, Bubba and me can take in a game together!)

I tried to teach Bubba words like quarterback, offsides and interception. He also learned some creative four-letter words from the fired-up fans around us. Good luck explaining that to my wife!

When the scrimmage ended, we got up from our seats and moved into the aisle to leave the stadium...and I swear this part is true...Bubba stopped, looked back at the field, then looked up at me and said, "Thank you."

I won't lie to you. I got tears in my eyes as Bubba etched a moment in our life together I will never forget.

When we got home, my wife asked if Bubba had fun. I told her I didn't know, but that I sure did.

On Sunday morning, I had a better answer to her question. While watching Sports Center, Bubba saw some scrimmage highlights, pointed to the TV and said, "football." And as we got in the car to head to church, he kept repeating over and over again, "game, game, game." I guess he was taking in more than I realized.

It was the first of many games for Bubba and me...and the tradition lives on.

Golfing Bubba

2009-08-05T02:00:00.000-07:00

Watching 59-year-old Tom Watson nearly win the British Open two weeks ago reminded me of this picture of Bubba. We took it a few months ago during The Players Championship. His outfit makes him like a cross between Bill Murray in Caddyshack and an old man knocking around the links with his retiree buddies.

What a Difference a Few Years Make

2009-08-03T02:00:00.000-07:00

It was really not that long ago that I was a bachelor, surrounded by great friends and living a fairly easy going existence.

I had two roommates. We lived in a condo on the river. We took road trips. We went to ballgames. We were three guys living the high life.

Slowly but surely our buddies began to marry off...but we hung tough.

My how times have since changed.

Friday morning, my life went full circle from those days as a fun-loving bachelor to my days as a dad.

I took my son to his weekly preschool. As I was checking him in, another dad walked in with his son. He looked vaguely familiar. He looked like a guy I once knew. A guy that, like me, was once a single guy living the life. He left town, moved to Napa Valley and started his own winery. How cool is that?!?!

The last time I saw him we were finishing my whirlwind, three-day bachelor party in Las Vegas. Still just guys having a good time.

Fast forward five years. Now we're both married. We have two-year-olds. We're slinging diaper bags over our shoulders and Vegas seems like a distant memory.

On another day, in another environment, perhaps over a beer, I could have caught up with my old friend...laughed about old times, talked about the new challenges of being a dad.

But our actual exchange was a little more awkward...a jarring vision really, trying to juxtapose the old picture of our free-wheeling selves with the new image of responsibility, parenthood and poopie diapers.

So we did what guys do...we grunted "how ya' doing," without really expecting an answer...then mumbled something about trying to get together soon...then a quick move out the door into our sedans and minivans before having to fully admit that we are now the guys we once laughed at. The ball and chain guys. The ones who had baby food on their neck ties and pacifiers in their pockets.

Don't get me wrong. I love being a dad and a husband. It's a blessing and a gift...and I would not change my life for anything.

But every once and a while, my mind shifts back to the days when the schedule was mine and mine alone. When late nights were spent howling at the moon, not calming a screaming baby. And when the anxiety of date night had nothing to do with whether or not the babysitter closed the baby gate at the top of the stairs.

That's what happened when I saw my old buddy in the preschool line...and saw the stain of old apple sauce on his tie.

Boy, what a difference a few years make.

Camp Grandma/Grandpa is Overrated

2009-07-27T02:00:00.000-07:00

Bubba spent the weekend at Camp Grandma/Grandpa. And what did we do?

We ran naked around the house.

We cooked gourmet meals, broke out the finest wines and danced cheek-to-cheek until the wee hours of the morning.

We woke up early, took fresh brewed coffee to the beach and watched the sunrise.

OK, now the truth...

We went to bed early and slept late...with an emphasis on sleep.

We sat on the couch and watched bad TV and bad cable movies.

And, we missed the Bubba.

Camp Grandma/Grandpa is overrated.

Wouldn't It be Great to be a Kid Again!

2009-07-22T02:00:00.000-07:00

I haven't had a smile or care-free look on my face like this since I was...well, since I was two-years-old. Aaaah. To be a kid again...

I've Solved America's Energy Crisis

2009-07-21T02:00:00.000-07:00

Every time OPEC or some oil-loving country jacks up the price or slows down supply, Washington politicians start talking about "alternative energy sources." I don't disagree. But what I've heard so far just doesn't seem practical.

The American people have just never seemed to embrace nuclear power plants. T. Boone Pickens' idea of giant wind farms appears far-fetched. Burning garbage for fuel on any large-scale is still the stuff of science fiction.

Actually, I think the folks from Disney came up with the best idea in Monsters, Inc. Generate electricity with the sounds of children's laughter.

But I think I've come up with one better.

We need to wire every two-year-old with some kind of electrode that captures their energy. Watching Bubba go at hyper-speed from sunup to sundown, I am convinced that we could power every town in America and still have some left over to sell to other countries.

His energy level is just amazing. When I wake-up in the morning, it takes 30 minutes to eek out of bed, three cups of coffee to be conversant and a few hours of daylight to become productive. Not Bubba. His eyes open, he demands to be released from his jail (oops...I mean crib) and he is in GO mode.

From there it's off to the races. First it's the dislodging of any toys still left on the shelves. Then it's the crazed emptying of his toy box with the frenzy of a starving man attacking a Shoney's breakfast buffet.

He then slows down, recharges his battery and begin to stalk his next prey. Typically that's the dresser drawers in our room...then the dismantling of the kitchen cabinets. He is also very careful to make sure that anything that is made in pairs (like shoes and socks) are separated from each other. That way success in finding one guarantees that the other will never be seen again...unless, of course, you really don't need it.

Bubba also tends to run in circles. I run in circles figuratively. Bubba runs in circles literally. Around the pool deck. Around the living room. Around his mother and me. I guess he's just blowing off steam as his GO switch remains in the perpetual ON position.

Once our new electro-toddler plants are operational, there will be times when this nation will have an energy glut and we'll need to slow our little guys and gals down. The extra energy just won't be needed. On those days, I recommend 100 trips down the slide or 60 minutes on the swing at the nearest park. You could also set them loose at any zoo or shopping mall...they'll love those wide open spaces. Or, to make a little money on the side, you could put them to work on a demolition crew, taking down small buildings with their bare hands.

Managed correctly, these kids could become the next generation of oil barons, controlling energy supply and prices. The sheiks amass cash, gold and expensive toys. The kids will amass candy, plastic cars and blow bubbles.

What a world it will be...what a wonderful, wonderful world. Just don't forget to turn out the lights!

You Don't Have to Teach Your Kids to Hoard

2009-07-20T02:00:00.000-07:00

Not long ago, a buddy a mine told me, "You don't have to teach your kids to hoard."

Sharing...yes. Being generous with kids on the playground...absolutely. But hoarding...that, apparently, doesn't require "teachable moments" as the professionals say.

Nor do we have to teach the words "no" or "mine."

On Saturday, I was watching Bubba at the pool. We arrived there with a bag full of rubber toys and a big red raft. Lots more loot than he could play with alone. But there was no telling him that. He'd let go of one toy to grab another if a kid got to close to his stuff. He would ignore his raft floating at the other end of the kiddie pool, but lunge at breakneck speed if the girl down the block jumped on it.

Where did he learn to be such a scavenger? My wife and I are generous. We put money in the church offering plate. We buy cookies from the Girl Scout next door. We eat popcorn out of the same bowl when watching a movie.

I Googled "two-years-olds" and "sharing" and came up with lots of interesting reading. The best article said that toddlers of this age don't actually play together. They parallel play...they engage in common activities next to one another, without ever cooperating or warmly acknowledging the presence of the other. Toddlers engaged in parallel play can best be described as the Middle East right after a peace accord has been signed.

While all involved are safe for the moment, war is always possible. And, in fact, every once in a while one of the toddlers pulls the nuclear option and grabs a toy from the other toddler. That's when all Hell breaks loose.

There is screaming, crying, hitting...and more screaming. Eventually mom, dad or another adult steps in to bring the peace (think United Nations). Negotiations begin like this:

"But you have more than enough plastic fish, can't you share with Sally?"

...or...

"I will take you home and put you to bed unless you behave right now."

Just like this doesn't work with the two-year-olds ruling Iran, North Korea or some other erratic foreign country, it doesn't work with our toddlers at the pool. Why?

Because two-year-olds haven't developed emotionally yet. They don't understand the concept of sharing. And they haven't yet learned how to control or channel their emotions in a constructive way. I know. I sound like one of those wacked-out radio show psychologists.

But it's true. The experts tell me that to get through this hoarding (or Middle East at war) phase, we need patience. We need to correct bad behaviors when we see them. And we need to model the art of sharing and cooperation in our homes. This, combined with the normal maturing of our two-year-olds, will make for a better pool experience next year.

As for calming international tensions...I don't have the answer. Except, of course, to send over a bunch of screaming two-years-olds. That would drive those crazed despots right over the edge.

The Stomach Bug Has a Heartbeat

2009-07-18T05:25:00.000-07:00

So last week's stomach bug is this week's baby in waiting. My wife is pregnant!

We've actually known for a few weeks, but wanted to get to the eight-week mark before sharing the news with friends and family.

The most common question so far..."Are you excited?"

The right answer is yes. Kids are a true miracle and I cannot imagine life without Bubba. But, as I've posted before, guys view fatherhood and kids a little differently than women. Our love evolves with time. Right now, I'm thinking about the expenses involved, whether or not our house is big enough for two kids, and I'm wondering about moving from a two-on-one defense to man-to-man. Can we keep up with the hyper-overdrive energy of two of these little tornadoes?

Over the next few weeks, I'll share a few of my favorite pregnancy memories from our first go-round, and begin sharing lessons learned for life with an expectant mom.

Wish us luck, because here we go again!

Would She Really Trade Me in for a Housekeeper?

2009-07-14T02:00:00.000-07:00

My wife has been sick all week. A bad stomach bug. You know the kind -- just the thought of food sends you running to the bathroom. A nauseous feeling you haven't felt sense college. Yuk.

I can't say I've been the most supportive husband. Probably more irritated than sympathetic. And not nearly as helpful to her as she is to me.

The truth is, Bubba and I are used to being taken care of by our mom/wife. She keeps our home life on track. She cooks great meals. She ensures a clean laundry supply. She makes sure the house is clean. And she makes us smile and laugh in the process. In short, she's GREAT!

But there's no way she's getting the care and compassion from me that Bubba and I get from her. Why is that? Because moms are programmed differently. Dads are task oriented and show care with their hands. Moms are emotive and show care with their hearts.

Need me to run to the drug store? No problem. Need me to get you another blanket? That's easy.

But ask me to just sit with you while you ache. Or ask me to intuitively know what your ailing body needs? Now that's impossible. I don't even know what that means.

Thank God for moms and thank God Bubba and I have a good one.

There's a new book out for women called, I'd Trade My Husband for a Housekeeper. After the care she's received from me this week, I hope she gets a good one.

If Bubba Had a Facebook Page...

2009-07-13T02:00:00.000-07:00

A few status updates you might find on Bubba's Facebook page:

Just had a great poop...you should have seen dad's face when he changed my diaper. Classic!

Animal crackers and red Kool-Aid for dinner. Awesome...I'm gonna' be up all night!

Like I don't know what B-E-D-T-I-M-E spells. It spells "Hang on to dad's leg and scream for dear life...They'll never take me alive!"

Saw another hot chick in the nursery today..."hubba hubba," says the Bubba.

Mom and dad are still trying to potty training me. No way. Pampers are for when you really have to go on the go.

Bubba's Been Hypnotized by a Mouse

2009-07-10T02:00:00.000-07:00

It was only a matter of time. Bubba has now discovered Mickey Mouse. Disney has just won over another child...make that another hypnotized sycophant. When Mickey Mouse Clubhouse comes on TV, life as we know it stops. It's as if he's in a trance...remote control in one hand, sippie cup in the other. His only movement is to scratch his privates. His only sound is a satisfying burp. There's no talking to him...no getting his attention. It's as if we don't even exist when the dancing mouse is on TV.

He must get that from his mother.

(By the way, anyone know when football season starts? I feel like I gotta burp.)

Can't We Say Goodnight to Goodnight Moon?

2009-07-09T02:00:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning with the line "Good night room. Good night moon. Goodnight cow jumping over the moon" repeating itself over and over again in my head. Why? Because last night I read Bubba Goodnight Moon for the one-millionth time. Surely that must be a record for a kid that's only 21-months old.

The kid has bookshelves full of books. They come in every shape, color and size. But for some reason, we can only read Goodnight Moon. I know it's one of those must read, iconic children's books...but must we read it every single night? When Bubba's not looking here's what I'd like to do:

shoot the cow that jumps over the moon and have a big ol' T-bone steak

hide the socks and mittens from the little old lady so that her extremities freeze

turn back the clocks an hour so the kittens are late for dinner

Then, when Bubba is completely distraught, I'll read him my recent 401(k) statements to cheer him up!

What's Up Dude?

2009-07-08T02:00:00.000-07:00

Here's what makes being a dad so great. This is my 21-month-old Bubba. Last summer, he would cry when we put his life vest on. Now, he cries when we take it off because he knows the boat ride is over. The best way to get me out of a foul mood...a boat ride with Bubba, watching his big smile and hearing him say "GO FAST!" Just awesome.

You Don't Need a Sermon to Get to Heaven

2009-07-07T02:00:00.000-07:00

Just like millions of others, my wife, Bubba and I go to church on Sundays. We carry Bibles, we attend Sunday School, we sing songs and we listen to a sermon. While those may be the traditional tools of our religion, they will not build us a ladder to Heaven.

My grandfather once told me that a man gets to Heaven by working hard and taking care of his family. I think he's right...and after nearly two years as a dad it's time with my wife and son that has given me a stronger hold on my faith. And I've learned that to see Heaven on Earth, you need only look into the eyes of your child.

Here are a few of my favorites:

Lying in bed with my wife not long after Bubba was born. It was the day of the Florida/Georgia football game (a biggie in these parts), but that's not what fired me up. It was Bubba intently focused on his mother's milk and the satisfying look he gave her when his tummy was full.

Standing on the dock in the Florida Keys just after first light. Together we watched the ocean wake up and Bubba's eyes got wider with every fish that swam by.

Sitting in church just this week, as the music played and the stage lights flashed. Bubba clapped and his eyes lit up with every pulse of the keyboard and strum of the guitar. On the slower songs, Bubba nuzzled right up next to me, looked up and smiled. (Anything you want kid, I'll give you just about anything.)

Nope, I don't need a sermon to get to Heaven. I get closer to God every time my son gets closer to me.

Where's the Instruction Manual?

2009-07-06T13:09:00.000-07:00

In his new book Home Game, Michael Lewis reminds guys that we were not programmed to be dads. Most women are. They grew up playing house. They played mom to their baby dolls. They probably even tagged along to a baby shower or two.

But not us. The notion of being a dad only occurs when your wife says, “I missed my period.” Not exactly a moment of hallowed joy...more like, “Oh no, what do I do now?”

Why then are there so few instruction manuals for us? Why are there books a plenty for expectant moms and nothing for dads? We’re the ones who don’t have a clue. Yes, parenting is the best example of on-the-job training there is, but shouldn’t there be some kind of instruction sheet?

Lots of products come with warnings that are apparently necessary to protect kids from hapless dads. Here are some examples I found at http://www.mlaw.org/:

A label on a baby stroller warns: “Remove child before folding.”

A popular scooter for children warns: "This product moves when used."

A digital thermometer that can be used to take a person's temperature several different ways warns: "Once used rectally, the thermometer should not be used orally." (NOW THAT’S GROSS!!!)

A box of birthday cake candles says: “Do not use soft wax as ear plugs or for any other function that involves insertion into a body cavity.”

So, let me get this straight. We have to be warned about removing a child from a baby stroller before packing it away, but God decides NOT to slap a little yellow warning label on the rear end of a newborn upon arrival?

In fact the only real instruction I ever received about caring for a child came about three hours after our son’s birth. Our baby, we call him Bubba, had been checked-out, cleaned and cleared for life by a team professionals medi-vacced in just for the occasion.

Apparently it takes like 20 people to deliver a child. But then as soon as the little son-of-a-gun is out and declared healthy they are gone. Anyway, there we were, my wife and I…and Bubba. The lights were turned down low. My wife was in a mystic mix of excruciating physical pain and loving adoration. I was in sweat-pouring fear. And Bubba was swaddled and asleep in a little bassinette in the hospital room. It was then that our labor and delivery nurse gave me the only instruction I would ever really receive from a professional.

Are you ready for the words of wisdom? She said, “If the baby cries in the middle of the night, just shake the bassinette…he’ll go back to sleep.”

That’s it? Shake the basinet? I thought that was illegal in most states…hadn’t she ever heard of shaken baby syndrome?

I guess that was the wacky warning label I was stuck with. As for actually operating this newly acquired piece of living, breathing equipment, we were on our own.

NOTE: By the way, the shaking works. But shake only lightly, making sure baby’s insides stay in tact.