Two Years Later....

I've gained another daughter and the little girl I've been doting on in this blog seems to have turned into a little lady who's devastatingly far from the girl eating Noodles with her Daddy.

Where the hell has the time gone? A question I am destined to ask for years to come it would seem. Still doesn't make it any less pressing.

And when did I become that father? The one that has a ton of pictures of the first child but just "never found the time" to post anything about his second? Sad. I think its only fitting that I resurrect this thing just long enough to post some thoughts about Rio that will depress the hell out of me when she's 3.

But first, Rowan. Always the first and forever my teacher on Fatherhood and of life lived no longer just for me. She's been a good instructor over the last two years and I think the lessons have stuck. This little girl with her vast imagination and words that stretch beyond her years. And that face. That face! So much expression and openness. I wake up at night in fear that today will be the day someone teaches her to be cautious and guarded. Our first foray to pre-school had me wishing I had brought some sort of shield to block the inevitable barbs carelessly thrown from other toddlers.

Her sad face when she told me she wasn't good at basketball tore my heart in two. Who told her that? How the hell do they know? Does it matter? Not to Rowan anymore. But it sticks with me; that brush with maturity. That dreaded doorway to adulthood and peer interaction got a few feet closer. We just managed to escape unscathed. At least she did. As for me, I keep looking over my shoulder.

The classic Father posture. Looking over the shoulder wondering where the hell the time went. And when did I become that father?

Rowan Goes to Noodles

Date Day

Defining Moments

I guess there are moments in fatherhood which really help define the parenting experience. I believe one of those happened last weekend and I thought I'd share.

Rowan had a fever last week. It didn't last long and we didn't think too much of it as it simply made her a little more huggy and sleepy. It passed the next day and we figured it was simply the effects of another couple of teeth coming in. No big deal.

Last weekend roles around and Rowan was being her usual self and running around the house, playing with toys, reading books and naming everything she can see. She comes over to me as I'm laying on the couch and asks to come up. This is nothing unusual and often results in her climbing up for two seconds before realizing that all the cool stuff is on the ground and down she goes.

This time, I lifted her up onto my chest and in the space of a second or two, she proceeds to spew the contents of her dinner onto me and the surrounding area. Rowan is shocked, scared and not sure what just happened. Jennifer immediately springs into action and gets the necessary cleaning supplies as I try my best to comfort my daughter while covered in vomit.

After the shock wears off and we get Rowan settled and into the bath, she's her normal self and joining mommy in playing with her bath toys. Meanwhile, I have to go about the task of figuring out just how you clean vomit off a couch.

This little event led me to a few conclusions:

1. All my life, I imagined that my own parents simply knew what they were doing when we threw up everywhere. It's like they had some hidden playbook and were just enacting #121-Vomit Clean-up Option Left. This playbook does NOT exist and they, like me, were simply making this crap up as they went along with equal amounts of shock and awe.

2. Being covered in your own child's vomit is simply not as disgusting as I would have imagined. However, it's the point when the adrenaline kicks out and you know your daughter is ok that it becomes TRULY disgusting. I've learned it's best to get to the cleaning as fast as you can while the adrenaline is pumping. That's probably why my parents moved so damn fast as well.

3. When vomit or any sort of extreme mess is involved, a person can move with AMAZING speed and intensity. I'm the guy who doesn't want to find the remote as it may require getting my ass off the couch. But hit me with disgusting bile and watch me sprint around the house ten times to find more paper towels. If it weren't so disgusting, I'd get puked on more often in an effort to fix that front step I've been neglecting.

4. No event more than the disgusting, no choice but to deal with it, smelly emergency moments make you feel more like a parent. It's like you have to earn your stripes and no one tells you how that will happen. You might envision a great moment where lights shine and you realize the majesty of life as a parent. But in reality it involves things that are smelly, sticky and require one or more powerful cleaning agents in order to fix whatever damage may have occurred.

And God help me when the next defining moment roles around. I'm gonna go find that plastic tarp in the garage.

Life is Good

Been awhile.

Really, life has simply been too full and too busy for me to sit and write something about it. I guess I've just been too busy experiencing things to sit down and really think about all that has transpired in my life as of late.

All I know, is that at this moment in time, life is very, very good.

Happy birthday to my favorite person in the entire world, my partner and my mate. Jennifer, you are and will continue to be the brightest and most important person in my life. I'm the luckiest.

For Justin

Here's a video of Rowan in her typical playing moments.

Pictures