Tag: fatherhood

Unconventional Lullabyes

I made my way into the dark-ish room and closed the door softly so as not to wake E. It was still easy to see; the late sunsets of summer evenings meant that the light was still poking through the blinds, even though it was close to 8:00 PM. E had fallen asleep almost immediately after T and I had put the kids to bed a half hour earlier. S, though, had begun crying and was standing in her crib when I walked in.

“Mommy?” she asked expectantly, holding out her arms to be picked up.

“No, you’re not getting Mommy,” I answered. Continue reading “Unconventional Lullabyes”

The Golden Buddha In Each of Us

“Do you know the story of the Golden Buddha?” he asked.

I shook my head slightly. I was panting too hard to verbalize the word “No,” but he wouldn’t have heard me anyway.

“Many, many years ago, in a small village in Asia, there was a large statue of the Buddha, made completely out of gold. There was very little else in the village; it was a poor group of people, farmers mostly. But they had this statue.”

Continue reading “The Golden Buddha In Each of Us”

Paid Paternity Leave and #DearFutureDads

A coworker and I were speaking recently about children. He doesn’t have any kids himself but he would like to one day. He mentioned that he struggles with anxiety, though, and that he worries about how that would manifest in his parenting. He asked me how T and I deal with the anxiety that comes with raising our kids.

“That’s why God made bourbon,” I answered with a grin.

Continue reading “Paid Paternity Leave and #DearFutureDads”

The Gift

“Wait, where is E?” T asked.

We had come to Citi Field to celebrate E’s birthday and to see the Cubs play the Mets.1 A baseball stadium was never a good place to lose a child, but especially not on his birthday.

We scanned our group quickly. My brother, his wife and their daughter were sitting in the row in front of us and my youngest brother, his wife and their young son were another row down. My mother and her husband were in that row, as well. I kept moving my head from side to side, trying to crane my neck around S, who was standing on my lap and dancing with the music blaring through the PA system, but there was no sign of E. Continue reading “The Gift”

Sanctuary

There was something about the building that made me stop.

I don’t often stop when I’m walking. I walk with a purpose, as all good city folk should, whether I’m making my way to an appointment or just running out to the store. I don’t rush, but I walk quickly, despite having a fairly long stride. I weave through clusters of people as I go, passing on the inside, outside or finding the space between, and I don’t hesitate to walk in the street when the sidewalk becomes too crowded. I glance around at my surroundings from time to time but generally keep my focus on the ground ahead of me so I don’t end up with unexpected surprises on the bottoms of my shoes.

But, that day, I stopped.  Continue reading “Sanctuary”

Red Nails and Pink Legos

It started, as so many important moments do, with a question.

E had been watching television, one seemingly inconsequential kids show or another, when a commercial came on for a Lego model. He said immediately that he wanted to get it and T and I, without batting an eye, said that we would be happy to buy it for him. E smiled broadly, pleased with his instant victory, and resumed watching. After a moment or two, though, he turned back to T and me, his satisfied grin replaced by a look of confusion.

“Why didn’t the commercial show any boys playing with the Legos?” he asked. Continue reading “Red Nails and Pink Legos”

Putting the Pieces Together

It’s probably an overstatement to say that I loved playing with Legos when I was a kid.1I enjoyed them, to be sure, and I wished at the time that I had more models. I would open the outer package, dump all of the tiny bricks together into the inner box and start building. My eyes would bounce back and forth like tennis balls from the instruction booklet to the box of bricks to find the pieces I needed and back again to complete each step. I would pore over the instructions, making absolutely sure that I had placed the pieces correctly before pressing them together. I would sit, sometimes for hours on end, constructing airplanes, medieval castles and woodland fortresses.

But then I would leave them alone.  Continue reading “Putting the Pieces Together”

RAD Girl Revolution

“You can’t be what you can’t see.”

That’s the slogan for RAD Girl Revolution, a new children’s book created by two mothers from my neighborhood, Sharita Manickam and Jennifer Bruno. Like many modern parents, they were disappointed with traditional portrayals of gender roles in children’s books. It wasn’t just the “knight in shining armor” and “damsel in distress” tales that concerned them; it was the idea that astronauts, fire fighters, business people and a host of other professions were almost always characterized as men. Despite the increasing prevalence of girls empowerment programs across the country and a rising presence of similar slogans on clothing targeted to young girls, Manickam and Bruno kept coming back to the same bottom line: if girls couldn’t point to women in specific roles in society, they would have a much more difficult time visualizing themselves in such a position.  Continue reading “RAD Girl Revolution”

Explaining the Walk-Out to a Kindergartener

E had been ready for school for a little while by the time we asked to talk to him.

He was sitting at his homework table, coloring in the small Star Wars coloring book he had gotten as a birthday party favor or as a small treat from Target or some other place that five-year-olds acquire little coloring books. His sneakers were already tied and knotted and his hair was neatly gelled and combed. He was wearing his backpack for some reason, even though he would have to take it off to put his coat on when we were ready to leave.  Continue reading “Explaining the Walk-Out to a Kindergartener”

Finding Goodness in Unexpected Places

“Someone give me some good news,” she said.

She wasn’t exasperated; she didn’t have that frustrated edge to her voice that people often have when they’ve been hearing nothing but terrible things for an extended period of time. The sigh she let out as she spoke hinted more at resignation than anger. Her request sounded as though she had all but given up the fight against negativity and was grasping for one last moment of hope to remain grounded.  Continue reading “Finding Goodness in Unexpected Places”

Verified by MonsterInsights