Heaven is a Cornfield

Ever since Owen learned to talk, I have been bracing for the onslaught of difficult questions - about heaven and hell and the existence of God, the meaning of life, and various science-related questions that I have absolutely no answers to. So far, the challenges have been minimal. There have been some vague heaven-related inquiries recently in the wake of the recent death of his great-grandfather Paul, but he hasn't really taken it in a direction that would require much knowledge on my part. Tonight, however, he did ask me whether people who died in Illinois, or Iowa, or Wisconsin, were all in the same place up in heaven. Can't say I had a prepared answer for this particular inquiry, as I had never considered whether heaven adheres to the arbitrary state or international borders that exist here in everyday life. So I stammered something about everyone being with the other people they knew up in heaven. As good an answer as any, I suppose, since I doubt even theological theorists have spent much time on the governmental subdivisions that might exist in heaven. Upon further reflection, however, supposing heaven does exist, I would like to think everyone from Illinois got to go somewhere a tad more scenic.

Listmaking I

I once had a co-worker who was into keeping mental lists. It was a small office so I saw enough of him over the course of a couple years that it became amusing to me. If you talked to him one day about U.S. policy in South America, he might suddenly stop you and proclaim you to be "one of the 10 smartest people I know." Interests outside his sphere of knowledge might earn you a spot on the "10 most interesting people I know" list, and so on.

Lately, with four year old Owen in list-making overdrive, I feel like I am back in that office 24/7. With Deanna out of town for 3 nights last week and 3 nights this week, I have been peppered with lists and, more often, demands for my own lists. These range from the mundane (my favorite color: burgundy), to the thought provoking (my "unfavoritest color": yellow), to the bizarre (my favorite Mazda: who has a favorite Mazda?? I suppose some people do, but I lamely offered up the RX-7, which I thought was very cool 20 years ago, and which I am unsure is even in production anymore). Categorizing things through lists is an interesting and manageable way for a kid who is learning more about the wider world every day to organize his thoughts on various subjects and to learn from others. Owen has an elaborate and ever changing list of his favorite colors, which I currently believe runs along the lines of red (always number 1, for its "fastness"), grey (he copied my 2nd favorite - very flattering), blue, orange, purple, pink, gold, silver, and on down to his unfavoritest color of white. I haven't taken on the challenge of explaining the whole "white as absence of color" concept to him, as who needs that at age 4.

Wet Kiss

Cooper starting kissing us last week. This currently consists of lunging at our faces with his tongue stuck out while making a humming noise. Very cute (and wet)! It did occur to me, however, that he will need to refine his technique over the next 12 or 15 years if he wants to go on any second dates in the future.

First Year in the (Curious George) Books

The twins turned one this past weekend. Like any decent parents, we honored the twins request for a large birthday party. We limited it to relatives - 22 of them, including us - ignoring their insistent demands that we invite their large circle of little friends.

Seriously though, it does seem odd to have a big party for little beings who couldn't care less, who are as entertained by the ribbons as anything that comes inside the wrapping paper, and who would probably be happier just hanging with us than a bunch of semi-strangers who are insistently cooing in their faces. Once you factor in the time involved in prepping for a big gathering - time where you are trying to minimize the time spent catering to the babies so you can actually accomplish something - the whole thing is a bit absurd. Ultimately, it is probably best to admit that the party is essentially for the parents rather than the honorees. It is true, in support of the concept, that turning one is a milestone birthday. In addition, my wife's family has a history of big first birthday parties. In the final analysis, it is as good a reason as any to drink mimosas at 11 a.m. on a Sunday morning.

We went with a Curious George theme and put a lot of time and effort into the whole thing. We made monkey face cupcakes by using black and red frosting for the mouth, nostrils, and eyes, nilla wafers as the base for the mouth and nose, marshmallows for eyeballs, and mini-s'more cookies for ears. We made five different quiches with primate-themed names, such as "the Jane Goodall", and hung stuffed monkeys from the chandaliers and other various spots. Unfortunately, we ran out of time to do a stuffed monkey recreation of the infamous ether sniffing scene from "Curious George Gets a Job." Just as well, as that one would have gone unappreciated by the vast majority of attendees anyway. In the end, it was definitely a worthwhile endeavor as the weather was awesome, the guests had a lot of fun, and the babies eventually warmed up to the crowd and had a good time.

Three-On-One Breakaway

Going from one child to three with the birth of the twins a year ago has been challenging. Someone once made what I have since found to be a dead-on analogy between the number of little kids you have and basketball defense. When there are two parents and one child, you can double-team. Two and two, you can play man to man. But once it is two adults to three kids, you are forced to go to a zone defense.

For several months each Spring my wife Deanna is frequently away on business one or two nights a week. I'm not sure there is a decent basketball analogy for when it goes to three on one. More like a hockey team where my team has two players in the penalty box. I just go into penalty-killing mode until they (or in this case she) comes back again.

Mostly, these nights are routine enough and fairly fun. Other times, they break down into chaos. No matter how well you baby proof, there will be things you can't control when it is three on one. My favorite example of this happened a couple of months ago. I set out to give all three boys baths at once. I had Hayden (then 10 months) stripped first and in the tub when I noticed floating poop. This, of course, precipitated getting him out, draining the tub, and starting over. Tedious but necessary. I put Hayden back in, stripped Cooper (also 10 months) and was about to put him in too when I noticed poop stains on his feet. Although in retrospect I should have gotten more suspicious at that point as to where this was all coming from, trying to bath three little kids at once does not lend itself well to measured deductive reasoning. So, I took a quick look around, saw nothing that would really explain it, got his feet cleaned up and put him in.

Later on, after baths and preoccupied with getting the other two boys ready for bed, I went looking for Hayden, already in his PJ's, and found him sitting by the bathroom sink with a handful of shit and incriminating stains around the mouth area, including of course a literal "shit-eating grin". After sweeping out his mouth with my finger, I placed a panicked call to Deanna in her hotel three hours away, asking, theoretically, if one of the babies had eaten poop, whether the baby would be okay. After she confusedly replied that she supposed so as it was organic but what the hell was going on, I told her things were too chaotic to talk now and hung up. She really enjoyed that. I became suspicious of four year old Owen after I spied whole kernels of corn in the evidence, something the babies had not been chowing down on in recent days (CSI: Chicago). Owen initially claimed the poop must have been Cooper's, but eventually confessed that maybe it had been his. He said that earlier in the day, he had used the bathroom, and while he was subsequently busy washing his hands and "making faces in the mirror" some more "may have come out". I'm not sure why pants hadn't been pulled up at that point. Or why one wouldn't take a good look around on the floor to verify whether "some more" had indeed come out. The offending matter had apparently bounced off the little stool (no pun intended) Owen stands on to use the sink and underneath an overhang where the cabinets under the sink jut out so as to be not so visible to an adult but apparently in plain and tempting view of those under three feet tall.

Hayden, thankfully, suffered no apparent ill effects, by the way.

Day Full of New

Our oldest son, Owen, is a little over four years old and a great kid. Smart, engaging, funny, etc. He has been very patient with the fact that his life was turned upside down a year ago with the birth of his little twin brothers. Recently, as the twins have become marginally more independent, we have tryed to focus a little more on making sure Owen is getting enough individual attention from the two of us.

Anyway, last week Owen made his way downtown with Deanna when she got back early from a business trip. In the course of the next three hours, he had his first taxicab ride (and hailed his first taxi), worked with the office manager at my office delivering mail, for which he received his first pay ($5!) and a letter of thanks, gave his first dollar to a homeless guy (who sternly admonished him to stay in school and always listen to mom and dad), stood next to the Sears tower, and took a train ride home. The experience got me thinking how cool it must be at times to be so young and have everything happen for the first time. I would guess that as a four-year old it is fairly frustrating at times to have so little control over the day to day events of your life. But the flip side of that is the good unexpected, when you are woken up suddenly from a nap (yes! a four-year old who still naps every day!) and whisked off for several hours of new and exciting experiences.

You Have to Start Somewhere

I am sure the first entry is the hardest, so rather than spend forever debating how to define this blog, I think I will keep it short and sweet. My general goal is merely to periodically chronicle the goings on and general chaos related to raising three boys (Owen - 4, Cooper and Hayden - 1 year old (in two weeks!) twins) with my wife Deanna. Maybe give and get a little parenting philosphy and advice along the way. Discuss other subjects of interest to me from time to time. Allow near and far-flung friends to more easily keep up with the doings in our little corner of the world, since it has been less than easy to keep in touch since those aged four and under grew to outnumber the adults in our house last year. Who knows, maybe this will evolve into something else entirely over time, but that is the working plan for now.

I guess, based on the above, that this could be termed a "daddy-blog." And what better time to start this blog than now, I say, since parenting blogs and daddy-blogs in particular have recently been declared passe by various national media outlets. As I have always been slightly behind the curve technologically, starting my blog now makes perfect sense to me.

That is probably enough to get things started for now. Lets get this show on the road!