One September night, I turned on the light,
And sat my girl in her pink chair.
“I need to start soon, so pick your costume.
Lets not leave this up in the air.”
“Santa!” she cried, and my eyes opened wide.
“But that’s Christmas!” I said with a shout.
But then I thought twice, this might be quite nice.
The Santas would not be sold out!
I hopped in the car, didn’t go very far,
And drove to the holiday store.
With a victory cry, I held Santa high.
The trip took five minutes, no more.
I rushed in with a whirl and showed my sweet girl
The beautiful, easy red suit.
She started to cry, “No! BUTTERFLY!”
And gave poor old Santa the boot.
I fell to my knees, my head in my hands
I sobbed and I screamed and I cursed.
Accepting my plight, I went out in the night.
On the eve of October 31st.
I pulled up to the shop, my jaw it did drop,
When I saw the ridiculous line.
A sea of parents were there, pulling out their gray hair,
As their kids screamed and shouted and whined.
I walked, head hung low. To the end I did go,
The outcome remains to be seen.
But I stood and I waited, better not to be hated,
By my sweet young girl on Halloween!
Happy Halloween Everyone!
Matt
Check out our last minute deals on all Halloween Costumes! OK, not really, but come look at our cool Fall baby clothes anyway at our online boutique, RedSparks.com!
First and foremost, I’d like to express my sincerest thanks to Daniel at Deguia.net. Unbeknownst to me, our preemie and baby clothing site, RedSparks.com, has been unreachable to, oh, just about HALF THE COUNTRY for the last month. Daniel pointing this out, then graciously offering technical support, saved us from losing any more orders than we already have. Thank you, man!
Now on to business. We have a winner in the Lightning Traveling T-Shirt Giveaway. Even though it only got four comments (I chalk this up to the above mentioned server issues, NOT shoddy content), I ran it through the random number generator anyway and it came up lucky number 3!
Oh…my….God, its McMommy! Like SHE needs more free stuff, right?
Anyway, McMommy? You have to get this thing out of here fast! I dragged my feet and Lightning WILL strike if I don’t move this thing! Congratulations!
-Matt Have you checked out the amazingly cute new fall baby and preemie-wear at RedSparks? You should, you know. Will it hurt to look? Didn’t think so.
A little while ago, Mr Lady ran a little contest asking people to describe the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to them. I can’t play basketball, I choose wrong with 50/50 odds 89.3% of the time and I actually lost a spelling bee in school in which I was the only player. But this was something I could win…hands down.
And I did.
So the prize is this awesome idea started by Lightning, called The Lightning Traveling T-Shirt. The way it works is that she ponies up some cash for each and every blogger that comes across the shirt by December 1, then someone WINS that cash. Admittedly, I was way too slow to get my own contest up so that as many people could touch the shirt as possible, driving up the pot, and hope that my sluggishness hasn’t in any way upset her. (Her name is Lightning, Matt…c’mon. Use your brain.)
So here it is, and I will make it short and sweet, so we can get the show on the road. Simply comment on this post by 11:59 pm Monday, Oct 27 and I will Express Mail this shirt to the winner chosen by random drawing.
The only thing left is to show you a picture of this shirt. I couldn’t figure out the best way to depict the garment and showcase its quality. “What will do this shirt justice?”, I asked myself. “How can I let people know, photographically, that this shirt is not only important, but an actual high-end, couture item? Here ya go. Good luck!
My wife will get on me about this post. The Playpen is supposed to be about preemies, parenting and family. Jeremy is running a contest. Jeremy’s site is called Discovering Dad. Its a site about being a good father and what it means to be a good dad. And the prize is some Harry Potter stuff. So you see, babe? Its all about family.
It was one of those nights in the Midwest. Warm, but breezy. Crickets chirped hypnotically. Most of the neighborhood was asleep, and only the glow of the streetlights lit the willows lining the narrow boulevard. Two eighteen-year-old boys leaned on the hood of a 1973 Volvo. Dave, the taller of the two, sucked lazily on a cigarette dangling from his lips while Matt, his best friend, talked excitedly.
“We’re really gonna do this? I mean really. Don’t say it if you don’t mean it, dude.”
Dave exhaled and looked at the street lamp thoughtfully.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “We’re doing it.”
The next morning the two boys were on the road early. A half-empty pot of coffee rested on the floorboards between Matt’s feet and Van Halen blasted on the cheap Pioneer tape deck. It was a long drive, but it went by quickly as both thought about what lay ahead of them in silence.
They arrived at their destination at 10:00 AM. Dave maneuvered the car down a long gravel road. He brought the vehicle to a squeaking stop. Both boys got out and looked up.
Matt’s eyes fixed on a bright orange windsock, blowing restlessly in the morning breeze. He wondered how anyone could actually see it from that high up. It must be…
“Jesus”, Dave said under his breath, interrupting Matt’s train of thought. Matt followed Dave’s gaze skyward and saw what he was reacting to. A figure, clad in what appeared to be some type of spandex and hanging under a gleaming yellow rectangular parachute came swooping down out of the sky at a blazing speed, the fabric of the canopy flapping noisily in the wind. Just when it looked like the man would slam directly into the ground, he yanked on the toggles in his hand, and flew 200 feet or so at top speed hovering a few feet off the ground before lightly touching earth on his tiptoes.
Dave looked at me and I looked back. He looked pale. I knew I did too. There was no turning back now.
Within an hour we were jumpsuit clad, crammed into a dilapidated Cessna 182 and making a laborious ascent to 3000 feet. We both acted excited, throwing thumbs up back and forth to one another, but we both knew that if the plane ride took a little longer, that would be A-OK with us. We were just getting comfortable when the engine slowed and the door to the plane flung open. My heart lept into my throat as the smell of gas, the blast of wind in my face and the sheer noise of the plane engines engulfed me all at once.
“OK, C’mon!” our instructor, Spence, shouted over the roar of the engine. I was glad that Dave was nearest the door. Dave glanced at me one last time, eyes like dinner plates, and scrambled out of the plane. Spence didn’t waste any time. “Ready, Set, GO!”
Before I knew it, Dave was gone. Aside from Spence, I was alone in the plane.
“C’mon dude! Move it…we’re gonna miss our spot!”
I made my way to the door and climbed tentatively out onto the step. I was shocked at how hard the wind was blowing. My knuckles were as white as bone and my body shook with adrenaline. I gripped the wing strut firmly with both hands and jumped off the step, my body swung from the wing like a ribbon on a fan and the plane rocked. What was I doing!” I looked back at the door where Spence crouched inside grinning from ear to ear. The door seemed a million miles away. “Ready, set, GO!”
I let go.
The propellers of the plane grew fainter and fainter, followed by a few brief moments of silence as I fell weightless through the sky. A sensation that I can not. Will not, ever forget. It was as if I was flying in the eye of a storm…almost peaceful. As I began to fall faster, the wind began to whistle in my ears, increasing in volume until my body was racked with a huge jerk. My breath was forced out of my lungs and my legs flailed about. My whole body tensed. When it passed I looked up and saw the most beautiful sight I have ever seen in my life. A big, billowing, perfectly-opened red parachute. I had done it.
I eased back in my harness and looked around. From that height, the farmland looked like a giant jigsaw puzzle, divided up into multi-colored squares. I looked down past my feet and saw another parachute far below making lazy circles as it descended to Earth. Dave.
I have never felt more at peace than I did that first day, flying around under my red parachute. There is no other way in the world one can experience that view. Dead silence. The breeze blowing gently on your face. Nothing, I mean nothing, around but you and the clouds. It is the closest I have ever been to Heaven.
For the next two years, Dave and I jumped together a lot, and I am not certain that I will ever have a period in my life again where I feel that free. Those were the golden days…the days we will sit on the porch in rocking chairs as old men and discuss while the sun sets. The best of times. The adventure of a lifetime.
Matt
Check out the new fall line of preemie, infant and toddler clothes at our online boutique, Redsparks!
I was challenged by this post. Barbara at TherExtras, the consummate intellectual who’s blog I read because it makes me think, asked her readers to post about healing. Fairly broad topic, don’t you think?
It turned out to be a very interesting exercise for me. I thought about it. First on a surface level, then much more deeply. I arrived at the conclusion that healing is perpetual. It is not so much a destination as it is a journey (this sentence was lifted from my “100 Greatest American Cliches” handbook).
Each and every one of us deals with healing in our own way. In order to attempt to narrow my focus, I must apply the concept to a two basic categories within my life:
Surface. The human body is always healing. Be it a skinned knee, a bad back, a bad haircut or a night of heavy drinking, our poor old bodies try with all their might to correct the physical atrocities we put them though on a daily basis. An amazing machine, the body is.
Emotional. A much more difficult and drawn out process. I believe that all of us, from day one, spend most of our lives and effort trying to process and justify those events in our pasts that have, for one reason or another, left a bruise on our egos. I challenge anyone out there to contest the theory that occurrences in our lives that have in some way lessened our opinions of ourselves do not haunt us forever and shape the very way we live our lives from said event forward.
Since The Playpen is a site about parenting, children and family, I choose to focus on the latter category, and how it relates to the birth of my daughter. As many readers know, she was born almost two moths prematurely, and her early arrival put not only her own health in jeopardy, but my wife’s as well. If one were to view a timeline of my life to this date, they would clearly see a large red dot, circled in Sharpie with exclamation points around this time.
Looking back, I realize that the unexpected nature of her birth left deep emotional scars on my wife and me. And, honestly, we have only truly begun to heal from this event. Many, many decisions we have made are significantly influenced by this unexpected event.
We have only one child. This is an absolute result of her early delivery. Had we gone through a normal pregnancy, we would probably have another by now.
We spoiled her. At some point we should have been more strict with her. We should have laid down the law. I believe that because of hyper-concern for her health, we allowed her to get away with too much for too long. We are all doing much better with this now, but it was a problem for a while.
To this day, we overreact to a common cold. Not as much as we used to, granted, but our daughter knows the ins and outs of an ER, she knows the name of the equipment, how to lay on the examination table and sometimes refers to a bracelet as “what she wears at the doctor’s”.
I do not wish to paint a picture of my family as suffering from hypochondria, in and out of doctors offices on a daily basis. We are all healthy and happy. I am merely pointing out that past experiences have influenced our behavior, and the awareness of this particular issue and the desire to overcome it defines “healing” for me personally.
Healing is awareness. It is overcoming the fear of facing adversity in ones past and standing up to it. Healing is relinquishing the control that we though we had and turning our attention to strengthening our resolve and character. Healing is overcoming our demons. Facing what frightens us. Healing is courage and the willingness to improve oneself as a human being. If we are unwilling to put forth the effort to heal, we doom ourselves to a life of fear, and perpetual regret.
A few weeks ago we were driving my daughter home from preschool. As we were talking to her about her day, a little drama began to unfold.
Me: So what else did you do today, sweetie?
Daughter: Nothing. That’s it.
Wife: So was it a good day or what?
Daughter: No.
Me: Why not…did something bad happen? (my first reaction to almost any negative statement from my daughter)
Daughter: Yeah. Peyton hit me and knocked me down.
Wife: Ohhh….that’s not very nice of her. Why would she do that?
Frankie: Not she, mommy. He.
Wife: Oh, well I ju….
Me: Nonononononononono….hold up a sec here! I got this. Peyton is a boy? A boy hit you at preschool and knocked you down? Lemmie tell you what you do in this situation. You listening? The next time little Pick-On Girls-Peyton hits you, you smash him right in the face as hard as you can…you got that? And if he falls down kick him. Twice!
Daughter: (happily excited): Yeah, Daddy!!!!
Wife:…………
Me: (looking proudly at wife): See? That’s how you play that. No stupid kid is gonna get one over on MY little girl. Punk. He’s lucky I…….
Me: (looking at wife again): Babe? What??
It occurred to me that it may be possible that I had slightly overreacted with my response. After my wife explained that she thought it might have been better to suggest that, at 3 years old, my daughter simply go to the teacher and explain what had happened I realized that, once again, my man-sense may have gotten the best of me.
But then I started really thinking about it. IS going to the teacher the right thing to do? Shouldn’t she be taught to stand up for herself? A parent or a teacher won’t always be around, you know? I took martial arts for a couple of years. Busy Dad could knock me out over the phone, but I did learn that, if you can’t avoid it, and are absolutely in harms way, make sure you put them in harm’s way first. Do enough damage to make sure you are safe, then walk away. To me, that is what I would like my daughter to learn as well. The more I thought about it, the more I stood by my original reaction (not the vernacular, mind you, but the concept).
I also considered that, if I had a son instead, and a girl hit him and knocked him down, my response would have been much different. Clearly, there is a lot of gray area here, and I am interested in how you would have (or have already) handled these types of situations with your own children. Let the authorities handle it, or handle it themselves?
Oh and, by the way? Peyton? You’re goin’ down.
Matt The RedSparks Summer Sale is over. We will be launching our brand new fall collection later this week, so you still have a few days to take advantage of the last summer savings. Stop by and rummage through our stuff!
We have reached a milestone in my daughter’s life. Tomorrow, she starts school. Granted, its preschool, but this particular school goes all the way through eighth grade so, for all intents and purposes, today will be the last weekday she spends at home with Aline, barring holidays and sick days.
Naturally, I have found a way to twist what some other parents would see as a monumental and joyous occasion into a dark and twisting vortex of worry and over-analysis. Don’t judge…it’s my way.
Even before I had a child I was aware that children are tempted by drugs and alcohol at a much earlier age than I ever was. According to the SAMHSA, many kids start drinking in middle school, and one out of every two 8th graders has tried alcohol. So that means that by the time my daughter is thirteen, when she brings home a friend from school one of them will have hit the bottle. And Talking with Kids states that the average age by which kids try marijuana is 12. That’s an average, people.
I personally tried alcohol for the first time at a party my junior year in high school, and didn’t even touch weed until I was about 24. Why? Because my parents were all over it. I was terrified of drugs. I believed that my face would melt off like the guy from Raiders if I even came near a bong. According to them, they never took drugs, they hated them. My mom hadn’t even tried a beer until about 20 minutes ago, and that made her so sick she almost died. They never backed down in their story; whether it was truth or fiction we believed it. At least until we were old enough to start making intelligent decisions for ourselves. And this concept, the sentence I just wrote, is what concerns me the most about kids, drugs and alcohol. If I had tried them at that young of an age, would I have had the sense to limit their use, as I did when I was older? Would I have known to put the twelfth beer back because, just maybe, I would miss work the next day if I drank it?
I don’t think so. I think I would have simply latched onto how cool they made me feel and gone after that feeling over and over again, making more and more bad decisions and ultimately ending up with a life that is not quite as nice as the one I have now. I didn’t have the limits that we learn to set for ourselves through experience. I had no “off” switch.
By contrast, there is the technique employed by parents of some of my friends growing up. Let your kids know about your experiences, particularly the bad ones, with drugs and alcohol. Put yourself on their level. Show them you understand. Illustrate to them how bad misuse at an early age can be so that they may benefit from your mistakes. If you are upfront and honest with your kids about your own experiences, they will respect you that much more for it and will avoid getting tangled up in the whole mess altogether.
One of the things I love the most about The Playpen is your comments. I love the immediacy of the medium. I am always completely interested, surprised and sometimes even shocked at the diversity of responses we get to our posts, even if it is still only a handful. That being said, I would love to hear which method you have, or intend to employ when trying to keep your kids safe and healthy throughout their adolescence. Upfront and honest about your own alcohol and drug experimentation (I know, I know…there ARE some of you who truly haven’t used either, but that would completely ruin this post!), or as an old boss said to me a long time ago, “Lie Lie Lie, until you can’t lie any more! By the time they figure out you were lying, they’ll have the sense to make their own decisions.”
Matt The RedSparks Summer Sale is coming to an end. Don’t miss out! Receive up to 60% off on today’s hottest fashion and accessories for preemies, infants and toddlers!
A while ago, a blog friend of mine made a random comment on their site that, for whatever reason, I cannot seem to shake. It wasn’t meant to be taken seriously, but it was just one of those things that sort of opened my eyes to a new perspective and made me think. My interpretation of the comment was that putting a child into preschool too soon is not only not a benefit to a kid, but could also be damaging to them from an emotional and developmental standpoint.
My daughter starts preschool in a week. She is three-and-a-half years old. In order to make a clean comparison, lets take finances out of the mix. Granted, there are many people out there for whom anything but preschool for their children is not fiscally viable (how’s THAT for a sentence!) As U.S. home values drop, inflation increases and expenses rise, both parents must work to make ends meet. For the purpose of my question you will ultimately read at the bottom of this post (I hope), I’d like to exclude this group from the debate.
I am interested in other reasons parents may have for sending or not sending their children to Pre-K. In our case, we feel that our daughter needs it, and can benefit greatly from it. She is a bit ahead of the curve intelligence-wise, yes…at least for now. But, that aside, we have simply come to the realization that we are NOT the type of parents who can devote every hour of every day to nurturing our daughters creative, analytical and behavioral growth. Before you judge that statement, let me also say that we are good parents. We spend a lot of time with her, and I know for a fact that anyone coming in from the outside to observe would agree that she is being raised well. But we simply can’t offer her the stimulation that a structured, scholastic environment can. Is “scholastic” to heavy a word for a preschooler? I don’t think so. Her classroom has computers. There is a complete library with a preschool section and reading days every Friday. Tuesdays are art. Thursdays are music. There is cooking, theater, organized sports, even swimming. HOW, pray tell, would two lowly individuals like ourselves possibly be able to expose her to that type of diversity? They study ABC’s, learn the Pledge of Allegiance, foreign language…oh, did I mention that they play outside all the time too? Not only will she love it, but she will be challenged, and she enjoys challenge. I recently bought her a new ABC puzzle. She spent HOURS with me doing it over and over until she had almost all of them (has anyone seen the “S”, by the way?). Personally, I can see no better way of keeping her entertained, motivated and focused than preschool, and stand by our decision to send her. (I didn’t even touch on the socialization aspects of it…how many playdates can one person REALLY set up on their own?).
The counterpoint to this argument is one shared by many of my close friends. They believe that birth through, say, four years old is bonding time for the children and the parents. That those years should be devoted to play, development and discipline in the home. They feel, I think, that the child should not be made to be away from home for long periods of time, and that the home environment and consistent presence of the parents is far more beneficial to a child during these early years when children are so impressionable. Preschool, for them, is more damaging than good in that it takes away the opportunity for the parents to instill the character traits they wish onto their children and places it firmly in the hands of people they do not know. They often feel that parents who do put their kids into Pre-K are guilty of hyper parenting, and place unnecessary and undue stress and expectations on children who are not yet emotionally ready to carry that burden.
Clearly, you know which side of the argument I fall into. You will never convince me that my daughter will not be happier, more well-rounded and more successful in life (not only financially, but emotionally as well) if she is exposed to more, learns more and processes more from her current age on. But I am also aware that there are billions of intelligent and creative people who have very happy and comfortable lives who didn’t attend one hour of preschool growing up.
My final question is simple. Do three and four-year-old children benefit more from early education or from the continuing attention, love and comfort they receive at home? I know what the statistics say, but there IS more to life than the right college or perfect career. What do you think?
Matt The RedSparks Summer Sale is coming to an end. Don’t miss out! Receive up to 60% off on today’s hottest fashion and accessories for preemies through ,that’s right, preschoolers!.
Today, my first post as a contributing author on Discovering Dad went live! If you haven’t checked out Jeremy’s site, I recommend it. It’s a fantastic resource for fathers and a wonderful community. The general theme of my post was coming to terms with the responsibility of being a new father, and what type of changes to expect.
I thought I would do a different version of that theme here on The Playpen from a more lighthearted perspective. So here they are. Matt’s top ten changes you can expect as a new father:
1. You will no longer blast your own music in your car. My iPod contains about 80 GB of music. Around 20 MB of that is my daughter’s. That 20 MB is played approximately 99.98% of the time. This rule also applies to your DVDs.
2. You will develop an affinity for fish sticks, mac-n-cheese and popsicles. You will also discover that you can make over 780 unique dishes using only these three ingredients and some chocolate sprinkles.
3. Three Words. Body. Mass. Index. Better hit the XXL section next time you’re at Target.
4. Increased estrogen level. I am sure there must be scientific evidence to support this. You will catch yourself speaking to your child in a feminine, high-pitched voice in places where it is not appropriate for a man do be doing so…like Best Buy.
5. You will lose all of your current knowledge of NFL football. Your child-less friends will have heated discussions about passer ratings, draft picks and the best blocking fullbacks in the league, and you will feel left out completely. In order to cover your embarrassment, you will blurt out something like “Yeah, well Swiper took a mitten today and I found it behind the tree in less than ten seconds!” This will eliminate your embarrassment as it will immediately sever your relationships with your child-less friends.
6. You will inevitably end up sitting alone on the couch watching Wonder Pets long after your child has gotten up and walked off. Why? Because Wonder Pets ain’t half bad.
7. You will redirect your competitive, alpha-dog nature from things like salary, car, house and flat screen TV to things like Diaper Genies, strollers and baby furniture. “Did you get a load of that wipe warmer that Steve and Jen had? It only had one temperature setting and didn’t even light up! Ours is so much better. I’ll bet they’ve noticed it, too.”
8. Your favorite room in the house will no longer be the TV room. Or the kitchen. It will be the bathroom. Why? Because you can read ESPN the Magazine in there and the door locks. Sanctuary.
9. Yes. Its true. You will begin to love, not like, LOVE the Olive Garden.
10. You will begin to wear the same clothes over and over again, no matter how much you told yourself you wouldn’t be “that dad”. The other day I was looking at a picture of my daughter at 10 weeks old (over three years ago). Slowly, my eyes went down to the shirt I was wearing, then back to the picture, then back to the shirt. Yup.
Matt Stop by and check out our Summer Sale…up to 60% off select clothing and gifts for baby girls and boys!
Less than an hour ago, My hometown of Los Angeles was rocked by yet another earthquake. If experience serves me, the actual magnitude will change over the next few days as news stations, eager to be first on the scene, report the best information they have at the moment. Immediate reports said 5.8, now it is down to 5.4.
My first earthquake in LA was the 1994 Northridge Quake. I had been living here for less than six months, and had conveniently chosen an apartment about a mile from the epicenter. For those of you who have not experienced a truly damaging earthquake, the experience is something that never leaves you. At the first hint of a tremor or rumble, your body stiffens, your pulse quickens and you freeze.
This one was particularly bad. Not because of the magnitute…it was really just kind of a gentle roller…but because, for the first time, I had a family. And we were all apart.
My wife was at home, Frankie was at daycare and I was at work. Once the rumbling subsided and my hands stopped shaking I tried to call. No service. I tried the land line. No service. And guess what? We had no plan. I didn’t think that it was a bad enough quake to cause any physical damage, but you never know. Sometimes it has to do with the type of fault and plate movement, as well as the depth and other factors. Regardless, I was worried beyond belief.
I promptly drove home, where Aline was fine and phone service had been restored. Frankie was ok, but they would be napping today with their shoes on, just in case. In twenty minutes, Aline and I drafted up a plan should the big one hit when we were all apart. Thats all it took, and we kicked ourselves for not having done it sooner. Tonight we will be going out to put together the earthquake kit that we have been meaning to get together for the last fourteen years.
Being unprepared for a natural disaster while responsible for the safety and well being of loved ones is not only lazy, it is just plain stupid. Thank god I get to redeem myself.
For a listing of high-risk earthquake areas and additional resources focusing on earthquake preparedness, here are some links:
