Sunday Guest Blog: The Woman Behind the Mug

Kate's birthday is this Tuesday. She's the woman behind the mug.

A typical Sunday morning out

She's an actor, a producer, a director, a friend, a daughter, a sister, a mom, a wife, and the most amazing person I have ever known. The first birthday that I celebrated with her was nine years ago. At the time, I thought I loved her, and I did, but nine years later, I love her more deeply and more fully than I could ever have known all those years ago. From tropical vacations that included nothing but the two of us and an empty beach, to sleepless nights with sick kiddos, we have been together. The good times and the bad times have brought us closer. We get tired, we get frustrated, and we turn to each other for support. I still get caught breathless when I look at her and realize she chose to spend her life with me, and I wonder how I got so lucky.

I could ramble on, but I won't here. However, if you ever want to know more, just ask me, and if you have a few days, I will tell you more about how amazing she is.

Happy Birthday, Kate!

Love,
Jim

Sunday Guest Blog: Um...Yeah, Kids Notice

J: O, what are you doing?

O: Watching TV and taking care of my baby, 'cause that's what grown-ups do.

So, yeah, kids notice. They watch, they listen, they learn. And I'm ok with the fact that O has observed my bouncing a crying baby to sleep while catching up on The Daily Show, or more embarrassingly, Hell's Kitchen.

It's just a reminder. You are being watched, and more importantly, your behavior will be emulated, both now and in the future.

A Sunday Guest Blog: Don't Take My Picture

O: Nooooooooooo! No more pictures.

The camera is clearly getting old to someone in our house.

Completely over it.  

Lullabies: A Class in Writing the Perfect Bedtime Song

O:  NOOOOOOOOOOO! I don't want that song. I want a daisy song.

J:  I don't know a daisy song.

O:  Just make one up!

The first time I tried to sing to tiny newborn O, I realized that I didn't know any lullabies all the way through. There was a lot of, "Lullaby...da da da...da da da da da da da." So I YouTubed everything from Brahms to The Muppets. As a frustrated shower singer, it was very satisfying because I developed my own set of songs and had a captive audience.

First song on the playlist.  A forever classic.

And then O learned to talk. Suddenly I began meeting with crushing rejections. My singing made her ears hurt. She didn't want to hear the songs I had been singing to her for months, especially the Bleshings Song.  

Now that she is almost four, she prefers improv. She picks the theme and I make a song up, lyrics and melody on the spot. I'm not sure if she genuinely enjoys the songs, or just enjoys listening to me fumble my way through these bedtime ditties.

I take direction very well.

The songs will not be recorded for posterity. I believe they are largely forgotten even before her head hits the pillow and the sounds of gentle snoring begin, but I do hope that the memories of this bedtime improv routine will live on and bring a smile to our faces in years to come.

See, she digs it.

P is not quite so discerning yet. I can still dust off some of those YouTubed standards for her, but once she gets wise, Kate and I might have to have a serious talk about creating a new captive audience member for my hit parade.

Sunday Guest Blog: Finding a Magical World

O: We are in the porky pine needle forest. If you wake the porky pine, it will poke you.

Kate and I have spent late nights planning adventures to museums, aquariums, zoos, or [insert other culturally/historically/scientifically relevant places here] with the lofty hope of not only entertaining our little ones, but enriching their lives. These trips are fun, exhausting, and sometimes overwhelming for all involved. Today, however, I was reminded that to a nearly-four-year-old, a walk with the dog around the block can be a magical adventure all by itself.

Mending Wall?

Hungry ghosts live in this tree. To pass, you must stop so they can nibble on your hair.

Don't forget to stop to smell the flowers.

This is the porky pine needle forest. Shhhhh...you might wake the porky pine and get poked.

While we will keep planning and going on those far or at least farther flung adventures, to be honest, when viewed through the eyes of a nearly-four-year-old, this nearly-forty-year-old found that walk around the block pretty magical too.  

Paternity Leave: A Sunday Guest Blog

O: Daddy, where you there when I was born?

J: Yep.

O: Was it gross? Mommy said it was gross.

J: Yep.

There has been a lot of noise on the internet about some sports ball player missing some sports ball games because his wife was birthing a person he helped make.  

A father's role is important and it has been minimized and trivialized for generations. Taking paternity leave is stigmatized, not only when it comes to professional athletes, but in more traditional workplaces, as well. It is changing. It is getting better. More and more companies are offering generous paternity leaves for families, and more and more men are taking them, and all of the dirty diapers and sleepless nights that come with them.

I took two weeks with O and three weeks with P.  With O, Kate kept insisting that she'd be up and running in a week, and while she probably could have been, I couldn't tear myself away from the tiny person we had just met.  Sure there was work to do.  The idea that paternity leave could ever be considered a vacation is ludicrous.  There were diapers and night wakings and, somehow, we still had to eat.  

tiny O

But the real work of those first few weeks was so much more important than the practicalities surrounding bringing home a newborn.  I had to get to know her, find out what drastic changes this new person was bringing to our family.  I had to stop and breathe in the new life that had joined us and form the very beginnings of the relationship that will have to see us through kindergarten, broken bones, driver's licenses, and heartbreak.  I wouldn't have given up those five weeks of paternity leave for anything in the world.  

not so tiny P

And Kate wanted me to include a special message to anyone out there in internet-land who suggested that this sports ball player's wife should have scheduled a C-section on a non-game day:

Only after you volunteer to get completely unnecessary and life-threatening surgery, that puts at risk not only your own well-being, but also the life of your child, only after that, could you ever presume to make such a suggestion.  And please, go f**k yourself. 

Sincerely, Kate Felton

a few hours old

Saying Yes: Another Sunday Guest Blog

O:  Daddy, will you dance in the rain with me?

J:  Yes.

I was already a half-hour late for work when O posed this question to me one morning.  Without hesitation, I said, "yes."

We danced and laughed together in the gentle rain for a few minutes, and then I left for work.  I didn't care that I was late anymore.  I didn't care that traffic was a little bit heavier now.  I didn't care that my dress shoes were a little (or maybe a lot) wet.

I had danced with my daughter in the rain.

Birthday Cake: A Sunday Guest Blog

O:  I want to have the first taste so it won't taste yuck!

This is O and P's Dad. No, I haven't hijacked Not Sure How Today Ends, but rather this is a guest post in honor of Kate's birthday next week.

Since Kate was rehearsing and performing all day Saturday, I had the chance to conspire with my children to come up with the perfect birthday celebration. P thinks we should celebrate by eating bananas all day. O thinks we need fancy decorations and round balloons. The long skinny balloons that we actually have in the house have not been deemed to carry the appropriate celebratory weight. I think as long as we celebrate together as a family, Kate will be happy.

So, here's the compromise we arranged. O and P made birthday cards and once P went to bed, O and I baked a cake. It is not a fancy cake. It came from a box. But it was a box that O selected at the market, and it was easy enough that an almost-four-year-old, and a baking-challenged father, could complete with relative success in the hour before bedtime. Fortunately, we had strawberries in the refrigerator. I didn't realize frosting wasn't included in the box so I had to  convince O that cut strawberries mixed with sugar make a sweet, syrupy topping that is WAAAAAY better than frosting. Come to think of it, maybe it really is.

Where the $%@# is the frosting? Come on, it's shown on the box!

Anyway, happy birthday, Kate! You are loved.